Alice-Miranda Shines Bright 8 Page 3

  ‘Seriously, could you blame him?’ Sloane whispered behind her hand to Jacinta.

  Jacinta shook her head.

  ‘What was that, young lady?’ Sloane hadn’t expected Mrs Parker to have such sharp ears.

  Sloane smiled tightly. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘But Mrs Parker, that’s wonderful news,’ said Alice-Miranda, beaming. She had been so looking forward to meeting Mr Parker properly. ‘He’s woken up. He’s come back to you. I think we should split up and look for him. And if we don’t find him, then we should alert Constable Derby. I’m sure the doctors would like to see him. It must be a medical miracle!’

  ‘He’ll need another one of those if I get my hands on him first,’ Mrs Parker sniffled. ‘And as for that nurse – just wait until I get hold of her. Unreliable woman!’

  Alice-Miranda wondered what poor Nurse Raylene had done to upset Mrs Parker this time.

  Sloane rolled her eyes. ‘They probably made a run for it together,’ she whispered to Jacinta.

  Alice-Miranda ignored this and set about organising the search. ‘I’ll go with Millie. Jacinta, you and Sloane take the high street, and Mrs Parker, why don’t you check the back garden and the shed? Did Mr Parker like to spend time up there?’

  Myrtle Parker nodded. Her husband had spent rather too much time in the shed for her liking.

  ‘We’ll meet back here in half an hour. Make sure to ask anyone you see if they’ve spotted him. What was he wearing?’ Alice-Miranda thought it was probably his pyjamas but she wanted to be sure.

  ‘His blue striped pyjamas, of course,’ Myrtle replied. She stared at the children. ‘Well, don’t just stand there.’

  With that, Alice-Miranda and Millie ran towards the end of the lane. They would wind their way through each street until they met with Sloane and Jacinta. Winchesterfield wasn’t terribly big and Mr Parker probably hadn’t got far. Alice-Miranda just hoped that he hadn’t had a relapse – if he’d lain down in a field, they might never find him.

  Stan Frost reached across his desk and picked up the envelope he’d collected earlier that day. He removed the letter, scanned its contents and sighed.

  Another one. They were certainly persistent. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a small pile of papers. He clipped on this latest letter, then replaced the bundle. He was about to close the drawer when he spotted something at the back. It was another bundle of letters, still inside their handwritten envelopes. He pulled them out and stared at the top one. The words ‘Return to Sender’ stabbed at his heart. His mouth felt dry. He quickly returned them to the drawer and pushed it closed. Stan walked out of the little room he called his study and into the kitchen.

  Two saucepans huddled together on the range, containing vegetables he’d peeled and chopped earlier in the morning. At five thirty on the dot he’d light the cooker and start dinner. Tonight he had a lovely trout fillet to go with the potatoes, beans, carrots and sprouts. A good lot of colour there, he’d thought to himself as he’d peeled the potatoes with deft speed; Beryl would have approved for sure. A tear escaped his left eye. He brushed it away, shaking his head. Just the thought of her and he went to water, even though she’d been gone for almost three years now.

  It was just as well he enjoyed his own company, otherwise he could have gone a little loopy out here in the woods. He had Cynthia and the dogs, and more chickens, ducks and geese than he could keep track of. There were trout in the stream and the odd deer wandered through. He had a vegetable patch to be proud of and a couple of goats for milking. There was nothing more that he needed. He walked to the letterbox once a week to retrieve the mail. All up, life suited him just fine at Wood End. Stan picked up the bucket of scraps from the edge of the sink and walked to the back door.

  Cynthia began to bray loudly. ‘All right, girl, I’m coming. And where are those two little friends of yours?’ He scanned the paddock nearest the cottage. Cynthia shared her patch with Cherry and Pickles, two goats she pretended to dislike intensely but could often be found cuddled up with on wintry nights. There was a small shelter in the far corner and a trough and feed bin near the gate. Cherry and Pickles charged towards Cynthia – they never missed an opportunity to eat. Stan emptied the bucket onto the ground and the little donkey and her friends quickly hoovered up the vegetable scraps. Cynthia’s lower lip quivered and Stan couldn’t help but laugh. It always looked as if she had something she was trying to say.

  ‘And where are those other two little terrors? Maudie, Itch, come on. Time to go in,’ he called to his two cocker spaniels. It wasn’t like them to stray far from home. Stan walked around to the front garden. He could almost hear Beryl’s voice: pretty as a picture, she used to say. The garden had been her pride and joy. Now he spent hours each week weeding and pruning, making sure that it was just so.

  Stan looked across the cleared fields. Maudie and Itch probably had some poor rabbit bailed up in its burrow. He stiffened at the sight of someone in the distance. They were walking towards the cottage and it looked as if Maudie and Itch were with them. Stan walked around to the side of the building and picked up a shovel he’d left in one of the flowerbeds earlier in the day. Not that he planned to use it, but you never knew with strangers.

  The figure was getting closer but Stan still couldn’t see a face. He squinted, wondering if it was a traveller coming to ask for directions or a hobo.

  He walked towards the low stone wall that hemmed the cottage so neatly on three sides. The frown on his face lifted when he realised the identity of his visitor.

  ‘Well, blow me down,’ Stan called out.

  ‘I know where it is,’ the other man called back.

  Stan wondered what on earth he was talking about.

  The fellow ducked under the rose arbour that framed the pretty timber gate in the middle of the wall. He slapped Stan on the back and smiled. ‘Well, come on then, what are we waiting for?’

  ‘Where in heaven’s name have you been?’ Stan asked. He led the man up the garden path and through the back door just as he’d done so many times before.

  Constable Derby’s police car came to a halt outside Mrs Parker’s bungalow. He had been as surprised as anyone to learn that Reginald Parker was missing. Surely the old fellow couldn’t have got too far.

  ‘Hello Constable Derby,’ Alice-Miranda called from the veranda. ‘Mrs Parker’s inside.’

  ‘Hello Alice-Miranda,’ he called back.

  Constable Derby trotted up the stairs and followed the girl into the house.

  ‘Well, it’s about time,’ Myrtle growled as she looked up from the steaming cup of chamomile tea that Ambrosia Headlington-Bear had just made for her. Alice-Miranda and Millie had alerted Ambrosia to Mr Parker’s disappearance when they set off to look for him. She had immediately gone to see if Mrs Parker was all right. Together the women had searched the back garden and the shed and every room in the house without any luck at all. Nurse Raylene’s disappearance was just as perplexing. When the children returned without Mr Parker, Ambrosia called the police.

  The constable ignored Myrtle’s tone, sat down opposite her at the table and took out his notebook.

  ‘Make yourself at home, constable.’ Myrtle turned and glared at Ambrosia, who was still standing near the kettle. ‘Well?’

  Ambrosia frowned, wondering what she’d done wrong now.

  ‘Aren’t you going to offer the man a cup of tea?’ Mrs Parker sniped.

  ‘Oh, of course. Would you like one?’ Ambrosia looked at Constable Derby.

  He shook his head and said a quiet, ‘No, thank you’.

  An uneasy silence shrouded the room.

  Constable Derby coughed and said, ‘Uh, Mrs Parker, when was the last time you saw Mr Parker?’

  The woman set the teacup down and tapped a forefinger to her lip. ‘Now, let me see. I had a very busy morning. I baked some shortbread to take over to the F
ayle sisters tomorrow and then I did a load of washing. I gave my bedroom a thorough dusting and had a quick bite of lunch. Then I popped out to do some errands.’

  ‘Did you see Mr Parker anytime this morning?’ the constable asked.

  ‘I popped my head in the door and said hello before I made my breakfast,’ she said.

  ‘But did you actually see him?’

  ‘Of course I did.’ Myrtle took another sip of her tea. But the more she thought about it the less sure she was.

  ‘Mrs Headlington-Bear, you mentioned on the telephone that Mr Parker’s nurse is missing too. Is that right?’

  Ambrosia nodded. She’d checked the woman’s room. There were still clothes in the wardrobe. And of course there was the abandoned knitting on the couch in the sitting room too. But Raylene’s toiletries bag was gone.

  ‘It’s her,’ Myrtle sniffed. ‘She’s been filling his head with all sorts of ideas. I’ve heard her talking about the world and all the wonderful places she’s visited. She’s run off with him.’

  ‘But Mrs Parker, do you really think that’s likely, given that your husband has been asleep for three years?’ the constable asked.

  ‘He’s been in a coma, thank you very much,’ Myrtle said. ‘Reginald hasn’t just been taking a nap, you know.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I didn’t mean to offend.’ The officer decided to change tack. ‘Do you remember the last time you saw Nurse Raylene?’

  ‘I saw her this morning at breakfast time. She was sitting right where you are now, and she didn’t stop talking the whole time. I thought my head was going to explode with all the drivel that came out of that woman’s mouth.’

  ‘What did she talk about?’ the policeman asked.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ Myrtle said crossly.

  ‘But surely you can remember little bits of what Nurse Raylene said,’ Alice-Miranda suggested. ‘I had a lovely conversation with her about her family the last time I visited Mr Parker –’

  Myrtle cut the child off. ‘Well, she never mentioned any family to me.’

  Constable Derby looked towards Alice-Miranda, who was standing on the other side of the table. ‘Do you remember what she said about her family?’

  Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘Her father hadn’t been at all well and she was hoping to visit him soon.’

  ‘Did she say where he was?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Our conversation ended when Mrs Parker arrived home and needed some help carrying something from the car.’

  ‘That’s a pity then.’ The constable glared at the old woman. ‘Do you know where her family is from, Mrs Parker?’

  ‘Of course not. It’s not in my nature to pry into other people’s personal business,’ Myrtle tutted.

  Millie could hardly keep a straight face. Nosey Parker didn’t get that name for nothing. She knew more about the people who lived in the village than anyone, and she didn’t mind sharing her information either.

  Myrtle noticed her fidgeting. ‘What’s the matter with you, Millicent? Do you need the toilet? It’s along the hall, but make sure that you flush and put the lid down.’

  ‘I don’t need to go to the toilet!’ Millie protested. Sloane giggled and Millie gave her a death stare.

  ‘Constable Derby, do you think we should be out searching for Mr Parker?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘We’ll get to that soon, Alice-Miranda. It’s important to establish just how long Mr Parker and Nurse Raylene have been missing.’

  ‘Quite long enough,’ Myrtle snapped. ‘The child’s right. Get the search teams together. Call in the sniffer dogs. Put out an ABC.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Sloane asked.

  ‘I think Mrs Parker means an APB,’ Millie said.

  ‘Well, what’s that?’ Sloane asked again.

  ‘It means all-points bulletin. They say it all the time on American television shows when they’re looking for the bad guys.’

  Myrtle Parker wasn’t feeling at all well. ‘I think I need to lie down.’

  Ambrosia Headlington-Bear offered to help her to her room and the pair disappeared down the hallway.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Alice-Miranda asked the constable.

  ‘I’m going to alert the detectives in Downs­fordvale. But with a few hours’ head start, I’m afraid Reginald and Raylene could be anywhere.’

  ‘Do you really think he’s with Nurse Raylene?’ Jacinta asked. ‘Sounds weird to me. He didn’t even know her – he was asleep.’

  Sloane’s eyes widened. ‘But what if he wasn’t?’

  ‘Of course he was,’ Millie said. ‘We all saw him in there, on the bed.’

  ‘But what if he was faking it and was awake, and then when Mrs Parker was out, Nurse Raylene and Mr Parker made a plan to get away,’ Sloane prattled.

  ‘Seriously, you’ve been watching too much TV,’ Millie said. ‘That’s a stupid idea.’

  Constable Derby was furiously scribbling away. He looked up from his notepad and smiled at Sloane. ‘That wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘See?’ She poked her tongue out at Millie.

  Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘I’ve been reading to Mr Parker every week for a little while now and I really don’t see how he could have been awake and just pretending to sleep. I mean, last time I was here I read a really funny part of Matilda and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out loud.’

  ‘But you said that you could have sworn you saw him smile a couple of times,’ Sloane insisted. She was feeling very smug about her theory.

  Alice-Miranda thought about it. She had said that. If Mr Parker had been awake all this time then why hadn’t he just said so? And he took his food through a tube – she was quite sure that if he’d been awake he would love to have had something more substantial to eat.

  Millie must have been thinking the same thing. ‘But Mr Parker was hooked up to all that equipment.’

  ‘How do you know that he was really hooked up?’ Sloane asked. She’d recently started reading a detective series and was enjoying channelling its heroine. ‘Did you ever see the needle in his arm or was there a plaster over it?’

  Millie hated to admit it but Sloane was right. They couldn’t know for sure without asking Nurse Raylene, and she seemed to be well and truly gone.

  Alice-Miranda had a strange feeling that there was more to Mr Parker’s disappearance than anyone knew.

  ‘I still think we should get a search party together and have a proper look around the village and in the woods,’ Alice-Miranda suggested. It’s light for another few hours. Please let us help, Constable Derby.’

  ‘I’ll phone the details into headquarters first, and then how about you girls go back to school and see who you can get together?’

  ‘What about Wally Whitstable and the fellows over at Chesterfield Downs?’ Millie suggested.

  ‘And Mr Munz and Otto at the store? Surely they could help?’ Alice-Miranda said.

  ‘What about the boys? There’s a whole school of them on the other side of the village,’ Jacinta announced.

  ‘You just want to see your boyfriend,’ Sloane teased.

  Jacinta opened her mouth but Alice-Miranda got in first.

  ‘Please, Jacinta, Sloane, this is no time to argue.’

  ‘Yeah, get over it, Sloane. Seriously, who cares if they like each other?’ Millie added.

  Jacinta wrinkled her nose at Sloane.

  Ambrosia Headlington-Bear reappeared in the kitchen. ‘What else can we do to help?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m heading back to the station, but if it’s all right with you, Mrs Headlington-Bear, perhaps the girls could see who they can round up and we’ll meet at the showground in half an hour. I think we’re clutching at straws a little but the poor old boy has to be out there somewhere,’ the constable explained.

  ‘Wha
t do you want me to do?’ Ambrosia asked.

  ‘I think you should stay here with Mrs Parker. She shouldn’t be alone.’

  ‘And then you’ll be here if Mr Parker or Nurse Raylene comes back,’ said Alice-Miranda.

  But at that moment none of the group thought that was very likely. It seemed that Reginald Parker had indeed made a run for it.

  Stan Frost glanced at the clock above the doorway. It was almost time to put his dinner on; he made a mental note then looked over at the table.

  ‘You still haven’t told me where you’ve been,’ he said.

  ‘Home, of course,’ replied the other man, who was sitting at the table. He swivelled around and patted his knee. Maudie was the first to jump out of her bed near the back door and onto his lap. ‘Sorry Itch, you miss out this time.’ The little tan cocker spaniel lapped up the man’s attention. Itch opened one eye and closed it again.

  ‘But that doesn’t explain anything,’ Stan insisted. At that moment, he wished he’d remembered to pay that last phone bill. The lack of a working telephone hadn’t worried him until now.

  He placed two cups of tea on the pine table.

  ‘Have you got anything to eat?’ the fellow asked.

  Stan opened the biscuit tin. It was full of choc­olate digestives. They were one of the few items Stan ordered in these days. He’d just leave a note and the money in the letterbox for the postman, and whatever he needed would appear a couple of days later. It wasn’t that Stan didn’t like having guests; he simply didn’t encourage them, and since Beryl had gone, it was easier to keep to himself.

  ‘I dreamt about it last night. I know where it is.’ The man sipped his tea and took a bite out of the biscuit.

  ‘About what? No, never mind. What I really want to know, Reg, is where have you been? And what about Myrtle?’

  The man frowned. ‘Myrtle?’ He looked confused for a moment, as if teetering on the edge of a memory. ‘Oh, she’s gone.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear it,’ Stan replied.