‘Different layers. That’s right.’
‘And the baby was just lying there, crying, I guess?’
‘No, no,’ said Connie, a bit irritated by that. ‘The baby was smiling. She woke up when we walked in and smiled at us.’
‘Poor little mite,’ said Jimmy Thrum sadly. ‘With her parents vanished from the face of the earth! Does she seem to miss her mum and dad?’
‘She’s too young to know any different,’ said Connie firmly. She wanted it clear that the baby was in good hands. She didn’t want any rich do-gooders reading this article and turning up to help themselves to the baby. ‘She’s thriving. We’ll take good care of her until her parents come back.’
‘If they come back,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘It seems unlikely, don’t you think? Don’t you suspect foul play of some sort?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Connie. ‘It’s a real mystery.’
‘A mystery, eh? An unsolved mystery.’ Was he giving her a keen, shrewd look? Was he holding her eye-contact for just a bit too long? Was he seeing right through her?
His eyes were the warm brown colour of cinnamon. Connie thought highly of cinnamon. After she fed him a roast dinner she’d like to feed him apple crumble with fresh cream. Later on, for supper, (before bed!) she’d give him a couple of very thick slices of sugary cinnamon toast and a strong cup of tea.
Perhaps she was misinterpreting his shrewd look. Perhaps it was actually an interested look. The dress she was wearing had a nice neckline and she’d noticed when she combed her hair that morning that her fringe had fallen just right across her forehead. Actually, he seemed more interested in the neckline than the fringe.
‘You know what this is like?’ said Jimmy. ‘It’s exactly like the Mary Celeste. Have you heard of the Mary Celeste?’
What luck. She wouldn’t need to supply him with the comparison. It was exactly the extra edge the story needed.
‘I think so,’ she said, and pretended to sound a bit uncertain.
‘The ship, right?’
‘Yes! It was sailing from New York to Italy about sixty years ago and they found it adrift. All ten people on board had vanished without a trace! No explanation. There are lots of theories, but nothing satisfactory.’
Not ten, eleven people on board, thought Connie. Ten adults. One little girl.
‘In this case, it’s a house instead of a ship.’
Well done for stating the bleeding obvious, thought Connie, but she forgave him for the bright, excited look in his cinnamon eyes.
He continued, ‘And of course, there is a survivor. The baby. But she can’t tell us anything, unfortunately.’
‘Unfortunately,’ agreed Connie.
‘The mystery of Alice and Jack Munro’s abandoned house. The Munro Baby Mystery. Our very own Mary Celeste.’
Connie smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Is this what you’d call a scoop?’ she asked innocently.
‘That’s exactly what I’d call it! The scoop of 1932!’ Jimmy looked delighted and bent back over his notepad to scribble some more.
‘Have you been a reporter for very long?’ asked Connie.
He seemed to sit up straighter and she realised she’d hurt his feelings. It made her feel tender towards him. ‘I’m a cadet,’ he said defensively, and smoothed his palm over the top of his head as if he’d just remembered how his hair was probably refusing to stay put.
So the newspaper hadn’t thought it was much of a story after all. Still, maybe Jimmy Thrum’s enthusiasm would be contagious.
‘What do the police have to say about this?’ asked Jimmy, in a more formal voice than he’d been using previously. ‘I assume you notified them when you found the baby?’
She spoke confidingly to mollify him. ‘Actually, they weren’t very interested in the beginning. They didn’t think it was all that mysterious. The Munros were behind on their rent. People are abandoning their houses all the time these days. Often they go in the middle of the night. They’re abandoning their babies too.’
‘But normally they leave the baby at a church or on somebody’s doorstep. They don’t just leave a baby sleeping in the house.’
‘Alice had asked Rose and me to go around for a cup of tea,’ said Connie. ‘I guess she knew the baby would be found.’
‘But the kettle boiling! And the cake waiting to be iced!’ Jimmy regained his former enthusiasm as he defended his scoop. ‘And you said there was an overturned chair and blood stains on the floor!’
‘The sergeant at Glass Bay Police Station said he’d be more interested if there was an actual body on the floor. I also think he would have been more interested if it was my father reporting it, not me, but Dad doesn’t really get off the island much. My father isn’t well. He was gassed twice in France. He’s a bit…as I said, he stays on the island most of the time.’
She had been going to say her father was a bit soft in the head, but then she realised that wasn’t relevant, or any of Jimmy Thrum’s business, for that matter. Although for some reason she wanted to tell Jimmy all about how her dad had been even stranger since Mum died, and how worried she was about Rose, who seemed to be going a bit barmy too.
She continued talking. ‘Anyway, the sergeant did come out eventually and poked around the house and scratched his head. He said they weren’t necessarily blood stains on the floor. You’ll have to see what you think, when we go over to the house. It sure looks like blood to me. He said he’d come out and have another look sometime next week if the Munros still haven’t turned up. He seems convinced they’ll be back to get their baby. I understand he’s pretty busy, and I think he thought I was just a silly young girl. And people think it’s such a bother to come out to the island. You’d think we lived on the moon, it’s so inconvenient.’
‘I don’t think you’re a silly young girl.’
‘Thank you.’
Their eyes met and they both looked away and shifted awkwardly in their chairs.
‘It’s worth the inconvenience,’ said Jimmy suddenly. ‘This island. It’s so beautiful. You’re so lucky to live here. I don’t know why people don’t come here for picnics.’
Picnics. Exactly, thought Connie. Picnics will be the start. Then Devonshire teas.
There was a sudden kitten-like cry from down the hallway and Jimmy looked up.
‘That’s the Munro baby?’ he asked, as if he was surprised by the coincidence of talking about the baby and it actually existing as well.
‘Yes,’ said Connie. ‘My sister will pick her up.’
But the baby kept crying and crying, and after Jimmy and Connie looked at each other for a while, Connie got up and found Rose sitting upright at their mother’s sewing machine, staring out the window, her face immobile and empty. She jumped when Connie said, ‘Can’t you hear the baby?’ and answered, ‘Oh, sorry, I was just doing some sewing.’
‘It might help if you had some fabric then,’ answered Connie, and thought, There is something quite wrong with that girl.
Connie scooped up the baby, who stopped crying and began making hopeful sucking movements with her mouth to indicate she was hungry. Babies were really no problem to look after, thought Connie, as she carried her back into the kitchen. Any fool could do it.