Someone to Trust

by Someone to Trust (retail) (epub)

  Perhaps even now O’Neill was watching the house, a sneer on his face, thinking of doing the same thing to her. How could she ever feel safe again? Rob wasn’t going to keep her safe. He hadn’t said as much but it seemed to her he had no choice but to forget any promise he had made to her because of Blodwen. Which was how it should be, she supposed. She sat up, hunching her knees and resting her chin on them. Damn Blodwen! As if worrying and grieving about her mother weren’t enough to have on her mind!

  Lucy pushed a strand of hair from her eyes with a weary gesture. Surely there must be a clue to her mother’s disappearance somewhere? Somebody must have seen something. If she was on friendlier terms with Rob she would have asked him… She told herself sternly to stop thinking about him and tried to sleep again but it was hopeless so she slid out of bed, dressed and went downstairs.

  She put on her coat and hat, unbolted the door and slipped outside. Soft-footed, she went down the steps and out on to the pavement. An early tram rattled by and she caught the sound of the milkman’s horse clip-clopping up the road. The lamplighter would soon be round, extinguishing the lights, and there would be the knocker upper soon, too. She liked being out in the early morning when she could.

  ‘Where are you going, Lucy? You’re out early.’ She almost jumped out of her skin. Whirling round, she saw Rob. He was dressed all in black so maybe that was why she hadn’t seen him leaning against the soot-darkened sandstone gate post.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing here?’ Her voice sounded truculent.

  ‘Just keeping an eye on you.’ She caught the gleam of his teeth and remembered the feel of his mouth on hers.

  ‘Why?’ she said bluntly. ‘I thought you weren’t on this case. Haven’t I made your life difficult enough? I thought you’d want to be shot of me!’

  ‘That doesn’t stop me feeling sorry for you. I like your mother as well as you. I can’t just turn off those feelings.’

  She wanted to cry. Dear Jesus, she was turning into a right watering can! She forced herself to speak. ‘What’s this? Confession time, Mr Detective?’ No response. Had she gone too far? She peered into his face and wished she could read his expression but his features were indistinct, just as they’d been the first time they’d met.

  ‘The priest at St Anthony’s said your mother had a strong sense of having sinned in marrying out of her own church,’ he said abruptly. ‘D’you think Barney knew she didn’t feel married to him in God’s eyes?’

  Lucy laughed despite herself. ‘I doubt it! I told you, he had no idea she was going to St Anthony’s.’

  ‘You only think that. What if he did know and got angry?’

  Lucy’s heart felt as if it jolted to a stop before rapidly resuming its beating. Not again! ‘You’re jealous of him, aren’t you?’ Rob looked at her as if she’d run mad. ‘He’s a very popular person. The police aren’t, are they, Rob dear? I suppose that’s another reason why Blodwen wants you out of the force.’

  He grabbed hold of Lucy by both arms and brought her against him. ‘You’ve said enough! Keep off that subject.’ She brought up one hand and caressed his jaw, ran a finger over his lower lip. ‘Don’t do that!’ His voice was angry and he swept aside her hand. ‘Let’s stick to your mother’s disappearance. I’d ask you to do something for me but it might put you in danger.’

  Lucy wanted to rest her head against his shoulder and feel safe again, not do something that was dangerous. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Our men searched the room where your mother slept – how about you having a look round to see if there’s anything you might consider unusual that our men have passed over as unimportant?’

  She pulled away from him. ‘You’re seeing Barney as a killer again. I can’t understand you. You were the best man at his wedding. He’s family!’

  Rob scowled. ‘Don’t do it then.’ He turned and walked away.

  Lucy went back into the house, angry with him. Yet later in the day when she had time off and knew the house should be empty except for Agnes, she returned home.

  The maid was in the kitchen, drinking tea and warming her feet by the range. ‘Don’t get up,’ said Lucy, and poured herself some tea, buttered some bread and carried it all upstairs. After a gulp of tea and a mouthful of bread she opened the door of Barney’s and her mother’s bedroom. She hesitated in the doorway, feeling a mixture of guilt and grief. Then, telling herself she was here now so might as well get on with the job, she pulled open a drawer in the dressing table.

  She had a struggle holding back the tears at the sight of her mother’s gloves, scarves and handkerchiefs. Her scent clung to them and was so evocative of her presence that as Lucy searched through them, tears rolled down her cheeks. It was at the bottom of that drawer she found the framed photographs. She took them out and marvelled at the way she had forgotten about them. Here was fresh cause for tears as she gazed down at the young, happy faces of her parents on their wedding day. She supposed Maureen couldn’t have displayed the photographs here but there was no reason why Lucy shouldn’t have them in her bedroom.

  She went on to search the whole room, feeling ashamed and a little embarrassed as she flicked through Barney’s underwear. Then she hurried out, glad the task was over and convinced Rob was making a big mistake.

  She placed the photograph of her parents on the table next to her bed before gobbling down the bread and draining the cup of lukewarm tea. Then she hurried back to the Trocadero.

  The following evening when she arrived home she was seized upon by her brother, who was in his pyjamas. ‘Guess who’s been here?’ he whispered.

  ‘I’m not in the mood for guessing games.’

  ‘Owen’s mam, Dilys and her aunt, and that one Rob’s going to marry.’

  Lucy dragged off a glove and threw it on the floor. ‘I wondered when one of them would show up! Didn’t expect all of them at once, though.’ She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the stand. ‘Was Barney here when they came?’

  Timmy nodded. ‘I heard him putting on the voice, telling them he’s not playing at every performance at the moment because he doesn’t feel up to it but he’s doing his best.’ Timmy’s voice couldn’t conceal his disgust.

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Went up ten minutes or so ago. I was upstairs and heard him so I came down to see you.’

  ‘Let’s go into the kitchen. It’ll be warmer there and you can tell me what you heard.’ A grim smile played round Lucy’s mouth. ‘I bet they had something to say about me!’ She hadn’t been to church or seen any of them since her mother went missing.

  ‘That Blodwen thinks you’re a right madam,’ said Timmy. ‘She thinks Barney’s a dear.’ He put on a falsetto voice. ‘“We feel so sorry for you! It’s a scandal the police persecuting a cripple who’s such a good man.’”

  Lucy grimaced. ‘It’s true about Barney.’ She wondered if Blodwen felt the way she did about her because of the rumours she had heard about Lucy and Rob. ‘I suppose they had something to say about Rob, too?’ She put on the kettle, sat down, unfastened her shoes and wriggled her cold toes.

  ‘Miss Griffiths is mad to sell him the timber yard so she can retire to Wales now some old aunt’s died and left her a house there. Says he could get something called a mortgage for the yard and rent the house where she lives. He could be married in a few months’ time.’

  Lucy felt as if her heart was being squeezed by a nutcracker. So that was the plan! Had they spoken of this deliberately in front of Timmy, knowing he would tell her? A subtle way of saying: ‘Keep off! Don’t rock the boat!’ Her brother had gone over to the bread bin. Now he faced her, holding a half-eaten loaf of bara brith. ‘They brought two of these, scones, and a big meat and potato pie. They must think you’re a lousy cook, but they think I’m a dear, too.’ He grinned.

  ‘Kind of them,’ she murmured, half-closing her eyes, feeling depressed and drained of energy. ‘Anything else you want to tell me? Did Dilys have anything to say?’
>
  He shook his head and said through a mouthful of cake, ‘She looked pale and kind of sad. Mrs Davies offered to come back and cook our dinners and Barney took up her offer.’

  ‘How could he?’ Lucy was indignant, remembering what her mother had said about Owen and Mrs Davies. How long would it be before she was buzzing in and out of the house like a blue bum fly, all day and every day? Lucy did not like that idea at all but what could she do? It was Barney’s house. Tired out and wishing she could get away from it all, she had a cup of cocoa and went to bed.

  She woke the following morning having slept heavily for once after a good cry. Realising how late it was she scrambled out of bed and caught the framed photograph of her parents with her elbow. It fell to the floor and with a soft cry of distress she picked it up. To her relief the glass had not broken but the whole lot had come to pieces. She noticed a clip was faulty at the back and as she attempted to fix everything together a slip of paper fell out. It was a letter.

  Lucy read the signature at the bottom of the sheet. It was a letter from her grandmother Linden.

  She sank on to the bed and began to read:

  My dear Maureen,

  I know it is a while since I have written to you but I pen this short note in the hope you will be kind and do something for me. Six months ago my beloved William died leaving me with very little. His elder brother has been kind enough to take me in but I am very lonely and would dearly love to see my grandchildren.

  You’ve always ignored my letters in the past but please, please, do not ignore this one. I have the money to pay for their fares as well as your good self if you wish to come for a holiday here in Bridlington. If you can see your way to doing what I ask I will be forever grateful. Please reply to my new address at the top of this letter. My very best wishes to you,

  Myrtle Linden

  Lucy looked at the address at the top of the page and noted the date the letter had been written: spring 1921. The blood seemed to rush to her head and the backs of her eyes ached. She re-read the letter. There was no need to ask herself why her mother hadn’t shown it to her. Maureen had never concealed her feelings towards Lucy’s paternal grandparents. So why had she kept the letter? It was a question Lucy could not answer. She could only guess her mother had thought Myrtle Linden might be of use to them one day.

  ‘One day,’ murmured Lucy, going over to where she’d left her handbag. ‘Today?’ Placing the letter inside her bag, she decided to tell her brother about it after she’d given its contents some thought.

  She re-read the letter when she had a free moment; heart-sore and weary, fed up with working at the cash desk, of waiting for news of her mother but dreading it at the same time in case it completely killed the mustard seed of hope she nursed that somewhere Maureen might still be alive. She decided the letter couldn’t have come at a better time. If her grandmother were still alive – if she still wanted to see them – if her grandfather’s brother would accept them as guests in his house now they were no longer children, then she would go and visit them.

  During her meal break Lucy went to the Post Office and when she arrived home that evening she wrote a letter to her grandmother and went out and posted it. She did not after all tell her brother about the letter but decided to wait and see if their grandmother replied.

  Lucy did not have long to wait. Three days later she received an answer to her letter.

  My dear Lucy,

  It was wonderful to hear from you. I will not say anything about your mother. I think all that needs to be said is that Stan and I are married and you and Timmy are very welcome to come and stay with us for as long as you like. I enclose a postal order for the train fares and look forward to hearing from you with the date of your arrival.

  Your loving Granny Myrtle

  Immediately Lucy went in search of Timmy. She found him in the yard with a catapult, taking potshots at one of the neighbouring cats. ‘I hope you hit the right one,’ she said.

  ‘The one which keeps dirtying in the garden? You bet!’ He returned her smile and shoved the catapult into his trouser pocket so that the elastic hung out. ‘You’re cheerful this morning?’

  ‘I’ve received a letter.’ She saw the sudden hope in his eyes and hated disappointing him. ‘It’s from Dad’s mam. She wants us to go and stay with her.’ Lucy told him everything and afterwards handed their grandmother’s latest letter to him.

  He read it swiftly, looked up and said, ‘Let’s go!’

  She laughed. ‘I thought you’d say that. I know you’re finding it difficult here.’

  ‘Barney doesn’t like me now I’m almost grown up, and I don’t like him.’ Timmy kicked a stone, his brows knitted together in concentration. ‘I don’t like the way he behaves to you, either. His face droops like a blinkin’ bloodhound when you’re around. He wants your sympathy all the time.’

  Lucy realised her brother was jealous of Barney but he was also right. In the last few days, when she and her stepfather were both home together, he’d expected her to be at his beck and call; in much the same way he’d expected her mother to be. The attitude was not unusual between father and daughter but he wasn’t her father and she felt uneasy about getting too close to him now her mother was no longer in the house. It wasn’t that she felt endangered as she had with Mick. Maybe it was down to the way Rob had spoken about Barney. She’d dismissed Rob’s suspicions, still half-believing Shaun O’Neill had something to do with her mother’s disappearance. Yet she felt Barney could easily smother her own will and sense of freedom if she didn’t escape from under his roof, at least for a while.

  Lucy wrote to her grandmother, handed in her notice at work, cashed the postal order, purchased their train tickets, wrote to the headmaster of Timmy’s school and packed their suitcases before confronting Barney. She had a good idea of what to expect.

  It couldn’t have been much worse. He was obviously stunned. Then he recovered and called her ungrateful, heartless, a Jezebel! She presumed the latter referred to the shimmy dress which she had never worn again. Lucy put up no defence. She had seen other sides to Barney in the last few months and no longer thought him the perfect man. Even so she disliked hurting him.

  ‘I will be back,’ she said, standing straight as a ramrod in front of him, hands clasped together, trembling inwardly. ‘I am very fond of you.’

  At that his expression altered and he seemed to have trouble controlling his mouth. He got up from his leather chair and stumped over to her, holding out his arms. She submitted to his embrace, only to have trouble breaking away as he wept on her shoulder. Lucy called her brother, who was waiting in the lobby with their luggage. He came striding in and helped her disentangle herself. ‘Goodbye, goodbye,’ cried Barney, waving both hands.

  ‘Oh, God,’ muttered Timmy, and hurried out of the house.

  Once on the train Lucy regained enough presence of mind to write a letter on the long journey. She had decided days ago it would be less painful if she didn’t see Rob before she left. That she was leaving part of herself in Liverpool she had no doubt. She’d intended to be brief but in the end she told him all about finding the letter and what her grandmother had said, of the scene with Barney and how she hoped Rob would be happy with Blodwen (which was a lie), and pleaded with him to continue to try and find what had happened to her mother. She signed it ‘Love, Lucy’ and wrote her aunt’s address on the top of the first page.

  She had intended writing separately to Owen and Dilys but after a few false starts and crossings out she decided not to bother. She would send them a postcard each. Having decided that, she settled down opposite her brother, who was reading another adventure book, and opened the magazine she had bought at the station.

  * * *

  It had been a long journey over the Pennines and across the Wolds of Yorkshire. They’d had to change at Leeds and now Lucy felt tense and excited but convinced she had done the right thing. Listening to the snatches of conversation she could hear around her she felt as if
she was in a foreign country. How was she ever going to understand what these people were saying, and how would they understand her? The voice over the tannoy spoke perfect English but he wasn’t saying anything she wanted to know. Would she have difficulty in recognising her grandmother? She had brought the photograph of her parents on their wedding day with her and now clasped it in her hand.

  Lucy need not have worried. Within minutes an elderly woman wearing an old-fashioned long black skirt and black-beaded jacket, as well as a very large hat, came hurrying up to the newspaper stand where they’d arranged to meet, letting out cries of recognition.

  ‘The spitting image of his father!’ She seized Timmy by the shoulders and gazed down into his face with tears running down her plump, rosy cheeks. ‘Such a good face! So like our Larry’s!’ She ran a lace-mittened finger down the youth’s cheek.

  ‘Hello, Granny Myrtle.’ Under his lazy lids Timmy’s eyes glinted with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement as a deep flush came up under his skin. He removed his cap and gave her a small bow.

  She beamed down at him. ‘You can’t imagine how grand it is to be called that. Granny Myrtle,’ she repeated, as if by saying it aloud she gained more pleasure. ‘We’re going to have a smashing time. Stanley is so looking forward to meeting you. He said you can call him Uncle Stan - Great-uncle being too much of a mouthful.’ She turned to Lucy. ‘And you, lass, you’re glad to be here?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ agreed Lucy. ‘I wasn’t absolutely sure how you’d feel when you saw us but I can tell you’re pleased.’

  ‘A handsome grandson and a nice-looking grand-daughter! What more can I ask?’ Myrtle’s eyes were a faded blue but their gaze was penetrating as it met Lucy’s. ‘I’m sure you’re both strong, and I know you’re both used to work, so let’s get off home and as soon as you’ve had something to eat I’ll show you to your rooms.’