‘Exactly. A lot of the burnt recordswere kept and catalogued but I’m afraid nothing exists of that Day Book. Still, this one might be worth a look,’ Sidney said, pushing it across thetable to Morton.
Morton opened it at the first page, dated1907 and began to assimilate the type of information on offer. Assuggested by Sidney, it told of the general life at Blackfriars, signed offeach week by the housekeeper, Mrs Cuff and the butler, Mr Risler. Mortonturned to the back few pages where 1911 began then skimmed through it until thefirst mention of Mary occurred. Morton felt compelled to read aloud sothat Sidney could share in his discoveries. ‘Monday 2nd January1911. Employed new housemaid, Miss Mary Mercer, little previousexperience—will need a great deal of support. Another entry for thatweek: Wednesday 4th January. Miss Mercer’s limitedexperience in any domestic area is putting a strain on the otherdomestic staff. Her haberdasher skills leave plenty to be desired.’
‘Oh dear,’ Sidney said with a grimace.‘Doesn’t sound like your Mary had a good start here.’
‘Nor a good end…’ Morton saidsolemnly. ‘Is it okay to take a photo?’
‘Go ahead.’
As Morton took out his mobile phone, thesound of the keypad being pressed was followed by a mechanical release and thedoor opening. In the doorway stood a smiling Daphne Mansfield. Shewas dressed impeccably in high heels, short patterned skirt, blouse andjacket. Every garment shouted its origin as Knightsbridge.
‘Mr Farrier,’ she greeted. ‘Good tosee you again.’
‘Hello, Lady Rothborne. Thank youfor allowing me in here. I know you must be up to your eyes with thefilming.’
‘Oh, no worries at all,’ she said,dismissively waving her perfectly manicured fingers at him. ‘Have you hadany luck in your quest to find this lady of yours?’
Morton considered the question. Hehad certainly become more acquainted with Mary Mercer and the wages ledger hadoffered a new lead for her cousin, Edward. ‘Yes, very profitable, thankyou.’
‘Smashing. So you’ll have no need tobreak in at some ungodly hour, then to raid the archives?’ she said with a wrysmile.
‘No, I don’t think that will benecessary,’ Morton said, feeling somewhat sheepish at her reference to aprevious case where breaking and entering seemed to have emerged as a naturaland obvious part of his research strategies. He hoped that the MercerCase would be strictly legal, if only to make his home-lifeeasier. Now that Juliette was training to be a police officer, there wasno way she would be undertaking anything remotely illegal.
Daphne smiled. ‘Sid, I’m sorry tointerrupt, but the producers have just halted filming over some historicalinaccuracy or other in the script. Is there a chance Mr Farrier couldspare you for five minutes upstairs?’
Sidney looked uncertainly at the openarchive door. ‘Er, can it wait at all? Half an hour or so?’
‘I think it needs sorting now, don’t worryabout your precious archives, Mr Farrier will watch them for you.’
Morton smiled as Sidney reluctantlyfollowed Daphne from the room. The door closed behind them with a heavyclunk.
Morton continued to scan the ledger,disappointed that the one book he really wanted had been consumed by the 1939fire. What were the chances? he thought. Then he flickedback to the start of the book. It started in 1907 and ended in1911. Four years. Four years in one ledger. The next oneapparently ran from 1911 until 1939. Morton considered that there werethree options at play here: one, that record-keeping had changed between thoseyears and little was recorded each week; two, that Sidney had made a mistake inbelieving the ledger destroyed or three, that he was lying. The firstoption seemed flimsy to Morton. The last two options meant that there wasa real possibility that a Day Book commencing in January 1911 was currentlysitting in the filing cabinet in the adjacent room, the door of which wasopen. He was fairly sure that what he was about to do could not beconsidered illegal since all doors were open. He recalled Juliette onceenlightening him to the fact that you couldn’t be prosecuted for breaking andentering if a door was already opened.
Morton couldn’t waste this goldenopportunity to take a look for himself. He stood, listened quietly for amoment, then darted inside the archive room. With his heart beating fast,he pulled open the cabinet doors and began to run his eyes across the archives,searching for something resembling the other Day Book. His eyes settledon a ledger of similar size and colour. Morton pulled it down and openedthe first pages. Bingo! It began where the previous hadended. As much as he would have dearly loved to have searched every page,time was not a luxury he had, so he hurriedly flicked through until he reachedthe week beginning Monday 10th April 1911—the week of Mary’sdisappearance. Morton quickly took a digital photograph of thepage.
A noise close by came from theoffice.
Someone was tapping at the keypad.
He heard the clunking of the heavy dooropening.
Morton quickly took a photo of the weekprior and following her disappearance, before hastily placing the book backwhere he had found it.
Time up.
‘What are you doing in here?’ came thesound of Sidney Mersham’s agitated voice.
Morton held up the wages book. ‘Justbeing helpful and putting this back. I didn’t like to keep reading theDay Book without you there,’ Morton said, amazed at his own composure.
Sidney looked doubtful. ‘Right, comeon, let’s get this done. There can only be another few pages left. I’ve got work to do now upstairs. Honestly, you’d think they would havedone their homework before filming.’
Morton heaved a sigh of relief and headedback into the small office. In doing his best to appear calm and cool,Morton failed to spot the CCTV camera just above the door, fixed on him andfollowing his every move.
Chapter Seven
Wednesday8th February 1911
Maryhad been working at Blackfriars for more than one month. The desperate,daily ache in her muscles had gradually eased, but the ache in her heart hadnot; she still despised and resented every moment of her time as a thirdhousemaid. Each day ended the same, with Mary crying herself to sleep,attempting to stifle her sobs from Clara, who was growing increasinglyirritated by her emotional outpouring. After the last failed attempt,Mary had given up using her half
