An hour passed and Maureen still had not come home. The gas had gone out but Lucy used one of her precious pennies to have light to read by. She sent Timmy to bed. Another hour passed and she had just decided to give up on her mother and go to bed herself when the door opened and Mick appeared.
‘Hello, Lucy girl, you back?’ He stood there swaying, one hand against the doorjamb, a fatuous smile on his face. ‘Our Mo still out?’ The girl felt angry he could get drunk when they had so little so ignored his question. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ He walked unsteadily across the room towards her.
Lucy was scared, remembering him touching her bottom. ‘She-She’s just gone the privy,’ she said in a rush, holding the book to her chest.
His expression froze. ‘That’s a lie! I’ve just been in there meself.’ He put a hand on her book but she hung on to it, using it as a shield. There was a tussle and his fingers brushed against her breast. ‘My, my, you’re growing there,’ he muttered. ‘You’ll soon be a woman, girl, and the fellas’ll all be after you like wasps round a jam pot.’ He brought his face close to hers and his nose and mouth appeared enormous. ‘Will you like that?’
‘I-I don’t like you t-talking like that, Uncle Mick. Please don’t damage the book. It’s from the library.’
‘Put it down then and give me a hug. Let me have a feel of you! I won’t hurt you. I’m lonely, girl. You don’t know how lonely!’ His voice trembled.
Lucy didn’t care if he was the only man in the world, she just wanted him to go away. He tore the book from her grasp. ‘What’s up with you? There’s no need to be frightened of me.’
But there is! she thought, too terrified to move. He ran his hands down her arms. ‘Lovely skin. Young, firm flesh. If you’d seen the stinking, rotting corpses I’d seen when I was at the front you’d know what a treat this is.’
‘Stop it, Uncle Mick! Please stop it! You’re drunk!’ She lifted her voice, remembering suddenly how thin the walls were and that her mother was only next door.
‘I’m not drunk, girl.’ He stroked her neck. ‘Lovely little throat you’ve got. I’ve strangled a man. I bet you didn’t know that. It’s so easy, girl.’ He put a finger against her windpipe. ‘Just one little press, that’s all.’ She tried to cry out but the words wouldn’t come. He smiled. ‘But I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my niece and I love you.’
There was a sound at the front door. ‘Is anybody still up?’
Lucy had never seen Mick move so fast. He lumbered upstairs and the girl sank on to a chair as her mother entered the room. She looked pale. ‘You OK?’
Lucy nodded. Her mother hugged her but neither of them mentioned Mick’s name. Maureen kept her arm round her as they went upstairs.
In the week that followed Lucy made sure she was never alone in the house with her uncle. Then another explosion down by the docks was reported in the Echo and Mick didn’t come home the following day. That evening Aunt Mac came to visit them. Her wrinkled face was strained and there were tears in her eyes. It took her some time to speak but when she finally managed it they could hardly understand her, so upset was she. ‘Callum’s gone missing. I don’t know where he is,’ she mumbled, dabbing her eyes with a damp rag. ‘I knew he’d been up to something.’
‘He’s a fool, just like our Mick,’ said Maureen, white about the mouth. ‘He’s got himself involved in Ireland’s troubles.’
‘I think he wanted out,’ burst out Lucy, feeling terribly sorry for Aunt Mac. ‘It’s that Shaun O’Neill who’s the ringleader. Without him, Callum and Uncle Mick might have kept out of it.’
‘You don’t think they’ve been arrested?’ said the old woman, her voice quivering.
Maureen bit her lip. Lucy glanced at her. ‘We’d have heard, Mam.’ Those words seemed to comfort both women and soon afterwards Aunt Mac went home.
The following evening Lucy’s eyes were drawn to a newspaper boy’s placard: SENSATIONAL THEFT. She handed over a precious penny for an Echo and read what it had to say. Then she ran home with the newspaper to her mother.
‘Read this, Mam,’ she said excitedly, thrusting the Echo at her. ‘D’you think Mick and Callum could be involved?’
Maureen shushed her and began to read. ‘A group of men with Irish accents stole passports and liner tickets from a boarding house in town. They claimed to be members of the police force to gain entry to bedrooms.’ Her voice trailed off and she carried on reading in silence before lifting her head, hope in her eyes. ‘It says that a wireless message was sent to the liner in question, which was on its way to America, but it had stopped off at Cobh on the way and the men escaped.’
She sank on to the sofa. ‘Thank God for that! Now if the pair of them have any sense they’ll stay in Ireland and we’ll have a bit of peace.’
It was as if a weight had been lifted off them.
A month passed with no word from Mick and Lucy could only be thankful for that. Aunt Mac did receive a letter from Callum. Apparently he was staying with some cousins and had a job and was keeping his nose clean. Lucy hoped for the old woman’s sake he was telling the truth.
Summer arrived, and although it was still a struggle to make ends meet Lucy was much happier than she had been six months ago. Once again she had the task of chopping wood but she would rather that than have Mick back. Sometimes she would see Owen on the way back from Griffiths’ yard, carrying a sack on his back. He would look her up and down as if assessing what lay beneath her frock. Lucy had finally developed curves and had grown three inches in height and he seemed less inclined to throw insults at her.
When she arrived home one night it was to find her mother sitting on the step, a letter in her hand. She looked so upset that Lucy could only think that maybe her uncle was dead. ‘Is it from Ireland?’
‘No, Liverpool.’ Her voice trembled. ‘Mick’s back! Go and get me a pencil, girl.’
Lucy hurried indoors and realised as she took a pencil from off the mantelshelf that her own hands were shaking. Dear God, she prayed, please, don’t let him come here!
She watched her mother write on the back of the envelope. ‘I’m wondering if he’s right in the head, coming back,’ she muttered. ‘Especially as he seems to think it was me that put the police on to him. Me! His own sister! I haven’t seen any policemen hanging round here, have you?’
‘No,’ said Lucy, but she was thinking of Rob Jones in disguise. He certainly seemed to have the knack of losing himself in a crowd.
‘Mick wants to know if this place is being watched. How the hell am I supposed to know?’ Maureen looked down in the dumps as she handed the envelope to Lucy. ‘Take this to Maggie Block’s refreshment house.’
‘Do I have to?’ Lucy wished her uncle on the other side of the world.
‘Now don’t get yourself all worked up,’ Maureen said impatiently. ‘He can’t do anything to you at Maggie’s. Honestly, I wonder at his brains. He calls me a traitor yet tells me where he is.’
Reluctantly Lucy took the note and left. Her stomach was churning unpleasantly despite her mother’s words.
She could not immediately see Mick on entering the crowded portals of Maggie’s refreshment house so waited just inside the door and took a second look around. The room was full of men and the smell of sweat and tobacco mingled with that of scouse, ribs and frying sausages. Her nerves jumped when she spotted Shaun. He had his head together with another man and as if he sensed her eyes upon him he looked up and she realised it was her uncle. Mick had shaved off his moustache and looked completely different. He beckoned her over and reluctantly Lucy squeezed her way between chairs to where they were sitting.
Shaun caught hold of her arm, pinching her skin. ‘What is it you’re wanting, girl? Your mammy send you to spy on us, did she?’
Lucy tore herself free and looked at Mick. ‘I’ve got a message from Mam,’ she said sullenly.
He smiled and patted his knee. ‘Come and sit here, Lucy, while I read what she has to say.’
You must
think I’m daft, she thought, handing him the note but keeping her distance.
Shaun leaned across the table towards Mick and she thought how unattractive he was, face covered in pimples. ‘What does she say?’ he asked.
Mick read slowly and his smile vanished. ‘She says I’m an eejit! That I’m seeing spies up the chimney when all there is is soot because it needs sweeping and it’s caught fire a couple of times with her having to burn wood and paper, having little coal because the miners aren’t happy with their wages!’
Shaun looked incredulous. ‘Your sister’s crazy!’ Then he frowned. ‘Unless it’s code?’
‘She’s having me on, that’s all. She’s angry with me.’ Mick crushed the paper in his hand, his face like thunder. ‘I’ll go and see her and tell her what’s what.’
‘As long as you’re careful, Mickey lad,’ growled Shaun.
‘Don’t you start giving me orders! I’m sick of it!’ Mick glared at him. Then he bent and picked up a parcel from the floor. ‘Here, girl, you carry this. Go ahead! I’ll catch you up.’
Lucy was relieved to get away and ran, wanting to reach her mother before she saw either of them again. She had reached the passage leading to the court when Mick came up behind her and dragged her to a halt. She froze and stared at him with the fascinated gaze of a frog caught in the hypnotic stare of a snake, watching as he took a coin from his pocket. ‘What can you tell me about these Joneses your mother knows? One’s a piano player and one’s a policeman. Two Ps. You can have this shilling if you give me the right answers.’
Lucy found her tongue. ‘I don’t want your money!’ she cried, struggling to free herself. ‘You’re up to no good.’
Mick’s expression turned ugly and he hit her in the face. ‘Tell me the truth! You’re a spy for them, aren’t you?’
Fury erupted inside her and her eyes flashed fire. ‘I wish I was! Yer an eejit, coming back here! They’ll get you and put you in prison and it’ll serve you right! Carry your own parcel!’ She heaved it at him. He yelled in alarm and caught it just before it hit the ground.
Lucy took to her heels, not in the direction of home but away from it. She raced up Bostock Street, slackening her pace only when she lost herself amongst the crowds in Great Homer Street. She thought of going to Aunt Mac’s but decided her uncle might think to look for her there. So she crossed the road and headed for Griffiths’ timber yard. Only when she passed through the gates did she feel safe. She was exhausted and sank down on a heap of piled up planks, holding her face up to the sun.
‘Lucy! What’s wrong with your face? Has someone been hitting you?’
She opened her eyes and saw Dilys and did not know what to say. Her jaw hurt and so did her mouth.
‘Do you want to speak to my aunt? She’s at home today but I could take you there.’
Lucy opened her mouth but no words came. She wanted to see Rob but realised she was scared that if she did, Mick might not only kill her but him as well.
Dilys’s face softened. ‘Come on! I’m taking you to my aunt and I think you should speak to Rob as well.’ She took Lucy’s arm and helped her up. She protested then but the other girl only said, ‘I’m not taking any notice of you. You need help.’
This time Lucy did not argue but went with her out of the yard and along Mere Lane past the Picture Palace. ‘You don’t have to talk about who hit you to me but you shouldn’t let them get away with it,’ said Dilys.
Lucy glanced at her. ‘I’m surprised at you saying that,’ she said through swollen lips. ‘I thought you’d say, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. I will repay!” I know you’re a churchgoer – that you sing in the choir at St George’s – because Barney Jones told my mother.’
‘You’ll know my brother’s a detective then if you know something about me?’
Lucy nodded. ‘My grandfather was in the police force, too.’
Dilys looked surprised. ‘And my father was but he’s dead. He was beaten up during the riots in Liverpool in 1911 and his insides were damaged that bad he died from his injuries.’
‘Mine went down with the Lusitania.’ Lucy thought it was no wonder Rob Jones had given her a lecture on the pitfalls of going off the rails that morning he’d searched their house.
‘My mother died when I was born,’ said Dilys with a sigh. ‘You’re lucky still having yours – but Aunt Gwen’s been good to us. She’s mam’s sister and wanted Rob to work in the timber yard, but once he came out of the Army he had his heart set on following in Dad’s footsteps.’ She paused. ‘Here we are.’
They stood in front of Miss Griffiths’ house in St Domingo Grove. It had three storeys and its roof was gabled. A couple of doors away there was a gap in the row of houses. Lucy stared at the crater and remembered that conversation between Mick, Shaun and Callum. Suddenly she wanted to run but Dilys was leading her up a path and round the side of the house into a back garden. The other girl pushed open the kitchen door and there was Miss Gwen Griffiths with another woman, short and plump. The smell of baking wafted towards them.
‘I’ve brought you a visitor,’ said Dilys, squeezing Lucy’s arm gently. ‘She won’t tell me who’s hurt her but she might talk to you.’
‘Come in, lovey,’ said Miss Griffiths, opening the door wide. ‘What can I do…?’ She stopped abruptly and took hold of Lucy’s chin with a gentle hand and turned it up to the light. ‘My dear, who’s done this to you?’ The concern in her voice was almost Lucy’s undoing. Her eyes filled with tears and there was suddenly an enormous lump in her throat. ‘There now!’ The woman’s arms went round her. ‘You have a good cry. Then we’ll talk about it.’
Those last words were enough to cause Lucy to pull herself together. ‘I can’t talk about it,’ she said in a choking voice. ‘He might do something to you.’
‘Who’s he, lovey?’
Lucy was silent. Why had she come? Mick was family. He would kill her if he knew she was here, and her mam wasn’t going to be too pleased either.
‘If you don’t want to say anymore I can’t make you, but I can put some witch hazel on that bruise – and a cup of hot sweet tea won’t go amiss, would you say?’ She turned to her niece. ‘Take Lucy into the big kitchen. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Lucy followed Dilys into a larger room where a fire burned in an open fireplace. They both sat down on a cretonne-covered sofa. Lucy glanced about her. The room seemed full of old solid furniture which was strangely reassuring. Some of the tension seeped out of her.
Hot sweet tea and strawberry jam and cream scones helped make her feel even better. ‘Now tell me what happened, lovey?’ said Miss Griffiths, after Lucy had finished eating and she was dabbing witch hazel on the girl’s face.
Before Lucy could speak, a man’s voice said, ‘What’s going on? What’s she doing here?’
Lucy scrambled to her feet and gazed at Rob standing in the doorway. He was dressed in the same clothes as last time she’d seen him and she wondered if perhaps he was still after Mick and had been keeping an eye on Maggie Block’s, knowing it was a place where her uncle and Shaun O’Neill met sometimes.
‘Rob, just the person we want!’ said his aunt, sounding relieved. ‘Just look at this poor girl’s face.’
Before Lucy could draw back he did what his aunt had done and took her chin between strong fingers to tilt her face towards the light. ‘Who did this? Or do I need to ask? I think I’d best see you home.’
‘No!’ Lucy pulled away from him. ‘He might…’ Her voice trailed off as she saw the anger in Rob’s eyes.
‘Stop protecting him!’ he said fiercely. ‘This thing has gone too far. Time to sort it out, lovey.’ He took hold of her arm. ‘Shall we go?’
Chapter Nine
‘Your mam’s gone out,’ called a neighbour, who was sitting on her front step. Lucy dragged the key on the string through the letter box with trembling fingers. ‘She looked in a right state and little Timmy was like a zombie. I asked her to come in here but she wouldn’t.’
‘Is anybody in the house now?’ asked Rob.
The woman shook her head. ‘He went off – maybe an hour ago.’
‘We are talking about Mrs Linden’s brother?’
The woman hesitated, then nodded. ‘I’m sure it was him. I recognised the way he walked. He’s got to be stopped. It’s not as if he was her husband.’
Relieved to know Mick was not in the house, Lucy pushed open the door. Rob held her back as she made to go indoors. He called over to the woman, ‘Have you been here all the time since he left?’
‘I went in for a few minutes, that’s all.’
So her uncle might have nipped back, thought Lucy, fear rooting her to the spot. Rob went ahead of her and she forced herself to follow him. All was quiet. He went into the kitchen and scullery before taking the stairs two at a time. She dogged his heels, scarcely able to believe he could get up them so silently, remembering the sound of his Army boots the last he had been here. Perhaps he was hoping to catch Mick asleep if was upstairs – but what if heheard them talking and was waiting for them, revolver at the ready?
‘He has a gun!’ Lucy whispered.
Rob nodded, signalling she should go into the bedroom where he had found her and Timmy the morning he’d searched the house. She hesitated but he bundled her inside and closed the door. Lucy sank on to the bed. Her face was throbbing and her pulse racing but she was only there a few minutes before he called her.
He stood on the tiny landing, cradled a cardboard box as gingerly as if it was a newborn baby. ‘This little lot could blow you sky high once put together. I’m taking it with me to police headquarters. You’d best come along, too, Lucy. I’m sure you could help us with our enquiries.’
‘He’ll kill me!’ she whispered, quaking at the thought of Mick even laying a finger on her.
Rob looked at her with a mixture of concern and anger. ‘I won’t let him. Now, let’s get out of here.’
‘You know he’ll be back! He’ll be back for that!’ Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears.
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