by Rosie Clarke
‘That’s dangerous…’
‘It’s the only way I can live with him, Lizzie. I’m on thorns all the time in case he takes it into his head to attack me again. If I can get some evidence that would incriminate him…I can force him to leave me and the twins alone.’
‘Why not just leave him?’
‘Because my parents would feel bad about it if I told them why I’d walked out on him. They were both so set on my getting married, Lizzie. I was uneasy from the start, but I let myself be pushed into a situation and then I didn’t know how to stop it.’
‘You wanted to stop it on your wedding day,’ Lizzie said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were worried?’
‘You’ve had so much worry over things and you went through too much when Harry was killed – I couldn’t talk to you…’
‘I know I was partly to blame, Beth,’ Lizzie said, nodding her head regretfully. ‘I realized that on your wedding day, but it was too late by then – I’m so sorry for all that’s happened to you.’
‘It isn’t your fault; it isn’t my parents’ fault either. I should have seen what he was, Lizzie – but he kept his true nature so well hidden. I glimpsed it once and should’ve been warned, but I felt in the way at your house after you married and I didn’t want to live with my parents again.’
‘I’m sure your parents would listen if you talked to them; besides, I would never have asked you to leave – and you know Sebastian isn’t here often. I may not see him for months or even years. You’re welcome to come home to me whenever you wish.’
‘I think Bernie would put up with anything but that,’ Beth said. ‘I don’t know why he hates you, but he does…’
‘I don’t know what I’ve done – unless it was to give you a home and a job …’
‘Well, I’m going to go home and find that evidence if I can,’ Beth said and sighed. ‘I can’t leave him yet, Lizzie. Mum and Dad are devastated by Mary’s death. If they thought, I was so unhappy it would hurt them…’
‘But why should you have to bear the brunt of Bernie’s meanness? I’ll take the risk of whatever he wants to try if you will.’
Beth smiled. ‘I know what a good friend you are, Lizzie – but I’ll manage for a while longer.’
‘Be careful, Beth,’ Lizzie said. ‘I think you’re right – and I believe Bernie might have tried to have me roughed up, even killed…’
‘By someone called Norm?’ Beth asked. ‘That’s the name of the man the police found in the river… Bernie says it must have been a professional killer, because he, and the man who came to see him, said Norm was too clever for most to get near him.’
‘Oh, that’s frightening…’ Lizzie felt chilly, because she felt responsible if Jack had killed for her sake. ‘Someone did try to kill me one night, Beth – I was saved by a young soldier who ran at him and got a knife in his arm as a reward, but he scared him. I don’t think Sergeant Jones would have killed this Norm –if it was him – and put his body in the river. It must have been someone who could get close to him, surely?’
‘Bernie and his friend seemed to know all about things like that – I think Bernie is afraid someone may be out to move in on his territory – I’m not sure what it’s all about but it’s nasty…’
‘It sounds like it,’ Lizzie said with a frown. ‘But Bernie works in the munitions factory and he looks as if wouldn’t say boo to a goose…’
‘Not when he’s angry,’ Beth reminded her. ‘I would never have believed it either – but he’s not what he pretends to be. As for his job, well, it’s the perfect cover, isn’t it? He’s doing a patriotic and worthwhile job for his country – and no one would suspect him of being involved with the underworld.’
‘I suppose he might have been called up if he wasn’t in charge at the factory,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘It’s a good cover and allows him to go on with whatever he’s mixed up in…’
‘Yes, it does,’ Beth said and then as Matt let out a yell of anger. ‘I’d better go. Bernie thinks I’ve gone to the doctor, so I need to make an appointment.’ She pulled a face as Lizzie questioned with her eyes. ‘He thinks I might be pregnant…’
‘Are you?’
‘No – but he caught me being sick after I’d heard what he was saying last night and it was all I could think of…’
‘Go on then,’ Lizzie picked Matt up and sat him in the pram despite his yells of protest. ‘You are getting a big boy…’
‘He’ll soon be too heavy for me to carry far,’ Beth said and smiled at her son. ‘Matt looks more like his father every day. He reminds me of Mark and what might have been …’
‘He’s a lovely bonny boy,’ Lizzie said and kissed the little boy’s forehead.
Beth picked up his twin. ‘Jenny isn’t anywhere near so heavy. I sometimes wonder if anything is wrong… they’re so different…’
‘Perhaps it’s because she’s a girl,’ Lizzie suggested. ‘Why not take her to the doctor and let him check her out?’
‘Yes, I will,’ Beth said. ‘I hadn’t thought much about it until you mentioned how heavy Matt is getting – I’ll make an appointment for her and tell Bernie I’m waiting for my tests. Hopefully, I’ll have found something that I can use against him by then… Bye for now, Lizzie.’
‘I’m so glad you came round. Whatever Bernie says or does, Beth, don’t let him make you think less of yourself – he’s at fault not you. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ll recover from this and be stronger for it. I know, because it happened to me.’
Beth nodded but she was thoughtful as she left Lizzie. Lizzie had been attacked and hurt and she had been deserted by her husband – but she didn’t remember the attack when she was fourteen and Beth was willing to bet Harry hadn’t done to Lizzie what Bernie had done to her. Beth had been terrified of Bernie for a while, but now her fighting spirit was back and she was angry – angry with him for using her and angry with herself for falling into his trap. How on earth could she have thought him a meek, kind man? One way or another she would free herself from his petty tyranny.
*
Lizzie was thoughtful after Beth left. She prayed Beth would be careful in her search of the house. If Bernie caught her, he might decide to teach her a lesson – or he might take his meanness out on the twins.
Lizzie would’ve liked to go to the police with her own suspicions but she knew they wouldn’t help – and she’d need proof or she would be accused of slandering a good man and dragging Beth’s name through the mud. Bernie cleverly hid his true nature in public. Lizzie had glimpsed malice in his eyes a few times and Beth had experienced his cruelty, but Lizzie couldn’t prove anything… and Beth wouldn’t be pleased if she interfered with her plans.
If Mr Court knew what his son-in-law was really like, he’d go round there and fetch his daughter home instantly. Lizzie toyed with telling him, but it could have unfortunate repercussions and it wasn’t her decision. For as long as Beth chose to keep her problems from her parents, Lizzie must do the same…
‘Lizzie, how many of the specials does Mr Jenkins want?’ Ed said, coming into the office with the order sheet. ‘It looks like twelve, but then down here it says sixteen…’
‘Yes, but it’s two different hats,’ Lizzie said. ‘This is the straw with silk trimmings and this one is the grosgrain but in the same broad-brimmed style. He wants four of each colour we have on show, which is three in the straw and four in the grosgrain…’
‘Ah yes, I couldn’t read it,’ Ed said and shook his head. ‘Tilly is a brilliant seamstress, but her writing is shocking.’
‘I know,’ Lizzie laughed as she handed him the order sheet back. ‘I might not have known if I hadn’t heard him give her the order – it’s a big one again this time. I think he’s stocking up in case we run out of materials…’
‘We shan’t be able to get any more of that Italian silk once it’s finished,’ Ed said, ‘but that new source of English materials will be just fine. It’s different, but it’s lovely quality, and once
you decide how best to use it I think it will be just as popular.’
‘Yes, I agree,’ Lizzie said. ‘I think the Italian silk was softer but this new stuff is good. It should retain its shape well… and the artificial silk makes good trimmings for the lower end of the trade.’
‘We haven’t got much left of that silk velvet you bought from Arthur Stockton last year.’
‘No, I noticed that,’ Lizzie said and sighed. The war was making it difficult to find so many things. Naturally, the Merchant Navy was too busy to import things like fine straw or silks for making hats, because they needed to bring in many other more important things. However, so far they were managing to buy most of what they needed from various sources, in England, Scotland and Wales. Because they could come by rail or the rivers, there was no restriction on what could be bought – and a lot of the manufacturers in the district had either been bombed or moved out into the country recently. That meant the manufacturers were keen to find new buyers for their products and Lizzie had made several useful contacts recently. ‘We’ll find something to keep us going, Ed – I’ve got a young woman coming to see me next week. Her family’s firm produce materials we can use and she thinks we can do business, so let’s hope she’s right.’
‘How did you hear about her?’
‘She heard about me,’ Lizzie said. ‘Some friends of hers bought hats that I designed and made – and so she wondered if I would be interested in buying some of their more expensive ranges. I jumped at the chance naturally.’
Ed nodded and smiled. ‘You’re a good businesswoman, Lizzie, always were…’ He broke off as they heard a commotion in the showroom and went through in time to hear a woman shouting at Tilly.
‘What’s wrong, Tilly?’ Lizzie asked, puzzled because the customer was red in the face.
‘So you’re the one that runs this place,’ the woman said bitterly. ‘I’ve heard what sort you are – married and taking soldiers home with you…’
Lizzie gasped. ‘If I chose to do so that is my business and I fail to see what it has to do with you…’
‘We don’t want people like you round here,’ the woman said. ‘You should take yourself off where you came from – and take your rubbish with you an’ all…’
‘Take no notice, Lizzie,’ Tilly said. ‘She started being abusive when I caught her trying to sneak out with one of our best hats. She thought I hadn’t seen her slip it under her coat while I was serving another customer – but I wasn’t born yesterday.’
‘You’re no better than ’er,’ the woman snarled. ‘You’re cheats, the lot of you… charging folk too much fer rubbish…’
She went out as Ed moved towards her, throwing a malicious glance at Tilly before slamming the door.
‘I thought we’d finished with all that nonsense…’ Lizzie said anxiously.
‘If Oliver has been up to his tricks again I’ll sort him out…’
‘No, Ed,’ Lizzie placed a hand on his arm. ‘I think it’s time I went round to talk to Harry’s uncle myself…’
*
Lizzie took a deep breath before she opened the door to the workroom where she’d begun her training as a milliner and met her first husband; it was sure to bring back memories and she half wished she’d let Ed come in her place.
The workroom was busy, bits of material strewn all over the floor. Lizzie’s first job had been to keep the scraps tidy and she frowned because it didn’t look the way it had back then. There was an air of neglect about the place, as if no one really cared about what they were doing, and she saw one of the girls chewing as she worked, a half-eaten sandwich on her counter. Bert Oliver wouldn’t have put up with that when she worked here.
One of the girls looked up. ‘If yer hopin’ fer a job, yer out of luck. We ain’t got none.’
‘I’d like to see Mr Oliver please.’
‘In his office,’ the man cutting shapes jerked his head. ‘I should warn you, he’s in a right mood.’
Lizzie nodded and made her way towards the office she knew so well. When she’d worked here, a trip to the office usually resulted in a telling off – well, this time it was going to be her who was doing the telling off…
She tapped the door but walked in without waiting for an invitation. Harry’s uncle was staring at a pile of papers on the desk in front of him and frowning over something. He looked up and she saw the colour drain from his face. For a moment he stared at her in silence, then, ‘What do you want?’
‘When are you going to stop this senseless quarrel?’ Lizzie asked. ‘I thought we’d got over it, but now I have a woman screaming abuse at me because I took a soldier back to have supper with me, because he saved my life and I wanted to show my gratitude. I don’t know how you even knew about it, because it was only once and my housekeeper was with us all the time. I’m not having an affair with anyone and I was never unfaithful to Harry… and it’s not fair to blame me for his death…’
‘I didn’t know about the soldier until you told me –but I believe you…’
‘What did you just say?’ she asked, taken aback.
‘I believe you, Lizzie. I know you didn’t have an affair when you were married to him. Sebastian Winters told me I’d made a mistake…’ Bert Oliver met her angry eyes and she noticed with a shock how ill he looked. ‘I’m sorry I started those rumours, Lizzie – but I was angry because you were doing so well and I blamed you for Harry’s death… but I know now that it was an accident.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. I was angry because I thought my boy had killed himself over you…’
‘You weren’t the only one who thought he’d done it on purpose,’ Lizzie said. ‘That’s why Harry’s best friend came round after Harry died to tell me not to believe it if I heard he’d committed suicide. He didn’t believe Harry would deliberately drive off the road into a tree, even if he was terrified of getting killed on their low-flying missions. I never believed it either. Why would he take his own life when he so much wanted to live?’ Lizzie’s throat was tight. ‘We weren’t as happy as we might have been, but we were trying to sort it out…’
‘Harry was jealous though, wasn’t he, Lizzie? I know he was upset about something. He didn’t tell me, but I knew when I saw him the last time.’
Lizzie was silent for a moment, then, ‘Do you want the truth – even though you won’t like it?’
‘Yes, please,’ he said. ‘I’d like to understand, Lizzie.’
Drawing a deep breath, Lizzie started where it really began and told him about the way Harry had gone off alone on their wedding night when she’d told him the truth about being attacked, raped and left for dead as a young girl – and how Harry come back to her a few days later and they’d been happy for a while.
‘I should’ve told Harry before, given him a chance to call off the wedding, but I didn’t know what to do…’ Lizzie faltered, then, ‘Harry said he believed me, but he could never get it out of his head that I wasn’t a virgin when we married – and when his friend Roger flirted with me that Christmas, Harry drank too much… and, later, at home, he forced me. He hurt me and humiliated me and, afterwards, when he apologized, I told him it would take a while to forgive him. Even though I tried, it didn’t work and so he stayed away… but I’d written to him just before he died and asked him to come home, I’d told him I wanted to try again…’
‘Oh my God,’ Bert Oliver’s face went a shade greyer when she finished, and he sat down heavily in his chair, breathing hard. ‘No wonder he didn’t come home – he was ashamed of himself…I’m so sorry, Lizzie…’ He clutched at his arm and gave a little moan. ‘My pills…’
Lizzie saw him pull frantically at his desk drawer. She realized that something was wrong and went round, jerking the drawer back as his face contorted with pain and his eyes rolled. He pointed to a little pillbox and she opened it, tipping one of the pills onto the palm of her hand and offering it to him, but even as he reached for it, he gave a cry and keeled over, tipping his chair and fall
ing to the ground. He was jerking, obviously in pain. Lizzie cried out for help and then bent down to try to open his tie and top button.
Someone entered the office and she told them to send for an ambulance. A man’s shape appeared beside her; then he grabbed the phone and asked the operator for a number. Lizzie tried putting the pill on Bert’s tongue in the hope that it might pull him round, but it just fell out of his mouth as his tongue lopped to one side and saliva dribbled down his chin.
‘It’s his heart,’ the man told her. ‘He should’ve packed up after he had the first attack, but he’s a stubborn old fool. He was going to sell years ago and then he saw your talent and how his business could grow and he kept it on…’
‘He isn’t really old,’ Lizzie said, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Only around sixty. It’s just that he’s had too much work and worry of late…’
She stroked his hair back from his forehead, wishing that she hadn’t come. She shouldn’t have told him what Harry had done. It had upset him too much and this was the result.
If Harry’s uncle died, Lizzie would feel like a murderer.
It seemed ages before the ambulance arrived. The driver told her they were rushed off their feet and apologized, but Lizzie hardly heard him. Harry’s uncle had lapsed into a coma and she felt like weeping, because this was the last thing she’d wanted or expected. He might be a silly old fool who had done his best to ruin her business, but she didn’t hate him and she didn’t want him to die.
‘May I go with him?’ she asked and was told she could if she was family.
‘I’m his niece,’ Lizzie said though it wasn’t quite true. She looked at the man who had called the ambulance. ‘Go round and tell his wife – and tell her I’m going to the hospital with him. The rest of you should carry on with whatever work you’re doing, please. Mr Oliver would expect it.’
‘Yes, Mrs Winters.’
Lizzie climbed into the ambulance and sat on the bench provided, leaning forward to hold the sick man’s hand as it bumped and jolted its way to the hospital. She prayed that he would recover, because otherwise she was going to feel so guilty…