The Deserter's Daughter

by Susanna Bavin

  She must talk to Adam. When Ralph came home, Carrie dished up beef stew and dumplings, making sure, as any decent wife would, that the bulk of the meat ended up on her husband’s plate.

  ‘I thought I’d visit Joey this afternoon, if you don’t need me over the road.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll be in the shop. I don’t like to have a whole day away from it.’

  When the shop reopened, she set off. Mist clung like the regrets of the bereaved to Chorlton Green as she passed the makeshift memorial, which appeared heartbreakingly grey and thin through the winter months. The sooner there was a proper memorial the better.

  She hurried on past the graveyard and the pub, presently turning in through Brookburn’s gates. Was it her imagination or did the mist hang lower here, close by the brook? She drew her coat more snugly round her as she paced up the drive. Brookburn House was grand and she knew in her bones that a nobody from Wilton Lane ought to knock at the back door.

  ‘Eh, lass, it’s good to see you again. Doctor Armstrong expecting you? No, well, not to worry. Let’s get you inside, that’s the main thing on a day like today.’

  The next thing she knew, she was up the steps, through the front door and standing in a spacious hallway with a splendid staircase; Ted Geeson was beside her, seeming bigger than ever wrapped inside a greatcoat, removing his cap as he spoke to a passing nurse, before ushering her along the hall into a room furnished with items that even her untrained eye knew Ralph would kill to get his hands on.

  ‘Here, sit by the fire.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She unfastened her coat.

  ‘Have you seen Miss Baxter?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Your old man won’t let you, eh? Shame, that. I thought she might agree to see you. Now, me, I have permission from Doctor Armstrong to go every day, only she won’t see me.’

  Carrie realised with a thrill of surprise that this man cared for her sister, but her initial pleasure was quenched by the certainty that Evadne would never look twice in his direction. Poor Mr Geeson.

  Adam walked in and she felt a deep pang of yearning intermingled so powerfully with sorrow that her heart swelled and she couldn’t breathe. She mustn’t have feelings for this man. But not only was her mind reawakening from its darkest torment, it seemed that her heart too was making room for something besides misery. She pressed a hand to her chest. She didn’t want this.

  She came to the point. ‘I haven’t found anything. I’ve tried the shop delivery book and the auction room ledger.’

  ‘There is somewhere else you might try: the safe,’ said Adam. ‘You know the airing cupboard inside the chimney breast in the sitting room?’

  ‘I barely use it. Our washing goes to the laundry.’

  ‘The safe is inside it, set into the wall. Its door looks like part of the wall, but if you know it’s there, you can feel for the keyhole. Dad used to keep the key in a desk drawer with a false back.’

  Such secrets in her own sitting room – a safe, a drawer with a hidden compartment.

  ‘There’s a row of small drawers beneath the pigeonholes. If you open the second one from the left and feel the back, you’ll find a narrow dent. Press hard and the back will pivot. There’s a space behind it where the key is. Well, that’s where Dad kept it.’

  She wanted to object, to tell him she had already been locked in the office, not to mention almost being caught by Mr Larter, but she couldn’t, not without letting Evadne down and she wasn’t about to do that. There was something she didn’t understand, though.

  ‘I don’t see why you can’t tell Ralph.’ Seeing the men exchange glances, she felt a flash of vexation. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’

  Ted Geeson turned to Adam. ‘Perhaps Mrs Armstrong should drop out now.’

  ‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,’ Carrie objected.

  Adam turned to her and she could have sworn he was about to reach out his hand, but he didn’t. Inside her sleeve, her skin glowed where he would have touched her.

  ‘Geeson’s right,’ Adam said. ‘You mustn’t do any more. Forget the safe. Asking you to help was a long shot. There are others who’ll take over now.’

  ‘No! You can’t seek my help and then cast me aside. Ralph could lay his hands on what you need in an instant. If you won’t tell him, I will, and never mind that tripe about him choosing between Evadne and Mr Larter. I’ll make him listen.’

  ‘No!’ both men exclaimed vehemently.

  Adam sighed. ‘All right. I’ll tell you what Larter’s involved in, on condition you swear not to breathe a word. I’m only telling you so you can appreciate how serious this is. It isn’t just to do with Evadne. Alex Larter is involved – or rather, is strongly suspected of being involved – with a gang who, while serving in France, stole precious goods – furniture, paintings, ornaments – and now they’re feeding them into the home market in such a way as makes them virtually untraceable, by selling to private individuals who will put the table or vase in their front room and there it’ll stay for years to come.’

  ‘And Mr Larter might be using the auction room to do this? Adam, you must tell Ralph.’

  ‘No. There are men who are investigating this, who, incidentally, would have my hide if they knew I’d told you. Say one word and you’ll damage their investigation.’

  Carrie pressed her lips together. Was she supposed to be content with that?

  ‘I’ll see you home,’ Ted Geeson offered, nodding at the window.

  She saw threads of mist clagging together and reforming into ropes of fog.

  ‘No need. I’ll be fine if I leave now.’

  She stood up and fastened her coat, looking at the buttons because she knew Adam was looking at her. Bidding the men a brisk farewell, she hurried away, her mind brimming.

  Adam was right: she mustn’t tell Ralph. If he knew what Mr Larter was suspected of, he wouldn’t bother with proof. He would grab his business associate by the throat and throttle him for daring to use Ralph’s beloved business for such despicable purposes.

  When she arrived home, she entered through the shop to tell Ralph she had returned safely.

  ‘Good. I’m about to shut up shop. We’ll get no more business with this fog setting in. I’ve sent Renton home and I’ll be over the road, pricing the Withington goods.’

  Carrie slipped behind the counter and went through the back hall and upstairs, where the first thing she did was send Mrs Porter home. Typical Ralph: he hadn’t given the woman a thought.

  In the sitting room, she looked at the chimney breast, her eye going to the small door in the side; then she looked at the roll-top desk. But Adam wanted her to leave well alone and, anyroad, she had her own jobs to attend to. She went to stir up Mam’s fire and make sure she was warm enough. Then she settled down to talk, taking her hand.

  ‘Eh, Mam, you’ll never guess what I found out today about that Mr Larter.’ She repeated everything Adam had said, including his mention of the safe. ‘Only he doesn’t want me looking in there after all.’ She fetched a sigh. ‘I wish I’d found something to help Evadne, but there was nothing. Wait – there was something. Not in the books, but something that happened in the auction room. Mr Kemp bought a bureau and two weeks later he bought that secretaire. That’s two words for desk, Mam. Who wants two desks? Oh yes, and the secretaire was taken out at the end, but then it was brought back so those men could see it, only it was a different piece that was brought back. I knew it all along, but I told myself I’d made a mistake because it didn’t make sense. D’you suppose it means something? Oh, Mam, do you think it could help Evadne?’

  She went to the window to draw the curtains. The fog was stodgier than when she had walked home.

  ‘Not today, though.’ She took Mam’s hand again. ‘The fog’s getting worse and I’d never get back in time to do the tea.’ She was fidgety, anxious to do something useful. ‘I’ll search the safe, see if there’s anything in there.’

  Starting to ris
e, she gasped when Mam’s hand clutched hers.

  ‘Mam!’ She dropped back onto her chair. Drawing Mam’s knuckles to her lips, she smothered them with kisses, then stopped as the grip faded. ‘It’s a good sign. It means you’re on the mend. Wait till I tell Ralph.’

  Mam’s hand went slack. Carrie laid it down, her heart in a whirl. She felt torn in two. Part of her wanted to fling back the bedclothes and exercise Mam’s limbs for all she was worth, but this might be her only chance to try the safe.

  ‘I shan’t be long.’

  Finding the dent in the back of the drawer, she administered a sharp push and felt a moment’s childish delight when the back of the drawer pivoted, revealing a small compartment. There was the key. Opening the airing cupboard, she closed her eyes as warmth poured over her; then she reached inside, her fingertips travelling over the wall time and again before she detected the tiniest difference in the surface. Not daring to remove her fingers, she reached in with her other hand to fiddle with the key and the next moment the door swung open. Goodness, she had done it.

  It was too shadowy to see properly, but there were two shelves. Carrie withdrew a sturdy tin box – locked. She replaced it. Next came some books. Glancing inside, she saw lists of items together with columns of money. She put the books on the table behind her. On the other shelf was another book, some fat documents tied with string and a large envelope. She took everything out. Dare she untie the string? The envelope was unsealed. Reaching inside, she felt some pieces of paper, small and flimsy. She pulled them out.

  Her guts turned to water. All she could do was stare at the bits of paper in her hand. Small pieces snipped from newspaper. DEAD … NEGLECT … KILLER … CHILD … WOMAN … MOTHER … She gave a great gasp and shook her hand free, watching the words flutter to the floor. Nausea swooped through her and she sank into a chair.

  Presently, eventually, however long it took, she lurched to her feet and staggered along the landing. In Mam’s room, she stood beside her mam, for once not taking her hand.

  ‘I have …’ She cleared her throat and started again. ‘There’s something I never told you. I’ve been getting poison pen letters, accusing me of … of killing Joey. I’ve just found … in the safe … It was Ralph. Ralph sent them.’ A terrible fear washed through her. What an appalling thing to say about her husband. Suppose she was wrong. But she knew she wasn’t. ‘I have to go out. Adam will …’ Adam would what? She hoped he would have some idea what to do, because she hadn’t a clue. She only knew she had to get away. ‘I’ll come back for you, I promise.’

  She returned to the sitting room. It was an effort to move, to think. The newspaper cuttings lay on the carpet. Should she take them? She remembered how she had dreaded picking letters off the mat, how her stomach had lurched as she looked through them.

  It had been Ralph all along.

  A sound made her swing round, goosebumps scattering up and down her arms.

  Ralph called, ‘I’ve come for my notebook. I thought I’d left it in the shop, but—Carrie? What’s wrong?’ He was in the doorway. Then he saw what was behind her and Carrie retreated a step as his expression darkened. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on? Did you do this?’

  She swallowed. She glanced at the bits of paper, saw his eyes flick towards them, felt a shudder run through her as he lifted his gaze to hers. There was no sorrow, no remorse, no shame.

  ‘It was you,’ she whispered. ‘You sent them. You said over and over that I mustn’t blame myself, yet you were sending the letters. You said I mustn’t blame myself and every time you said it, I blamed myself more. Did you know that? Did you do it on purpose? Were you … were you punishing me?’

  ‘Not for Joey, no. His death was regrettable, but it turned you into a better wife. But you’re right, the letters were a punishment. My God, when I think of everything I’ve done for you! Haven’t I been a good provider? Haven’t I given you status? Not that you ever wanted it, you with your Wilton Lane obsession. I let you have your mother – who, let’s face it, is nothing more than a dummy – live under my roof. I even—God Almighty, Carrie, I even took on another man’s baby and never let on.’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Yes, I knew, but I never held it against you, did I? You’d never have guessed if I hadn’t just told you and I’d never have punished you for it. But yes, you’re right, the letters were a punishment. The question is, are you going to stand there playing the innocent and pretending you don’t know what for?’

  ‘But … if not Joey …’

  ‘The thing is this, Carrie. At what point does infidelity begin? The first time you go at it with one another like a pair of rutting animals? I imagine that’s what most people think. I know I did until a few months back. Or does it start the moment you realise you have feelings for someone else? Even if you never act on those feelings, doesn’t the simple fact of having them mean you’ve broken faith? Can you answer the question, Carrie? I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I could bear to. But even if you can’t answer, you can see, can’t you, why you had to be punished?’

  He knew. She had tried so hard to hide it, but he knew.

  ‘Well, Carrie,’ Ralph said, softly, ‘do you deserve it?’

  Transfixed, she gave the faintest nod. She felt and heard a great crack as the back of Ralph’s hand connected hard with the side of her face and she went flying. The other side of her face crunched against the armchair as she landed. She didn’t know which side of her face to hold. From somewhere inside came the idea that she mustn’t cradle both sides or it would look like a bid for sympathy.

  Ralph yanked her to her feet. Her head was humming. Instinct took over and the moment he let go, Carrie darted away. She barely made it to the door before his hand landed on her shoulder so hard her knees buckled. Her arms flailed, grabbing at thin air for balance, as Ralph swung her about to face the open cupboard, the books on the table, the documents tied with string.

  ‘What about all this, eh?’ He was close behind her, head bent, his breath scalding her cheek.

  She squirmed round to face him. ‘Ralph, I swear this is for the best.’

  ‘The best? There’s only one way you can have found out about the safe. You’ve seen him, haven’t you? Haven’t you? ’

  ‘Please, it’s not what you think. He wants to help—oh!’ Ralph shook her so hard her teeth clicked.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. ‘What’s he said?’

  He snatched her wrists, cuffing them so hard she thought they would snap.

  ‘Ralph – don’t – you’re hurting me—’

  ‘What did he say? ’

  ‘It’s Mr Larter. He’s using the business to …’ She had the oddest impression of movement in the background behind Ralph, but that must be the combination of tears and the black spots of pain swarming before her eyes.

  ‘To what?’

  Ralph squeezed harder. Carrie couldn’t believe the strength in his fingers. She couldn’t believe his desire to hurt her. She could feel every tiny piece of bone and gristle inside each wrist vibrating beneath the imminent danger of shattering beyond repair.

  ‘What did Adam say?’ Ralph’s face was white with fury, his voice loud and clipped. Then he uttered a sound somewhere between a gasp and a grunt, his eyes flickered and he slumped to the floor, taking her with him.

  Carrie lay pinned beneath him, too winded to move, too astonished to try, one leg doubled agonisingly beneath her. Had Ralph fainted? His body was a dead weight. She panicked, wriggling furiously until she wrenched her way out from underneath, her legs still trapped but her upper body free. She sucked in a great breath, but before she could haul her legs out, something drew her eye to the door, where—

  Disbelief all but scooped her heart from her chest. Mam was there, leaning against the door frame, slowly sinking down it, a poker lying at her feet. Carrie stared. Mam looked haggard and ill and exhausted and surprisingly tall, but perhaps that was because Carrie was on the floor. She shook herself; of a
ll the stupid things to think.

  Next thing she knew, she was out from underneath Ralph and walking, dreamlike, across to Mam. She felt as though her legs were about to give way, but she mustn’t let them because if she collapsed in a heap, who would pick Mam up when she sagged all the way to the carpet?

  ‘Mam?’

  Carrie stopped short, not quite close enough for touching. Mam’s face turned and their eyes met.

  ‘Oh, Mam, oh my goodness!’

  She tried to gather Mam into her arms, taken aback by how awkward it was with Mam propped against the door frame, her body not doing anything to cooperate. After a moment Carrie felt the merest whisper of a touch on her back and her heart swelled. She wanted to hug Mam to her, but she was frightened of damaging her.

  ‘G … go …’

  The word was so quiet that Carrie barely heard it, but the hand that had tried to pat her was now making little flapping attempts to push her chest. Carrie took a step back.

  ‘G … go. R … un.’

  ‘Mam, you can walk, you can move. Why have you never—?’

  ‘Go n … ow. N … not … safe.’

  Carrie looked at the figure on the floor. Her wrists hummed, promising bruises to come. ‘I’m not leaving you.’

  ‘M … ust.’ Mam’s gaze flickered towards Ralph. ‘Nev … er s … saw me.’ Her eyelids fluttered and she sank further down the door frame. ‘A … A …’

  ‘Adam. Yes, I’ll go to Adam. But first, let’s get you back to bed. Ralph never saw you, so you’ll be safe.’

  Carrie part supported, part dragged Mam’s sagging body along the landing, aware that her dear brave mam was doing her best with rapidly depleting strength. In the bedroom, Carrie gave up the struggle and they both collapsed across the bed, breathing raggedly. After a minute, Carrie got up and began manoeuvring Mam beneath the covers, taking care to lie her the same as usual.

  ‘G … go.’

  Carrie couldn’t bear the thought of leaving. Mam’s skin was pasty-white and she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Carrie bent and kissed her, then froze, her face an inch away.