Don't Tell My Secret

by Mark Stewart

  SUNSHINE QUICKLY moved closer to James. The moment it shone on his left eye he woke. Hovering over him and Mia he could barely see Eloise’s blurry form.

  “It’s good to see you have clothes on this morning James,” whispered Eloise.

  “How did you enter Mia’s apartment? How did you know I was here?”

  “Don’t wake Mia. Come on; we have work to do,” she whispered, lifting a finger to her lips.

  “I can’t just up and leave Mia.”

  “Trust me; she’ll be okay. When Mia knows the truth, she will fully understand.”

  James peeled himself from under Mia. Lifting her, he carried Mia to bed. He almost needed to trot to keep up with Eloise marching to his apartment.

  When he and Eloise stepped inside his apartment, James continued his barrage of questions.

  “Why was my apartment door wide open?”

  “I opened it five minutes ago,” confessed Eloise.

  “How?”

  “Suspense,” answered Eloise. “We must start work. Time is short.”

  James watched her walk to the balcony door. In a quick sweep of her hand, the curtain parted, pouring sunlight into the room.

  “The kettle has boiled. There’s a fresh mug of coffee steaming next to the laptop.” Eloise glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t just stand there, go eat breakfast.”

  “What about you? Can I fix you something to eat?”

  “Thanks for the offer, I’ve already eaten. Your bacon and eggs have been dished up and the dishes have been washed.”

  James gave her a blank stare. “Thanks.”

  “No problem at all,” replied Eloise. “Why do you seem a little puzzled again this morning?”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes.”

  James swiped the plate of food from off the bench and sat at the kitchen table watching Eloise slip onto the seat opposite him.

  “Don’t let the food get cold. Eat up.”

  “When did you make breakfast?”

  “All remaining questions will be answered the moment the novel is finished.”

  “Why not tell me now?”

  “You should know the answer,” hinted Eloise.

  “Suspense,” he grumbled.

  James scoffed the food down then sat back looking suspiciously at Eloise.

  “The eggs tasted free range. I didn’t buy them. They weren’t in this room.”

  “James, please stop being the detective. There’s no mystery. I brought the eggs. I have two chickens at my place. If I didn’t bring breakfast how could I convince the young man who let me into your apartment to open the door?”

  Sighing heavily, James walked over to the laptop. Pushing the start button, he only needed to wait a few seconds for the words to come up on the screen.

  “Are you ready to start work?” asked Eloise.

  “Almost,” he replied, studying her. “Every time you either go home, or you arrive to begin telling the story you look slightly different.”

  “What about now?”

  “If I didn’t know you were eighty I’d say you looked no older than fifty.”

  “Thanks for saying such a nice compliment.”

  James fidgeted on his seat before adding. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Eloise strolled back over to the curtain. She acted the same as on previous times by looking out over the bay. She sighed before facing James.

  “We can move the story on a week. Everything has calmed down. The mood in the factory has stabilized. Production of ammunition, plane and tank parts has resumed in earnest. Even the Old Clunker seemed to be churning out more bullets per hour. There was a real excitement in the air. The workers were informed they were about to meet their new boss.”

  “Lilly, the whole factory seems to be alive,” commented Suzie, walking up to her at the bullet making machine.

  “Yes, the rumor of our new boss arriving at 9:00 o’clock has the place humming. Even Mr. Smith has a spring in his step.”

  The echo of the smoko whistle reverberated throughout the factory.

  “It’s too early for smoko. It’s only eight thirty. The new boss isn’t due to arrive for another half an hour,” mentioned Lilly, checking her watch.

  “Everyone outside,” called Mr. Smith, starting to herd the women workers towards the outside door. “Suzie, Lilly, let’s go.”

  “I hope this has nothing to do with our secret,” whispered Suzie under her breath. “I saw a black car drive past the factory yesterday.”

  “Don’t panic. Lots of cars drive past each day.”

  “This one stopped. I’m positive I saw the driver staring at me. Lilly, I’m feeling a bit nervous. If a smart cop works on Carlisle’s murder case and begins to ask me questions I’m afraid I’ll spill everything about what happened.”

  “Stay calm. If a cop is out there, act innocent. If we can convince him again, we don’t know anything other than what we said a week ago, he’ll leave.”

  The fifty women working in the factory switched off their machines. They filed outside in double quick time. Lilly and Suzie were the last ones out. The weather looked fine. However, rain was expected late in the day. Already the temperature felt like it had started to drop. The only evidence of the burnt-out car or where Carlisle died was a patch of blackened ground.

  The group watched a black car, the same model as Carlisle’s swing onto the factory grounds through the open gate. It stopped at the side fence. A man of average height, balding and brandishing a grey moustache, wearing smart casual attire stepped down. He walked over carrying a wooden bucket. Everyone watched him turn it upside down and step up, towering over the women. He summed up the group to be slightly nervous. He stepped off the bucket so he could look at each of the workers at eye level.

  “Good morning ladies,” he called. “I’m your new boss. My name is Harry Finestone. Please call me Harry. The reason I got off the bucket is simple. I want you to think of me as your friend, not a boss. My office door is always open. However, there is one rule I need everyone to remember. If one of you ladies wants to talk about something I will come out of my office. I’ll set up a small table and a couple of chairs near the reception office. I want each person listening to my voice to feel safe when you talk to me. I’m well aware of what happened here recently. Accident or not it’s not my place to judge. In fact, it’s none of my business. I have many years, experience in the factory industry. I believe a happy work environment is a productive one. I want to say thanks in advance for the work you do here. It must be hard to get used to a change of roles. Your husband or father used to work while you ladies stayed at home bringing up the kids. I admire you for the commitment. This war will not last forever. When the day arrives, and peace is declared you’ll be happy to know I will give each of you a bonus of two pounds on the last day of work.”

  “What do you mean our last day of work?” asked Lilly, taking a step forward.

  Harry returned his focus on the whole group. “When the men come back from the war they’ll take over your jobs. Hopefully, things will return to normal reasonably quick.” Harry moved his attention to Lilly. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask your name.”

  “I’m Lilly Barrett.”

  Harry walked over, pushing his hand out. Lilly shook it then stepped back level to Suzie.

  “If there are no more questions I’ll personally meet everyone over the course of today. Thanks for listening.” Harry checked his watch. “Smoko is in about five minutes. You have my permission to take a longer break.”

  About 3:00 in the afternoon Harry wondered over to the bullet making machine. Lilly had her back to him, so he watched her progress. She jumped a little when she saw him.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he began, walking over. “I didn’t want to interrupt while you were pouring gunpowder into the pipe.”

  “Thanks,” said Lilly. “Even after working this machine for a little over three months, pouring gunpowder into the pipe still makes me slightly
nervous.”

  Harry reached out to shake her hand. “We met at the meeting. You were the only one who asked a question.”

  “Yes, thanks for answering. I love the idea of talking openly and not in your office behind a closed door.”

  “Good to hear. I don’t want rumors floating around the factory I might be a maniac who loves to chase women.”

  Lilly faked a grin. The moment Harry focused on the machine her smile faded.

  “I’ll give out some information about myself,” continued Harry. “I’m sixty. I’ve been married to the same wonderful woman since I turned nineteen. We raised three children. They are wonderful boys. One died in the war.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Lilly interrupted.

  “It’s okay. It’s been a while. My wife and I will see him in heaven one day. I go to church to pray each Sunday. I work six days a week. I live four minutes up the road. I drove today due to the fact the weather is about to turn bad. What about you?”

  “I’m Lilly Barrett. I’m married, no children yet. I’m twenty-four. I live a fifteen-minute walk from here. My husband is in the Navy.”

  “Do you have any more questions?”

  “What you said before about when the war is over, and the men come home, we won’t be working here?”

  “Correct.”

  Lilly turned her head to wipe the tears away.

  “It’ll be okay. Everyone will have to make adjustments after the war.”

  “I do have another question, but I don’t want you to think it’s absurd.”

  “No question is bizarre,” insisted Harry. “In fact, I love hearing diverse questions, the ones that are never asked. For example, the last factory I worked at a lovely young woman asked me if I could install an oven. She wanted to cook her roast dinner during the day, so when she got home, she’d only have to sit and eat. She complained of feeling too tired from working to start cooking at the end of the day.”

  “How did you respond?”

  Harry chuckled. “I said I’d do my best to find an oven. I did get one installed. I don’t know if it’ll be used to cook her roast dinner or not, the bloke who took over from me didn’t like the idea.”

  To Lilly, the man seemed genuine, a real likeable sort of bloke. However, she needed to tread carefully until she knew more about him. After all, he only just arrived.

  “You wanted to ask me a question?” quizzed Harry.

  “What are my chances of purchasing this bullet making machine I’m standing at when the war is over?”

  “Why do you want to own this old machine?”

  “I have an idea floating around in my head when my husband returns we could start a small business.”

  “Making bullets?”

  Lilly lifted her hand to muffle her giggles. “No, I’m hoping to make lollies. I think this machine will be perfect for what I need. Of course, providing the lollies come out okay.”

  “I have no objections. I’ll make a few phone calls to find out how you can buy the old thing. When the war’s over, I’m sure nobody will want the old museum piece.”

  Harry went to move off.

  “Before you go and if it’s okay, could I trial the making of the lollies in the machine at some stage?”

  Harry rubbed his chin, deep in thought. He looked directly at Lilly before replying.

  “Certainly, though I must insist on one thing.”

  Lilly pouted, bowing her head.

  “Please, let me taste the first lolly from the machine. Don’t tell anyone. I’m a sugarholic.”

  “I won’t tell your secret.”

  “Don’t forget, I want the first taste.”

  “It’s a deal,” replied Lilly.

  At the end of the day, Lilly jogged home to begin working out a nice tasting recipe.

  A few hours of cooking saw no ingredients left in the cupboard. Lilly mixed up the last batch, wrote down the exact amount of each ingredient and poured the lolly compound into a clean pot already on the stove. When the tar coloured lolly mixture felt cool enough to touch, Lilly rolled it into the diameter of a sixpence and cut the long strand of lolly goo into thumbnail lengths using a sharp knife.

  “Here goes nothing,” she whispered, popping a lolly into her mouth. Using her tongue to push the substance around her mouth, she concentrated on the flavor. When the lolly started to dissolve, her eyes sparkled.

  “It’s the perfect recipe. It tastes great. I need a second opinion.”

  Lilly marched to her neighbor’s house carrying a dozen lollies on a plate. Knocking on the door, she waited patiently for someone to answer.

  “Lilly, what brings you out at 10:30 in the evening?”

  “Gwen, I’m sorry it’s so late, I want you to try one of these lollies. I need a second opinion on the taste.”

  The middle-aged woman Lilly was staring at seemed exhausted. Running around all day chasing three boys and two girls, cooking, cleaning and working at the local haberdashery shop six days a week found her more than ready for sleep.

  The tall, dark haired woman took a small square. For a few agonizing seconds, she didn’t comment. When she swallowed the lolly, she held her hand out for another.

  “The lolly leaves a lasting taste in my mouth.”

  “Please say you liked it?”

  “I loved it. Where did you get the recipe?”

  “It’s a family secret. It was handed down from my Grandmother,” explained Lilly, trying to sound convincing.

  “I’d love for you to tell me.”

  “Sorry, I’m not allowed.”

  Gwen took another six; one for her and one each for her children.

  “I’m thinking along the lines of selling them,” confessed Lilly.

  “It’s a great idea, but if you want my opinion nobody has any money because of the war. Producing hundreds will take too long. You’ll need a machine. Quite frankly the banks won’t let you borrow a shilling.”

  Gwen’s damaging words hit Lilly hard in the stomach. Managing to form a grin she whispered on a sigh.

  “I’ll have to wait and see what the wind whips up.”

  Goodnight,” said Gwen. “I hope I didn’t turn you off the business venture?”

  Lilly walked back to her house feeling sorry for herself. She sat at the kitchen table staring at the last five lollies on the plate. She bowed her head, dropping a tear over the news Gwen told her.

  Eventually, Lilly stood. Still feeling disheartened over the news, a determined expression slowly swept her face. Pulling open the door to the ice chest she positioned the small plate of lollies on top of the cup sized block of ice and went to bed.

  CHAPTER NINE