She got as far as the door when he stopped her.
‘Answer me, Helen.’
She looked into his eyes; the anger had gone. He waited while she struggled to explain why she had done such a thing. ‘I have no excuse and you can condemn me and reject me,’ she said. ‘But I will tell you, because I owe you that.’ She paused to collect her thoughts. ‘To be a widow is to be on the outside, not because people are cruel but because they don’t know how to deal with your loss. Some people try to be sympathetic, but you can’t keep absorbing people’s pity – it wears you down. Others judge you, if you don’t seem bereft enough. And to be a young widow is the worst of all.’
‘Why is that?’ he asked.
‘That day when you took me to lunch, you automatically assumed I was married because of my wedding ring. In a way that protects me. Few men would make a pass at a widow. I know this is silly, but I always thought that if I told a man I was a widow, I would almost be saying that I was available. You assumed I was a fireman’s wife and I didn’t correct you. To be honest, I never thought I’d see you again.’
‘But why didn’t you just tell me afterwards when we met again?’
‘Because… by then it would have been ludicrous to say. “Sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I’m a widow.” Oh, Laurence, I got myself into a mess. And when I was in your flat and I could see how it was between us… If only I’d said something, but I couldn’t bear to spoil the evening.’ She sighed. ‘And now, all I’m saying is – I am a widow, but I’m still a woman.’
She watched him mulling over her words, desperate for him to believe her. He nodded. ‘Maybe we should start again, Helen?’
‘Yes, Laurence, I’d like that.’
He stroked her cheek. ‘One step at a time, eh?’
She nodded.
‘How about next Saturday night? I’ll pick you up.’
They left his surgery and there was Sergeant Duffy waiting for her.
‘You remember Dr Fitzpatrick, Sarge.’
‘Yes, I do. Good to meet you in happier circumstances.’
On the way back to the station, Sergeant Duffy said, ‘I think he’s sweet on you, isn’t he? Do you like him?’
‘Yes, I do. He’s asked me out.’
‘I’m pleased for you. You know, if you did want to marry again, as a WAPC you could still stay in the force. Whereas policewomen usually have to leave when they get married, but times are changing. I’ve heard of some being allowed to stay on. It wasn’t like that in my day.’
‘So, you never married?’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘It wasn’t to be.’
‘It doesn’t seem fair, does it.’
‘Ach, don’t be feeling sorry for me.’ There was a twinkle in her eye. ‘Just because I’m not married, doesn’t mean I haven’t got a man.’
Helen was a little shocked, but why shouldn’t she have someone to love and still keep her job? ‘I’m glad you have someone.’
‘Maybe you and Laurence…’
‘I’m just happy to have some company.’
Sergeant Duffy winked. ‘Aye, company is good.’
Chapter 30
It was a proper date and she was so excited and nervous. Saturday night, and Laurence was taking her to a restaurant and afterwards they would catch the last house at the Odeon. He wanted her to see the latest Fred Astaire film. She had finished work at dinner time and called into Woolworth’s on her way home to buy a new lipstick and some bath salts. The house was cold when she came in and she lit the paraffin heater in the kitchen to warm it up, then fetched the tin bath in from the yard. She boiled pans of hot water to fill it and when it reached a good six inches, she took off her clothes and slipped into the sweet-smelling water. She lay there a while and thought of Laurence, when he asked her out, and his lovely smile when she said yes. She washed her hair and rinsed it with a jug then climbed out of the bath, wrapping a towel around her head and another round her body. Upstairs, she laid her two best dresses on the bed and tried to decide which one to wear: the floral with a full skirt and a tailored bodice; or the pale-blue woollen one, with pearl buttons and lace on the cuffs?
Just before six o’clock, she was sitting at her dressing table mirror checking her make-up: a little foundation, a smidgen of rouge, the lovely new coral lipstick. Her hair had dried naturally, with her blonde curls resting on her shoulders, and the pale-blue dress was modest, but stylish enough. She stood up, hesitated, then opened her jewellery box and took out the delicate silver chain with its single drop pearl. She fastened it around her neck and straightened the pearl at the base of her throat, just as there was a knock on the door.
The butterflies made her a little breathless and she was sure her face was flushed when he came into the parlour. His overcoat was open and she noted his dark suit, white shirt and a red and black striped tie.
‘These are for you,’ he said and gave her a posy of violets.
‘They’re beautiful. Have I time to put them in water?’
‘Of course.’
‘Sit down, I won’t be a minute.’ She didn’t have a vase, but a jam jar was just the right size. How odd that he had brought her violets, just like the little flower pressed in her book that she had picked from the plant found in the ruins of the building where Jim had died.
When she returned, he said, ‘This is a lovely room.’
She had to smile. ‘The sofa’s my latest purchase. I had no furniture for a good few months after I moved in. Then little by little I bought some second-hand stuff and made cushions, rag rugs, anything to make it homely.’
‘You were on your own then?’
‘Yes, but I managed.’
*
The restaurant was just around the corner from the Portico Library. Laurence parked the car outside and took her arm as they went in. They were met at the door by a handsome, foreign-looking man in a white apron, not much older than Laurence. ‘Bonsoir, Laurence.’ They shook hands.
‘Good to see you, Philippe. This is Helen.’
He held out his hand and she took it, but to her surprise he raised it to his lips. ‘Nice to meet you, Helen.’ Then he turned to Laurence. ‘Une belle femme.’ He smiled. ‘Now, I have a lovely table for you, very romantic.’
When they were seated, she asked, ‘Is he French?’
‘Yes, his father came to Manchester after the last war and opened up this restaurant. I got to know the family when he was ill in hospital. Philippe runs it now.’
‘What was he saying about me?’
Laurence laughed. ‘He said you’re a beautiful woman.’
‘Oh!’ She looked away.
‘Don’t be embarrassed, he was telling the truth. You are beautiful.’
She was glad that Philippe arrived just then with the menu. ‘I will bring you wine too,’ he said.
She studied the menu. ‘I don’t understand any of this.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll just have the cassoulet, it’s like a stew with beans. It’s what I usually have.’
Helen rarely drank wine and, when she did, it came from Yates’s. This was different, a strange taste, but she didn’t dislike it.
‘Tell me about your house,’ Laurence asked. ‘Have you lived there long?’
‘I moved there after Jim died. We had found the house together and we were supposed to move in on New Year’s Day, but Jim died at Christmas in the Blitz. We lived at my mother’s before that.’
‘So, you moved out and went to live on your own?’
She nodded.
‘That was brave.’
‘No, it wasn’t, it was foolhardy, but I was so full of grief. My mother was a hard woman to live with and I was so confused, I even thought she’d stolen money from Jim and that turned out to be wrong as well.’
He reached over and held her hand. ‘I wish I’d known you then, I would have helped you.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t have been that easy to help, but I managed to get a job at Fenner’s Fashions and by the time I joine
d the police, the grief had eased a little.’
Philippe brought them steaming plates of cassoulet and chunks of crusty bread. ‘This is delicious,’ said Helen. ‘Why does it taste so good?’
‘The French have ways of making the simplest food special, maybe it’s the herbs they use.’
‘And what about you, Laurence? It’s only a few weeks since your mother died.’
‘Ah, you know, when I’m at work I’m concentrating all the time. It’s not till I get home and I start thinking about her. Remembering little incidents when I was growing up, and the things she taught me, the advice she gave me. I hope I don’t stop thinking of those ordinary things as time goes on.’
‘You won’t, I’m sure.’
They had crème caramel and finished the wine then Laurence asked for the bill.
‘There is no bill tonight for my good friend and his lovely lady,’ said Philippe and he turned to Helen. ‘He is happier than I have seen him in a long time. You come back again soon,’ and he kissed both Helen and Laurence on both cheeks. ‘Au revoir, mon ami.’
Outside, she was surprised that he took her in his arms and kissed her so long and tenderly that she wished it would last for ever. He ran his fingers through her hair and she sighed at his touch. ‘Come on, Helen, it’s time to go to the cinema.’
She’d forgotten all about the film. He took her hand and led her to the car, but once inside he kissed her again. ‘My darling Helen, I think I might be falling in love with you, but I won’t rush you. We have all the time in the world.’ She could hear the smile in his voice. ‘This is only our first date, after all.’ He started the engine and they drove to the cinema.
He was right, of course, one step at a time, but she had felt that quickening at his touch and it was hard to deny her desires. There would be other dates, but for now there was only the darkened picture house, with his arm around her shoulder and the chaste romance of Astaire and Rogers on the silver screen.
When they arrived back at her house, she invited him in and they sat on her sofa talking about everything and nothing. He was good company; made her laugh, made her think, and all the time she watched the expressions cross his beautiful face. She thought again about his words in the car, ‘I think I might be falling in love with you’. It made her tingle.
‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘It’s time you went to bed.’
‘You don’t have to go.’
‘I know, but I should go,’ and he took her in his arms and kissed her. She wanted him so much.
‘You make me feel so content and hopeful, Laurence. I’m so glad I met you.’
‘I feel just the same. Shall we meet again next Saturday?’
‘Yes, and Sunday too?’
‘We will.’ A kiss on her cheek and he was gone.
She closed the door and leaned against it. He might be falling in love with her and it made her so happy, because she knew that she was already in love with him.
Chapter 31
Dear Helen,
I hope you are well. I need to talk to you. Please meet me on Saturday afternoon in Kendal Milne’s lingerie department at two o’clock.
Yours,
Anna Maguire
PS Please don’t come in your uniform – wear a nice dress and make-up.
It was a warm afternoon when Helen left the station and headed for Deansgate and Kendal Milne, the most expensive department store in Manchester. She had been intrigued by Anna’s letter to meet her in the lingerie department and the instructions not to wear her police uniform. She had finished her shift at lunchtime and would normally have gone home in her uniform, but instead she went to the ladies’ locker room to change into her best dress, and high-heel shoes. She unclipped her curls from behind her ears and brushed till they bounced. Finally, she put on her make-up as if she was going out for a night on the town.
The desk sergeant whistled as he watched her signing off duty. ‘Please tell me this is the new WAPC uniform.’
‘No chance, Sarge.’
‘Aw well, thanks for brightening my day, Harrison.’
On the walk from the station to the store she had time to think again about Anna’s strange letter. She was looking forward to seeing her again, but mostly she was just curious.
Helen came through the revolving doors of the store into a different world and she stopped a moment to take in the scene: the staff were well groomed and wore neat black dresses; the polished wooden and glass counters seemed to have plenty of stock, and the fragrance from the perfume counters filled the air. She walked past stylish hats, scarves that were probably silk, umbrellas, and so many handbags.
Beyond that, there was a wide staircase and next to it a list of departments. Lingerie was on the second floor and, as she climbed the stairs, she promised herself that she would return again to explore this wonderful… what was the word? Emporium, yes that was it, emporium.
Anna was waiting at the top of the stairs, dressed as though every stitch on her must have come from Kendal’s. ‘Thanks for coming, Helen. First things first, this is for you,’ and she handed her an envelope, inside which there were several pound notes. ‘That’s the money you lent me to get back on my feet.’
‘Anna, it was a gift. I don’t want it back.’
‘Take it, Helen, please. I shudder to think where I’d be now, if you hadn’t taken me in. I owe you so much, so don’t argue.’ Then she took Helen’s arm. ‘Now, we’re going to wander round as though we’re looking for some nice underwear. I might even buy some and, while we do that, I want to talk to you about the place where I’m working.’
‘That’s the bar where you’re a waitress? But why are we here?’
Anna picked up a cream lace bra and seemed to study it. ‘What do you notice about lingerie departments?’
‘They have beautiful things.’
‘That’s true, but we’re here because they’re nearly always empty and men very rarely come in here. So, let’s pretend we’re buying.’ They wandered around picking up items and replacing them while Anna explained. ‘The club is not what it seems – think Fenner’s supper club, but on a much bigger scale. It’s a large building, three storeys, down near the canal on Quay Street. It must have been the headquarters of a cotton trading company, now it’s fitted out as a bar and some other things.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ asked Helen.
‘There’s something odd about it. It’s a big operation and there’s a lot more than drinking going on. I’m just a waitress, but I’m sure there’s illegal gambling and, certainly, there’s some sort of brothel.’
Helen wondered whether Anna was telling her the whole story – she couldn’t have afforded such high fashion on a waitress’s wages.
Anna’s expression was grim. ‘I don’t like the way they treat some of the girls, especially the younger ones.’ A woman came towards them to look at a display of corsets; Anna moved away and Helen followed. She stopped at a rail of silk dressing gowns, picked one out, eau-de-Nil silk, and put it over her arm; no one was close now but she still lowered her voice.
‘Then there’s the men who own it. I don’t mean Gerry, the manager, but the ones who suddenly appear and you think – they’re up to no good. That’s when there’s – I can’t describe it – the whole atmosphere around them is intimidating.’ She grabbed Helen’s arm. ‘They frighten me.’
‘Anna, do you want to report your suspicions? I could go with you to the police station and sit with you while you make a statement.’
Anna was horrified. ‘Dear God, no! I can’t be seen anywhere near a police station. That’s what this cloak and dagger underwear shopping is all about. I can’t have any connection with the police, but who would suspect my friend coming to have a drink with me in the bar where I work?’
‘You want me to come to the club?’
‘Just take a look at it. There won’t be many punters in at this time of day, but you could meet a few of the girls.’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Helen
. ‘I’m only an auxiliary, you know.’
They went to the counter and Anna bought the silk dressing gown. It was expensive and quite a few clothing coupons were needed. The assistant wrapped it in tissue paper, put it in a Kendal Milne box and tied it with a cream ribbon. ‘This is for you,’ said Anna.
Helen was amazed. ‘I can’t take that, it cost a fortune and all those coupons you’ve spent!’
‘Oh, don’t worry, there’s plenty more where that came from.’
Outside on Deansgate Anna turned to her. ‘Come for a drink, Helen. Where’s the harm in that?’
‘All right. I’ll have one drink, but I don’t think I can do anything.’
They walked to the canal, past bombed buildings – some reduced to rubble, others without roofs. Anna stopped in front of an undamaged Victorian building with the words ‘Calico Manufacturing Company’ in gilt across the upper storey. A new brass plate had been screwed to the elegant front door and on it was written ‘The Calico Club’.
The entrance hall was large with a marble floor, a chandelier hung from the ceiling and a curved mahogany staircase swept up to the next level. To the left, open double doors led to the bar, whereas the matching doors to the right were closed. She followed Anna into the left-hand room. Shafts of light from the high windows glinted on the stylish chrome interior. There was a stage, a small dance floor, tables and chairs and curved booths affording some privacy, and in the centre of the room were tables and chairs. Along one wall was a long bar, where a few men were drinking. Helen noted the customers were well-heeled and the bar well-stocked. The man behind the bar, dressed in a waistcoat, white shirt and a dickie bow, looked up from pulling a pint and called out to Anna. ‘You’re early today.’
‘I’ve been out shopping with my friend, Helen; brought her in to have a drink and to see where I work.’
‘Nice to see you, Helen, I’m Gerry. What’ll you have to drink?’
‘We’ll have Scotch on the rocks,’ said Anna.
‘This is a lovely place,’ said Helen.
‘It certainly is,’ said Gerry, ‘and it’s a good place to work too, isn’t it, Anna?’
The Girl from the Corner Shop Page 25