The Jazz Files

by Fiona Veitch Smith

  Dot and Grace looked at each other and a wordless message passed between them. “Well, darling, we didn’t want to bring it up until we knew you were on the mend, but the truth is, we’re not very happy, are we, Grace?”

  “No, we’re not. If you were going to visit Elizabeth you could at least have told us. She was our friend, you know.”

  “Then why have you never visited her?”

  “Oh darling, we tried. Didn’t we, Grace? We really tried, when we heard she’d had a breakdown – and who wouldn’t after seeing what happened to poor Gloria? Apparently she was there when Gloria jumped in front of the train – did you know that?”

  “I surmised as much.”

  “She got such a shock she ran off. They didn’t find her until the next morning. Nearly frozen to death, she was. They took her to the hospital, but even when her body was better, her mind wasn’t.”

  “How do you know? Did you see her?”

  “No, they wouldn’t let us in, would they, Grace? We tried. Here and at Willow Park, but they said we were on a ‘forbidden visitors’ list. There was nothing we could do.”

  “Then how do you know what state of mind she was in?”

  “Well, Gloria told us – she came to see us, you know, before she died, to ask for a ticket for Elizabeth to go to America. When they got out of Holloway Elizabeth was too scared to go home. She thought her father would try to have her locked up again –”

  “And he has –”

  “Yes, but this is different. I’ve no doubt he’s the one who’s driven her mad, but mad she is. Poor woman.”

  “Well, I wonder about that –”

  “She was,” interjected Grace. “You asked how we knew, Poppy – well, apart from what Gloria told us, it was confirmed by Sophie. She was a nurse and she worked in this very hospital.”

  “So Sophie saw her?”

  “No,” conceded Grace, “she was also on ‘the list’. But some of Sophie’s colleagues told her Elizabeth was hysterical and needed more specialized treatment.”

  “In Willow Park?” asked Poppy.

  “It’s one of the best mental hospitals around,” offered Dot with a plaintive look that begged Poppy not to judge her too harshly for not visiting her friend.

  Poppy lay back on her pillows and absorbed this. “All right,” she said after a while. “So she was hysterical after she’d seen her friend killed by a train. But that doesn’t mean –”

  “Who wouldn’t be, darling? Oh poor, poor Gloria! If only we’d stopped her going back. Or if one of us had gone with her.”

  “Then why didn’t you?”

  Dot and Grace looked at each other again. A steely, almost accusatory tone inflected Dot’s voice. “Well, I wasn’t there when Gloria arrived, was I, Grace?”

  Grace elongated her neck, sniffed and looked down her nose at her friend. “I thought we’d laid this to rest, Dorothy…”

  “Laid what to rest?” asked Poppy.

  “Well… Grace –”

  Grace raised her hand to silence Dot. “I’ll tell her. On the day Gloria came home, your aunt was at the hairdresser’s. Only Frank, Sophie and I were home. We didn’t know Gloria had been released from Holloway – she still had another month on her sentence – so it came as a shock when she arrived on the doorstep. She’d been on hunger strike, like most of the sisters, and looked like a half-starved waif.”

  “Haunted, you said, Grace. You said she looked haunted.”

  “Yes, she did. That’s the very word to describe her. When we heard later she had… she had… well, she had done what she had done, none of us were that surprised. But I’ll never forgive myself for letting her go on her own. Your aunt knows that, Poppy. And even though she says she’s forgiven me, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “So why didn’t you go with her?”

  “She begged me not to. She said Elizabeth was disturbed – ‘paranoid’ was the word she used – and she thought that if I went with her Elizabeth would get spooked. She saw her father’s agents behind every bush.”

  “And not without reason,” observed Poppy.

  “So true,” agreed Dot, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  But Poppy was not ready to let up. “So, to summarize, Elizabeth and Gloria were released suddenly from Holloway. Elizabeth feared her father would try to have her locked up again, so she asked Gloria to book passage for her to America.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Grace. “Frank, Sophie and I agreed that this was probably the safest course of action, so after she’d had something to eat, I took Gloria to the shipping agent. We got the ticket and then I dropped her off at Paddington station. She said that once she’d delivered the ticket to Elizabeth in Slough, she would come back. But she never did.”

  “Poor Delilah! I’d got back by then and heard what had happened. I sent a message to Delilah’s father. They came round to wait with us. But Gloria never came. Oh, you should have seen the look on the little mite’s face when the policeman arrived. She thought it was her mother. But it wasn’t. It was the most dreadful news.”

  Aunt Dot was now openly crying. A nurse popped her head around the door and asked if everything was all right. When she was assured it was, she tapped her fob watch and said that visiting time was nearly over. Aunt Dot and Grace both got ready to go. But Poppy wasn’t finished yet.

  “Did Gloria mention a box, Grace?”

  “A box? No, I don’t believe she did. Dorothy, did Frank or Sophie say anything about a box?”

  Dot dabbed at her eyes with a frilly handkerchief. “I don’t recall. I don’t think so. Why do you ask, Poppy?”

  “Nothing. I was just wondering. And I’m not feeling too well again, Aunt Dot. Do you mind if I get some sleep?”

  “Of course not, darling. We’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. And don’t forget the flowers.”

  Dot grimaced at the ostentatious display as Grace picked it up and deposited it on her lap. Then, as they wheeled out, Dot raised her hand to stop Grace. She looked over her shoulder and said, “You can tell us more tomorrow, darling, but how was she? How was Elizabeth?”

  “Quite sane,” said Poppy. But before she could expand further, the nurse came and announced that visiting time was now, most definitely, over.

  At the mid-afternoon visiting time, a large bunch of yellow roses appeared in her doorway, held by a grinning Daniel. “Glad to see you on the mend, Poppy.”

  “Oh, how lovely! Are they for me?”

  “No, they’re for Rollo, but he didn’t like the colour.”

  Poppy laughed and then winced.

  Daniel rushed to her side. “Are you all right? Do you need the doctor?”

  “No, I’m fine; just bruised ribs. You will need to be exceedingly dull today, or I shan’t survive it.”

  “Don’t joke about it, Poppy. I’ve been beside myself with worry.”

  “You have?” She sounded pleased. And he looked pleased that she was pleased.

  He grinned like an overgrown schoolboy and announced, “Righto. Let me get a vase for these.”

  He popped out and returned a few moments later with the flowers in a cheap white china vase. He put them on the table that Alfie’s expensive bouquet had previously occupied. Poppy thought they looked much better.

  “They really cheer the room up. Thank you, Daniel.”

  He pulled up a chair. “So when are you getting out?”

  “Not really sure. The doctor said a few days yet.”

  “Just as well. There’s influenza going around the office – half the staff called in sick today.”

  “Oh dear,” said Poppy, sounding worried. Ever since the Spanish influenza two years previously, the mere mention of the word conjured up images of plague-like proportions.

  Daniel matched her tone. “Hopefully it will just be the common or garden variety this year.”

  “I’ll be praying.”

  Daniel didn’t respond to that. Instead he absent-mindedly started p
leating the bedspread with his scarred hands. After a while he asked, “So, what were you doing in Battersea?”

  “Visiting Elizabeth Dorchester.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were going.”

  “I didn’t have time. Rollo and I came up with the idea suddenly – and you were at the Crystal Palace.”

  “You could have waited…”

  “I could have, but I thought it would be best to go on my own.”

  “Oh.” He sounded hurt.

  “Rollo thought it best too.”

  “Did he now?”

  “Perhaps I should have waited, but I thought it would be easier for me to get in on my own. I pretended I was there on behalf of the Methodist Mission. It would have been harder to come up with a cover for both of us. Besides, you’re quite well known –”

  “Not at Willow Park. I’ve never been there before.” He continued pleating the bedspread.

  “No, but you have been covering some hospital stories lately, haven’t you?” She willed him to look at her, but his gaze remained lowered.

  “Is that what Rollo said?”

  “It is. Look, Daniel, don’t be offended.”

  He stopped pleating and looked up at her, his brown eyes filled with hurt. “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  He gave a wry grin and smoothed out the bedspread. “Oh, all right, I am, a little. But not for professional reasons.” He looked at her intently.

  “Oh? Why then?” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but failed.

  “Well, Poppy, I’ve… well, I’ve… not made it much of a secret that I find you very charming.”

  Poppy flushed with delight.

  “And I was hoping that you perhaps might be beginning to feel the same way about me.”

  “Well, you are charming, Daniel. I’ll give you that.”

  “Charming enough for you to go out to dinner with me?”

  Poppy looked mockingly around the hospital room. “What – Now?”

  “You’re not making this any easier for me, are you, Miss Denby?”

  “Most definitely not, Mr Rokeby. But it will be easy for me to say yes when I’m free to do so.”

  “When you’re out of hospital – and, of course, fully recovered –”

  “I would be delighted to go to dinner with you, Daniel.”

  Daniel’s face lit up. “Then that’s a date.” He took her hand. “Now you’d better hurry up and get well.”

  “Now that I’ve got something to motivate me, I shall.”

  Poppy and Daniel looked at each other, cheesy smiles on both of their faces.

  “Ahem. Sorry to interrupt you two love-birds…”

  Poppy and Daniel looked up to see Delilah in the doorway, her voice tight with forced joviality. There were the remains of mascara streaks down her cheeks.

  “I’ve just been to see your aunt and Grace. They told me you’ve been to see Elizabeth Dorchester.”

  “I have,” said Poppy. “Are you all right, Delilah?”

  Delilah looked from Poppy to Daniel. “Do you mind if I speak to Poppy alone?”

  Daniel stood up and offered Delilah his chair. “Of course not. Have a seat.” Then he leaned over and kissed Poppy’s cheek.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  And despite being worried about her friend, Poppy’s heart welled with happiness. “Don’t get the flu!”

  “I’ll try not to,” he said, then nodded at Delilah and left.

  “Things have been progressing, I see,” said Delilah, taking off her coat and hanging it on the back of the chair.

  “The lengths I’ll go to to get some attention, eh?”

  “Don’t joke, Poppy. I heard you nearly died.”

  “Well, that’s a bit of a stretch. But yes, it could have been worse.”

  “Dot said it was Alfie. That he did it on purpose. Did he?”

  “I think so.”

  “But why?”

  “Because I visited Elizabeth. I think he and his father have got something to hide – and Elizabeth knows about it.”

  “So do I,” Delilah whispered. She took Poppy’s hands in hers; they were shaking. Then her shoulders began to quiver and she started to cry.

  Poppy squeezed her friend’s hands. “Oh Delilah, what is it?”

  “H-has… have they – have they told you about my mother?”

  “They have. I’m so sorry, Delilah. I’m so sorry.”

  “Elizabeth was the last person to see her alive.”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “And you’ve just seen her. How was she?”

  Poppy thought about this for a moment. She’d made a promise to Rollo – and she wouldn’t mention the ledger page – but surely she could tell Delilah something. “She was much better. Sad, but sane.”

  “Then why is she still locked up?”

  “I don’t know. She believes her father’s behind it.”

  “Do you?” Delilah’s eyes were swimming in tears.

  “Probably. We only spoke briefly. But my boss at The Globe is looking into it.”

  Delilah wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, spreading black streaks over her olive skin. “Do you think I could see her? I’ve got so much I want to ask her. I was told she was mad, that you couldn’t get any sense out of her, but you say she isn’t.”

  “No, she isn’t. But I’m not sure how you could get in to see her. Apparently there’s a ‘forbidden visitors’ list made up of the people Elizabeth used to know from her WSPU days. You’re probably on it. But even if you’re not, they’ll be upping security on her after what happened yesterday.”

  “Oh.” Delilah looked crestfallen.

  Poppy reached out her good arm – the one that wasn’t hit by the motor – and put it around Delilah’s slim shoulders. “Don’t worry, we’ll make a plan. I’ll speak to Rollo and we’ll see if he can arrange something. But it might take a while…”

  Delilah’s eyes lit up with renewed hope. “I’ve waited seven years. I can wait a few days more.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The next day there were no visitors. The administrators had made a decision to shut the hospital to outsiders as a precaution against the influenza. Although no one was officially saying this was a return of the Spanish variety, the memory of a quarter of a million people in Britain alone – a quarter of a million people who had been celebrating the end of the war with friends and family and soldiers who had miraculously survived the trenches – was not easily laid to rest.

  Poppy spent the day quietly reading a new book that Aunt Dot had brought in for her. It made her cry and she wondered if Dot had actually read it before giving it to her. In every line of Wilfred Owen’s poems, published two years after his death in 1918, she saw her brother Christopher. He was the youth in the “Anthem for Doomed Youth”; he was the unnamed soldier losing his faith in “Exposure”. She thought of Daniel, and wondered if this too had been his experience:

  Since we believe not otherwise can kind fires burn;

  Now ever suns smile true on child, or field, or fruit.

  For God’s invincible spring our love is made afraid;

  Therefore, not loath, we lie out here; therefore were born,

  For love of God seems dying.

  To-night, His frost will fasten on this mud and us,

  Shrivelling many hands and puckering foreheads crisp.

  The burying-party, picks and shovels in their shaking grasp,

  Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice,

  But nothing happens.

  Poppy laid aside the book and stared at the blank wall opposite and listened to the sounds of the hospital around her. Nothing happened.

  The next morning she received a visit from the doctor, who declared her fit to go home. She was instructed to call someone to pick her up, because she was not yet ready for the rigours of public transport. At the nurses’ station she used the telephone to call Grace and Aunt Dot. There was no answer. Then she tried The Glob
e. Mavis Bradshaw informed her that both Rollo and Daniel had called in sick. “I’m sure it’s just a common cold, Poppy; nothing to worry about. Would you like me to arrange a taxi for you?”

  “No thanks, Mavis. I’ll do it myself.” Poppy hung the earpiece in the cradle and held the telephone like a goose with a wrung neck. She was just about to ask the nurse for a number for a taxi when she thought about Delilah. She rang the operator and asked for the number for The Old Vic theatre. The receptionist there informed her that the cast were currently having a tea break, but managed to call Delilah. Delilah said she wouldn’t be needed for a few hours, as the director wanted to polish some scenes with the lovers. She would come and pick her up.

  Half an hour later Delilah carried Poppy’s overnight bag to the hospital carpark.

  “I’ve borrowed a friend’s motorcar,” she announced. “He’s playing Demetrius – quite a dish.” She flashed a smile at Poppy, who was glad to see that her friend’s spirits were buoyant again.

  “How long have you been driving?” asked Poppy as she gingerly climbed into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the painful twinge in her ribs every time she moved.

  “I’ve just started!” declared Delilah blithely. “It’s really not hard though. I got stuck on Waterloo Bridge, but some friendly gentlemen helped me get it started again.”

  Poppy wondered if it was too late to call a taxi.

  “It’s really quite simple.” She took hold of the crank lever, turned it a few times and then leapt into the driving seat, pulled out a few stops, swore briefly when the exhaust let out an almighty belch, then laughed uproariously when the contraption shuddered forward. “See? Simple!”

  Poppy, who was used to Grace’s subdued driving style, saw her short life flash before her eyes at least three times during the journey from the hospital to Waterloo. It was only when they were halfway over the bridge that she realized they were going the wrong way.

  “Home’s the other way, Delilah.” She pointed westwards and winced at her aching shoulder.

  Delilah shouted over the engine. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need your help first. Would you mind coming with me to the theatre? It won’t take long.”