Bella looked at Carl, and he nodded at her and said, ‘I think it’s about time in your life, Bella, you gave yourself a treat. You’ve always said you hated the lino in that room. So go on. We’ll all pig in and help.’
‘You’ll do nothin’ of the sort. If I’m goin’ to have a carpet for my room I’ll buy it.’
Bella turned to Joe and said, ‘All right, get it. I’ll give you the money in the morning. But where will we put it until I get the room ready?’
‘We can leave it down by the hall in your sitting room; in fact it’ll go behind the couch and the roll-top desk. It would fit in lovely there, I’m sure. Anyway, wait till you see it.’
As Bella said goodnight to the two men she did not realise that the buying of that carpet was going to alter not only her life but all their lives, in much the same way as Reenee’s plan had created the room downstairs.
The carpet arrived the next night, and as it was half unrolled in the parlour Bella gazed at it in awe. It was, in a way, plainish, a sort of silver-grey with flowers woven at each corner; but the strange thing about it was the pile. It seemed to be almost two inches thick, so thick that you could not insert your finger in it and touch the canvas.
Reenee was present when Joe and Carl stretched out the carpet, and she looked from them to Bella, then down at the carpet. Kneeling, she felt it; then again looking up, she gazed into Bella’s face and nodded before her mouth opened and the word that came out sounded like something that ended in ‘ease’. And it was Carl who said, ‘Chinese, Reenee?’ and she turned quickly to him and nodded.
Bella looked at the two men and said, ‘She knows . . . She knows quality.’ This to her was another proof that her dear girl came from a good home.
The carpet was rolled up quickly and placed behind the couch and the roll-top desk, and was quite unobtrusive there. When Joe said, ‘We’ll pull up the lino tomorrow night,’ Bella interrupted him, saying, ‘No; you leave that alone. Me and Reenee here will see to that.’ What she didn’t add was, ‘I don’t want two men messing around in my room when they might see more than is good for them. Her wooden box was under the bed, and she had no key to it, and what surplus money she had every week went into it. The main money for paying out the men and bills she kept in the roll-top desk.
The following day she and Reenee started to take up the lino.
They found it to be in four pieces. The three larger pieces came up easily. The last piece, to the side of the window, was, like the others, tucked under the skirting board, but no matter how they pulled at it they could not release it.
‘I’ll have to get a knife,’ said Bella, ‘and cut it right along there. Stay where you are; I’ll be back up shortly and bring some tea with me. I’m as dry as a fish, and I’m sure you are too.’
Reenee was kneeling opposite the end of the window-sill, and, feeling rather tired with pulling and pushing at the sheets of lino, she rested her hand on the sill. In front of her hung an old brocade curtain that must have been put up years ago, and as she felt it she pulled it to one side, exposing the paintwork. She thought, Paint; yes, paint before carpet is laid. She rubbed her fingers up the stanchion of the window and as she did so some of the paint practically flaked away under her touch. As she brought her fingers down to the sill again she saw what looked like a round rusty patch. She had seen patches like this before, where a brass fitting had been screwed in to hold the swathes that held back the curtains during the day. She had a flash in her mind of a curtain hanging somewhere . . . somewhere. She groped in her mind but could not remember where she had seen a curtain pulled back to the brass holder and, as if in affection, she put her thumb on the patch. To her amazement she felt it move. She looked behind her to see if Bella was coming. But there was no sight nor sound of her, so she pressed her thumb again on the dark patch and when it moved downwards and she heard a rustling sound, she looked to her left . . . and saw the lino slip from underneath the skirting board. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, she gazed on it. Then she was on her knees pulling it further from the wall and gazing down into a narrow trough in which lay neatly piled bundles and bundles of what looked like bank notes. Letting her eyes travel to the far end near the wall, she could see a number of small chamois-leather bags.
She slumped back on her knees for a moment, then sprang up and was rushing towards the door when it opened and Bella entered carrying a tray on which were two cups of tea and a plate holding two buns and a knife. She was amazed when it was seized from her hands and thrust on the bed. ‘What is it, girl?’ she cried. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
Grabbing her arm, Reenee pulled her towards the window and on to her knees, and now she was kneeling looking at a trough, all of three feet long, under the window and her mind kept repeating, Oh, my God! That’s money down there, a lot of money. She picked up a bundle of the notes but dropped it as if it had burnt her.
She turned and stared at Reenee, whose face was aglow as she thrust out her arm and grabbed one of the chamois-leather bags. Pulling open the top, she dipped her hand in and brought out a number of gold sovereigns; then let them drip back into the bag.
‘In the name of God!’ Bella’s words were awe-filled, ‘Sovereigns! Gold sovereigns. What are we to do? What are we to do with all this?’ She stared at Reenee and, in a trembling voice, she said, ‘I must get Mr Travis. He’ll know.’
Now Reenee stabbed her finger into Bella’s chest and quite clearly she brought out the words, ‘Yours!’
‘Eeh, lass. I’d get into trouble for hoarding all that. In any case, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. God knows what it’ll amount to when it’s counted up.’
Again Reenee spoke, but haltingly now as she said, ‘Trav-is. Trav-is.’
‘Yes; yes, you’re right. We must see Mr Travis. He’ll know. But hide it. Look, put the lino back the way you got it. D’you know how?’
For answer Reenee pushed the lino underneath the skirting board, and there it was as it had been before; the curtain was hanging down covering the rusty patch, which seemed to have returned automatically to sill level. And Bella stood up and held Reenee’s face in both her hands as she said, ‘Nobody else must know about this, you understand? Until after Mr Travis has seen it. I’ll get Carl to go and fetch him. I can trust Carl, but I won’t tell him about this’ – she pointed down to the floor – ‘I’ll just say I want to see Mr Travis on business.’
Carl was about to go out when Bella said, ‘Would you run a message for me, Carl?’
‘Anything for you, Bella. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Go to Mr Travis’s office and ask if you can have a word privately with him. Put on your decent coat. Tell him that Miss Morgan would like to see him.’
‘I’ll do that, Bella. I’ll go and put me good togs on. Is it about the property next door?’
She screwed up her eyes as she exclaimed, ‘What? You mean the cobbler’s shop?’
‘What else?’
She slapped his cheek playfully, saying, ‘You mind your own business. Go on with you.’
After he had departed, grinning, she remained standing at the foot of the stairs: she was not looking up them, but along the passage to where the wall divided this house from the next. The cobbler’s shop had been empty these past two or three months. Frankie had found that, these days, not so many people could afford to have their shoes mended, never mind buy second-hand ones, so he had put the shop on the market. Apparently there had been no buyers; well, who in their right mind would buy a place like that? But Carl had said, ‘Is it about the cobbler’s shop?’ Oh, my God! What was she thinking? There was enough money in that cubby-hole or whatever it was to buy six cobblers’ shops, she thought, then hastily reminded herself that it wasn’t hers. Anyway, the idea was a good cover-up for her wanting to see Mr Travis.
She went upstairs to her room. Reenee was still on the floor, her fingers moving along the skirting board, and in this position she turned to Bella, her eyes bright, and she muttered something.
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‘What are you saying?’ Bella said.
Reenee’s fingers moved backward and forward; then again her mouth opened and, gulping in her throat, she brought out, ‘Spring.’
‘Oh, a spring.’
Reenee was nodding vigorously now, and she indicated the whole length of the trough and Bella said, ‘Well, well,’ then bitterly she repeated, ‘A spring. He must have made that, the bugger; all that money there, all that time. That’s what he was trying to get at just before he died. I hope where he’s burning in hell now this minute he knows we’ve found it. Aye, we have. No matter who gets it we’ve found it. All his hidden cash that was mentioned on the back of the envelope flap,’ and she repeated, ‘Loose cash, indeed!’
Carl was back within half an hour. His face was bright as he said, ‘Mr Travis is a very nice gentleman. He greeted me very civilly. He said he would call upon you in the next hour and would be only too pleased to do so. Wasn’t that nice of him?’
‘Aye, it was. Now, don’t mention to Joe or anybody else that I sent for Mr Travis, you understand?’
His face became solemn for a moment, and he said, ‘Yes, Bella, I understand. And don’t worry, you know me.’
Mr Travis was as good as his word, and Bella took him straight into the sitting room. Closing the door after them, she asked him to sit down, which he did, but only after she was seated. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Morgan? Have you some news for me?’
‘Well, in a way, I suppose you could say I have.’ And she told him what they had discovered, and as she did so she watched his face lengthen and his eyebrows move upwards.
‘A great deal of money?’ he asked.
‘I would say so, sir, a great deal. But I haven’t counted it.’
He stood up. ‘I am intrigued, Miss Morgan. Will you take me, please, to where you found this hoard.’
A few minutes later he was kneeling on the floor of Bella’s bedroom, with Bella by his side, and Reenee standing at the far end of the room near the head of the bed. After taking up one pile of five-pound notes and straightening them out, he flipped through it quickly before turning to Bella and saying, ‘You’re a rich woman now, Miss Morgan. Do you know that?’
‘It’s not mine, sir.’
‘Miss Morgan, I want to say to you’ – his voice had changed – ‘don’t be silly. This is your house, isn’t it? It was left to you, and all in it.’
‘But that,’ she pointed down to it, ‘isn’t honest money.’
Here Mr Travis laughed and he said, ‘It’s as honest as you’ll find today, Miss Morgan. Now listen to me. The only people who might lay any claim to this would be the tax man or the Customs, and they have already, through your help – oh, yes, through your help and that piece of an envelope – been able to save this country many hundreds of thousands of pounds. Oh, much more. That one signature, Jason, did so much towards clearing up what had been troubling both the Customs and the tax people for a long, long time. There are not many people in this town with the name of Jason and who deal in pieces of glass. This Jason had been suspect for a long time but he was such a figure that no one dared put a finger on him without proof. I may tell you he was only one of a number who had to make a hasty retreat from this country, so hasty that the documents that they left condemned them. That gentleman has never yet been found, but nevertheless the powers that be remain hopeful.’
Bella looked at him in awe now, as she said, ‘You found all this out by yourself?’
At this, he put his head back and laughed, ‘No, Miss Morgan. But I will tell you this much. My grandfather was in the diplomatic service and an ambassador for years. I have two brothers. They are both now in the civil service. You know, there are many kinds of detectives in the civil service; my brothers are two of them. They are very ordinary-looking men, soft-voiced, but one is connected with Customs and the other with . . . oh, things along the same lines and gentlemen who, like your late master’s friend, spend much time in Holland and Switzerland. We often get together, and my firm is very interested in all they have to say. Over the years we have occasionally been of help in different ways to them, through clients such as yourself, Miss Morgan, who bring into the open scoundrels such as your Mr Hamish McIntyre who, through you, led us to his friend Jason. Our firm owes you a great deal, Miss Morgan, as do my brothers. I have told them a lot about you and your business. And now we come to this.’
He pointed to the row of notes and bags on the floor, and when he saw Bella shudder he said, ‘My dear Miss Morgan, you should be overjoyed.’
‘I’m far from that, Mr Travis, I’m scared. I’ve never seen so much money in my life, and I can’t believe what you say, that it belongs to me or that I can claim it, ’cos I won’t know what to do with it.’
‘Don’t worry about that, Miss Morgan, we will deal with all that business, and to your satisfaction. The first thing we must do now is to find some place of safety for this money, at least for the moment. Have you a large holdall?’
‘There is that up there.’ Bella was now pointing to the top of the wardrobe. ‘He used that at times.’
Mr Travis looked up at the bag. ‘The very thing,’ he said.
‘Wait a minute, Mr Travis,’ Bella put her hand on his arm. ‘How am I goin’ to explain to anyone, I mean the lads and . . . well, people I want to buy from, where on earth I’ve got . . . How much would you say there was?’
Mr Travis replied, ‘I’m not sure, but at a rough guess over four thousand pounds. The sovereigns, being gold, will be of more value now than when they were purchased because the price of gold fluctuates.’
‘Oh, dear God!’
‘Come . . . come, sit down there, Miss Morgan,’ and he pushed her gently on to the side of the bed. Then, looking straight at the figure standing stiffly against the wall, he said to Reenee, ‘Don’t you think, my dear, that your friend here is absolutely entitled to consider this money her own?’
To Bella’s surprise, for she had swung round and looked at her, Reenee opened her mouth and said a definite, ‘Yes.’
‘There you are, Miss Morgan, there is confirmation, and firmly said, and from the one you say who actually found it. Now listen to me. We must think up something plausible to explain your change of fortune, but this will come later. At the present moment, we must put this money in a safe place until tomorrow morning, by which time I shall have talked the matter over with my partner. Tomorrow, Miss Morgan, I would ask you to get into your best bib and tucker and I shall take you to see him and my father. Now, let us get this money packed away.’
The following morning, Mr Travis arrived carrying a large briefcase. Bella herself had opened the door to him, and he said to her quietly, ‘I thought it best, Miss Morgan, to come and help you transfer our luggage out of the house as unobtrusively as possible, because you can’t carry it in that big bag. I have brought my briefcase, and between that and your shopping bag and handbag I’m sure we can get your goods from the house without any comment. What d’you say to that?’
‘Yes. I was wonderin’ meself how we were goin’ to get it out, and I’ll be glad to see the last of it.’
He laughed gently, then said, ‘Well, come along and let us get on with the business.’
Half an hour later Mr Travis ushered his client into his well-appointed offices, which took up two floors of a very ordinary-looking building in a side-street off a main market piazza. He led her across the foyer, past an interested receptionist at a desk, into a lift and on to the second floor. There he was met by a tall man, who immediately relieved him of his heavy briefcase and helped him off with his coat. ‘They’re waiting for you in the board room, sir.’
Mr Travis had to place a firm hand between Bella’s shoulders to press her forward across the carpeted hall, to a heavy oak door and into a room that smelt of leather and cigar smoke and something else to which she could not put a name.
The room seemed full of men, yet there were only four, including Mr Travis, who now took her handbag and shopping
bag and laid them on the leather couch next to his briefcase, then directed her towards an armchair into which she sank. Her body seemed smaller than ever.
‘This is my father, Miss Morgan.’ Mr Travis directed her gaze to an old man, whose presence filled the room.
The voice that came from the chair was more like that of somebody in his hale fifties, for it boomed at her: ‘I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Morgan. Excuse me not rising. I may add that this is not the first time I have heard of you, for in the past you have been of some assistance to my family.’
What could she say to this? Nothing. She did not even smile because, as she said to herself, she was all at sea, in that lovely room, with paintings on the walls of men dressed like mayors.
‘And this,’ said Mr Travis, directing his hand towards the tall man sitting to Bella’s left, ‘is my partner and, unfortunately, my cousin,’ which caused a ripple of laughter to sound round the table.
The man, standing up and bending over Bella, took her hand, saying, ‘That remark is reciprocated a thousandfold, Miss Morgan. However, I must say I am more than pleased to make your acquaintance. I, too, have heard about you and the good work you do for others less fortunate.’
All Bella could find to say was, ‘Thank you.’
‘And this very important person, who controls us all,’ said Mr Travis now, ‘is our accountant, Mr McLean.’
A small man rose from the far side of the table and came to her chair and, holding out his hand, said, ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Miss Morgan.’ Then bending further towards her, he said, on a broad smile and in a loud whisper, ‘Fortunately I am not related to the family.’
‘We can thank God for that!’ came the voice from the big leather chair. Again there was laughter, and Bella thought, They’re just like an ordinary family.
Mr Travis now lifted his briefcase on to the table and, stooping, he picked up Bella’s handbag. ‘Has it only the necessary requirements in it, Miss Morgan?’
The Silent Lady Page 20