The Jazz Files

by Fiona Veitch Smith

  “Over there.”

  Delilah and Poppy followed her as she wove her way around cable bobbins and over piles of spare sleepers until she came to a large shed with twin single-gauge lines running under the double doors. Elizabeth told them to wait where they were and then slipped around the back of the shed. She returned quickly, shaking her head.

  “There used to be a gap in the corrugated sheets. They’ve fixed it now. You’ll have to use your cutters again, Poppy.”

  Poppy took them out of her satchel and set to work on the padlock and chain while the other women kept watch. It required a bit more muscle power than the chain fence, but not as much as the bars at the asylum, and it snapped with a satisfying chink.

  Elizabeth took one more look around, then pushed the door open to reveal a pair of locomotive engines. Whether they were the same two that had witnessed her efforts to hide the box seven years ago, she didn’t know.

  “I don’t suppose you have a shovel in that satchel, do you, Poppy?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Never mind.” Elizabeth climbed into the cab of one of the engines and emerged with a shovel, then pointed towards the back of the shed. Poppy and Delilah followed her lead.

  Ten minutes of speculative digging passed. Each empty hole increased Poppy’s nagging feeling that she had been wrong to place so much faith in Elizabeth’s version of events. But then the sound of metal hitting wood and a gasp of triumph from the older woman told her that there may be something there after all.

  Poppy and Delilah had been taking turns standing guard at the door. But as Elizabeth fell to her knees and started digging with her hands, Poppy called out, “Delilah! I think she’s got something!”

  The evening sun shone through a grease-smeared window and caught the red highlights of Elizabeth’s hair, which had come loose from her plait. A few moments later the hunched figure straightened and with a look of immense relief Elizabeth presented Poppy with a rectangular-shaped object wrapped in filthy green fabric. Poppy took it from her, like a priest receiving an offering, and placed it in a pool of sunlight.

  It was indeed a box. It was made of cedarwood and had the Dorchester family crest of the crow and the rose carved into the lid. She opened it to reveal three leather-bound ledgers. She took them out of the box and lay them side by side on the green scarf.

  “So what am I going to find inside these, Elizabeth?”

  “My father’s financial records for the years 1908 to 1910. I wanted to get the records up to 1913, but they weren’t in the safe when I broke in, and I didn’t have time to look for them. But these were good enough. Inside you’ll find records of payments made to a host of people in public office. A clever accountant and anyone with knowledge of government and public affairs for that period will easily be able to match the passing of bills and approval of business licences in favour of my father and his financial concerns.”

  “Bribes?” Poppy asked.

  “Among other things. I tore the sheet I gave you from this one.”

  She opened the 1910 ledger and flicked through until she came to a jagged margin, evidence of a missing page.

  Poppy had no doubt that the page came from these ledgers, and if what Elizabeth said was correct – and she had no reason any more to disbelieve her – the rest of the ledger would show a pattern of bribes to people, including Richard Easling. The date on the missing page, if she recalled correctly, was 3rd October 1910. The demonstration outside Westminster that had led to Black Friday and Aunt Dot’s horrific injuries was 18th November. If there had been further payments to Easling or anyone else, Poppy was sure they were in these ledgers. Would she find evidence of the payment to her aunt? Frank’s note had been dated sometime in 1910 too… Well, if it did, so be it. The truth had to come out. Even if it meant exposing her darling aunt as a traitor.

  “Have you got enough to go ahead with the exposé?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Yes, I think so. Rollo will know for sure.”

  “Good. Then let’s get out of here. Delilah, do you think we can still go to Marconi House?”

  “Yes, I think so, but it might be closed. We can ask the night watchman to take us in, though, and then I can call Mrs Stemple, and Poppy can call Rollo.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Poppy paused and looked at Delilah. “Is there anything else you want to do while you’re here?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps you want Elizabeth to show you where it happened… to see if she can remember anything else…”

  “I – I don’t know. Should I? Can you?”

  This last was to Elizabeth. But Elizabeth was not looking at her. Instead she was staring at the door, where a tall, shadowy figure stood, silhouetted by the evening sun.

  Elizabeth’s scream ricocheted off the corrugated metal walls like a pebble in a tin. She leapt up and backed into the corner as far as she could go.

  The shadow walked towards them. Poppy grabbed the ledgers and put them back in the box, then stood, pushing the box behind her with her foot. Taking hold of Delilah’s hand, the two younger women formed a protective wall between the terrified Elizabeth and the advancing shadow. The shadow soon took form and it was in the shape of a woman.

  “Oh, Elizabeth! Is it really you?”

  Grace Wilson held out her hands to the three cowering women. “Good heavens, girls! Whatever have you got yourselves into? Your aunt and I have been worried sick.”

  “What are you doing here, Grace?” Poppy tried to keep her voice calm while she frantically tried to put the pieces together. Was Grace the shadow? Was she here on behalf of her aunt? Was Dot outside? She tried to look over Grace’s shoulder, but couldn’t see past her tall frame. Instead she asked, “How did you know where we’d be?”

  “I wasn’t completely sure. We saw the early edition, you see, and couldn’t believe it when we read that the three of you were the subject of a city-wide manhunt. I called your editor and he said he hadn’t seen you but that the police were after you. Dot and I put our heads together to try and figure out where you could be. We concluded that the three together might be heading to where Gloria died. It was a lucky guess, but it was the best we had. So I jumped in the motor and –”

  “Is Dot outside?”

  “No. She stayed at home. In case we were wrong and you came there for help… but oh, thank God, I’ve found you!” She threw her arms around Poppy and drew her close. “We’ve been so worried.” Then she opened up and looked at Delilah and Elizabeth. “About all of you. But come, I’ve got the motorcar. I’ll take you home.”

  She reached down and picked up the box. “Whatever’s this?”

  Poppy snatched it from her. “It’s evidence.”

  “Evidence of what?” asked Grace, taking hold of the other side of the box with both hands.

  “Evidence of bribes. Please, Grace, I have to give it to The Globe’s solicitors. And we need to go quickly, before Dorchester and the police find us.” Poppy pulled the box towards her. Grace did not let go.

  “Of course you do. Here, let me take that and you help Elizabeth. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. Oh, the poor mite is shaking like a leaf!”

  Poppy turned to look at Elizabeth and momentarily loosened her grip on the box. Grace snatched it, turned and ran.

  “Look after Elizabeth!” Poppy shouted to Delilah before taking off in pursuit.

  Grace, in her early fifties, was more than twice Poppy’s age. But she was fit and healthy and had been strengthened by years of lifting her paraplegic friend. She was also wearing culottes; Poppy was wearing a skirt.

  The women wove their way through the yard, between sheds and around piles of debris. Grace seemed to be heading towards the gatehouse, but she was slowing down. The box was cumbersome and she had to keep hitching it up under her arm. As they rounded the shed closest to the gate, Poppy noticed it was still locked and Grace’s car was parked not directly outside, but further down the lane. So she hadn’t come in the official
way either… Why was she coming back this way? Was she hoping someone would be here who wasn’t? Poppy didn’t have time to ponder before Grace double-backed suddenly and ran towards the railway line. Poppy spun around, but did not slow down. Hitching up her skirt and hurdling a pile of sleepers, she made up some ground on Grace, who was making a beeline for the tracks and… oh God, no… an oncoming train.

  Grace had either not seen the train, or was going to try to outrun it and get to the other side before Poppy. Whatever the reason, Poppy could not let her reach the track.

  “GRACE!” She accelerated and covered the ground between them, then launched herself at the legs of the older woman, like a rugby player in a tackle. Poppy hit the ground with a rib-crunching thunk, then felt a second jolt as Grace fell too, a split second before the train shot by. Poppy, though winded, got to her knees and threw her body on top of Grace, pinning her down.

  Grace was rocking her head from side to side and sobbing. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t!”

  “Why, Grace? Why?”

  By now Delilah and Elizabeth had caught up with them and stood clutching each other by the side of the track.

  “I – I had to get the ledgers. Gloria told me about them when I dropped her off that day – yes, I lied about that. I did drop her off. I tried to get her to agree to give them to me after she got them from Elizabeth, but then she started getting defensive. I don’t know, maybe I came across too strong… maybe she suspected something wasn’t right.”

  “It wasn’t, was it? You weren’t going to use the ledgers to expose Dorchester, were you?”

  Grace shook her head, sobbing.

  “Then why did you want them?”

  Grace fixed her eyes on Poppy. “I thought there might be something in them. Something that could have harmed us. I did it to protect us, Poppy, all of us, but most of all I did it to protect your aunt.”

  Grace heaved against Poppy’s weight. The younger woman did not budge.

  “The payment to her from Dorchester?” asked Poppy, already knowing the answer.

  Grace stopped trying to shift her. “You know?” she whispered.

  “Frank showed me the letter.”

  A haunted look came into Grace’s eyes. “Then you’ll know that if that got out – that Dot had been paid off – people would assume she was a traitor. But she wasn’t. It wasn’t like that.”

  Grace tried to raise her arms. Poppy tightened her grip. “Why did he pay her?”

  Grace eased up. “She was blackmailing him. Trying to get money from him to use for the WSPU. You see, it was her sense of humour. You know what she’s like. She thought that funny – getting a masochistic pig to fund the fight for women’s suffrage. I told her it was stupid, I tried to make her stop, but you know what she’s like. She’s –”

  Grace rocked her hips, trying to unbalance Poppy. Poppy planted her knees more firmly into the ground. “What did she use to blackmail him? What information did she have on him?”

  “I – I – I’m not sure. I never found out.”

  “And you never asked her?”

  “I – never thought to.” Grace’s voice was now reed-thin and Poppy had to lean in close to hear her, worried though that it might be a trick.

  But it wasn’t. The fight had gone out of Grace. Poppy allowed her to sit up, then pushed the box out of the older woman’s reach with her foot.

  Poppy stood up and looked down on Grace, who sat hugging her knees.

  “Now that I find very strange, Grace. It’s the first thing I would want to know. Wouldn’t you?” Poppy looked at Delilah and Elizabeth for confirmation.

  Delilah’s eyes were wide with shock. Elizabeth’s were vacant.

  Poppy turned her attention back to Grace. “And why the big secret from the rest of the group? From Frank and Sophie and Gloria and Elizabeth? Surely she would have wanted to share the joke. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself. We all know what she’s like, don’t we?” Again Poppy looked to her friends, awaiting an answer, but none came. She was on her own. She pressed on.

  “You’re right, Grace, I do know what she’s like. I know for instance that she has absolutely no idea how to handle money – she doesn’t even know her bank account number.” Grace looked up at her, her eyes like a heifer’s at an abattoir. Poppy knew she was on the right track. “And I know this because I asked her for it the other week so I could transfer my first pay cheque to repay the money she’d loaned me. And you know what? She didn’t know it. She said she would have to ask you. Which has got me thinking. I don’t think Dot was blackmailing Dorchester. You were, in her name.”

  “I – I – that’s preposterous!” Grace released her knees and started to get up. So the fight was not entirely gone from the older woman yet. Poppy stepped closer, hoping to intimidate her, hoping she wouldn’t try to run.

  “Is it? You were his accountant for four years, weren’t you? Up until he sacked you and Frank for your association with the WSPU in 1907.”

  “I was, but –”

  “And if these ledgers are anything to go by” – she put her foot on the box – “you would have had a mint of material from those years to draw on.”

  Grace’s eyes registered defeat.

  Channelling Hercule Poirot, Poppy came in for the kill: “You were the blackmailer, Grace; you. And for whatever reason, you decided to use Dot: poor trusting Dotty, the woman you say you care for, to cover your tracks.”

  Grace pulled up onto her knees. Poppy jolted with fright, but the older woman didn’t try to go any further. Instead she craned her neck and looked beseechingly into Poppy’s face. “But I do care for her! I do. I would do anything to save her.”

  “Including killing my mother?”

  Grace turned her head to look at Delilah, then reached out her arms like a child to a parent. “Oh, Delilah, I didn’t mean to.”

  “You pushed her in front of a train!”

  “I didn’t, I didn’t!” Grace lowered her arms and wrapped them around her thin chest, her shoulders heaving up and down. “I was trying to get her to listen to me. I was trying to tell her about the ledgers and how I needed to see them before she passed them on. But she wouldn’t listen, she wouldn’t. She ran. I chased her. I kept calling her name. And then – and then – oh God!” She broke down into gut-wrenching sobs.

  Poppy softened, reaching out a hand to comfort her aunt’s old friend, but was stilled by a venomous look from Delilah.

  When the older woman started to bring her breathing back under control Poppy took her firmly by the shoulders, looked into her eyes and asked, “Did you push Gloria in front of the train, Grace, like Elizabeth said?”

  “No, I didn’t. You might not believe me, but I didn’t. Oh, Delilah, I would never hurt your mother, I wouldn’t! She ran; she wasn’t looking. It was my fault – yes, I don’t deny that – but I didn’t push her, I didn’t!”

  Delilah turned to Elizabeth, whose grey eyes were distant, staring back through time.

  “Is she telling the truth, Elizabeth?”

  “She’s the shadow. She chased me.”

  “But did she kill my mother? Did you see her push Gloria under the train?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes came back into focus, then bored into Delilah’s. “No. I don’t think she did.”

  CHAPTER 36

  The four women picked their way back to the hole in the fence. Poppy led the way, holding the box with one arm and Grace with the other. But Grace appeared defeated and Poppy doubted she would try to run. Behind them, Delilah and Elizabeth walked hand in hand, united by the memories they had just shared. Elizabeth had Poppy’s satchel slung over one shoulder.

  Poppy went through the fence first, pushing the box in front of her. Then she waited for the other women to climb through. From behind the line of poplars, she looked up and down the lane: apart from Grace’s motorcar, twenty yards or so towards the gate, the road was empty. Poppy breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost on the home stretch.

  Grace did n
ot look in any state to drive. “Do you have the keys, Grace?”

  She pulled them out of her pocket and passed them to Poppy.

  “Delilah, do you think you can drive? If not, I’ll give it a go.”

  “And kill us all? I think not, darling!” Delilah grinned at her and Poppy was relieved to see that the trauma of the last hours had not suppressed her spirit. Poppy handed the keys to her.

  But about ten yards from the motorcar they heard the roar of an engine and looked up to see a silver racing Bentley speeding towards them. Poppy’s first instinct was to run towards Grace’s motor, but even if they made it there, they’d never get it cranked and started in time. And if, by a miracle, they did, Grace’s old engine would never outrun Alfie’s sleek machine. The three other women must have had similar thoughts, so they stood together and waited for the Bentley to reach them. It didn’t take long. Poppy thought for a split second that Alfie was going to run them down, but he didn’t. The motor pulled up and he leaned out of the window and grinned.

  “Hello, ladies. Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Let us go, Alfie. There are four of us, and you’re on your own.”

  “That, Miss Denby, is where you are wrong.” Melvyn Dorchester approached them on foot from the direction of the gatehouse. He was carrying a revolver.

  “The night watchman won’t be bothering us,” he said to Alfie.

  Alfie got out of the vehicle and leaned against it, his arms folded and his ankles crossed. “Well, well, well. You have given us quite the runaround, Lizzy.”

  Elizabeth glared at him, but didn’t answer.

  “I think you’ve got something of mine, Miss Denby,” said Melvyn, pointing the revolver in her direction.

  Poppy did not have a choice. She had to hand over the box. But just as she was about to, Grace stepped in front of her.