by Roberta Kray
‘I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe you didn’t want to give him the pleasure. Maybe you had an attack of conscience.’
‘Oh, I think we’ve already established that the one thing I don’t have is a conscience.’
Judith pulled a face. She sipped her tea and watched the rain. A few minutes passed and neither of them spoke. Eventually she asked, ‘Just out of curiosity, why didn’t you take Nell with you when you went up north all those years ago?’
‘It wasn’t my choice.’
She waited, but he said nothing more. ‘Not your choice?’ she prompted.
Doyle gave a sigh. ‘It’s a long story.’
Judith looked out at the rain and then back at him. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not in any hurry to leave.’
He still seemed reluctant to speak, his mouth tensing into a straight line. He shifted in his chair, and his eyes darted around the café, settling on nothing. Then, just when she thought he wasn’t going to tell, he sighed again and started. ‘You already know some of it, the stuff about Lennie. We had a falling-out and I took some furs that I reckoned were owed to me. He found out sooner than expected, before we’d had a chance to clear out. I’d gone to get petrol, and when I got back, a bloke I was pals with came out of his house and tipped me off that Hull was waiting. He reckoned Nell had got away – he’d seen one of the goons drive after her, but when the car came back she wasn’t in it – so that was one less thing to worry about.’
Doyle pulled on his cigarette and scowled. ‘I kept my head down until it got dark and then went over to Amy’s flat. She was Nell’s best friend and I figured that was where she’d be hiding out. Amy told me that she was in hospital, that she’d hurt her ankle but it was nothing too serious. She said I should get out of London and fast – that was what Nell wanted – and that Nell would join me when her ankle was fixed.’
He sipped his tea, put the mug down, shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have taken her word for it, but I did. I should have asked more questions, pressed her more. But Nell didn’t want me to find out what Lennie had done. She was scared I’d go after him, that it would all end badly one way or another. And I don’t think she wanted me to see the state she was in.’
‘Did she tell the police?’
‘How could she? If she did, she’d have had to explain about the furs, about the theft, and then she’d have been in even more trouble. Anyway, she wasn’t going to stand up and give evidence against Lennie Hull. He’d have made sure she was dead before it ever came to trial.’
‘So you left without her.’
‘I thought it would only be a week or two before she joined me. I found somewhere to stay, got a job and then wrote to her at Amy’s address. It was a while before I heard back. She said that she’d changed her mind, decided she couldn’t leave London, that she was sorry, et cetera.’
‘And you didn’t suspect anything?’
Doyle stubbed out the cigarette and immediately lit another. ‘Too much hurt pride to read between the lines. I just thought she’d dumped me. It was only later that I found out she didn’t want me to stay with her out of pity or guilt. The doctors had patched her up as best they could, but their best – as you’ve seen – was far from perfect.’
Judith wondered what she’d have done in Nell’s position. Could she have let him go? It would have been heartbreaking, but then so would the alternative: to never be sure if he’d stayed out of love or obligation. ‘How did you find out?’
‘When I was shipped back after Anzio, I bumped into Amy’s brother, Dennis, in the hospital. He told me what had really happened, said Nell was in a bad way, that she’d lost her mind and they’d put her in Silverstone asylum. I only meant to go and see if I could help. It was my fault, you see, my responsibility.’
And what about me? Judith wanted to say, Wasn’t I your responsibility too? But she held her tongue, knowing how bitter it would sound. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing how much he’d hurt her.
‘When I saw that place … Christ, it’s a hellhole. I knew I had to get her out of there. She was in a terrible state and there was no one looking out for her, not really. Amy did what she could, but … Anyway, private hospitals cost money, which is why I went to Alf Tombs. I needed ready cash, and quick. I never meant to stay, but somehow the longer it went on, the more difficult it was to leave. She needed me and I owed her.’
‘You could have told me,’ Judith said. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t understand?’
‘That I was robbing post offices in order to fund Nell’s care? Not really. I wasn’t the man you married any more. I was living outside the law, and that wasn’t what you’d signed up to.’
‘For better or for worse,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that how it goes?’
‘They’re just words.’
‘Words that are supposed to mean something. You could have got the money some other way.’
‘Like what?’
‘You had cash sitting in our bank account.’
‘A drop in the ocean. Do you have any idea how much these fancy hospitals cost? It’s like feeding a bottomless pit. And there was no saying whether Nell was going to get better; the best we could hope for was that she wouldn’t get worse.’
‘So you decided the best way forward was to stay dead, to disappear for ever. Just leave me with the memories and let me go on grieving for the husband I’d lost.’
‘I never decided anything. I wish it hadn’t been like that. I wish …’ He looked at her sadly. ‘Time went by, the war ended … You already thought I was dead, and it seemed easier to leave things that way. I suppose I took the coward’s way out.’
‘There’s no suppose about it.’
Doyle acknowledged her retort with a shrug.
‘You must love her,’ Judith said, even though the words caused her pain.
The statement hung in the warm, smoky air of the café. ‘She’s Nell,’ he replied eventually. ‘She needs me.’
Judith knew instinctively that his life wasn’t a happy one. It was, in many ways, as blighted as Nell’s and her own. She supposed she should be pleased about this, but suddenly all she felt was overwhelmingly tired. Exhaustion washed through her body and she just wanted to lie down, close her eyes and succumb to the blankness of sleep. She pushed back her chair. ‘I have to go.’
‘It’s still raining,’ he said, ‘and you haven’t finished your tea. Why don’t you wait a while?’
Almost as if he wanted her to stay. But she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him any longer. Wearily she got to her feet. ‘It’s only round the corner.’
‘I’ll walk with you.’
She quickly gestured for him to sit back down. ‘There’s no need.’
‘Hull might be hanging around.’
‘He’s gone,’ she said, with more confidence than she felt. ‘Please, I’ll be fine.’ She looked down at him, trying to fix his face in her mind. This would be the last time she saw him. Nothing good could come from her staying in Kellston; it was time to put the past behind her and move on. ‘I’m going home tomorrow. I’m going back to Westport.’
‘What about Elsa Keep?’
‘I’ll leave it to the police.’
He nodded, staring at her intently. ‘Take care of yourself, Judith. And I’m sorry. I really am.’
She turned to go, but then stopped, remembering something Saul Hannah had mentioned.
‘Dan,’ she said, the name slipping automatically from her lips. ‘Whatever Tombs has got planned, keep well away from it.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know any more than that. It’s just something I heard. If you want to help Nell, you need to stay out of jail.’
She left the café without waiting for him to respond and with no idea if he’d take any notice. Well, it was up to him, but at least her conscience was clear. She stepped out onto the street and lifted her face to the sky. After a while, she couldn’t tell the difference between the rain and her te
ars.
48
The next morning, Judith packed her case again, convinced that this time she would not be changing her mind. With luck, the police would do their job properly and find Elsa’s killer. She hoped it wasn’t Ivor Doyle, but if it was, she wanted to be as far away as possible. In her head, she went over his story, wishing he had made different choices and taken different paths. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to help Nell, but the price paid had been a high one.
She took a leisurely breakfast in the quiet dining room, perusing the train timetable while she ate and searching for trains leaving Euston at around eleven o’clock. Now that she had made the decision to go, what she felt most of all was relief. No more looking over her shoulder, no more fear, no more waking in the middle of the night with that knot of dread in her stomach.
There were a few things to do before she left, including paying the bill at the boarding house, a phone call to Cowan Road to let them know she was leaving London – she hoped they wouldn’t object – and one to Saul cancelling their arrangement for tonight. She felt a small twinge of regret about the latter. He was an interesting if complicated man, burdened as he was by the horrors of the past. Had circumstances been different, something might have developed between them. In another time, another life …
She was just finishing her cup of tea when the doorbell rang. Everyone looked at everyone else, but no one moved to answer it. Eventually Mrs Gillan’s footsteps were heard out in the hall. There was a murmur of voices, the sound of the door being closed, and then Mrs Gillan came into the dining room.
‘There’s a visitor for you, Mrs Jonson. I’ve put them in the lounge.’
Judith instantly stiffened. What if Pat Hull had come back? Or Nell? Maybe even Ivor Doyle. She had no desire to see any of them again. What she wanted to do was hide under the table and hope whoever it was would go away. But, of course, she couldn’t. ‘Thank you,’ she said, rising from her chair with affected calm.
She walked slowly to the lounge, trying to put off the moment for as long as possible. Nerves fluttered in her chest. If she hadn’t been so tired yesterday, she would have left then. Oh, how she wished she had, but it was too late for regrets. She paused outside the lounge, took a few deep breaths and with reluctance pushed open the door.
A woman rose from a chair by the unlit fire. Her presence was so unexpected, it took Judith a few seconds to register who it actually was. When she did, her face lit up with surprise and amazement.
‘Annie! What are you doing here?’
‘Well, that’s a fine way to greet an old friend!’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. I’m so glad to see you, I really am.’
The two women hugged and kissed, talked over each over, laughed and eventually sat down.
‘I got your letter,’ Annie said. ‘I was worried about you. We both were. Charlotte wanted to come too, but George has some important dinner he has to go to, so of course the poor girl has to go with him …’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘But she sends her love, and she hopes to see you soon. Are you all right, though? Of course you’re not. It’s all been so dreadful, hasn’t it? I can’t believe what’s happened.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘Now, you have to tell me everything.’
‘I’m not sure what else there is,’ Judith said. ‘I think I put it all in the letter. They still haven’t caught the man who did it.’
‘What about what wasn’t in the letter?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dan,’ Annie said. ‘That’s why you came back to London, isn’t it?’
Judith could have lied to her – or tried – but she had neither the strength nor the inclination to keep up the pretence. The hesitation told her friend all she needed to know.
Annie’s hand rose to her mouth, stifling a tiny scream. ‘My God, you’ve found him, haven’t you? You have.’
It took Judith a while to struggle through the story, partly because it was hard to talk about and partly because of Annie’s constant interruptions. With so much to tell – and so many detours – a good half-hour had passed before she reached the end. By now, Annie looked stunned, her eyes wide with shock.
‘How could he? What’s wrong with the bastard? How could he do that to you?’
But Judith didn’t have any answers for her.
‘What kind of person lets you think they’re dead, for God’s sake!’
Annie’s words jogged her memory, reminding her of Elsa, who had said much the same thing. ‘If I report him for deserting, he could end up in prison, and then who’d take care of Nell?’
‘She’s not your problem.’
‘But it doesn’t achieve anything, not really.’
‘It puts him where he belongs: behind bars.’ Annie’s eyes skimmed the room as if to make sure they were still alone. She kept her voice almost to a whisper. ‘Do you think she did kill that Lennie bloke?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not even sure if I want to know. To be honest, I’ve had enough. I just want to go home. In fact, I’m already packed. If you’d got here an hour later, you’d have missed me.’
‘Just my luck,’ Annie said. ‘The first time I’ve been to London and it’s going to be the fastest visit in history.’
Judith saw the disappointment on her face and felt bad about it. Her friend had come all the way from Westport and now she was going to have to turn around and go straight back. ‘Well, I don’t have to go today. We could stay for the weekend if you want.’
‘I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not after everything you’ve been through. You just want to get home. I understand. It’s all right. I don’t mind, I really don’t.’
‘Come on,’ Judith said, standing up. ‘Let’s go and see if Mrs Gillan has any spare rooms.’
Ten minutes later, Annie was installed across the landing from Judith. The plan for the day was to do some sightseeing and visit the West End shops. In the evening, they could meet Saul in the pub as arranged. Judith wasn’t quite sure how Saul would feel about this, but he could always clear off if he wasn’t happy. She doubted he’d have anything of importance to tell her, and there was nothing she wanted to tell him either.
Annie knocked on the door and came in just as Judith was putting on her coat. It was grey outside and it looked like more rain was on its way. As she slipped a hand into her pocket, her fingers touched the tiny key she had found. Pulling it out, she held it up for Annie to see.
‘Look, this is the key that was hidden in the painting at Elsa’s.’
Annie took it from her and turned it over in her palm. ‘It’s like the keys to the lockers we have at work.’
Judith stared at her. She hadn’t even thought of that. ‘I don’t know if they have them at Connolly’s. It’s only a café.’
‘People nick stuff from anywhere. There’s probably a room where the waitresses can leave their coats and bags. If it gets busy, anyone can slip in and help themselves.’
Judith, who had spent so much of yesterday travelling from station to station, gave a sigh. ‘But it’s got the number 22 on it. They wouldn’t have that many lockers, would they?’
‘They could have got them second-hand, just bought whatever was in the shop.’
‘Surely the police will have checked at Elsa’s work? I mean, they were looking for paperwork for this legacy she was supposed to be receiving. Wouldn’t they have searched her locker if there was one?’
‘Searched her locker, perhaps, but what if this isn’t for hers? Maybe there are spares. She could have taken the key for one that isn’t used.’ Annie’s eyes gleamed. ‘Why don’t we go and try it out? We can sneak into the staffroom and take a look.’
‘Are you joking? What if we get caught? We’ll be charged with theft or attempted theft or whatever they feel like charging us with. I’ve seen enough of that police station already. I don’t want to spend the rest of the weekend there too.’
‘Oh, it won’t come to that. All we have to do is nip in and see if there are any lockers and wh
at numbers are on them. It’ll only take thirty seconds.’
‘And if there is a number 22?’
‘Then you’ll know there’s something important in it. Elsa wouldn’t have gone to the bother of hiding they key otherwise. You can decide what you want to do next. You don’t have to open the locker. You can give the key to the police or to that Saul, or chuck it in the river. It’s up to you.’
Judith thought about it. On the one hand, she knew that if she didn’t go to Connolly’s she would always be wondering what if, but on the other, she was almost scared of what she might find there. If Annie was right, there would be some tough decisions to make.
‘So?’ Annie said. ‘Yes or no? Time to make your mind up.’
Judith finally gave in to temptation. She took the key off Annie and put it back in her pocket. ‘If this all goes wrong, I’m going to blame you.’
Annie grinned. ‘Perhaps we can share a prison cell. I’ve always wondered what it’s like in those places.’
49
Judith and Annie peered through the glass door of Connolly’s. It was getting on for ten, and the café was about three quarters full, the customers mainly women in groups of three or four with shopping bags at their feet. A waitress – not Maud – scurried between the tables, taking orders. The two friends glanced at each other, nodded and went inside.
Judith tried not to think too much about Elsa as they made their way to the rear of the café. Here, to the left of the counter, was a door marked ‘Staff Only’. They found an empty table as near as possible to this, sat down and surveyed their surroundings. Now that they were here, Judith’s confidence in the plan, not that great to start with, was rapidly receding.
‘It’s too busy,’ she muttered.
Annie shook her head. ‘The busier the better. No one’s going to notice.’
Nerves fluttered in Judith’s chest. She glanced around, trying to look casual. Was anyone paying them attention? She placed her elbows on the tabletop, moved them off, put them back again. It was only half a dozen steps to the staffroom, but it looked like a mile.