The Deserter's Daughter

by Susanna Bavin

  Presently the door opened. She perked up at once, but Ralph’s arms were empty.

  ‘Where’s Joey?’

  ‘Mrs Porter has him. About Mrs Jenkins—’

  ‘Is she dead?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When did it happen?’ And had anyone told her she was grandmother to a beautiful little boy and Carrie was safe and well?

  ‘What are you talking about? She’s in hospital.’

  ‘Hospital?’ Her heart hammered. ‘Another stroke?’

  ‘Use your head. All along you’ve insisted on looking after her, but you can’t while you’re confined to bed, can you? So I sent her to hospital.’

  ‘But I thought you’d got her a nurse. Here. In the flat.’

  ‘I don’t know why you should think so. I never said anything of the kind.’

  No, he hadn’t. He had said everything was taken care of and she had just assumed. It was her own stupid fault.

  ‘I want her at home.’

  ‘She’s fine where she is.’

  ‘Please, Ralph. I’ll worry myself to death otherwise.’

  ‘You’re in no state to look after her.’

  ‘There’s nowt wrong with me. All this stopping in bed is codswallop. I can tend to Mam, same as always, with Mrs Porter to help.’

  ‘You’re having your bed rest and that’s all there is to it.’

  ‘Then get in a nurse.’ She reached out a hand to him. ‘I never ask for owt, do I?’ Should she remind him of the times he had declared he would do anything for her? But it seemed too much like a challenge.

  She could see from the way the muscles rippled along his jaw that he wasn’t pleased, but she saw too the moment when his features softened – no, not softened, but eased.

  ‘Very well. If it will save you fretting.’

  Relief washed through her and tears began to spill down her cheeks. The memory of that moment when she had seen the empty bed hit her and she glimpsed the grief she would suffer when she truly did lose her mam. All at once she was sobbing. The mattress dipped as Ralph sat and drew her into his arms.

  ‘What’s this for?’

  ‘It was such a shock, seeing the empty bed.’ Taking a huge breath, she stemmed the flow. ‘Bring Joey back and I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Not while you’re in this state. Pull yourself together and then we’ll see.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Evadne sat behind her desk, pen in hand, supposedly working on next week’s duty rota but really devising a way of achieving what Alex Larter had delicately hinted at – so delicately, in fact, that she couldn’t be sure it had actually been a hint. He had taken her on a valuation that he had considerately organised for Saturday afternoon so as not to interfere with her commitments at Brookburn, driving her – they must have appeared quite the married couple – to the appointment.

  On the way he entertained her with ghost stories about Barlow Hall, convincing her that that splendid establishment must be their destination. She was obliged to bite back severe disappointment when he took her instead to a place not unlike Grandfather’s, where the widowed lady of the house, as Alex murmured on the doorstep, was struggling to fend off hard times.

  He introduced her as ‘my colleague, Miss Baxter’, which she found most gratifying. She bestowed a small, professional smile upon the widow. Mrs Bentley was good-looking, though she would never see thirty again.

  They stood in front of the mirror they had come to inspect.

  ‘Rococo style.’ Alex indicated the scoops and swirls adorning the frame and the fancy candle-branches protruding from either side. ‘Middle of the last century, I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Baxter?’

  ‘Quite,’ she said, with a secret quiver.

  ‘Is it worth much?’ Mrs Bentley asked.

  Alex turned to her. ‘I’d be happy to pay forty.’

  ‘Forty pounds?’

  ‘Guineas.’

  His cultured voice made it sound natural to deal in guineas instead of pounds. That extra shilling did so much more than turn the humble pound into an exotic guinea. It turned a straightforward business transaction into an upper-crust affair. Evadne shivered in delight.

  ‘You appear surprised, Mrs Bentley,’ said Alex. ‘May I enquire whether you have had the piece valued by someone else? What did they offer?’

  ‘Twenty pounds.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you this. Whichever dealer you choose to do business with will sell on your mirror for around fifty guineas; but whereas I am happy with a profit of ten guineas or so, others seek more. My hope is that you will invite me back, should you wish to part with other pieces. I’m involved in a new auction house and it’s important to have a good supply of worthwhile items.’

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ Mrs Bentley started to say, with an eagerness that made Evadne glance away to conceal her disdain.

  Alex held up a courteous hand. ‘Permit me to stop you, madam. This isn’t the moment to get carried away. Is there perhaps a trusted friend you can confide in? The family solicitor or a friend of your late husband? Today I’ll purchase your mirror with pleasure. As to further items, I’ll be happy to return on another occasion when you’ve had time to consider.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll invite you back, Mr Larter?’ Evadne asked as they drove away.

  ‘I expect so,’ he answered easily, as if it didn’t matter. ‘What did you think of the mirror?’

  She hedged. ‘It wasn’t to my taste, but—’

  ‘Shame on you, Miss Baxter. There was I thinking we were on our way to becoming friends, but how can we be if you won’t tell me the truth? The mirror was a monstrosity and if you say different, I’ll stop the motor and you can walk home.’

  ‘Well, yes, it was hideous.’ She kicked herself for missing the opportunity to share a joke.

  ‘Mrs Bentley might recommend me to her friends. That’s always a good thing. I couldn’t help admiring that bureau in Major Baxter’s drawing room. I wonder if he has any friends or neighbours who find themselves in need of a bit of cash. All done discreetly, of course. Could I tempt you to stop at a tea shop, Miss Baxter, before heading for home?’

  Evadne was delighted to accept. She expected him to refer again to the possibility of introductions to Grandfather’s acquaintances, but he didn’t. Well, naturally not. He wouldn’t be so crass.

  But the idea was inside her head. It was inside her belly too, fluttering about. Using Grandfather’s connections to put more business Alex’s way would guarantee they spent more time together.

  ‘What’s wrong, love? Why are you still in bed?’ Letty came bustling across the room, not bothering to take off her hat or unbutton her coat as she hastened to Carrie’s side. To Carrie’s chagrin, she didn’t even glance at the baby.

  ‘There’s nowt wrong,’ she said in surprise.

  ‘Then why aren’t you up?’

  Carrie’s cheeks burnt. ‘Bed rest.’

  ‘You what?’ Letty sounded incredulous. ‘How swanky.’

  ‘Don’t say that. Ralph wants the best for me, that’s all.’

  ‘Aye, but … bed rest,’ grimaced Letty, and suddenly they were both spluttering with laughter.

  ‘Here, say hello,’ said Carrie. ‘Joey, this is your Auntie Letty.’

  ‘Eh, he’s a little corker. Can I hold him?’

  ‘Tek off your coat and have a proper cuddle.’

  Letty was eager to know all about the birth. She clapped a hand over her mouth when Carrie told her who had delivered Joey.

  ‘I’d never be able to look him in the face again, if it was me.’

  ‘Trust me, when you’ve a baby coming, you won’t care tuppence if a monkey delivers it, so long as it’s been trained.’

  ‘Have you seen him since?’

  ‘Not yet.’ She couldn’t understand why Adam hadn’t come to see her and the nephew he had brought into the world.

  ‘And is Joey all right? Him being early, I mean.’

  ‘He’s perfect.’<
br />
  ‘Bad enough that you had that appalling shock, without it affecting Joey an’ all.’

  ‘My goodness.’ Carrie went hot and cold. ‘I’d forgotten. Oh Letty, you should have seen her.’

  The door opened and Ralph came in. ‘What’s the matter? Carrie?’

  Letty looked at him. ‘It’s my fault, me and my big mouth. I reminded her about that poor lady what died.’

  Seeing the sharp flare of Ralph’s nostrils, Carrie went taut with anxiety.

  ‘You stupid creature! Why the hell did you do that?’

  ‘Ralph!’ Carrie protested.

  ‘Christ Almighty, I come upstairs to say goodbye to my wife and child before I go out and what do I find?’ He glared at Letty.

  ‘Ralph, please, she never meant owt by it,’ said Carrie. ‘It’s my fault. I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Quite right, too. I won’t have my wife troubled by such things.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d best go,’ Letty murmured.

  ‘There’s no perhaps about it,’ Ralph retorted.

  Carrie wanted to curl up and die of shame. She wanted to set Ralph straight, but it would be disloyal in front of another person. Where was his loyalty to her? He had shown her up good and proper.

  She made a point of clasping Letty’s hand and pulling her down for a goodbye kiss, but Letty couldn’t get away fast enough. Would she tell her mam about Ralph’s outburst? Would she tell Billy?

  Carrie made a tremendous effort to bring her emotions under control, saying as mildly as she could, ‘I wish you hadn’t made her go.’

  He sat on the bed and looked at her. ‘And I wish she hadn’t jolted your memory.’

  ‘I can’t believe I could have forgotten.’

  ‘It’s understandable. The shock, followed by the birth.’

  ‘Poor Miss Deacon. Who would do such a thing?’

  He shrugged. ‘Burglars. She lost various bits and pieces, apparently.’

  Including her life. Poor lady.

  ‘What were you doing there?’ Ralph asked.

  ‘Taking back her spectacles, the ones from under the counter. I remembered they were hers.’

  ‘So you took it upon yourself to return them. Why didn’t you tell me whose they were?’

  ‘I didn’t like to. You were so angry when you thought Mr Renton stole the silver-plated tray. I didn’t want to remind you of the trouble I’d caused.’

  ‘So instead you caused a great deal more.’

  ‘Ralph, no—’

  ‘Aside from the possible damage you could have done to yourself and the baby by collapsing in public, you’ve brought trouble on my head. The police have been asking questions, Carrie, about why you were there. I couldn’t tell them. The old woman wasn’t a friend. They asked if she was a customer, so I had to show them the delivery book. The silver-plated tray is one of the pieces missing from her house, as it turns out, and since the old biddy kept herself to herself and didn’t have many visitors, no one can properly describe what else is gone, which leaves the police concentrating on the tray.’

  ‘Is that bad?’

  ‘It’s hardly the kind of publicity I want for my business.’

  ‘But it’s better that I found her, surely? Otherwise she might have been lying there for who knows how long – especially if she didn’t have visitors.’ Had Miss Deacon been lonely?

  ‘The police want to speak to you. I’ve said they must wait until you’re up and about.’

  ‘I can’t tell them owt. I just went in and … found her.’

  ‘What did you think you were doing? Suppose the burglars had still been there. It was stupid of you.’

  She crumpled inside, but raised her chin. ‘Have they been caught?’

  ‘No, but that’s not your problem. I’ll tell the police you have no recollection of what happened.’

  ‘But I can remember.’

  ‘Did you see the intruders? Can you describe them?’

  ‘No, they were long gone.’

  ‘Then you’ve nothing to say, have you? Be sensible, Carrie. If the police think you remember something, they’ll never leave you alone. I won’t have you hounded.’

  He consulted his pocket watch, lifted her chin to plant a kiss firmly on her mouth, then stood up.

  ‘Must be off.’ At the door he looked back. ‘Put it out of your mind. I won’t have you upset over the gory details. A good mother is a serene mother. Don’t forget what we had to do last time you got yourself in a state.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Evadne remained in the back of the taxi until the driver realised what was required and got out to open the door for her. She emerged elegantly, swinging her legs out neatly, trim ankles together, and glanced round as if she were sizing up a place she had been invited to for the weekend.

  ‘Wait for me,’ she instructed the cabbie over her shoulder, and if she caught anything of a muttered response along the lines of not being a bleedin’ chauffeur, she ignored it. Alex had insisted upon the taxi and had given her the money for it in a courteously matter-of-fact way.

  ‘It’d be unseemly for my colleague to arrive on foot from the tram stop. Besides, if Mrs Bentley parts with the painting, you can bring it back with you. You’d better take some sheeting from the auction room.’

  It was disappointing, of course, that Alex wasn’t with her. On the other hand, how gratifying it was to be depended on. They had visited Mrs Bentley together a second time and purchased a dainty-legged desk. They had also been asked to call upon Mrs Bentley’s friend, Miss Kent.

  ‘You’ll accompany me, I hope, Miss Baxter?’ Alex had requested. ‘I’m sure it will make the experience easier for Miss Kent to have another lady present.’

  It had sounded as if he were asking the most enormous favour. That visit had seen the purchase of a sideboard with one cupboard fitted as a plate-warmer, and Alex, just like he had in front of Mrs Bentley, had fed Evadne little cues that made her look as if she knew about furniture.

  Miss Kent had also shown them a small table. Previously, Evadne would have spared it little more than a cursory glance, but now she found herself studying the scalloped edging around the tabletop and the trio of feet curving out from the graceful pedestal. Not that she had the slightest idea what these features revealed as to age or value, but she felt interest stirring.

  A couple of evenings later, Alex had found his way to the office next to the auction room and leant against the door frame, blowing smoke rings.

  ‘Mrs Bentley telephoned, hoping for a third visit, but I had to turn her down as I’m going away for a few days.’

  ‘But you are coming back?’ Had she sounded too eager?

  ‘Yes, though I’m not sure Mrs Bentley will wait. I have the impression the vultures are circling.’ He blew a perfect smoke ring and watched it drift into the air and disperse. ‘Unless, of course … but I couldn’t ask.’

  ‘Ask what, Mr Larter?’

  ‘If you’d pay the call yourself.’

  And here she was. There was a snap in the air and she wasn’t pleased to be kept waiting on the step by the maid.

  Mrs Bentley appeared. ‘Miss … Baxter, isn’t it? What can I do for you?’

  She put on her professional smile. ‘Good evening, Mrs Bentley. I believe you’re expecting me.’

  ‘Well … no.’

  ‘I understood Mr Larter was going to arrange this appointment.’

  After the initial confusion, Mrs Bentley was happy to let her look round, though the door remained firmly shut on the sitting room, where Evadne suspected the lady of the house had been dining off a tray in front of the fire before her unexpected visitor arrived.

  Evadne knew what to do.

  ‘Have a look round to show willing,’ Alex had advised, ‘but there’s only one piece left that’s worth our while and that’s the small painting at the foot of the stairs. Offer twenty.’

  ‘Guineas?’

  ‘Pounds.’

  Within fifteen minutes, the painting was wrap
ped in sheeting.

  ‘My driver will carry it out,’ Evadne said graciously as she shook hands. ‘Thank you for your custom, Mrs Bentley.’

  A lesser person might have departed on an apology for the misunderstanding over the appointment; but the future Mrs Alex Larter had no need to make herself amenable to someone in financial straits.

  Ralph looked round as the bell jingled, his expression turning to steel as Adam walked in. He had yet to forgive Adam for being the one to deliver the baby. Maybe he never would. Carrie was his property and he couldn’t bear the idea of his bloody brother having cast eyes on her flat on her back with her legs splayed and her privates on show. No man should have to suffer that indignity at the hands of his own brother.

  They exchanged a brief how do as they shook hands before Ralph demanded, ‘What do you want?’

  ‘From you, nothing. I’ve come to see Carrie and my nephew.’

  ‘You can’t. She’s still in bed.’

  ‘Surely—’

  ‘You said you needed nothing from me, but you’re wrong. You need my permission.’ Ralph looked into his brother’s eyes. ‘Permission withheld.’

  ‘In that case,’ Adam said after a moment, ‘I’m here in my professional capacity as Mrs Jenkins’ doctor. I’ll go through her exercise routine, since Carrie can’t at present. Presumably you won’t object to that?’

  ‘No need. She’s not here.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘She’s in hospital. As you say, Carrie’s in no fit state, so I sent Mrs Jenkins to hospital.’

  ‘Did Carrie agree?’

  ‘I make the decisions in this house.’

  ‘In other words, no.’

  Ralph’s fingers flexed and fisted. ‘It’s Carrie’s duty to abide by my decisions.’

  ‘She must be worried sick, poor girl. She’s devoted to her mother. Mrs Jenkins won’t get the correct treatment in hospital. They’ll keep her clean and comfortable, nothing more. You should have asked me. I could have provided a suitable nurse.’