Acantha opened her mouth as though to speak, but said nothing, only giving her friend an encouraging look.
‘No,’ Alice Sedgewick said.
‘You know nothing about a baby being born in your house?’
She shook her head.
‘Or anyone who has been to your house who was pregnant?’
‘Not that I can think of.’
Acantha Palk spoke. ‘Do you know when the child died, inspector?’
‘Not exactly. We have a rough time scale.’
He returned to Alice Sedgewick. ‘How long have you lived at The Mount?’
‘A little over five years.’ Which was well within the time line.
‘Where did you live before you moved to The Mount?’
‘In Shawbury. Aaron was employed by the RAF so we lived there, in the village.’
Alex frowned. ‘This was before he went into business?’
Alice looked uneasy. ‘I’m not really sure about my husband’s business dealings,’ she said. ‘I only know he does a lot of travelling.’ Alice Sedgewick looked positively guilty now.
Unexpectedly this was another fact to be tucked away. Something about her husband’s business dealings made Alice very uncomfortable indeed.
Alex consulted his notes again. ‘When you were in the hospital and the sergeant took the baby from you, you said the baby’s name was Poppy. Why did you assume the child was a girl and where did you get the name, Poppy, from?’
Quite unexpectedly Alice’s eyes pooled with tears. She was almost too upset to cry properly. This was sheer, terrible, sniffing misery. Alex looked helplessly at Acantha who was looking equally confused.
‘I think we’ll have a bit of a break now,’ he said, keeping back the ace card that the baby had actually been a little boy. There was no need to tell her – yet.
While they were having a break he thought he’d give Martha a ring. He’d always known that she was more than superficially interested in some of the cases which came before her, particularly puzzling ones like this. If she had had her way, he knew that the coroner’s role would have included wearing a deerstalker, carrying a magnifying glass and doing part of the investigation herself. In fact he couldn’t absolutely swear that on occasions she hadn’t done a little sleuthing herself. He’d always had his suspicions that she had met some of the schoolchildren in the Callum Hughes case before they stood in front of her in the court. But he had said nothing.
Martha was sifting through an even bigger pile of paper than usual. A cold January, swine flu and Norovirus had resulted in a doubling of her usual workload. She listened, intrigued, as Alex spoke. ‘So you’re saying that the name, Poppy, meant something to her?’
‘It would seem so.’
‘The child she brought into the hospital was a boy,’ Martha observed. ‘Kind of lets her off the hook rather, doesn’t it?’
‘I thought that.’
‘But you say the name upset her?’
‘Without a doubt.’
As she spoke Martha was scribbling herself a list of things to do.
‘One,’ she wrote, ‘find out who Poppy was.’
Underneath she wrote, ‘Pink blanket?’
‘You think there is a connection between this Poppy and the pink blanket?’
‘You’re rushing me, Martha,’ Alex said and she could tell that he was smiling.
She asked her next question very softly. ‘Do you think Poppy is a real child?’
Randall was reluctant to answer but he knew he must. ‘Yes.’
‘Alive or dead?’
‘Dead,’ he said.
‘Has the husband shown up yet?’
‘Not a sign – nor of either of her children. Mrs Sedgewick is having her wish granted that the family be kept out of this.’
‘So far,’ Martha said. ‘Does she have grandchildren?’
‘No.’
‘Have you asked her why she took a dead child to the hospital?’
‘Not yet. That’s on my list.’
‘How long have they lived there?’
‘Five years.’
‘Ah.’ He could hear the excitement in her voice. ‘And do you know who the estate agent was who sold them the property?’
‘Martha.’ Again she could tell that Alex Randall was smiling. ‘Stop telling me my job.’
‘Sorry, Alex.’ She waited a moment. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I was going to ring you today.’
‘Yes?’
‘I had another of those odd phone calls last night. You know, the “Message to Martha” one?’
‘I thought they’d died down.’
‘So did I. I hoped they had but it seems someone is still trying to make me uneasy.’
‘And does it?’
‘Not so much for me, Alex,’ she confided. ‘I’m made of tough stuff. It’s Sukey I worry about. It wouldn’t be so bad if Sam lived at home though…’
She didn’t want to say it yet. Saying it would turn it from a hope to a certainty. And it wasn’t.
Alex must have picked up on her reluctance to finish the sentence. He cleared his throat.
‘I’ll come round later,’ he said, ‘and talk to you. Is this evening any good?’
‘At home?’
‘Yes. Is that a problem?’
‘No. No. Look – why don’t you come to supper? Sam’s gone back to Liverpool so I don’t have a male to cook for.’
‘No,’ he said abruptly, almost rudely. ‘No. I’ll come round after supper if that’s all right.’
‘Fine,’ she said, a little hurt. ‘I’ll see you later then.’
She wanted to ask him how he was but the opportunity hadn’t seemed to have arisen so she said nothing but hung up telling herself he had sounded perfectly well in control.
Her eyes lighted on the framed photograph of Sam that stood on her desk and she smiled. He was so very like Martin. He had the lot, hair that always stuck out, irregular teeth, an absolutely wonderful smile which seemed to encompass all the good things in life. Sam’s smile was exactly like his father’s, slightly hesitant, tentative, completely open, very, very happy, 100% genuine and complex. Six months ago she had guiltily removed Martin’s photograph from her desk and placed it in the drawer. After all these years, she’d had to say goodbye to him as she had to his son only that very morning, and she was still feeling a bit shaken, a bit bereft.
Alex returned to the interview room, thoughtful after the telephone call. He could tell the two women had had a chat, exchanged confidences and he could also sense that Acantha didn’t know all yet. Her face still held questions and a certain amount of frustration.
Alex sat down. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘You know, Mrs Sedgewick, that at the moment we’re not charging you with anything. We simply want to find out where the baby came from.’
Acantha spoke. ‘Was the baby killed or did it die of natural causes?’
Alex responded quickly. ‘I can’t give you any details yet. All will be made public eventually. Now then. Shall we crack on with just a few more questions?’
‘Why were you so upset at the name, Poppy, Mrs Sedgewick?’
She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, fully in control of herself now. ‘It sort of brought it all back to me.’
‘Brought what exactly?’
Acantha answered for her. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. The discovery of the body – the entire
