There was a crackle in Reenee’s throat as she turned now to Bella and whispered her name, ‘Bell-a. Oh, Bell-a.’ And as she leant forward and placed her head on the older woman’s shoulder Bella put an arm about her and hugged her, knowing with this gesture that her day of happiness was complete. To herself, she said, Don’t let anybody dare tell me that this girl has lost her mind.
8
It had been a long, hard winter, but this was a morning in March and the sun was shining and spring was in the air and the postman had left one letter. It was addressed to Mr Andrew Anderson. He was the only one who ever received a letter, and as Bella was about to take it downstairs she fingered it and looked at Reenee. ‘This will be from his wife. He’s been waiting for it for days, if not a couple of weeks or more. Yet I know he’s quite regular in sending her every penny he can spare. And it’s funny she didn’t take the chance to bring the bairns and come up to see him. I told him I’d pay for their fares; and, as you said, lass, you’d put a mattress in the boxroom and they could have your room.’
Bella often referred to Reenee’s kindnesses as ‘she said’, or ‘you said’, because they spoke for themselves.
As she opened the front door she remarked, as if to herself, ‘I wonder what she has to say to him this time?’
She wasn’t to know the answer until later that evening.
It was when Joe and Carl came upstairs to bid her the usual goodnight that Joe said, ‘Andy got a letter this morning. Well, you know that, you brought it down the yard. By! There was nearly sparks flyin’ when he told us about it; I’ve never seen him turn on anybody like he did on Tony.’
‘Turn on Tony? What for?’
‘Well, you see . . .’ He looked at Carl, and Carl said, ‘It was the contents of the letter, Bella. He must have said in one of his that he was going to make a trip home somehow and see how they were, and the answer told him that he needn’t bother, that she was goin’ back to Wales to live with her parents. All her people are in Cardiff, you see. Anyway, from what I gather she told him that her little job in the North-East had been cut down to three hours and that, anyway, she couldn’t go on; she had no life there.
‘Apparently, her sister in Cardiff has a second-hand clothes shop. She’s single and she’s run it for years, and now she wants some help. As Andy said, if anybody’s goin’ to get a job it should be somebody in the family, and she’s offered it to his wife; so she’s gone there and taken the bairns with her.
‘When John pointed out that things were as bad in Wales as any other place in the country, Andy said nothing. But when Tony put in quietly, “I bet it’s because she has a man on the side,” my, you should’ve seen the way Andy jumped up and turned on him! I thought he was goin’ to hit him, and he yelled, “She’s not like that! She’s not like yours!” I can tell you, Bella, the tension rose. And when Andy got up and walked out, Joe there went after him.’
‘Aye,’ put in Joe now, ‘he was as mad as a hatter. He was grippin’ the gates as if he could break them. Anyway, he says he’s goin’ through to Wales to see just what the set-up is. In any case, he hasn’t seen his bairns for nearly four years. But he’ll be back, he said. The fare will be over a pound; we’re clubbing up to see to that, but he’ll have to have a penny in his pocket. That’s why we’ve come up to see you, Bella.’
‘You needn’t worry about that,’ said Bella quickly. ‘I’ll see he’s got enough for the journey, and a bit over.’
An incident was to arise out of Andy’s decision to visit Wales. Its effect wouldn’t be shown for the next three years, and then it would change Bella’s little business and all those connected with it.
The coat that had belonged to Hamish McIntyre and which Bella had given to Andy had always been too big for him, but that hadn’t mattered because he wore it only when he wanted to look tidy, perhaps on a Sunday when they walked into the City or the West End. But now he was facing a journey, and he said to Willie, the only man of the little group handy with his needle, ‘If I were to open the side seam of the coat, Willie, and cut a piece off the front of the jacket, would it hang just the same or would it affect the shoulders?’
Willie had said, ‘I don’t see why it should affect the shoulder. Yes, open the seam and I’ll pin it up and see how much you could take in.’
In the afternoon of that day, Andy started on the task of unpicking the side seam of the coat. To get a better grip on the material he thrust his thumb and finger into the small breast pocket as a means of pulling the material taut while he picked out the machine stitches.
It was as his finger slipped into the fob pocket, as these pockets were often called in which gentlemen could keep a small watch, that he felt a crinkle under his fingers as if from a piece of paper beneath the lining. On closer investigation, he saw that the lining of the small pocket had at one time been cut and neatly stitched over.
Intrigued to know why the piece of paper or whatever it was had been inserted in the lining, he cut away about two inches of it. Inside was a piece of stiff paper; he also discovered that the lining of the pocket was quite separate from the lining of the coat. In fact he could feel that this was a pocket inside a pocket. But now he had the piece of stiff paper on the table in front of him, and he saw immediately that it had been folded up tightly. Slowly he straightened out the folds and, to his amazement, he saw he was looking simply at the flap of an envelope. There was nothing on it; that was, until he turned it over and was confronted by line after line of small writing, starting at the top of the flap and following in shorter and shorter lines until it reached the gummed tip.
It was a dull day and the light in the wash-house was dim, and he realised that he couldn’t read what was written here unless he had a light. He went to a cupboard at the end of the room and took out a small torch.
Slowly, word by word, he picked out the following:
My Dearest Fellow, As I’m breaking the rule, and this is the only
love letter you are likely to receive, take care of it. I’m in the
train from Harwich. I only had a moment’s notice. There’s
a meeting at four. Be at the flat at seven o’clock tomorrow
night. I can’t wait to see you, my love – five weeks is too
long, too long. Lots of pretty bits of glass. Couldn’t get
word to you sooner. Came without a case or anything
– high command – I can’t wait for tomorrow night,
my love. Nelson will get this to you at your business.
Business? Ha! ha! Bring quite a bit of loose cash.
Couldn’t go to bank, not supposed to be here.
Switzerland the day after tomorrow. Can’t
wait to see you. Too long away. Must be a
better cover than fruit. Until then, beloved.
Yours
Andrew had reached the end of the writing but could hardly make out the signature which was written across the gummed section. But holding it to the side he could discern the name ‘Jason’.
Then he sat looking ahead through the window into the yard. That coat had belonged to Bella’s boss – a big hairy Scot, she said he was – and all the time he was a . . . His mind stopped for a second on the word, and then he said it aloud, ‘Poofter.’ Good God!
There was someone crossing the yard now. It was John. He jumped up and knocked on the window first, then opened the door and beckoned him.
‘What is it?’ said John.
‘Just this. Come in. Close the door for a minute. You’ll have to take the torch, but just read that, will you?’
‘Well, what is it? Where did you get it?’
‘Just read it, and then I’ll tell you where I got it.’
Slowly John began to read, but before he was half-way through he lifted his head and stared at Andy, then made a sound in his throat before going on.
After he had read it all he sat looking at Andy and said, ‘He’s one of those. Where did you get it?’
Andy showed him where h
e had found the hidden letter; then he said, ‘Can’t believe it, can you? Remember what Bella said her boss had been like, a big hairy Scot, and she did say she never liked him because he didn’t give her a civil word in his life.’
‘No, no; of course he wouldn’t. He had no room for skirts, had he? My God!’
‘What d’you think I should do?’
‘I would show it to Bella, and just let her see what kind of a fellow he was.’
‘You think so?’
‘I do.’
They went together and asked if they could have a word with her, and Bella, thinking it was about Andy’s journey, said, ‘I told Joe to tell you everything would be all right. If you want to come back, your place is there, and the lads would be very pleased to see you again, I know that, so . . .’
‘It isn’t that, Bella,’ said John quietly. ‘Andy was undoing the seam of the coat you had given him – you remember it was too big for him? It was all right goin’ about the place, as he said, but he was goin’ to travel and he wanted it a bit smaller across his chest, so Willie told him how it might be done.’
And now he turned to Andy and let him finish the tale. Having done so he handed her the envelope flap and said, ‘Will you be able to read that? The writing’s small, but I’ve brought the torch with me.’
Like John, Bella had only read a short way when she stopped and looked from one to the other, and before going on she said, ‘You got this out of his coat?’
‘Yes, yes; I can show you the place.’
After she finished reading she sat back in the chair and what she said now was, ‘The dirty, rotten swine of a man! He was one of those!’
‘Aye,’ said John now; ‘he was not only one of those but one of the worst kind. There are some just ordinary fellows in the same boat, I know. I’ve worked with them, and, really, left to themselves they wouldn’t hurt a fly. In fact, they were terrified half the time because it would be gaol for them if they were found out, you know.’
Bella shook her head and said slowly, ‘To think I worked for him for sixteen years! He used me as a cover-up an’ all. He must have, mustn’t he?’
The two men nodded.
‘I should think so, Bella, yes. And the fruit business, as it says there. But you can’t do anything about it, can you?’ said John. ‘And this other chap was askin’ for loose cash, as if he had a pile stacked somewhere.’
‘Well, I wish I knew where it was,’ said Bella. ‘If I could get an inkling of where he stacked his stuff I’d give him away, dead as he is, and whoever this other one is, this Jason. But I tell you what I shall do. I’ve told you I never liked him; I also had the feeling that his solicitor never did either. Twice, these last few years, Mr Travis has called in to see how my business is goin’ because, he said, the man was a mean man not to leave me a penny to run the house on, but to say I had to keep that little business goin’ in order to have a shelter over me. He . . . he left a lot of money, you know. Well, I know what I’m goin’ to do, I’m goin’ to show this to Mr Travis because I’m sure he’ll be interested to read it. He’s a solicitor and a good man. He was concerned for my welfare at the time. I’m not sure of his address, but when Carl comes in I’ll get him to find out.’
Bella now tried to explain to Reenee, who had been sitting listening to what was being said, that her late boss was a bad man, and in more ways than one, and that Andy had found proof of this from the piece of a letter that had been sewn inside the lining of the coat she had given him, and which had belonged to her employer.
Reenee did not seem to understand fully what it was all about, nor did she seem interested, only in the fact that Andy was going home to see his children and that he would be coming back . . .
The following day she took eight half-crowns from the large children’s money box that Bella had placed on her window-sill and into which she put two half-crowns every week, because Reenee herself had refused to handle the money, shaking her head that she did not want it. But on such an occasion as this she seemed pleased to resort to the box, and she gave the money to Willie, indicating that she wanted him to give it to Andy.
Bella had made no remark on Reenee’s gesture, but Willie, in his kindly way, had thanked her for Andy, saying, ‘You’re one in a million, miss. We all say that.’
Before Andy returned, four days later, Mr Travis came to the house. Carl had found out where the solicitor’s office lay and had taken a letter there from Bella.
Mr Travis was now sitting in Bella’s parlour, on which he had remarked the moment he entered: ‘What a different room this is from that dark hole you were left with.’
And she had answered, ‘Yes, it is, Mr Travis, but that’s thanks to the lads.’
Mr Travis knew all about the lads. He also knew about someone he had heard called the Silent Lady, someone, he imagined, who had agoraphobia and whom Bella had taken into her kindly care. And now he went on, ‘You said in your note, Miss Morgan, that you have something to show me that might be of interest.’
She went to the roll-top desk and from a drawer took the flap of the envelope, but before handing it to him she explained how one of her men had come across it.
Mr Travis looked at the small writing on the flap; then he felt in his inner pocket and took out an eye-glass and, using it with his right eye, he scanned the lines. He did not lift his head until he came to the signature and, like the others, he had to turn the piece of paper on end before he could make out the name written across the gummed area. Then looking at Bella, he said, ‘Well, well, well!’
‘That’s what I said when I first read it, but I may add, Mr Travis, I said much more than that, I swore about him. He was clearly a bad man in some other ways, from what that writing suggests, not just that he was . . . well, one of those, you know, but that reference to the pieces of glass.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he nodded at her, ‘the reference to the pieces of glass. You know, Miss Morgan, you have done me a great service this day.’ Then again picking up the flap from the table, he looked at the signature and said, ‘Jason. This, Miss Morgan, this nasty piece of paper, has given me a lead that a number of people will find very helpful.’
‘May I ask what you mean, Mr Travis?’
‘Your late employer and his fruit business acted as a screen for part of a very big smuggling concern. You know, he was under suspicion long before he died, yet nothing could actually be tacked on him, because we did not know his associates. Only twice . . . twice did I see him with his so-called friend, and once in a restaurant. That was when I realised who Jason was, and that our Mr McIntyre was moving in very elevated social circles.
‘I wondered then why a man who ran a fruit stall could be in such high company. It wasn’t a restaurant in London but well outside, and it was quite by chance that I went in. Fortunately I saw them before your employer saw me, and I made my escape, so to speak. But that night I had found out something that was of great interest to those in authority.’
‘The police?’ asked Bella.
‘Well, not exactly the ordinary police. There are all kinds of police, you know, especially among the Customs. They are called undercover men. You know, you cannot accuse people of any crime unless you have proof, and proof is very difficult to get. But a Christian name can be of great help; and the pieces of glass mentioned in this so-called love letter, Miss Morgan, were diamonds, and this was only one kind of glass that was being dealt with.’ He shook his head slowly now. ‘No wonder his dear friend warned him that this was the only letter of this kind he would ever be likely to get. Your employer imagined that he had a very safe place for it; and he must have valued it to hang on to it as he did.’
‘Mr Travis,’ Bella said quickly now, ‘what about the loose cash, a lot of it? He had no loose cash in this house, and these last two days I’ve searched the place from top to bottom again, wonderin’ if I would come across something, you know what I mean, like you read in stories. The only place he would have left any money is in that’ – she point
ed to the roll-top desk – ‘and it hasn’t any secret drawers; I’ve had them all out. All the rooms, too, were linoed up to the skirtin’ boards, except this one which is a cord carpet. But that was stripped out when the lads painted the room: they hosed it down in the yard and dried it and, look, it’s as good as new. But there can be no loose boards underneath it, else, by gum, they would’ve found them! And then there was the attic. They cleared everything out of that and made use of much of it in the wash-house.’
‘Yes; yes, indeed. I’ve seen round and they’ve done a splendid job. They were so fortunate to find you. Yet again, you were fortunate that they had that combination of different trades.’
She laughed and said, ‘My, yes. I couldn’t have picked better, could I? But to get back to this loose cash. Where could he store loose cash? Have you any idea, Mr Travis?’
‘When loose cash was referred to, Miss Morgan, I think it would perhaps mean that it was in a bank, somewhere he could easily get his hands on it during the time he had before their meeting because, by the sound of it, the term loose cash might have covered several hundreds of pounds. His cover-up was the stock market. My accountant used to deal with that for him; but after the night I saw him in the restaurant I surmised he must have different channels.’ He now patted the paper again. ‘Oh, and the name Jason . . . Well! That’s the biggest mistake he made in sending that note to his friend.’
Bella looked at him enquiringly now and said, ‘What will happen - I mean to the friend or the others he was associated with?’
‘I wish I were able to tell you, Miss Morgan, but I can only say that this piece of paper has tied “Jason” in with an organisation that nobody suspected he had any dealings with. And another thing, your former employer might have kept decent clothes to change into in this house, but he had another source of income for his wardrobe. I’m sure of that now. I promise you, Miss Morgan, if anything dramatic should come out of this you will be the first to know; although I might have to ask you to keep it to yourself, which I know you will. And I would add, although I’ve said it before, that if at any time there’s a way in which I could assist you, that is I or my company, we should be only too glad. How are you managing . . . for money, I mean, and to pay your staff?’
The Silent Lady Page 17