‘Something else to look forward to then?’
‘It certainly is. We go back a lot of years, me and Lucy Baker.’ She held out her hand to him. ‘Thank you so much for all your hard work.’
Before she left, Edward Trent sneaked out of the shop, moving quickly to where he could easily follow her while she could not see him. So! His eyes darkened. Lucy had a daughter, did she? Didn’t take her long to get over the death of their own bairn, did it, before she was opening her legs to some other man!
A wedding? He spat on the ground. ‘We shall have to see about that, won’t we?’
He followed Vicky out of the town centre and on towards the boulevard, where she appeared to be heading for a bus. Suddenly, taking him by surprise, she hailed a passing taxi and was quickly driven away.
‘Damn and bugger it!’ Trent cursed. Quickly, he made his way back to the estate agent.
The young man was busy with some paperwork when Trent entered. He looked up and recognised the unsavoury character who’d been hanging around before. His heart sank; he had a bad feeling about this one. ‘How can I help?’ he asked politely.
Trent lost no time. ‘The woman who was in here just now, the one who bought back her old house. Which hotel is she staying in?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ The young man’s initial suspicion strengthened. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give out confidential information.’ Snatching up Vicky’s case-file, he slipped it into the filing cabinet and locked it, placing the key into the top drawer of his desk. ‘Now, if you have no other business, I’d very much like to get on with my work.’ He gestured to his overcrowded desk.
For a moment the two men eyed each other, until Trent wisely decided to leave. However, he had a plan, which he fully intended carrying out soonever the coast was clear.
Later that evening, after forcing an easy entry from the back of the shop, he went straight for the desk drawer, took out the key and opened the cabinet. Skimming through the file, he found everything he needed to know.
Carefully he replaced the file, returned the key to the drawer, and left the shop the same way he had arrived, leaving everything as he found it. After all, the last thing he wanted was for the police to be alerted; particularly since they were still actively searching for the ‘monster’ who had murdered Patsy Monk. Trent wished now that he’d finished off that stupid bitch Lizzie, too. She’d better keep her trap shut or he’d be along to shut it for her …
A wave of giddiness swept over him and he clung to the doorframe for a long moment. Then it passed. Making good his escape, he smiled to himself. ‘Handy place, prison,’ he chuckled. ‘Full of men who know every trick of the trade.’
Not too far away, seated in his car outside Vicky’s hotel, the American private detective was still keeping watch over her.
Taking the opportunity to fill out his surveillance notes for Leonard Maitland, he wrote down his report, at the same time deciding to send a cable to warn him about the other man who watched her.
Your wife paid a further visit to the land agent that I mentioned in my recent despatch. I’m not certain as to what transpired there, but as you know from my previous reports, she had paid numerous visits to a farmhouse at Comberton-by-Weir, both in the presence of the agent and on her own. She also consulted builders and other tradesmen, who consequently joined her on her visits to the house.
Most days she either goes out to the farmhouse or walks the shops in Liverpool; some days she stands by the docks, just watching. She then makes her way back to the hotel, where she remains until emerging the next day, sometimes early, sometimes later, but always on her own.
Before ending this report, I think I should draw your attention to the fact that today, a certain rough-looking man showed a decidedly unhealthy interest in Mrs Maitland. He appeared to follow her to the agent’s office, and afterwards he trailed her to the boulevard where she took a taxi back to the hotel.
Would you like me to find out more about this man, should he show his face again? I am sending you a cable that will arrive before this letter, and will await your instructions.
Meantime, rest assured I will be diligent in my discreet observation of your good wife.
There! This report would be on its way to his client in no time at all. And if he wasn’t very much mistaken, Mr Maitland would want him to watch that ruffian. Calling up Edward Trent’s image, the detective shook his head woefully. ‘The guy was up to no good – that much was obvious.’
When the cable was delivered to Leonard’s office, he tore it open, fearing the worst.
‘Are you ready for coffee now, Mr Maitland?’ Marybelle, his typist, inched open his office door, visibly surprised when Leonard dismissed her instantly. ‘Leave me be, girl!’ he snapped. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m ready to be disturbed!’
Po-faced, the girl returned to her desk outside his office. ‘Whatever’s wrong with him? He’s real grumpy this morning,’ she told the woman at the other typewriter.
The woman looked up knowingly. ‘Did the mailman bring him a letter from England?’
‘No, but he got a cable. Why?’
‘That’s the reason why he is so touchy, then. I don’t know anything about the cable, but he has the letters regularly, as you’d know if you’d been here longer. When he reads them he likes to be alone, with no interruption.’
‘Who are they from?’ the junior asked curiously.
‘If I knew that, I might tell you.’
‘Is it to do with his wife, only I heard someone saying how she’d gone off to England and nobody knew if she was ever coming back.’
‘If you want to keep your job, honey, you’d best shut your ears to idle gossip.’
‘Hmh!’ The girl shrugged impatiently. ‘I only asked.’
‘And I’m only saying, the least you know the better.’
A short time later Leonard rushed out of his office. ‘I won’t be back today,’ he told the woman. ‘Call the house tonight if there are any urgent matters to be dealt with. Meantime, inform Taylor Crompton that the price of grain remains the same; and that if he wants a delivery, he pays top dollar for top-class harvest. If he dithers, call Bambridge and offer it to him. At least he’s a regular customer who knows a good crop when he sees it.’
The woman saw how flushed he was, and her concern was genuine. ‘Are you feeling okay, sir?’
‘No, I’m not.’ He took a deep, invigorating breath. ‘I have just received a cable that might mean me going to England. I have urgent calls to make, which will be best served in the privacy of my home.’
He issued a few more instructions before enquiring where his son Thomas might be at that moment in time.
‘I believe he went to the Southlands,’ the stenographer said. ‘There seems to be a problem there.’
‘Contact him, will you,’ he said. ‘Get him to come out to the house straight away. Tell him it’s urgent!’ With that he made a hasty departure.
‘The poor guy looks flustered.’ Marybelle was intrigued. ‘Do you think the cable carried bad news?’
The older woman pointed to the girl’s ledger. ‘You just get on with the orders, young lady, and leave Mr Maitland’s business to Mr Maitland.’ She got out of her seat. ‘I’ll be a few minutes,’ she advised. ‘I need to catch Jim. He’s taking out a few samples of that new seed for Thomas to look at. If I hurry, I might just catch him before he leaves.’
As it happened, she did catch him in time. ‘You’re to ask Thomas to make his way immediately to the house,’ she informed him. ‘His pa needs to see him straight away. It’s very urgent.’
Jim told her he would deliver the message, and he did.
‘What’s it about?’ Deep inside the workings of a massive truck, sleeves rolled up and covered in oil, Thomas was none too pleased to be summoned away. ‘I’m in the middle of trying to get this darned machine to work. It cost the company an arm and a leg, and now it’s given up the ghost for the third time. I’ve got a man from the manufacturer on the
way, so I can’t leave right now.’
‘I’m only passing on a message,’ Jim protested. ‘The boss wants you up at the house and it’s urgent. That’s all I know.’
Thomas gave a long, weary sigh. ‘Jacob!’ Calling his right-hand man over, he said, ‘It looks like I’ll have to leave this to you. When the engineer comes, don’t let him swan off without taking a proper look, and don’t let him sweet-talk you, either. Like I said, this machine is a rogue. No ifs or buts, Jake. They’re to take it back today if possible or tomorrow at the latest, and supply us with a full refund. I want it replaced with one that actually works.’
‘They won’t agree to a full refund,’ Jacob argued. ‘You know how tough they are.’
‘Not half as tough as I can be! If they won’t cooperate, you can tell him from me, their name will stink throughout the farming community, and their business will fall through the floor overnight. Okay?’
Jacob grinned. ‘Okay, boss. You got it!’
Wiping away as much of the grease and muck as he could, Thomas leaped onto his motorbike and was away across the fields like the wind. ‘He’ll never get this machine replaced, not with a full refund!’ one of the men exclaimed. ‘Not when he already squeezed them down to their knees on the price.’
‘Oh, they’ll replace it all right, and with a full refund.’ Jacob was confident. ‘They know when he says he’ll make their name stink, that’s exactly what he’ll do.’
‘What d’yer reckon the old man wants?’
‘Search me.’ Like his workmate, he glanced towards Thomas’s speeding vehicle. ‘There seems to be some sort of panic on, that’s for sure.’
Kicking his boots off at the door, Thomas found his stepfather in the drawing room, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. ‘What’s wrong? What’s the urgency?’ he asked.
Leonard looked at him for a brief moment, at this big, hardworking man who had grown to be like his own son. ‘We need to talk,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s about your mother.’
Thomas stepped forward. ‘What about her?’
His face drained of colour. ‘Has something happened? She’s not hurt, is she?’
Leonard shook his head. ‘No, no, son. She’s not hurt.’ He paused before adding, ‘At least, I hope not.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Thomas stared at him. ‘I think you’d best explain. Why am I here? What is it that you so desperately needed to tell me, that you had to drag me away from my work?’
Leonard took a deep breath. ‘As you know, your mother went to England, to your father’s –’
‘I know why she went,’ Thomas interrupted, ‘and I think there have been enough discussions on that particular issue. I happen to believe Dad was wrong not to tell us how ill he was.’
‘I understand,’ Leonard answered quietly. ‘I know how you feel, and I have to respect that.’
‘No, you don’t know how I feel … how we all feel! We should have seen him through what must have been the worst, loneliest time of his life, and he sent us away. Did he think we were so selfish that we’d resent having to stay by his side and help him? Did he really think we weren’t strong enough to cope with it all?’
His voice began to shake with emotion. ‘No, Leonard! We all believe he should have given us the choice of leaving or staying. He took that choice away, and we can’t forgive him for it. Mother doesn’t agree – she never will. So, if she prefers to be with him now, when it’s too late and there is nothing we can do, then so be it. That’s her choice.’
‘Listen to me!’ Squaring himself, Leonard stopped Thomas in full, vehement flow. ‘Your mother is hurting too. Look, I felt the same, all those years ago. I tried hard to persuade your father that he was doing wrong in sending you all away. But now I think I understand, and maybe I was wrong in condemning his actions. I can’t imagine how he must have felt, watching his entire family sail away from him, after he had put himself through what must have been torment … drinking himself stupid, fighting and cavorting with street-women, all to make you think he was not worth the saving. When all the while, he was so desperately ill. He did that, yes, and there are those who will always blame him for it.’
He had never lost the image of Barney curled up under the tree, a sorry, broken man. ‘In all honesty, could any one of us do what he did? Could we torture ourselves like he did, and all for the ones we love? Look, Tom, maybe it isn’t for us to judge his actions, brave or foolish though they might have been. What he did, he did for you – all of you. And for the rest of your life, you must never forget that!’
Thomas was taken aback. ‘But you sided with us! You said we should try to forget, and carry on with our lives. You did your best to stop Mother returning to England. You said there was nothing to be gained from it, that it would only cause more pain.’
‘You’re right, I did,’ Leonard admitted. ‘But only because I didn’t want her hurt any more. But now, I’m afraid I may have lost your mother forever, and all because I promised Barney that I would never tell her the truth. I kept my word, but she found out anyway, through Lucy. Now your mother has turned away from me, Thomas. All I hope is that she can find it in her heart to forgive me, the same way I hope you, your brother, and Susie can find it in your heart to forgive your father.’
‘Never!’ Thomas was adamant.
‘Don’t say that,’ Leonard implored him. ‘We can’t change the way things were, all those years ago. We did what we thought was for the best; maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. And maybe we will never know.’
He paused. ‘There’s something else you need to know,’ he revealed. ‘I’ve booked a flight to London. I must go to your mother straight away. I’m afraid she might be in danger.’
Thomas was visibly startled. ‘What do you mean, in danger?’
Leonard explained. ‘Do you recall how we told you of a man by the name of Edward Trent, the same man who came to Lucy’s cottage at Overhill Farm and caused the death of little Jamie?’
‘Yes, but didn’t Edward Trent disappear without trace? Wasn’t it rumoured that he’d been hanged for some other crime?’ Tom well remembered little Jamie; he and the others had loved playing with the little lad. He had been like a part of their own family, and dark days had followed his death by drowning.
‘Nobody ever knew for sure. But now, there appears to be some ruffian following your mother when she goes about her business. From the description, I suspect it might be him.’
Thomas was surprised. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Your mother is hurting badly, Thomas. I’ve been so worried about her that I hired a private detective to keep a watchful eye on her. I receive a report twice a week.’ Taking the cable from his pocket he handed it to Thomas. ‘This arrived earlier today.’
Thomas read it through quickly. When he had finished, he handed it back to Leonard and in a quiet voice, asked, ‘When do you leave?’
‘I have booked a flight to London with a private airline; the plane leaves this afternoon at four.’
‘Book another seat. I’m coming with you.’
Smiling with relief, Leonard patted him on the back. ‘Good man. I was hoping you might say that.’ God willing, this could be the first step towards reuniting his family.
Before Tom went off to arrange things, Leonard asked him, ‘Is there any word from Susie?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘Not recently. Since Mother left, she’s thrown herself into her work. The last letter I had from her, she was in New York drumming up business.’
‘And Ronnie – have you heard from him?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘I’ve been wondering …’
‘What?’
‘Well, since no one seems to know of his whereabouts, do you think he might have gone to England, to look for his mother?’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’ Thomas grinned suddenly. ‘In fact, he might be the ruffian that’s following her.’
That brought an answering smile to Leon
ard’s face. ‘Could be.’ The smile slipped away. ‘But somehow I don’t think so.’
With that disturbing thought in mind, the two men prepared for their journey.
Leonard fearing for Vicky’s safety.
Thomas wondering who the ruffian was that showed such an interest in his mother.
Part 4
March, 1955
The Wedding
Chapter 22
IN SALFORD, ELSIE Langton watched her grandson from the kitchen window. ‘Just look at him,’ she tutted, hands on hips. ‘Anybody would think he was a child of ten, instead of a man of twenty-two.’
Charlie was of the same mind. ‘Gawd Almighty!’ He shook his head, rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘It’s no wonder his mum’s chucked him out on his ear. What I want to know is, why should we offer him a roof over his head? He won’t work, he lolls around in the garden kicking that damned football about, and if you so much as ask him to help dig the allotment, he carries on alarming. I thought his National Service would have sorted him out, but no. He’s about as much use as Andy flippin’ Pandy, or Looby Loo, come to that.’
A third voice intervened. ‘He’s not really lazy. He’s bored, that’s all.’ Ben’s daughter Abbie was staying with her father until after the wedding. Having taken to Elsie and Charlie, and having made acquaintance with their grandson Stuart, she often called round to say hello.
‘What d’yer mean, he’s bored?’ Elsie demanded. ‘There’s enough work round here to keep him occupied. He’s not bored, he’s downright idle, and if he doesn’t buck his ideas up, he’ll find himself out on his ear.’
‘That’s right!’ Charlie could never abide with time-wasters, and said so. ‘I’ve worked all my life, man and boy, and even now when I should have my feet up and resting, I’m breaking my back down at the smithy.’
Elsie smiled fondly. ‘You love it,’ she reminded him. ‘You wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t.’
‘That’s not the point, is it?’ he commented with a grunt. ‘All I’m saying is this: every man has to work for a living, or he’s not worth salt.’
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