Almost immediately a voice called, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Joy, it’s Hanny and I’ve Emma with me.’
They heard bolts being drawn and raised their eyebrows at each other. The door opened and Joy stood there, smiling. ‘I know what you’re thinking but I’m not taking any chances of his lordship turning up here and finding me alone in the house.’
‘Wise girl,’ said Hannah, stepping over the threshold. ‘Have you had any luck finding a photograph of him yet? Emma has a feeling she might have bumped into him?’
‘Wow! Where?’ asked Joy, her brown eyes gleaming.
‘Near the Queen’s Park footbridge,’ said Emma, following Hannah into the house. ‘Fair-haired and really good-looking… and he had the nerve to call me Miss Griffiths… just as Bert did when he attacked me.’ She smiled faintly, remembering how he had squealed when she had fought back.
Joy sighed. ‘Still no luck, I’m afraid. God only knows what Mother’s done with the one that was in a frame on the sideboard. She’s been in a strange mood lately. We almost had an argument over my staying behind today.’
‘How about her box of memories in their bedroom?’ suggested Hannah, putting on the kettle.
‘I’ve looked there. But I’ve an idea,’ said Joy.
‘What’s that?’ asked her sister, glancing in her direction.
‘Why don’t you get Kenny to draw Bert’s likeness? He’s good at that kind of thing.’
Hannah’s face lit up. ‘You’re right! I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it earlier. I’ll speak to him as soon as I get home.’
‘When will I get a look at the drawing?’ asked Emma.
‘Depends on how long it takes,’ said Hannah. ‘I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.’
‘Bring it to Miss Waters’ house that’ll be best.’
‘I could always take it if you’re busy, Hanny,’ said Joy. ‘It would be a nice little outing for me.’
‘Go round to the back of the house,’ said Emma. ‘If I’m out, give it to Mary. I’ll mention it to her and she’ll see that it gets to me.’ She told Joy the address and then they changed the subject to talk about the fair that would take place at the beginning of May. Tickets were like gold dust, so it was unlikely they’d get the chance to see the cinematograph show from America with people dancing the Great Flip Flap and the Yankee Cakewalk.
When Emma arrived back at the Waters’ house, she was immediately told by Mary she was in trouble with their employer. ‘She’s in the drawing room and said you were to go and see her straightaway.’
‘Is Mrs Stone still with her?’
Mary shook her head. ‘She left half an hour ago but I don’t think what she had to say has improved Miss Victoria’s temper.’
Damn! thought Emma, but took no time in reporting to her employer. Victoria was lying on the chaise longue and without preamble, said, ‘How dare you go out without my permission! I won’t give you any more warnings, Emma. Do this again and you’ll be dismissed without a reference. There’ll be no time off for you for a month now.’
‘Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss. I didn’t think you needed me. I won’t happen again,’ said Emma with false meekness.
‘No, it won’t.’ Victoria stared at her for several moments and then, said, ‘What’s this about the man who attacked you?’
‘I’ve an idea who he might be.’
‘I thought we knew who he was… Bert Kirk, wasn’t it?’ Victoria’s lips were compressed together as she rustled the copy of the Chester Chronicle, open at the Ladies’ Page. She had been reading the final episode of the serial The Secret of the Iron Box and its ending with a poor girl discovering she was the daughter of a millionaire, had not pleased her. ‘I suppose the truth of the matter is that you were seeing that young man of yours.’
‘No, Miss. He’s working. I told you the truth. We might know it was Bert who attacked me but he was masked, so I don’t know what he looks like. Now I’ve an idea I might have seen him without his balaclava but I need to know if I’m right in my guess.’
‘And how will you do that?’
‘Hanny’s husband is going to do a drawing of him. If he’s as good as Hanny thinks, then I’ll know whether I’m right or not.’
Victoria’s expression thawed slightly.’I’d like to see it when you get it.’
Emma smiled. ‘Right, Miss. Is there anything else I can do for you?’
‘Yes! You can go and see how Grandmamma is. Perhaps she’ll need changing.’
‘Yes, miss,’ said Emma woodenly. She made for the door, thinking Mrs Black, please, come home soon!
* * *
‘Thine be the Glory risen conquering Son,’ sang Bert, polishing his best shoes. It was the beginning of May and he was off to Chester, hoping to see something of his mother, Miss Victoria Waters and, later, to attend the fair. He had managed to get a ticket and was looking forward to seeing the cinematograph show that evening.
He glanced towards the fire grate at the charred remains of the latest copy of Votes For Women Miss Waters had sent him. A scowl darkened his face. Some of the antics the suffragettes were getting up to proved to him that they needed firmly keeping in their place.
He gave his toecaps a final burnish and pushed his feet into the brown brogues. In his imagination, he could clearly see himself standing at the altar beside Victoria Waters and her saying I will! Then he would say his bit and within minutes the vicar would pronounce them man and wife. Then, he would be in control of that household and, in no time at all, she would know who was boss. He would be able to lord it over Miss Emma Griffiths, too. She, who had dared to interfere with his plans. He frowned, thinking he shouldn’t have given in to temptation and addressed her by name down by the bridge a few Sundays ago, but he had been unable to resist taking her by surprise. Still, it was done now and, as she didn’t know he was Bert Kirk, what was the harm?
He washed his hands and then shrugged on his jacket, making sure he had money, door key, handkerchief, mints, a quarter of a pound of pear drops and a box of chocolates. He went downstairs and said a smiling good morning to his landlady before leaving the house. It was a lovely day and he expected it to get better.
* * *
Joy looked down at the pencil sketch of Bert with admiration. Kenny certainly had talent. He had caught her brother’s smarmy expression and that arrogant tilt to the head perfectly. ‘It’s as good as a photograph,’ she said.
Hannah smiled. ‘That’s what I thought. If you’ve got nothing better to do, perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking it along to Emma for me? Afterwards you could come back here for tea if you like.’
Joy nodded. ‘I will. Dah managed to get a couple of tickets for the fair and is taking Mother. I got the impression she wasn’t that keen but he insisted. I can’t understand her, I’d have been there like a shot.’
Hannah nodded. ‘I’ve noticed she’s not round here as much as she used to be and I have to admit that I’m glad about that. She was beginning to get on my nerves and that made me feel guilty.’
‘Neither of us have any need to feel guilty when it comes to Mother,’ said Joy, watching her sister slip the drawing into an envelope. ‘I’ll be able to avoid the crowds down by the river because they’ll all be up at the other end at the Roodee for the fair. I hope I can get a look inside Miss Waters’ house. I remember Alice saying there are some lovely ornaments and things.’
Hannah laughed. ‘You’re to go round the back to the kitchen, remember? And if Emma isn’t in, then you give it to Mary.’
When Joy reached the Dee, she paused for a moment on the bridge. The sun was reflecting off the surface of the water and she watched a couple of young men, shirt sleeves rolled up, rowing a boat across the river. She wolf whistled and grinned as they looked up at the bridge. They waved to her and suggested she come and join them. She blushed, laughed and said another time perhaps and went on her way, daydreaming of being allowed to go out into the world one day and meet the
man who would see her as an equal and yet also love and cherish her.
Joy found the Waters’ house without any difficulty. With pleasure she gazed at the flowering trees and shrubs as she made her way round the back of the house. She knocked on what she took to be the kitchen door and it was opened by a pleasantly plump, middle-aged woman.
‘Could I speak to Miss Emma Griffiths, please?’ asked Joy.
‘She’s had to go on a message. Who shall I say called?’
‘My name’s Joy Kirk. I was to give this to Mary if Emma wasn’t in.’ She held out the envelope.
A girl’s face appeared at the woman’s shoulder. ‘I’m Mary. What is it you’ve got there?’
Joy smiled. ‘It’s a drawing of Emma’s attacker.’
‘Ohhh!’ exclaimed Mary, staring at the envelope so hard it was as if she was trying to bore a hole in it. Then she plucked it from Joy’s fingers and turned it over between her hands. ‘Have you come far with it?’
‘Newtown.’
Mary smiled. ‘You’ll be thirsty, I bet. Come in and have a cuppa! Cook’ll see to you while I take this up and put it in Emma’s room.’
She hurried out but didn’t even get as far as the stairs before her curiosity got the better of her and, as the envelope was not sealed, she gave in to temptation and took out the sheet of paper inside. Instantly she recognised Mr Temple. For a moment she was in a dither about what to do and then she knew she just had to show it to her mistress. She made for the drawing room and knocked on the door before entering.
‘Miss, Miss, I think you should see this,’ she said, rushing forward with the envelope in her outstretched hand. ‘A girl’s just brought it for Emma but she’s gone to the dressmaker’s to pick up your new skirt. It’s a picture, Miss, and I think you’ll recognise the person.’
Victoria placed the bill she had been scanning on an occasional table and took the envelope from her. Mary watched as her mistress’s eyes widened. ‘But – but this is Mr Arthur Temple,’ she cried.
‘Yes, Miss! But he’s also Emma’s attacker,’ babbled Mary. ‘Is there anything you’d like me to do? Fetch a bobby?’
‘Shhh!’ silenced Victoria, unable to take her eyes off the drawing.’Who brought this?’ she whispered.
‘A Miss Joy Kirk.’
‘I see. She was at the Suffrage meeting with her sister and Emma. Is she still here?’
‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Fetch her.’
‘What about the police, Miss? Should we inform them?’
Victoria put a hand to her head. ‘Don’t rush me! First I must speak to Miss Kirk.’
Mary left the drawing room. She returned with Joy, who glanced about her with interest before bringing her gaze to rest on Victoria’s strained face. She was sitting at her writing desk with the drawing in front of her. She dismissed Mary before facing Joy.
‘Miss Kirk. This drawing… is of your brother Bert?’ asked Victoria through quivering lips.
‘Yes, Miss Waters,’ answered Joy, looking at her with concern.
‘Your brother has been to this house, Miss Kirk.’
‘What!’ Joy’s eyes rounded in shock.
‘He said his name was Arthur Temple.’ Victoria placed a hand to her breast as if to steady her heartbeat. ‘He sent me flowers and behaved as if – if he shared my beliefs.’
‘I’m so sorry, Miss Waters. But he’s not a man to be trusted.’
Victoria swallowed and was silent for several moments, thinking how she had considered marrying him. Well, that wasn’t going to happen now but she would have her revenge on Bert Kirk. ‘I have his address here. You can give it to Hannah and she can do with it what she sees fit.’
Joy took the slip of paper and exclaimed, ‘He’s living in Ellesmere Port! So close. We believed him to be in Liverpool.’
Victoria nodded and with a wave of her hand, indicated that she leave. Joy looked at her stricken face with pity and cursed her brother. ‘Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own? Should I fetch Mary?’
She shook her head and indicated that she wanted to be left alone and, reluctantly, Joy left.
Victoria did not know how long she stayed sitting in front of the writing bureau with her hand on that likeness of the man who had deceived her. She had pains in her chest and knew she should have agreed for Mary to come to her but had not wanted her looking at her as if to say He fooled you alright. At that moment she was too weak to move and knew she should not dwell on why he had set out to deceive her. No doubt he had some kind of revenge in mind. She closed her eyes a moment and tried to relax before summoning up the strength to go over to the fireplace and press the bell.
Then she heard footsteps outside the french windows and, turning her head, she saw Bert Kirk standing in the doorway. He smiled with great charm and held out a box of chocolates. ‘I hope you don’t mind my turning up so unexpectedly but I wanted to see you.’
Victoria was unable to speak. How dare he come to her house and make up to her, flattering her with false words, lowering her defences with flowers… and now chocolates! She wanted to hit him but knew herself incapable of lifting a finger.
‘Are you alright? You don’t look well.’ He sounded genuinely concerned as he started across the floor towards her.
Remembering the sketch in front of her, she attempted to slip it beneath the blotter, but she was in pain and her hands were shaking so much she only managt!d to conceal part of it. Somehow she stumbled to her feet and leaned against the desk, facing him. ‘I – I was writing.’
‘Writing? It must be something interesting. I thought to find you in the garden on such a fine day.’
‘No! It’s too warm.’ Her voice was just a thread of sound. ‘P – Perhaps you’d like a cup of tea. I’ll ring for Mary.’ She did not know where she found the strength to talk and move. Hoping he would not give the desk a second glance, she managed to reach the fireplace. Her finger hovered over the bell and she was about to press the button when her wrist was seized and she was dragged away from the fireplace.
‘Where did you get this from?’ Bert’s expression was ugly. ‘It’ll be that bitch Emma.’ Enraged, he threw the paper into the fireplace and then shook Victoria like a rag doll. ‘Where is she?’
‘She – She’s not here! Ge – Get out – of – my house,’ gasped Victoria, as a vicious pain stabbed her in the chest and began to spread. He stared down at her and then his expression changed and he smiled. ‘In that case you’ll have to do.’ Before she realised what he was about he lifted her off her feet and carried her over to the chaise longue. He flung her down, knocking most of the breath out of her. The pain in her chest increased in intensity as he dragged up her skirts. She tried to scream but couldn’t breathe. He removed her drawers and she could not put up any defence. Unable to believe this was happening to her she watched him unfasten his flies and then all pain ceased.
* * *
Bert pushed himself off Victoria and took a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘I’ve finished. You can stop pretending now, Miss Hoity Toity Waters, and move yourself. I like a woman who puts up a fight. You were too easy.’
When there was no response, he glanced down at her. Her eyes were wide open and the expression in them made him feel uncomfortable. He became aware of a foul smell and he gagged. Putting a hand to his mouth, he mumbled, ‘Come on, woman! I couldn’t have hurt you that much. Not a squeak out of you.’ He bent over and pulled down her skirts. Still no response. He shook her shoulder. ‘If you get pregnant I’ll marry you.’
Her arm flopped over the edge of the chaise longue. Bert stared closely into her face and a chill of fear charged down his spine. He fumbled for her pulse but couldn’t find it. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Damn! Damn! And bloody damn! It bloody wasn’t fair. He hadn’t meant this to happen. He had to get out of here! Thank God he’d come in from the garden and none of the servants had seen him.
He buttoned his flies with trembling fingers and put on his boater,
which had fallen off while he had been busy satisfying himself. He was about to leave the same way he had come in when he remembered the chocolates and the drawing. He hurried over to the fireplace and took the screwed up ball of paper from the empty grate and picked up the chocolates from the bureau. Then, with an angry regretful look in Victoria’s direction, he left through the french windows.
Bert looked neither left nor right, thinking it best that no one had the opportunity of getting a good look at his face. Tipping his boater forward so that its brim cast a shadow over his face, he passed through the garden gate and made his way towards the footbridge. There was only one person he needed at that moment and so he ran across the bridge, scarcely aware of the distant sound of voices and laughter coming from the direction of the Roodee as he headed for Grosvenor Park. He began to relax a little. No one had seen him… he had got away with it.
A few moments later Bert changed his mind about that. Emma knew about the drawing, so he was not out of the woods yet. She would wonder what had happened to it… but he couldn’t have left it there, could he? Damn! He could have. They’d have thought Victoria Waters had scrunched it up and flung it in the fireplace. Who the hell had known him well enough to make such a good likeness of him? Hannah and Joy weren’t that talented. Then he realised the only possible person was that dummy Kenny. The swine who had taken his sister from him and then beaten him up. He’d get him somehow for this. His blue eyes warmed just thinking about it. Then he remembered the woman he had left dead and a shudder ran through him.
Why did she bloody have to die? He hadn’t been that rough with her. Suddenly he remembered what she had said the first time he had seen her… something about having a bad heart. And hadn’t the maid brought her some pills? He relaxed slightly. So it wasn’t his fault that she’d died after all. Natural causes! She’d had heart failure. Even so he was frightened and he wanted his mother.
A Dream to Share Page 20