A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

  ‘Yes! And they lock the gates so nobody can get in or out.’

  ‘Who’s he got most against?’ asked Chris.

  ‘Bert blames Alice for his life going wrong but, perhaps even more, he could have it in for Emma because she fought back, went to the police, and it was her boyfriend who broke his nose,’ said Joy rapidly.

  Chris’s eyes met hers. ‘Let’s hope there’s a train in.’ Then they ran, both thinking that getting to Emma could be a matter of life and death.

  * * *

  As Emma polished the front door brass knocker she hummed to her­self, happy because she and David had an appointment with the vicar of Christ Church to fix a date for their wedding in May. She hoped Chris would still be home because she had decided to ask him to give her away. What a phrase to use! It was as if she was a possession, but at least she did not mind that so much with her brother.

  She bent to pick up the tin of brass cleaner and a blow hit her in the back, sending her sprawling into the lobby. She felt sick and lay gasping for breath. The door slammed behind her as she struggled to get to her feet, only to be seized by the back of her frock and dragged to her feet. ‘Surprise, surprise, Miss Griffiths?’ hissed a voice she had never for­gotten. She tried to speak but the top button of her frock was digging into her windpipe. The breath gurgled in her throat as she reached behind her and clawed at Bert’s hands. He swore as her fingernails drew blood and clouted her across the side of the head. The force of the blow caused her to fall against the newel post and she slid to the floor. ‘Thought yourself smarter than me, did you? But I tricked the lot of you.’ He yanked her to her feet and thrust her against the newel post, pressing against her so she could not move.

  Emma rasped, ‘You’re not so clever. If you were smart, you would have gone to Australia. My brother’s on your trail.’

  ‘You mean one of those twins?’ he sneered.

  ‘No! My soldier brother and he’s got it in for you for what hap­pened to our Aggie. You’d better run. He knows how to fight… how to kill.’

  ‘You’re lying.’ Bert’s eyelids blinked rapidly. ‘I hung around your mother’s house for a while and saw no sign of an older brother.’

  ‘He’s staying at your mother’s house that’s why. He’ll have followed her. He’ll find you, never fear.’

  ‘No!’ Bert’s expression was ugly as his grip on the bodice of her frock tightened. ‘I don’t believe you. It was Joy who followed Mother.’

  ‘Have it your own way,’ she wheezed, pulling on his arm. If only he wasn’t so close she would have attempted to knee him in the groin. As it was, she knew she had to keep him talking, hoping someone would come before he raped and possibly killed her. If only she wasn’t alone in the house but Mrs Black had left earlier to see an old friend and she didn’t know where the music teachers had gone. ‘You shouldn’t have pushed David down the steps,’ she gasped. ‘It was too like what you did to Kenny. Chris worked out that Australia could have been a trick… and we all know how much your mother loves you.’

  Bert smiled. ‘Mother knows what a good boy I can be.’

  ‘She wouldn’t be pleased that you’re here instead of with her.’

  He nodded and his grip slackened. ‘You’re right. I’ve decided to take her to America. My dah doesn’t appreciate her. It’s a big country, America, and I’ve plenty of money. She could cook for me and look after the house.’

  ‘It sounds lovely. Why don’t you go and tell her now?’ urged Emma.

  Bert fixed his eyes on her flushed face. ‘You look like Agnes. Her face went red when she got angry. She threatened me, you know… said she’d tell Mother I’d given her a baby. She shouldn’t have done that. I don’t like being threatened.’ He paused. ‘But you’re smarter than your sister, although, not as smart as me. If your brother really is at Mother’s you’ll want me to go there so I won’t go.’

  ‘He won’t be there right now!’ said Emma, her heart thumping. Oh, God! If only she had a weapon but all she had was her voice. ‘He could be on his way here, so you’re best letting me go, Bert. Go collect your mother if you want to sail to America with her.’

  This time he was silent for so long that Emma’s hopes were raised but then he glanced upstairs and, before she could prevent it, had clapped a hand over her mouth and lifted her off her feet. She tried to kick him but he grabbed her ankles with his other hand and carried her upstairs. She prayed like she had never prayed before.

  He had to remove his hand to open the door into the drawing room. She screamed and he smacked her across the head, setting her ears ring­ing, ‘Don’t do that again. You’ll only make things worse for yourself, you stupid girl. Nice,’ he said, glancing about him and heading for the open glass doors that led to the balcony. For a moment he hesitated before carrying her outside and going over to the rail. He gazed down towards the river. ‘Some view… and it’s a good way down to the ground.’ He lifted her above his head and she almost wet herself with fear. ‘How would you like it if I dropped you over right now? People would think it was an accident.’ Sky, trees, river and bridge whizzed about her and then abruptly he brought her against his chest and took her back inside.

  Emma forced her body to go limp, hoping he would believe she had fainted. He started to sing ‘Come into the garden, Maud’ as he walked across the landing to another door. This had a key in it and he turned it in the lock and pushed the door open. Emma guessed that he had no idea that this room was where Mrs Black carried out her sittings.

  ‘This is a bloody funny bedroom with no bed,’ he muttered, glanc­ing at the polished table in the middle of the room and the chairs that stood against the walls. He was about to leave when a slithering noise and a crash caused him to spin round. ‘What the hell was that?’ he asked, his hand sliding from her mouth.

  An idea came to Emma and she decided to come out of her faint. ‘Just a picture falling off the wall. It does that sometimes without any­ body touching it. This is where Mrs Black has her séances. This is where she calls up the dead.’

  He glanced uneasily about him. ‘Are you saying the woman you work for is a medium?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘But – but that’s wrong! It says so in the Bible.’

  Remembering the way he had looked at her on the bridge and run, Emma seized her opportunity as she felt a stir of hope and excitement. ‘But spirits must exist if it says so in the Bible. Didn’t Saul get the witch of Endor to call up Samuel’s ghost?’ she said. He made no answer so Emma continued, ‘Mrs Black got in touch with our Aggie in here and Victoria Waters. Living spirits can hang around a place if they rest uneasily,’ she said in a chatty voice. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the things that can happen when they go into action.’

  ‘You’re having me on,’ said Bert.

  Emma shook her head. ‘Honestly! Some spirits are mischievous and our Aggie had a good sense of humour. They draw attention to them­selves by clashing pans, breaking glass or making pictures fall from walls like that one. I’ve got nothing to be scared of from our Aggie or Victoria Waters… but perhaps you have.’

  ‘Are you saying their spirits spoke to you about me?’ he said.

  ‘No! They spoke to Mrs Black. Told her what had happened to them, just before they died. They said…’ He clapped a trembling hand over her mouth.

  Emma thrashed about in his arms. He staggered and almost dropped her and his hand slipped from her mouth again. ‘Stop it, stop it, you bitch!’ he yelled.

  Emma managed to shout, ‘Aggie, help me! Miss Victoria, come and be revenged.’ She could feel him shaking and struggled even more. He dropped her and before he could stop her, she crawled under the table. She was banking on his coming after her and her hands shook as she searched for the wedges that kept the top firm. Thank you, God, she whispered, removing them.

  Emma was just in time, because as she pulled the wedges out, Bert placed a hand on the table top and bent to drag her out. The table began to spin and tilt. His hand shot of
f the polished wood and he lost his bal­ance and went crashing to the floor.

  Emma scrambled from beneath the table on the other side and, on her hands and knees, hurried to the door. She was out of the doorway and on her feet, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she turned the key in the lock. Then she stepped back, expecting him to throw his weight against the door.

  Nothing. She pocketed the key and, with her heart banging against her ribs, she went over to the door and pressed her ear against one of the wooden panels. Was that a groan? Perhaps he had hurt himself when he had fallen so heavily. She bloody hoped so.

  Her knees trembled as she made her way to the drawing room. Going over to the drinks cupboard, she looked for the sherry but there was none. So she removed the whisky and a bottle of ginger ale and made herself a drink. Clutching the cut glass tumbler, she went and sat in one of the armchairs.

  She did not know how long it was before she heard feet on the stairs but she had poured herself another drink and was feeling relaxed and pleased with herself when Chris and Joy entered the room.

  They both stared at her. ‘You’re drinking!’ accused Joy. ‘We thought…’

  ‘Thought you might find Bert here?’ enquired Emma with a twisted smile.

  Chris took the empty glass from her hand and peered into her face. ‘He has been here,’ he said hoarsely, touching Emma’s cheek with a gentle hand. ‘Where is he?’

  Emma giggled. ‘I’ve locked him in with Aggie and Miss Victoria.’

  Joy knelt in front of her and gazed into her face with concern. ‘Poor Emma. He’s knocked her silly.’

  ‘No, he hasn’t,’ said Emma, trying to sit up straight. ‘I locked him in the room where Mrs Black has her sittings. I don’t know what he’s done to himself but I heard him groan and he hasn’t managed to get out.’

  Chris placed a hand on his sister’s head and ruffled her tangled hair. ‘Good for you, kid.’ He left the room, followed by Joy.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

  He stopped in front of the locked door. ‘Perhaps you should go back to Emma and leave this to me,’ he said, flexing his fingers. She raised dark eyebrows and made no move to obey his order.

  ‘Who’s there?’ demanded a querulous voice.

  Chris and Joy exchanged glances. ‘That you, Bert?’ she queried. ‘You don’t sound like yourself.’

  ‘That’s because I’ve broken my shoulder. I – I’m in agony.’

  ‘Good! You’ve caused enough suffering to others in your time, I’m glad it’s your turn now,’ said Joy. ‘I’m going to fetch the police.’

  ‘I thought we were keeping the police out of this,’ said Chris. ‘He might just talk his way out of trouble and I want justice done for my sister.’

  ‘What were you thinking of doing with him? Cutting his throat?’ she asked. ‘The only problem with that is where do we dump his body?’

  ‘There’s the Dee, the Mersey, or even the Irish Sea.’

  Bert yelled, ‘Let me out of here! When I get my hands on you, Joy, I’ll kill you.’

  ‘That’s not the right thing to say, Bert,’ snapped Chris. ‘I’m definite­ly for getting rid of you for good.’

  ‘You just try it,’ snarled Bert. ‘We’ll see who comes off best in a fight.’

  Before Chris could respond, there was the noise of the front door opening and a voice called Emma’s name. ‘It’s Mrs Black,’ he said.

  A few moments later she appeared at the top of the stairs. Her dark eyes rested a moment on Joy. ‘Who’s this? Where’s Emma? There’s a tin of brass cleaner and a cloth downstairs.’

  At the sound of her voice Emma called, ‘A lot’s been happening while you’ve been out.’

  ‘Emma’s caught Bert.’ said Chris.

  Eudora gaped at him and for several seconds was speechless. Then she smiled and removed her hat. ‘I think this calls for a drink. Come into the drawing room and you can tell me all about it.’

  She led the way only to stop suddenly when she saw Emma’s face.

  Emma smiled at her drowsily. ‘After two whiskies, it doesn’t hurt as much. Besides, I’m happy I got him with the help of God, our Aggie and Miss Victoria. Who’s to say they weren’t there in spirit?’

  Eudora patted her shoulder. ‘Dear Emma. I am going to miss you when you marry that young man of yours.’ She turned to Chris. ‘Pour drinks for us all and then the three of you can tell me what happened.’ So it was that when they had come to the end of their story, Eudora beamed at the three of them. ‘If he’s spoiling for a fight with you, Christopher, he’s lying about that shoulder.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Chris. ‘A ruse to make us believe he’s not as dangerous as a man desperate to escape a long prison sentence would be. I’d still like to get my hands on him…’

  ‘But…‘ interrupted Joy, resting a hand on his arm, ‘perhaps we’ve had enough violence. I – I don’t want you to get hurt.’

  Chris raised his eyebrows and was about to stress the likelihood of Bert coming off the worst when Emma intervened, ‘Joy’s right. In the past I’ve thought of things I’d like done to Bert, but let’s leave it to the bobbies. I’m prepared to go into the witness box and no doubt Alice will be, too.’

  ‘Where Victoria Waters’ death is concerned, it’s unlikely he’ll hang for murder,’ said Eudora, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s enough circumstantial evidence for him to be sentenced for her manslaughter.’

  ‘There’s also Mrs O’Shaughnessy,’ said Chris.

  ‘Who’s Mrs O’Shaughnessy?’ asked Emma drowsily.

  A smiling Joy said, ‘His landlady.’

  ‘Built like a wrestler, she’s hopping mad with him because he stole her savings,’ said Chris, taking her hand and squeezing it.

  ‘He’s a thief, too? Then, we’ve definitely got him,’ said Emma tri­umphantly.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  May, 1910

  Emma gazed wildly about the untidy parlour, thinking she might have made a mistake giving in to her mother’s plea to leave for church from the family home. But Alf had told Chris that he’d heard a rumour on the railway that his father had been seen coming out of a widow woman’s house the other side of the railway, so she felt that she had to comply with her mother’s request. Olive had received the news of her husband’s unfaithfulness with characteristic language and emotion and then, to Emma’s admiration, she pulled herself together and got herself a charring job.

  ‘Where’s my bouquet?’ asked Emma. ‘You haven’t gone and hocked it, have you, Mam?’

  ‘Very funny,’ said Olive, looking smart in a navy-blue costume with white piping, which she’d bought second hand from the market. She turned to thirteen year old Patsy, who was a bridesmaid. ‘You should have been keeping your eye on it,’ she snapped.

  ‘I am,’ protested Patsy. ‘I put the flowers in the kitchen sink to keep them fresh. I’ll go and get them, shall I?’

  Emma nodded and told herself to keep calm. She’d soon be out of here, never to sleep under this roof again. Although, it wasn’t so bad now her father wasn’t living there any more. Tonight, she’d be in Rhyl with David. When they returned to Chester it would be to a big Victorian house in Garden Lane, recently purchased by Mrs Black and split into several apartments. Emma and David’s rooms were on the first floor and the coal merchant, Mr Bushell, was renting the ground floor flat and Granny Popo was his live-in housekeeper.

  ‘Are you ready yet, our kid?’ asked Chris, entering the room. ‘You look smart,’ said Emma, smiling at him.

  ‘Can’t let the side down.’ He winked at her. ‘You look pretty good yerself.’

  Emma did a twirl.

  Olive turned to Patsy. ‘Get the others to come down here. Time me and the lads were on our way.’

  ‘OK, Ma, give us a minute.’ She handed the bouquet of white lilac, yellow irises and orange blossom to Emma. The colours of the flowers matched exactly those of the yellow figured silk wedding gown
trimmed with lace, purchased from the generous wedding gift which Mrs Black had given to Emma. When it came to buying her wedding gown common sense had deserted Emma. ‘After all,’ she had said to Hannah, Alice and Joy, ‘a girl only gets married once.’

  Emma smiled, remembering the joyous expressions on Hannah’s and Alice’s faces when they had broken the news that Bert had been caught. They had all danced round Alice’s drawing room. Half an hour later Alice had told them some other news; Gabrielle was getting a divorce from her long-absent husband and marrying Martin Waters. Of course, they all agreed that he was marrying Gabrielle for her money as old Mrs Waters still hadn’t kicked the bucket.

  As Emma left the house on Chris’s arm, she thought back to another day, the one when she had caught that glimpse of Hannah and Kenny’s wedding and had recognised Alice. She recalled being aware of someone standing behind her and the smell of peppermint – it could have only been Bert. Well, there was no chance of his being the unwel­come watcher at her wedding. He was in jail and it looked like he was going to be there for a very long time.

  But now was not the time to think of Bert. This was her wedding day and David would be waiting for her.

  Epilogue

  May, 1910

  ‘Hello, Malcolm dear! How are you today?’ asked Eudora, sitting on the garden bench beside him in the grounds of the asylum.

  ‘Better than I was,’ he said slowly.

  Her face lit up. ‘I’m so glad.’ She placed a hand on his resting on his thigh. ‘I’ve news that will make you feel even better. Bert Kirk is in prison. I admit to being delighted. I’m sure you feel the same because of the threat he was to your children’s happiness.’

  Mal nodded jerkily. ‘My children?’

  Eudora moved her hand. ‘Kenny is coping with his handicap brave­ly, so I’m planning a little treat for him and Hanny. A Mediterranean cruise! I’m sure it will do them both good, and who knows, she might have some happy news for us when they return. As for Alice, she is blooming and your grandson thriving. I have no doubt that your younger daughter Tilly, will grow into a beautiful young woman, too. She is a delightful child.’