‘Market Basing Hospital, did you say?’ said Tommy.
‘Melfordshire. It’s about an hour or an hour and a half from London, I think, by train.’ ‘That’s it,’ said Tommy. ‘And there’s a village near Market Basing called Sutton Chancellor.’ ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ said Deborah.
‘It’s too long to go into now,’ said Tommy. ‘It has to do with a picture painted of a house near a bridge by a canal.’ ‘I don’t think I can hear you very well,’ said Deborah. ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘Never mind,’ said Tommy. ‘I’m going to ting up Market Basing Hospital and find out a few things. I’ve a feeling that it’s your mother, all right. People, if they’ve had concussion, you know, often remember things first that happened when they were a child, and only get slowly to the present. She’s gone back to her maiden name. She may have been in a car accident, but I shouldn’t be surprised if somebody hadn’t given her a conk on the head. It’s the sort of thing that happens to your mother.
She gets into things. I’ll let you know what I fred out.’ Forty minutes later, Tommy Beresford glanced at his wrist watch and breathed a sigh of utter weariness, as he replaced the receiver with a final clang on the telephone rest. Albert made an appearance.
‘What about your dinner, sir?’ he demanded. ‘You haven’t eaten a thing, and I’m sorry to say I forgot about that chicken – Burnt to a cinder.’ ‘I don’t want anything to eat,’ said Tommy. ‘What I want is a drink. Bring me a double whisky.’ ‘Coming, sir,’ said Albert.
A few moments later he brought the required refreshment to where Tommy had slumped down in the worn but comfortable chair reserved for his special use.
‘And now, I suppose,’ said Tommy, ‘you want to hear everything.’ ‘Matter of fact, sir,’ said Albert in a slightly apologetic tone, ‘I know most of it. You see, seeing as it was a question of the missus and all that, I took the liberty of lifting up the extension in the bedroom. I didn’t think you’d mind, sir, not as it was the misSuS.’ ‘t don’t blame you,’ said Tommy. ‘Actually, I’m grateful to you. If I had to start explaining ‘ ‘Got on to everyone, didn’t you? The hospital and the doctor and the matron.’ ‘No need to go over it all again,’ said Tommy.
‘Market Basing Hospital,’ said Albert. ‘Never breathed a word of that, she didn’t. Never left it behind as an address or anything like that.’ ‘She didn’t intend it to be her address,’ said Tommy. ‘As far as I can make out she was probably coshed on the head in an out of the way spot somewhere. Someone took her along in a car and dumped her at the side of the road somewhere, to be picked up as an ordinary hit and run.’ He added, ‘Call me at six-thirty tomorrow morning. I want to get an early start.’ ‘I’m sorry about your chicken getting burnt up again in the oven. I only put it in to keep warm and forgot about it.’ ‘Never mind chickens,’ said Tommy. ‘I’ve always thought they were very silly birds, running under cars and clucking about. Bury the corpse tomorrow morning and give it a good funeral.’ ‘She’s not at death’s door or anything, is she, sir?’ asked ‘Subdue your melodramatic fancies,’ said Tommy. ‘If you’d done any proper listening you’d have heard that she’s come nicely to herself again, knows who she is or was and where she is and they’ve sworn to keep her there waiting for me until I arrive to take charge of her again. On no account is she to be allowed to slip out by herself and go off again doing some more tomfool detective work.’ ‘Talking of detective work,’ said Albert, and hesitated with a slight cough.
‘I don’t particularly want to talk about it,’ said Tommy.
‘Forget it, Albert. Teach yourself book-keeping or window-box gardening or something.’ ‘Well, I was just thinking – I mean, as a matter of clues ‘ ‘Well, what about clues?’
‘I’ve been thinking.’ ‘That’s where all the trouble in life comes from. Thinking.’ ‘Clues,’ said Albert again. ‘That picture, for instance. That’s a clue, isn’t it?’ Tommy observed that Albert had hung the picture of the house by the canal up on the wall.