Chapter Forty-Five
CHAPTER
FORTY - FIVE
They decided that Violet’s flat was the best place to go through Oliver’s address book.
‘We can ring anyone from there,’ said Violet. She didn’t want to go to the shop where they could be interrupted, and she also felt a bit awkward, as if searching for Oliver was somehow clandestine. But as they travelled back, by bus this time, she wondered if trying to find Oliver was a complete waste of time.
When they had finished turning the pages, exclaiming over the nicknames that some people had, and trying to work out which ones were the most recent entries, they were left with a list of about ten potential names and phone numbers. They decided it was too late to telephone and resolved to make a start the next morning.
‘What shall we say?’ asked Felicity, looking down at the list. ‘If we just say, “Do you know where Oliver is?” they might not tell us. They might think we’re after money or something.’
‘I don’t think you’d ever sound like a debt collector,’ said Violet, and then a thought struck her. ‘But they might realise who you are, with your very slight French accent.’
‘I would hate that! I would hate him to find out I was looking. He might think I was pregnant like Miranda did!’
‘Oliver wouldn’t have any reason for thinking that … would he?’ asked Violet, worried, but trying not to show it.
‘Actually, Oliver wouldn’t think that. He knows we haven’t … done anything, but his friend might. I don’t think boys share their secrets like girls do.’
‘I don’t know very much about boys,’ said Violet, ‘but I expect you’re right.’ She paused. ‘Maybe it would be better if I did the telephoning,’ she said. She didn’t move.
‘Shall we have coffee or something first?’ suggested Felicity.
Violet shook her head to clear it. ‘No, no. I will do it. I’m just trying to work out what to say.’
‘Why not say he’s won something and so you are trying to track him down?’ Felicity seemed to have relaxed now she was absolved of responsibility.
‘I think I’ll just have to make it up as I go along,’ said Violet, looking at the first telephone number.
Five people hadn’t seen or heard from Oliver for ages. Violet relaxed into her task; she was expecting negative answers now. She dialled the sixth number. ‘Speak!’ said a loud and peremptory voice.
The abruptness of the man’s tone threw Violet off completely. She’d been meaning to say she had information for Oliver, or that he’d won a prize – anything that would make him keen to get in touch, but all her plans went out of her head.
‘I’m looking for Oliver Ward,’ said Violet.
‘Why do you think I know where he is?’
‘I don’t,’ Violet said, sounding to her own ears flustered and unprofessional. ‘I’m just hoping that you might.’
The silence on the end of the line gave Violet the strong impression that he did. ‘You’re out of luck,’ said the voice at last. ‘I’ve never heard of the young scamp.’ The telephone was slammed down.
‘What?’ said Felicity when Violet didn’t immediately speak.
‘He denied it, but I think he’s lying. That man knows where Oliver is. I’d stake my life on it. He referred to him as a scamp.’
‘But where does he live?’ said Felicity urgently. ‘Could you ring him back and ask for his address?’
‘No! Although maybe Henry could. If I phone him again we’ll get the same unhelpful answer.’
‘It’s no good me doing it,’ said Felicity. ‘If Oliver has talked about me at all, this man will realise I have a French accent and smell a mouse.’ She looked at Violet. ‘I know it’s “rat” – I was just making a joke. You English love your jokes.’
Violet gave her a withering look but she ended on a smile. She did appreciate Felicity’s attempts at being light-hearted.
‘So what have we got?’ she said. ‘It has numbers not letters at the front, so it’s recent. We have a first name. That’s more than Miss Wynter had and she found Henry. I’m sure a little basic detective work will soon give us our answer. I’ll go through the code book again.’ She spoke brightly, hoping to sound optimistic even though she didn’t feel it.
‘What did you say this man was called?’ Felicity said suddenly.
‘Rod.’
‘Oh! That’s him! I’m sure it’s him. I’ve only just remembered. Oliver’s mudlarking jeweller friend is called Rod.’ She was very excited. ‘I think we should have lunch, to celebrate.’
When Violet glanced at it, the elegant French carriage clock on the mantelpiece said it was half past one. ‘I think it’s a bit soon to celebrate but it’s definitely lunchtime. Let’s call on Henry and see if he’s hungry.’
Henry was hungry but also busy, so Violet went to the local sandwich shop and brought lunch back with her. They spread out the picnic on top of a document chest in the shop.
‘So how do we find someone called Rod in quite a large area of Greater London?’ said Felicity, having eaten her prawn baguette in record time. She realised it made her feel better about life.
‘I’m not sure even Miss Wynter would be able to find that needle in a haystack,’ said Henry.
‘I suggest you ring this Rod,’ said Violet to him. ‘A male voice would sound more authoritative. He may not just slam the phone down like he did with me.’
‘But Rod might think that Henry is Oliver’s father,’ suggested Felicity. ‘If he doesn’t want to see anyone – even me – just the thought that his father may have tracked him down will scare him away.’ She felt a sudden pang when she thought about Oliver’s father, and Oliver.
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ said Violet.
‘Maybe I should sound as if Oliver has won a prize and we’re searching for the winner,’ suggested Henry.
‘We’ve had this idea before, but if he’d entered a competition, he would have left his address, surely,’ said Violet.
‘Maybe he forgot,’ said Felicity. ‘He bought a raffle ticket and then he nearly drowned his girlfriend, forgot all about her and the raffle ticket, and went off to live in Putney or somewhere.’
‘Putney is not a bad thought,’ said Violet. ‘It’s on the river, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is,’ said Henry. ‘Now what do you dial to get a Putney number I wonder?’ He flicked through the code book that Violet and Felicity had brought with them. He called out a number. ‘Is that the code?’
‘Yes!’ said Violet. ‘It is! Oh, Felicity! You clever girl, thinking of Putney!’
‘Thank you, but I assume Putney is quite big? I heard my mother talking about it once and it was obviously not a place where she would consider living.’
‘Well, it’s not Chelsea, that’s for sure,’ said Henry.
‘So, short of doing a house-to-house search, like the police do on television, how are we going to find this friend of Oliver’s?’ asked Violet.
Felicity swallowed. She’d had another idea, one she didn’t really want to contemplate. She took a breath. ‘He used to be a mudlarker,’ she said. ‘Oliver told me. But he’s been unwell.’
No one spoke for a few moments. ‘But I imagine mudlarkers know each other,’ said Violet. ‘If we found a mudlarker in Putney, he’d probably know this Rod.’
‘Then we must go mudlarking,’ said Felicity, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.
‘But isn’t that the very last thing in the world you’d want to do?’ asked Violet.
‘It is,’ Felicity agreed. ‘But sometimes we have to do things that are hard. We need to find Oliver, and if he’s living in Putney, we’ll find him on the foreshore when the tide is low.’
‘Well,’ said Violet, having taken this in. ‘We – I mean I’ – she glanced at Henry, as if remembering that he had a very tight deadline – ‘I’ll go to Putney and look for mudlarkers. What do I need? Apart from gumboots?’
Felicity felt a rush of gratitude for Violet. She obviously understood how hard it would be for her to face mud and water and the danger they could cause. ‘A tide table. You’ll need to know when it’s low tide.’
‘You’d get that at J. D. Potter, at the Minories,’ said Henry.
‘How do you know that?’ asked Felicity.
‘Bookshop owners tend to know of each other. Like mudlarks, I dare say.’
Violet looked at her watch. ‘I could go there now. Then I can go to Putney tomorrow.’
‘How will you get there?’ asked Felicity.
‘I suppose it depends on the time of low tide. The tube, I suppose. I think Putney is on the District Line.’ Violet sounded confident.
‘I’ll lend you my car,’ said Henry. ‘Public transport is wonderful, but it doesn’t always run when you want it to.’
Violet smiled at him and Felicity recognised how much Violet loved Henry. ‘Thank you. That would be really helpful.’
Violet and Felicity went to the Minories together on the bus and spent the journey back studying tide tables.
‘I’d need to be there for six in the morning, I think,’ said Violet.
‘And I’ll come with you.’
‘But, Felicity—’
‘I couldn’t let you go alone. Mudlarking isn’t something you can just do – or at least of course you can, but it’s potentially dangerous.’
Violet opened her mouth to say more.
‘No, really.’ Felicity was firm. ‘I know I don’t want to. I really don’t want to see Oliver ever again in my entire life. But you and Henry need him. I must help.’
‘But why? You don’t have to.’
Felicity sighed. ‘My father once told me that the most important thing in life is being able to face yourself when you go to bed at night. Have you done the right thing? Were you kind? Thoughtful? Things like that. I wouldn’t be able to face myself if I’d let you go mudlarking alone, when I could have helped.’
Violet squeezed Felicity’s leg. ‘I’d hug you if we weren’t on a bus.’