Journey's End

by Josephine Cox

  He went straight to the counter. ‘I’ll have a coffee, please, black and strong,’ he said. ‘Oh, and could I get a doughnut?’

  The waitress served him quickly and when he sauntered over to a table, she ran to the back of the shop where the assistant waitress was washing up. ‘There’s a Yank come in,’ she said, all big-eyed and wondrous. ‘Well, he sounded like one of them GIs, but now I come to think, it was a funny kind of accent.’

  ‘Maybe he’s Canadian,’ the other girl ventured. ‘They do sound a lot like each other.’

  Having witnessed his entrance and heard him speak, Amy and Bridget had also noticed his accent. ‘It doesn’t sound like he was born in America,’ Amy said, ‘but he must have lived there a long time.’

  Like the others, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, and just then, as though he could sense her looking at him, he turned and smiled pleasantly at her and her heart flipped over. ‘Oh dear!’ She felt flustered. ‘He saw me looking.’

  Bridget had never seen Amy blush as bright red as she did now and she said so. ‘Fancy him, do you?’ she teased. ‘Well now, I can’t say I blame you. He’s a fine-looking fella, so he is. D’you know, darlin’, if he wasn’t from overseas, I’d say I’d seen him somewhere before. Oh well – I’m getting daft in me old age. Look, why don’t you go and ask him to sit over here with us?’ There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. ‘I’m sure he’d jump at the chance.’

  In terror of what the Irishwoman would do next, Amy collected her shopping together. ‘It’s time we left,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ve been out too long already.’

  ‘Hey now! Hold your horses.’ Bridget picked up her cup and took a sip of her tea, which by now was stone cold. ‘Sure I haven’t finished my tea yet.’

  Taking off his overcoat, Ronnie draped it over the back of the chair. Drinking his coffee in one go, he went up for another. He was in no hurry to leave. He needed to think, to decide what to do. He had borrowed money in Boston and sold what few possessions he had, in order to pay his passage out here, and now there were only a few pounds left. So what he had must be made to last.

  On his way back with his coffee, he tripped over Amy’s shopping bag, horrified when his coffee spilled all down her coat, ‘Aw, gee, I’m sorry!’ Grabbing a serviette, he began frantically dabbing at the stain. ‘It doesn’t look good.’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Amy gently pushed him off. ‘It’ll come out at the cleaners – things usually do. And besides, it was my fault. I left my shopping bags right across your path. It’s me that should be sorry.’

  ‘No, no!’ He wouldn’t hear of it, and besides he liked the look of this darling woman, who made little fuss about what to him was a terrible accident that might well cost her a new coat. ‘Let me make amends. I’ll buy you a coffee, will that do?’ He crossed his fingers in front of her. ‘And I promise, I won’t throw it all over you.’

  ‘No, it’s all right, honestly.’ In all her life she had never taken to any man the way she had taken to him. It was as though she had known him all her life. It was the eyes, she thought; warm and smiling they were, though he looked kind of sad, as if he had been through some awful trauma.

  ‘Well, if you won’t let me buy you coffee today, how about I buy you one Monday? I’ll see you here, same time?’

  Smiling reassuringly, Amy graciously refused. ‘I don’t think so, but thank you all the same.’ She so much wanted to accept his invitation, but she was unsure. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know anything about him.

  ‘I understand,’ he said, and as the two women were about to leave, he asked, ‘You wouldn’t know a clean, reasonable place where I could board for a while, would you? Only I’m not long in from the States, and the place I’ve been staying at is far too expensive. You see, I’ll be in Liverpool for some time yet, so I’m thinking, a more modest lodging would suit me better, and perhaps even the chance to do some honest work.’

  Bridget interrupted. ‘What kind of work?’

  ‘Farmwork would be ideal,’ he answered. ‘It’s what I do best, but I’ll turn my hand to anything if needs be.’

  Bridget had an idea. ‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ she promised. ‘If anything comes up, I’ll leave a note with the girl at the counter; providing you ask her whenever you come in.’

  ‘Oh, I will!’ Any chance of earning an honest dollar was fine by Ronnie. ‘That’s very good of you, thank you.’

  ‘I’m not promising anything, mind.’

  Meanwhile, Amy had been searching her brain as to where he could stay that would not cripple him financially.

  ‘There’s a small, family-run place along Preston New Road,’ she told him now. ‘It’s nothing fancy, but it’s clean and reasonable, and they do a great breakfast. There’s a sign up: Belmont’s Boarding House.’

  ‘That sounds just the ticket.’ He smiled cheekily. ‘And now do I get to know your name? After all, I did spill hot coffee all over you, and ruined your coat into the bargain.’

  Not for the first time that day, Amy blushed hotly. ‘You didn’t ruin my coat,’ she protested. ‘It really will be fine.’ Though she wasn’t altogether certain. She smiled shyly. ‘Got to go now.’

  Ronnie was disappointed. ‘Goodbye, ladies – my name is Ronnie, by the way.’

  ‘Mine’s Amy,’ she answered softly. ‘And this is Bridget.’

  ‘How do you do, Bridget and Amy.’ As Amy turned to leave, he bent his head to look her in the face; whichever way she turned she could not escape his smiling, searching eyes – nor did she want to. ‘Will I see you again then?’ he asked hopefully. ‘Monday – here, same time?’

  Amy hesitated. Oh, she did so want to see him again. But she felt awkward; if she was on her own with him, she wouldn’t know what to say, so she chose to refuse. ‘Sorry, I can’t,’ she lied. ‘But I hope you get on all right with the lodgings.’

  Outside, Amy glanced back into Kenyon’s, to see Ronnie looking at her, the disappointment written on his face. She shrugged her shoulders by way of an apology, and when he smiled sadly, she felt a rush of regret. She had not meant to make him sad, for she had already sensed his loneliness.

  ‘Don’t you like him?’ Bridget demanded.

  ‘Well, yes I do, but –’

  ‘You’re a fool, so ye are!’ Bridget had seen the magic between Amy and Ron, and she spoke her mind. ‘When two people, strangers, spark it off like you two did in there, it is something very special and precious. It only happens once in a lifetime, and you just threw it away, like it was nothing. Tell me, what harm would it have done to see him again? A chat over a cup of tea in a public place! He’s hardly likely to murder you in front of that nosy pair of articles, is he now?’

  ‘No. Don’t suppose so.’ The very same thoughts had been running through Amy’s mind.

  ‘So what in God’s name are you afraid of?’

  ‘It isn’t that I’m afraid,’ Amy assured her, ‘it’s just that, well, you know how tongue-tied I get with strange men. I wouldn’t know what to say. I might open my mouth and he’d run out of the door as if his pants were on fire.’

  ‘He didn’t run just now.’

  ‘Forget it, Bridget. I’m just not easy around men. I never have been.’

  ‘Ah, sure, that’s only because ye don’t give yourself time to get to know them.’

  They walked on for a while, when suddenly Bridget gave a shout. ‘Jaysus! Now look what you’ve made me do!’ she exclaimed. ‘I was so enchanted with the pair of youse, I’ve left my purse on the table, so I have.’

  Amy was horrified. ‘Wait here. I’ll run back and get it for you.’

  ‘No. You watch the shopping bags. It won’t take me but a minute or two.’

  When Bridget came in the door, Ronnie was just leaving. ‘Hello again.’ Looking over her shoulder he searched the street for Amy.

  ‘She’s not with me,’ Bridget explained. ‘Look, I’ll have to be quick. I came back to tell you something.’ Seeing the two waitresses stretching
their necks, she kept her voice to a whisper. ‘It’s about Amy.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’ll see you, like you said – Monday afternoon, same time.’

  His face beamed with delight. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yes, but not here. There’s a tearooms on the corner of George Street. That’s where she’ll be.’

  She made a quick exit, with some parting advice. ‘Be gentle with her. She’s always been a bit on the shy side where men are concerned.’

  ‘She’ll be safe enough with me. Oh, and thank you …’ He only now realised that he had been so intent on discovering Amy’s name, he had completely forgotten that of her companion.

  ‘Bridget,’ she prompted, not at all offended, but secretly amused.

  ‘Well, thank you, Bridget.’

  Making her way back to Amy, who was sitting on a shop wall, Bridget suddenly remembered. Fumbling about in her coat pocket, she took out her purse and holding it up, feigned a gasp of relief. ‘Got it!’ she cried. ‘Sure the little divil was right where I left it.’

  ‘Did you see him?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And did he mention me?’

  ‘Ah sure, why on earth should he mention you, after you turned him down the way ye did?’

  Amy didn’t answer. Glancing back, she saw the American leaving the café and was already regretting her hasty decision not to see him again.

  As they clambered onto the bus, Bridget said, ‘What an eejit I am.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘The two-piece.’

  ‘What two-piece?’

  ‘The one we saw in Able’s window. I meant to go back for it, but I forgot. Never mind, there’ll be another time, and when I get to try it on, ye can tell me what you think.’

  Amy nodded, not really listening because her mind was back there, with him.

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Bridget congratulated herself. ‘We’ll pop back on Monday. We’ll get the appointments all set up in the morning, and leave instructions with Jackie. Then we’ll take a few hours off in the afternoon. Is that all right, Amy? Does that suit you?’

  Still not altogether listening, Amy nodded. ‘Whatever you say, Bridget,’ she answered irritably. ‘Whatever you say.’

  On Monday morning, Bridget had everything organised in half the time it normally took. ‘Right then, Jackie.’ She presented the woman with a wad of paperwork. ‘It’s all in there, everything in order. All you have to do is make sure it all goes as written. Oh, and tell Maureen to wear her business suit for the convention. We can’t have her attending a formal function in the low-cut dress she wore last time.’ She frowned. ‘I put her on a warning, so she should know the score. Make sure anyway … check her out. I’m beginning to doubt her judgement of late.’

  She had a few more instructions before she left. ‘Tell Annie to wear her new dress for tonight’s Law Society dinner. It’s likely there will be people there who attended the previous one last month, and they might notice if she wears the black one again.’

  With everything taken care of, she marched into Amy’s office. ‘Time to go,’ she said.

  Amy groaned. ‘Can’t we go tomorrow or Wednesday? I’ve all these to take care of yet.’ She pointed to the thick leather ledger on her desk. ‘There are calls coming in left right and centre, and I’m still only halfway through next week’s appointments.’

  ‘Leave it to Jackie. I’ve just briefed her. She knows what’s urgent, and what can be dealt with another day.’ Bridget gave her a nudge. ‘Come on. Time we were out of here.’

  ‘Oh Bridget, must I?’

  Ten minutes later, the two of them were in a taxi, headed for town.

  They went straight to Able’s shop on the High Street, where Bridget made a show of trying on the two-piece. ‘Well, what do you think?’ She did a few twirls for Amy’s benefit.

  ‘It looks good on you.’ Amy thought the dark green fitted jacket and long fussy skirt sat well on her employer’s curvaceous figure.

  ‘Can I return it if I change my mind?’ Bridget asked the shop-assistant.

  ‘Of course.’

  So she bought it. Forty-five bob – not too bad. It was well cut and fully lined. ‘Maybe I can buy some shoes to go with it,’ she suggested, and she and Amy set off for another tour round the shops.

  Keeping an eye on the time, Bridget steered Amy down George Street. When they drew alongside the tearooms, she suddenly developed a thirst. ‘Shall we take time out for a cuppa?’ she asked.

  ‘All right, but then we’ll get your shoes. I need to get back,’ Amy fretted. ‘I’ve got piles of work waiting.’

  Bridget led the way in. She looked around, but he wasn’t there.

  ‘Just a cuppa is it, Bridget?’ Amy asked.

  ‘Thanks, love – yes, just a cuppa.’ She checked her watch. Five minutes to go. Hurry up, Ron! she thought. I won’t be able to fool her for much longer.

  Amy had just brought the tea over and they were sitting talking when Bridget saw him come in. ‘Well, I never!’ Feigning astonishment, she leaped out of her chair and called him over. ‘Ron! How lovely to see you again.’

  He came over, his eyes glued to Amy. ‘Hello again, Amy.’

  Amazed that he remembered her name, she nodded. ‘Hello,’ she said shyly. When he looked at her like that, the hairs on the back of her neck tingled, and she could hardly breathe.

  ‘Is it all right if I sit with you?’ He sensed her nervousness and thought it best to take things slowly. He liked her so much, the last thing he wanted was to frighten her off.

  ‘I’ll get you a black coffee,’ Bridget recalled what he was drinking before. ‘You sit down.’

  At the counter she turned round to see the two of them quietly talking; Amy was obviously nervous, but seeming to warm to his natural and easy manner. ‘Oh Amy, me darlin’ … I do hope he’s the one,’ she murmured.

  It would do her old heart good, to see Amy settled with someone who would look after her and love her the way she deserved to be loved.

  Placing the coffee cup on the table, she looked out of the window and exclaimed, ‘Good grief! Look there, it’s Robert Clark. I’ve been trying to get hold of him for ages.’ Apologising, she told Amy and Ronnie, ‘I’ll have to go. Sure, I don’t want to lose sight of him.’

  When Amy started to get up, Bridget pushed her down. ‘No! You stay me darlin’. I’ll have a quick word with Robert, then I’ll get back. Enjoy your drinks, the both of you, there’s no rush.’

  With that, she hurried away. After hiding round the corner for a few minutes, she sneaked back to peer through the window; delighted to see the two of them still talking, and Amy seeming much easier in his company.

  She went away, well pleased with herself. ‘Oh Amy, my darlin’,’ she gave a merry little skip. ‘Sure, I’ve a feeling this is the start of something good.’

  It was two hours later and growing dark, when Ronnie walked Amy to the nearest taxi-rank. On the way, they heard the street-vendor calling out the headlines in the evening paper: ‘Woman fished out of the river … police suspect foul play.’

  Amy commented, ‘Murdered! God, that’s awful.’

  Ronnie told her not to worry. ‘Because from now on, I’ll be looking after you … that is, if you’ll let me?’

  ‘I can look after myself,’ Amy answered.

  ‘So you don’t need me, is that what you’re saying?’

  She looked up, a smile of contentment on her face. ‘No, that is not what I’m saying. Actually, it would be really nice to have someone who cares about me.’ All the same, she cautioned him, ‘But we hardly know each other, so let’s just take it as it comes, eh?’

  ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’

  After a while he felt her hand slide into his, and he was thrilled. His every instinct told him that Amy was the woman he had been waiting for, and suddenly, his life had a purpose.

  When they got to the first taxi, the driver was reading th
e Echo by the light of a flickering street-lamp. ‘Nasty business,’ he said, holding up the newspaper. ‘Some poor woman was pushed into the Mersey and drowned. According to this, she had been well and truly battered into the bargain. They don’t say exactly, but there’s a lunatic out there on the loose, that’s for sure.’

  Ronnie reprimanded him. ‘I’m not sure the lady needs to hear all that,’ he said.

  ‘Oh sorry, mate.’ Folding the newspaper, the driver turned the key in the ignition. ‘Where to, miss?’ he asked.

  Ron saw Amy safely inside the cab. ‘I’d feel much better if you’d let me see you all the way home,’ he suggested worriedly.

  Amy gave no answer, but when she patted the seat beside her, he lost no time climbing in. Amy gave her home address in Penny Lane, and the taxi set off. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, I think you’re doing the right thing in seeing your lady home,’ the driver offered. ‘I mean, for all we know, the murderer might be on the lookout for his next victim.’

  ‘That’s enough!’ Ronnie leaned forward. ‘I’ll thank you not to alarm the good lady here. Wherever your lunatic is, and whatever he’s about to do next, I don’t imagine he’s likely to ever touch our lives, do you?’

  ‘You never know,’ came the wry answer. ‘You never know.’

  As it happened, he was right, and Ronnie was wrong.

  Because at that very moment, the ‘lunatic’ who had drowned Patsy Monk was lurking not too far away, more determined than ever to track down and find Lucy Baker.

  Chapter 20

  BY LATE EVENING, the news of Patsy Monk’s murder was being discussed all over Liverpool.

  In her home, not too far from where Ronnie and Amy had got into the taxi, Lizzie Monk was like a caged animal, pacing up and down, afraid and distressed. She thought of Edward Trent, but no, he might have a wicked mouth on him, and he didn’t like Patsy, but he would never have murdered her.