The Deserter's Daughter

by Susanna Bavin

  ‘She should have worked out that bit for herself,’ Parsons muttered.

  ‘If you ask me,’ said Adam, ‘it’s preferable that she doesn’t know it was Ralph who had Evadne arrested for fraudulently using the Armstrong’s name.’

  ‘She certainly didn’t twig that her husband could be involved with Larter’s shenanigans,’ said Inspector Woods.

  ‘We don’t know for certain Ralph is involved,’ Adam pointed out, flushing as the others turned stony eyes on him. It was hard to believe it of his own brother; or was he being naïve? He liked to think he harboured no illusions about Ralph, was well acquainted with the aggression and cynicism, was aware too of the extremes of his brother’s nature. How could passion and heartlessness co-exist? But – criminal? That was what the others believed, what he himself was struggling with. Could Ralph be part of a gang that had stolen from their wartime allies and was now flogging the loot?

  ‘You’ll be glad to hear Weston’s in the clear,’ said Woods. ‘He taught Miss Baxter a certain amount, but that’s as far as it goes. It would look suspicious were he still employed in the shop, but he retired before Larter came along.’

  ‘Retired?’ said Adam. ‘Is that what he told you? The old boy’s trying to save face. My brother sacked him and brought in Renton who, unless I’m mistaken, knows as much about fine things as I do, which is to say I can probably sound quite knowledgeable but, if an expert tackled me, I couldn’t stand up to the questioning.’ He stopped. It didn’t look good for Ralph.

  ‘I still don’t understand,’ said Geeson, ‘why Larter went to such lengths to make Miss Baxter appear a criminal.’

  ‘I think I can answer that,’ said Drummond. ‘He did it to muddy the waters. Think about it: Parsons and I turn up at an auction to examine the goods and next thing you know, a complaint is made against Miss Baxter; so, yes, there’s a problem at Armstrong’s, but guess what, it’s nothing to do with where the stock came from.’

  ‘Who complained?’ Adam asked. ‘Larter?’

  ‘Nothing so obvious,’ said Parsons. ‘It was a lady customer Miss Baxter had bought from. She claimed she’d been fleeced by someone purporting to represent Armstrong’s.’

  Geeson frowned. ‘But that’s just coincidence, surely, this complaint happening at the same time as you started investigating Larter?’

  ‘No such thing as coincidence,’ said Drummond, ‘but I admit we can’t find a connection between Larter and this Mrs Bentley.’

  ‘Bentley?’ Geeson exclaimed. ‘He was one of Larter’s men. He copped it shortly before the armistice. This must be his widow. What more proof do you need of Miss Baxter’s innocence? You’ve got to get her released.’

  ‘She’s probably safer where she is for now,’ said Parsons.

  Adam saw the pain that flitted across Geeson’s face at that.

  When the others left, he and Geeson looked at one another.

  ‘He’s a bad bugger, that Larter,’ Geeson said grimly.

  ‘And a clever one.’

  ‘You don’t know the half of it. He’s responsible for this.’ Geeson slapped his artificial leg. ‘No proof, mind, but,’ he tapped his forehead, ‘I’ve all the proof I need in here.’

  ‘Christ. What happened?’

  At first, Geeson said nothing. When he began to talk, his eyes narrowed and Adam guessed he was looking into the past.

  ‘We were pinned down in a deserted farm. Larter was there – Captain Larter, he was then. Bentley, Renton, chap called Kemp, me.’

  ‘Not Ralph?’

  ‘No. Can’t say I ever met him.’

  Adam released a quiet breath. Whatever story Geeson was about to tell, and he had no doubt it wasn’t going to be pretty, at least Ralph wasn’t involved.

  ‘Like I say, we were pinned down and had to get out quick. It was one of those now-or-never situations. The plan was that I’d set fire to the barn, then we’d get the hell out of there. It was dangerous because Jerry was nearly on the barn, but it had a small back door and I slipped across and got in that way.’ He broke off, shook his head. ‘It’s odd, remembering the way I used to move. I dream about it, you know. I dream of running.’ He huffed a breath. ‘I started several fires, all the while hearing gunshots. Then Jerry appeared in the barn doorway, the big main doorway, that is, with his gun at the ready. The fires were well alight by then and he was nobbut a silhouette. I flung myself behind some crates and at the same time I heard two shots. Jerry went down and I took the other shot in the thigh. I managed to pull myself as far as the back door. I could hardly breathe by then and my eyes were streaming, the place was that thick with smoke. I had to shoot the lock off to get out. I dragged myself as far as I could, then rolled into a ditch and passed out. A couple of our lads found me two or three days later and carried me on a door to a field hospital. Walked miles with me, they did, and ended up with blisters as big as baccy tins on their hands. By then, my leg had took bad ways. Blood poisoning had set in. The doctor said, “It’s your leg or your life,” and set to with the saw.’

  Adam nodded heavily. ‘Why blame Larter?’

  ‘The two shots in the barn: who d’you suppose fired them?’

  ‘Jerry shot you and one of your men shot him from the back door.’

  ‘No, both shots came from behind me. Whoever killed Jerry shot me an’ all and then I was locked in. Why else d’you think I needed to shoot the lock off to get out? I was shot from behind by one of my comrades, then locked in to burn to death if the bullet didn’t kill me.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Why, though? Why would Larter do that, or give those orders? Come to that, why would anyone follow those orders?’

  ‘To get rid of me. Larter had been sounding me out. Knowing what I know now, I realise he was thinking of recruiting me for his looting gang. There were some strange conversations, not just with him, but with Renton and one or two others. It’s hard to describe because it was done so subtly, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I made a point of saying I was a police sergeant before the war and had every intention of resuming my post afterwards. Two days later, I was shot and locked in a burning barn.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I can’t tell you what a shock it was, the day I saw Larter driving up to Brookburn with Miss Baxter beside him.’

  All Adam could think of was Carrie. In seeking her help, had he placed her in danger?

  Carrie’s feet took her back to Joey’s grave. She needed to see it; she had the oddest feeling that something would be different. She walked down the flagged path between the headstones, her eyes fixed on the bonny yellow of Joey’s chrysanths, like a beacon in the grey morning. But when she stopped at his grave, nothing had changed.

  What had she expected? Joey was still gone and nothing would bring him back. He was still lying in the ground – a damp, miserable ground today. Why had she felt so certain of change? Nothing had altered, not in the smallest detail.

  Yes, it had.

  But the difference wasn’t here with Joey, with her grief, her guilt, her loss.

  The change was in her. She had woken up. She had been made to think about something else and she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

  She stood there for a long time. She had always felt lousy about letting Joey be laid to rest with the grandfather who was no grandfather at all; but now she remembered that Joseph Armstrong hadn’t been a stranger to her. She had known her mother’s unwanted but persistent admirer only slightly, but she remembered the bright eyes, the gruff good humour and the hearty chuckle. To tell the truth, she had rather liked him, only she never said so, because Mam would have had her guts for garters. Joseph Armstrong was what Pa would have called a decent bloke.

  ‘Your grandad will look after you for now,’ she whispered to Joey. ‘Just for now, love. I have to see to Auntie Evadne.’

  Carrie brimmed with energy, itching to be busy. It wasn’t the same need she had had since Joey’s death. That had simply been a matter of going through the motions, something to keep her from toppling over the edg
e. This new urge was different. Was this how she used to be?

  She braced herself for the onslaught of guilt, but nothing happened. Something inside her recognised that she was no longer curled up somewhere in the dark halls of her mind. The time had come to find a new way of living with her loss and guilt, because her mind, for so long paralysed by anguish, was awake and alert, still in pain but ready to think of other things.

  She kicked herself for neglecting Mam. Oh, she had tended her, kept her clean and free from bed sores, mushed up her meals and patiently fed her, never missed her exercises; but there had been no intimacy, no chatting, nothing interesting for Mam to listen to, to hang on to and feel herself still to be a person.

  Well, that was one thing she could put right. She made tea and went to sit with Mam, holding her hand.

  ‘D’you remember how we always had a cuppa together of an evening back at home? You’d have my tea on the table the minute I came in from Trimble’s, and afterwards we’d pull the armchairs up to the fire and get our feet all toasty warm and spend ages nattering over a cup of tea. Well, here I am with my tea now, looking forward to us doing that again. I’ll never give up and I know you won’t either. I want … I want you to come with me to see Joey’s grave.’

  Something blocked her throat – she had to work her jaw to disperse it – and was it her imagination or was there the smallest pressure on her fingers? The feeling was so slight it took her a moment to register it.

  ‘Mam? Did you squeeze my hand? Do it again or I’ll think I was dreaming.’

  She focused all her energy into the moment. Please do it again, please do it again. She pressed Mam’s hand, showing her what to do, but nothing happened. Had she imagined it? No, definitely not. She had no choice but to leave it for now – but only for now.

  ‘Listen, Mam. I have to tell you about Evadne.’ She repeated everything that had been said in Ted Geeson’s house. ‘What I’m meant to look for, I’ve no idea, but I’ll do my best. I don’t want Evadne stopping in that place a minute longer than she has to. Ralph’s done a big evaluation in Withington, a whole houseful. The owner died and the son wants rid of the lot and Ralph had first pick. It’s being delivered over the road on Monday, so I’ll have a reason to be there for a day or two. And maybe I’ll have a chance to see some paperwork. Well, there’s no maybe about it. I have to, though how, and also how I’m going to look at the shop books, I’ve no idea, but Evadne’s relying on me and I won’t let her down.’

  She gave Mam’s hand a final hopeful squeeze. Would it prompt a response? Nothing happened. She tried not to be disappointed.

  ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday and I’m going to visit Mr Weston. I’ve not been round in ages, not since … Anyroad, I’m going to bake a cake and while it’s in the oven, perhaps you’d like to have a wash?’

  She bustled about for the rest of the day. That evening, she told Ralph of her planned visit.

  ‘I thought you’d stopped going.’

  ‘I’d like to start again. I want to do my own shopping again too.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of this. You’ve been a much better wife since you started sticking to the home. I won’t have you gadding about, bumping into women you used to know and picking up that slovenly way of speaking, or starting to dress down because they think you’ve turned posh. It’s taken a lot to get you up to scratch and I’m not having you slumping back into your old ways.’

  She winced. She had forgotten how hard it was to listen to Ralph slagging off Wilton Lane. Had he always been such a bully? How had she stood it? How different it would be if he said in a kind voice, ‘I’m proud of how you’ve improved, but I’m worried you might slip back.’

  She fixed a pleasant expression on her face. ‘I want to go out again, that’s all.’

  ‘Aye, well, we’ll see.’

  ‘So can I go tomorrow?’

  ‘May I, not can I,’ he corrected her. ‘You see how easily it happens?’ He made her wait. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She made a point of smiling. She didn’t want to appear humble or grateful – just polite.

  ‘Straight there and straight back.’

  ‘Yes, Ralph.’

  The morning’s fog had lifted, leaving a chill penetrating damp, and Carrie pulled her scarf higher as she stepped onto the pavement. The familiar aching emptiness washed through her and she hovered indecisively. Here she was, about to do something different and interesting and it felt like the most hideous betrayal. She might even enjoy it. Deep inside she shuddered, the tremor working its way inexorably outward until her whole body shook. The mother who had slept through her baby’s death had no business looking forward to something and deriving pleasure from it.

  The voice of guilt was insistent, the need to dash back inside compelling; but she knew Ralph would declare her unfit to be out and about and would insist on keeping her indoors, so she forced her feet to start moving, though her heart was bumping and her skin felt slick with guilt. Strangely, though, once she had forced her way through the powerful reservations, they subsided into a background ache that she knew she would be living with for a long time to come, possibly always.

  She walked down Wilbraham Road, marvelling at how long it had been since she last came this way. The crossroads with Barlow Moor Road made the hair lift on her arms. It was so big, so wide, and there was traffic, even a tram clanking along. How was she to reach the other side? A businessman, pinstriped, bowler-hatted and umbrella’d, paused at the kerb beside her before starting across and she pattered beside him.

  Passing the bank on the corner, she started along by the shops. It was exciting to be out and about. She glanced over the road – Letty and Billy – shock, dismay, embarrassment, but most of all a great rush of regret and nostalgia and love for the dearest friend she had ever had. How could she have turned her back on Letty? She wanted to run across and hug her old friend and have a good cry and start setting things to rights.

  But Ralph had declared the friendship over.

  And Billy was there.

  She hurried on. A flash of memory: Mrs Jackson and Mrs Tilbury crossing the road to avoid her, pretending not to see her. But this was different. Wasn’t it?

  Not far now. Just the other side of the railway bridge.

  Her heart was beating hard when Mr Weston opened the door. The sight of his dear face calmed and gladdened her.

  His face brightened into kind lines. ‘My dear Mrs Armstrong, what an unexpected pleasure.’

  He drew her in and wouldn’t be dissuaded from putting on extra coal that she feared he could ill afford. Was it her imagination or was he thinner? There hadn’t been much of him to start with. They fell into their old comfortable ways, as if she had seen him last week instead of not for months.

  She tried to apologise, but he waved her words aside.

  ‘You’ve been in my prayers, you and your little boy.’

  As her tears welled up, he distracted her by asking after Evadne.

  ‘But at least you’re not under suspicion now,’ she finished.

  When it was time to leave, she longed to hug him, but a warm handshake had to suffice, together with a promise to return next week.

  As she walked away, glad she had made the effort to come, Billy – Billy! – appeared from round a corner.

  ‘Carrie – I need a word.’

  She ducked her head and tried to get past, but he blocked her way.

  ‘It’ll tek nobbut a minute, I promise.’

  ‘I remember the last time you wanted to speak to me and the answer’s no.’

  ‘That’s why I want to see you – to tek back everything I said last time. I’m a happily married man now. It’s for the best that I ended up with Letty and you’re to forget I ever said owt different.’

  ‘That’d be a darned sight easier if you didn’t spring out at me from round corners.’

  ‘Happen I won’t need to, not after today.’

  ‘Not to mention the fact that you’ve followed me �
� again. Where’s Letty?’

  ‘She never saw you. I told her to finish the shopping on her own.’

  ‘Then get home and wait for her.’

  ‘Not until I’ve said my piece. I want you to know there’s nowt left between you and me, not on my side anyroad. I’m going to be a dad.’

  She gasped. He looked thrilled and proud and important, as if it had never happened to him before. He hadn’t looked like that when she fell pregnant. It had taken him a while to get used to it.

  ‘Things have worked out for the best from where I’m standing. I’m wed with a baby on the way. I had no idea things could be this good. I’ve got the right wife an’ all. There’s nowt iffy about my Letty or her folks. I liked your dad and he’s the last bloke I’d have thought—well, you know what I mean. And now there’s your Evadne inside. It’s like I said last summer – blood will out.’

  ‘Pa wasn’t Evadne’s dad.’

  ‘He fetched her up, didn’t he? Same difference.’

  ‘You’re twisting it to suit yourself.’

  ‘I don’t need to twist anything. You’re to forget I ever came anywhere near you back whenever it was. If there’s any feelings left, they’re not on my side.’

  ‘You can’t believe—’

  ‘I’m just saying, that’s all. Righto, I’d best head home.’ He turned to go, then stopped. ‘Don’t tek this the wrong way, Carrie love, but with your little lad gone, this one me and Letty are having, well, it’s like it’s my first, my first proper one, cos it’s not as though I ever had owt to do with Joey, is it? It’s made me feel reet sorry for you, losing him. This child what’s coming, it’s made me see everything differently. His first child is important to a man.’

  Don’t tek this the wrong way? Carrie thought she would swoon with the pain. Billy tipped his cap and walked away, shoulders back, step jaunty, every inch the proud father-to-be. The world tilted. Carrie wanted to drag herself under a hedge to curl up and wait for death like a sick cat.

  But Ralph would be expecting his three o’clock tea tray.