was a simple garment, probably one of hundreds, and Amelia shook her head. ‘That’s strange,’ he continued, unfolding the robe and holding it out towards her, ‘because Mrs Robertson from the laundry on Marine Parade says that this is your mark.’ He pushed it closer to her, but Amelia refused to look; for the first time, she began to understand the enormity of what faced her. Obviously, she had already been the subject of gossip and speculation in Finchley, and it would only take one person in Hertford Road to notice the police at her door for the news to spread the length of the street; even if she talked her way out of trouble this time, she would never escape from the shame of what was happening to her, and how would that affect Lizzie? What would it do to her marriage? ‘Do you admit that F236 is your laundry mark?’ the inspector repeated impatiently. Helpless to do anything else, she nodded.
‘Dr Wylie, did you attend a birth at Claymore House on Saturday?’
‘Yes, I did—a young woman called Ada Galley had gone into labour in the early hours of Friday morning. When there was still no sign of the baby on Saturday, Mrs Sach called me in. Eventually, the child was born at around midday on Saturday, but it needed a lot of help. I had no choice but to use forceps.’
‘And would that have resulted in any injuries to the baby’s head?’ Kyd asked. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia noticed Jacob cover his face with his hands.
‘It’s likely that some bruising would develop,’ Wylie admitted.
‘But otherwise, the baby was healthy?’
‘Oh yes, he was a bonny lad.’
‘And did you come back here again to see the mother and child?’
‘Yes.’ The doctor glanced at Amelia. ‘I came back on Sunday to check on them both, but the child was missing. I asked how he was, and Mrs Sach told me that he was well but that the mother’s sister had taken him back to Holloway with her.’
‘And you didn’t think anything of that?’
‘No, not really. I just assumed that the sister was helping out to give the mother some time to recover.’
‘I see. Has anything like that ever happened here before, Sir?’
He hesitated. ‘Yes—last month, in fact. That time, Mrs Sach told me that the baby’s grandmother had taken the child.’
‘Are you asked to come here very often, Sir?’
‘I suppose I’ve been about a dozen times in total.’
‘And of those dozen, how many times would you say that the baby has been missing when you came back to check on the patient?’
‘Only those two, Inspector.’
‘But there are births that you’re not asked to attend?’
‘That’s right. Mrs Sach is a perfectly competent midwife.’
‘Have any other children been born here recently, Mrs Sach?’
‘Another lady had a child on Wednesday—a baby girl.’
‘And was that child removed from these premises without its mother?’
Four pairs of eyes tore accusingly into Amelia, and she looked round desperately at each one of them. ‘Surely you don’t think …’
But the rest of her sentence was lost as the charge was spelt out to her. ‘Amelia Sach, I’m arresting you on suspicion of being an accessory to murder.’
‘Murder? No! That’s not possible. You’re not really saying that these babies are dead? That this woman has killed them?’
‘You’ll be taken to King’s Cross Road Police Station, where you will be remanded in custody for further questioning.’
‘Jacob—please!’ she screamed. ‘What about Lizzie? Tell them this is ridiculous. Tell them I knew nothing about it.’ The policeman took her arm and she shook him off, but he seized her again, more roughly this time, and led her out to the waiting vehicle. A small crowd had gathered further down the street, and she was almost relieved when the doors closed on her. As it pulled away, she glanced back at the house, stricken with fear at the thought that she might never see her home, her daughter, again; Jacob stared back at her from the front-room window, his face blank and emotionless. She bowed her head in shame. They turned left out of Hertford Road, and the story she had just read to Lizzie echoed again and again in her mind: ‘ “I’ll be judge, I’ll be jury,” said cunning old Fury; “I’ll try the whole cause and condemn you to death.” ’
John Kyd watched his colleagues take Sach away, and spoke quietly to her husband. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to search the house now, Sir. If you wouldn’t mind waiting here until we’ve finished—we’ll be as quick as we can.’
For a moment, he thought the man hadn’t been listening because he neither spoke nor altered his expression, but then he said: ‘Can I fetch my daughter down from upstairs? She’ll be in the nursery with Nora—it’s at the top of the house.’
‘Yes, Sir, of course. If you could all wait together, that would be best. I’m going to have a word with your wife’s patient now—Dr Wylie, perhaps you’d come with me?’ The doctor seemed relieved to have a purpose, and followed Kyd out of the room without a moment’s hesitation.
There was only one closed door on the first-floor landing, and Kyd guessed correctly that this must be the room in which Sach’s unfortunate patient was resting, oblivious to the fate of her child. He knocked gently and went straight in, and was surprised to find a pleasant space, warm and comfortable and showing all the signs of good, attentive care. It was stupid of him to have expected anything else, he thought bitterly; Sach’s business relied on respectability, and God knows these women had paid dearly enough for their nursing.
The girl lay back on her pillows, pale and obviously still tired, but attractive nonetheless. She must be about eighteen, he guessed, and—perhaps simply because of what he knew he sensed a vulnerability about her which struck him all the more forcefully for coming so soon after Sach’s cold self-assurance. ‘Miss Galley?’ he asked, and she nodded, looking curiously first at him and then at the doctor. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Kyd. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to ask you some questions about the birth of your baby and your time here at Claymore House. Would you mind telling me when you last saw your child?’
‘It must have been on Saturday,’ she said, and he noticed that her accent was not from the city; Wiltshire, he guessed, or Dorset. ‘About an hour after he was born, I suppose. I wasn’t really well enough to remember much of what was happening, but Mrs Sach brought him in so that I could have a look at him. Then she told me to kiss him goodbye.’
‘So you were aware that your child was going to be removed from the premises.’
‘Yes. Mrs Sach had found him a new home. She told me that she had five ladies who couldn’t have children of their own and who wanted to adopt—the child would be well looked after, she said, and would be left a lot of money eventually. I hope she’s not in trouble for that,’ she added, looking at the grave expression on the inspector’s face. ‘She didn’t force me into anything. I’m on my own, and I need to earn a living—how could I do that with a child in tow? We’d both be dead or in the workhouse. It was for the best, really it was.’
‘Did Mrs Sach tell you the name of the woman who was to adopt your baby?’
‘No. She said it was best that I didn’t know. The mother wouldn’t like it in case I changed my mind and wanted the baby back.’
‘And how long have you been here?’
‘Since September. I saw Mrs Sach’s advertisement in the newspaper in August, and she took me in a month later.’
‘And you paid her money?’
‘Yes. Three guineas when I got here, then a guinea a week after that.’
‘And what about the adoption?’
‘She told me I’d have to give the new mother thirty pounds.’
‘Even though this woman was wealthy herself?’
‘Yes. Mrs Sach said she wanted to buy a present for the baby to remember its mother by. Thirty pounds was more than I could afford, though, so she said she’d write to the lady to see if she’d accept twenty-five—and she said she would.’
A present to remember its mother by—Kyd could hardly keep the disgust out of his voice when he continued his questioning. ‘Twenty-five pounds still seems a lot of money for a young woman to find.’
