It's Now or Never

by June Francis

  Lenny nodded. ‘I used to live in Toxteth and played street football when I was a kid. Not only do I have a feeling that you were in the opposing team once but that your dad might have arrested me. I once ended up in court and had to pay a fine.’

  Sam chuckled. ‘Dangerous sport, street football! I remember you now. You had a bloody good left foot. You could have turned professional.’

  ‘I remember you, too,’ interrupted Dorothy. ‘Your boot came off and went flying through the air and through Old Misery Guts’ window.’

  Lenny laughed. ‘My dad almost scalped me alive for that. Ol’ Misery got me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me to our house. My boot was in his parlour and he told Mam I wasn’t going to get it back until Dad forked out for a pane of glass.’

  ‘You didn’t turn professional though,’ said Sam, his eyes narrowing. ‘I’m sure it would have been in the Echo if you had.’

  ‘No, the war came along and I volunteered.’

  Sam asked about his war and soon Lynne could see that Dorothy was getting fed up with the conversation.

  ‘So what are you doing now?’ she butted in.

  Lenny glanced at her. ‘I own the coffee bar where Betty Booth works. I came here with her.’

  ‘Aren’t you a bit old for her?’ asked Dorothy.

  Lenny stared at her. ‘I don’t see how that’s any of your business, kid.’

  Sam nodded. ‘He’s right, Dot. It’s up to Lenny to choose whom he goes out with.’

  ‘You would say that,’ said Dorothy, sounding annoyed. ‘I’ve had enough of this conversation.’ And she walked away.

  ‘She fancies herself, doesn’t she?’ said Lenny, gazing after her.

  ‘No, you’ve got her wrong,’ said Sam.

  ‘She’s bored of the talk about the war,’ said Lynne.

  ‘Pity about her,’ said Lenny. ‘She didn’t have to listen.’

  ‘No, but perhaps we went on a bit,’ said Sam.

  Lynne had an idea. ‘Why don’t you go and ask for her autograph, Lenny? She’s bound to be flattered and forgive you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on that,’ murmured Sam.

  ‘You could talk to her about film,’ said Lynne.

  Lenny’s face lit up. ‘You’ve got a point there.’

  At that moment the music started up again and the three of them laughed because it was ‘I Can’t Tell A Waltz From a Tango’.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Lenny, and walked off.

  Sam stared at Lynne. ‘D’you feel like dancing?’

  She shook her head. ‘If you had been watching me earlier, you wouldn’t ask. I’ll tread all over your toes.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I always know what my feet want to do,’ he said lightly, holding out a hand to her.

  She hesitated and then placed her smaller one inside his large one and felt a quiver go through her as he brought her against him. He glanced down at her. ‘Don’t be nervous.’ She was silent and at first moved stiffly in his embrace. ‘Relax!’ he murmured against her ear. ‘Just follow my lead and go with the music.’

  She tried to do what he suggested but stumbled over his feet several times. Each time he hoisted her up against him until to her surprise she realized that her feet were resting on the top of his shoes. Partly due to embarrassment but also because of a giddy pleasure she made no objection. He was so tall and strong with big feet that she had no trouble balancing on them.

  The song came to an end and he swung her to a halt so that her feet landed on the floor. She swept him a curtsy and he bowed from the waist before escorting her back to her seat. He sat down in one of the vacant chairs. ‘Have you heard from the Yank?’

  ‘Yes, he sent me a postcard from Rome. His father would like me and my daughter to visit him in America. Actually, he’s my stepfather and has offered to pay for the trip.’

  ‘And will you go?’ asked Sam, frowning.

  ‘My daughter would love to go and it would be interesting for both of us but …’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Have you ever thought of remarrying, Lynne?’

  His question surprised her and she was almost tempted to tell him the truth that she had never been married but stopped herself in time. What was she thinking of? She hardly knew him and beside what would it gain her?

  ‘I don’t really go places where I’d meet a prospective husband,’ she murmured. ‘I work from home and only occasionally go to the pictures with my daughter.’

  Sam nodded and appeared about to say something else when Hester came over to him in company with another man. ‘Sam, you’re wanted,’ she murmured.

  Sam frowned and excused himself and walked away with his sister and the man. Lynne wondered what was going on and suddenly felt at a loss. She drank her Babycham and as there was no sign of Betty or Lenny returning to the table, decided that perhaps it was time to go home. She went over to Hester and thanked her for inviting her to the wedding.

  ‘You’re going already!’ exclaimed Hester, startled.

  ‘I’m just a bit concerned about Nan because she hasn’t been well recently.’

  ‘But we were just about to announce the buffet. It’s bad enough that Sam had to leave.’

  ‘Was it police business?’ asked Lynne, taking a shot in the dark.

  Hester hesitated and then nodded. ‘A murder of a shopkeeper in Prescot Road apparently. There’s been a number of robberies recently but this is the first time the burglars have killed.’

  ‘That’s terrible! But wasn’t there anyone else they could have sent instead of Sam?’ asked Lynne, toying with the stem of her empty glass.

  ‘With it being the Easter weekend the force is overstretched and so Sam has been hauled in. He’s a good detective.’

  ‘Your friend Wendy told me that he should make inspector this year,’ said Lynne.

  Hester smiled. ‘The whole family will be thrilled if he does. Although, perhaps I should leave our great-aunt Ethel out of that. She and Sam have never got on and besides she’s started going a bit doolally recently.’ She paused. ‘I’ll have to let Dorothy know he’s left. I wonder where she is?’

  ‘She went off in a huff because of something Betty’s boss said to her.’

  ‘Really!’ She touched Lynne’s arm. ‘Never mind them for now. I’ll tell you what, I’ll have some food wrapped up for you to take home, enough for you, Nan and Bobby’s supper.’

  Lynne was touched by her thoughtfulness. ‘That’s kind of you but you don’t have to.’

  Hester smiled. ‘I’d like to. It would have been nice if Nan and Bobby could have been here. I’ve really enjoyed my visits to your house. When I’m settled in Whalley, you must come and visit me. It’s really lovely countryside around there.’

  Lynne remembered Myra Jones telling her the same thing, so she thanked Hester for the invitation. Perhaps if more work did come her way and the customers paid on time, then she would be able to afford a day off in the country.

  It was on her way out of the building that she saw Dorothy and Lenny having a cigarette. ‘Hester’s looking for you, Dorothy. Sam’s had to leave.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, dropping the stub of her cigarette and grinding it out with her heel. ‘I spoke to him on his way out. Apparently murder’s been done and it’s not that far away from here.’ She shivered. ‘It’s horrible!’

  Lynne agreed. ‘She also mentioned that the buffet would be getting served soon. I’m off to see how Nan is. You won’t forget to come and see her on Tuesday, will you?’

  ‘No,’ said Dorothy. ‘Goodnight, Lynne. You coming in, Lenny? Betty will be wondering what’s happened to you.’

  ‘Betty has her mates in the group to hang around with.’ Lenny smiled at Lynne. ‘Nice meeting you.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ said Lynne, and walked away.

  She thought it appeared that Dorothy was no longer annoyed with Lenny and she had seemed friendly enough with her. She hoped that she would keep her promise. Maybe then the pair of them would get round to
admitting to each other where they had met just over thirteen years ago. She thought fleetingly of Sam and what he might make of Dorothy having a son somewhere.

  Eighteen

  ‘This place really is in a hell of a mess,’ said Sam, moving aside a plank of wood with the toe of his shoe and avoiding screws and nails that were scattered all over the floor as he moved out of the way of those removing the body of Kenneth Rogers.

  ‘You can say that again,’ said the beat bobby who had been first on the scene.

  ‘They did it for the hell of it,’ said the inspector, dusting off a chair and sitting down before taking out a briar pipe.

  ‘It wasn’t a factor in the other break-ins and it’s not as if there’s been a fight,’ said Sam. ‘No bruising on the face or abrasions on the victim’s hands. The murderer came from behind and took him by surprise.’ Sam changed the subject. ‘Where’s the son, did you say, Constable?’

  ‘With a friend and his family who live on Balmoral Road,’ he replied. ‘Apparently they go to the same school. I thought it best he was out of the way and with someone he knew until we can get in touch with his next of kin. The mother says the victim’s brother lives in Shotton in Flintshire.’

  ‘Presumably the lad will have his address,’ said the inspector, ramming tobacco in the bowl of his pipe and lighting up. Once he had his pipe going nicely, he added, ‘The sooner we get in touch with him the better, for the boy’s sake.’

  ‘There’s something else that’s different about this break-in from the others,’ muttered Sam, prowling around.

  ‘I presume you don’t just mean the dead body and the mess,’ said his inspector, who was due to retire soon and was happy to let Sam do all the work.

  ‘I reckon the back door was forced from the inside,’ said Sam.

  The inspector removed his pipe from his mouth and pointed it at Sam. ‘You’re not suggesting it’s an inside job and the son did it? Bloody hell, Walker, he’s only a kid.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting the boy did it, sir,’ said Sam.

  The constable frowned. ‘He seemed upset but he could be acting. Didn’t like the way his father talked to him, perhaps. It’s surprising how little it takes to make some of these kids react violently.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t deny what you say, Constable. We all know the trouble we’ve been having with juveniles. Remember that Teddy Boy who stabbed a doorman last year. The war’s had a bad effect on many a youth.’

  The constable nodded. ‘He’s no Teddy Boy. He’s too young, just a pupil at the Boys’ Institute. Mrs Nuttall tells me the boy lost his mother two years ago and was always a real help to his dad.’

  Sam nodded and resisting, saying See! She’s given the lad a good character reference.

  ‘I suppose we’d better go and talk to him, Walker,’ said the inspector. ‘Constable, you stay here.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said both men.

  Nick stared miserably into space as he sat on the sofa in the lounge of Chris’s parents. He was finding it difficult to believe what had happened. His father wouldn’t have hurt a fly. He could only hope that the police would find his killer and the murderer would be punished.

  ‘Would you like another mug of cocoa, Nick?’ asked Chris’s mother in a gentle voice.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Nick, handing his mug to her.

  ‘What about something to eat?’

  He shook his head, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get food down him, even if his guts weren’t tied up in knots like they were. God, what was going to happen to him now? He was sure those in charge wouldn’t allow him to carry on living in the flat. Maybe he would be put in an orphanage and the shop and flat sold? Don’t be a clot! said another voice in his head. They’re not going to put you in an orphanage. Someone will take you in! Perhaps Chris’s mum and dad will let you stay here. His spirits rose, only to sink again. Why should they? They have three children already, so why take on another? Then he suddenly remembered his uncle and his heart sank.

  The doorbell roused him from his reverie and instinctively he stood up to go and answer it. Chris’s father waved him down. ‘You stay there, Nicholas. I’ll see who it is. Probably the police.’

  Nick’s spirits took another plunge and he could not keep still any longer and stumbled to his feet and headed for the bathroom, only to freeze when he saw the two men in the hall.

  ‘Here he is, Inspector,’ said Chris’s father.

  ‘I’m … I’m just … just going to the … the bathroom,’ stammered Nick.

  ‘Then you go, lad,’ said the inspector. ‘We’ll wait for you. We just want a few words. Nothing for you to worry about.’

  Nick managed to drag himself upstairs and into the bathroom. He lingered as long as he could, not wanting to face the plain-clothes policemen downstairs. No doubt he would have to answer questions again about finding his father’s body but guessed he wouldn’t be able to get out of it. When he came out of the bathroom, he would have liked to have crept into Chris’s bedroom but it was almost midnight and he didn’t want to disturb him if he’d fallen asleep.

  ‘Nick, are you all right?’ called Chris’s mother in a low voice.

  ‘I’m coming!’

  He went downstairs, holding on to the banister all the way.

  Chris’s mother placed her arm around his shoulders and ushered him into the lounge where the younger of the two men sat on a straight-backed chair, whilst the older one was occupying an armchair.

  Nick sat on the sofa and was handed a mug of cocoa. He felt cold and warmed his hands on the mug and took a mouthful of the sweet chocolatey drink.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Walker,’ said the younger man. ‘So, Nick, do you feel up to answering a few questions?’

  ‘I told the bobby everything earlier,’ muttered Nick.

  ‘We know that but we’d like to hear you tell us for ourselves,’ said Sam.

  Nick stared at the detective who had removed his trilby, revealing a mop of thick fair hair. He supposed women would think him good looking. He didn’t wear glasses and his eyes were brown. Nick felt as if they could see right inside him. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ he blurted out.

  ‘We’re not accusing you of anything, Nick,’ said Sam. ‘Tell us about your day?’

  The question surprised him and he did not immediately answer but sipped the cocoa before saying, ‘I helped Dad most of the day in the shop, except for when I went shopping. I called in at the butcher’s, the greengrocer’s and the bakery after lunch. We were busier in the morning because a lot of men do jobs about the house and in the garden over the Easter weekend, so they were coming in for stuff and Dad was pleased that we were so busy.’ He gulped.

  ‘Take your time, lad,’ said the inspector.

  Nick nodded and drank some more cocoa before continuing. ‘Then late afternoon Dad told me I could go out for a few hours, have some fresh air and buy myself a treat for working so hard. He gave me a whole pound in loose change because he said I was too old for an Easter egg.’ A muscle in his throat convulsed. ‘I–I was supposed to be back at seven o’clock to cook our evening meal but … but I forgot the time. I went to Newsham Park with Chris. We hired a rowing boat, then–then we were hungry, so we bought chips. After that we went into town to the Tatler to watch the cartoons. I know I should have come home earlier but Dad … Dad had told me to enjoy myself.’

  ‘So what time did you get home?’ asked Sam.

  Nick turned his head to look at him. ‘Not until after eight o’clock and that was when …’ His voice trailed off and the colour ebbed from his cheeks.

  There was a silence.

  ‘Would you rather we left the rest until morning, Nick?’ asked Sam, watching the boy struggle to regain his composure. He remembered how close to tears he had been after his mother died.

  ‘It’ll be Easter Sunday tomorrow,’ said Nick. ‘Dad and I were … were going to put flowers on Mum’s grave.’ He swallowed.

  ‘You must miss your mother
,’ said the inspector.

  Of course he bloody does, thought Sam. Poor kid!

  ‘Nothing’s been the same since she died,’ said Nick, putting down the mug and bending one of his fingers back and forward in an odd fashion. ‘Now Dad’s gone it’s going to be different again.’

  ‘Life changes all the time, son,’ said Sam gently. ‘It’s the way things are.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be! I wanted it to be the same – the three of us forever!’ cried Nick wildly.

  ‘Don’t we all wish we could make time stand still,’ said Chris’s mother, who had stayed at the inspector’s suggestion. She patted Nick’s shoulder and he calmed down.

  ‘Are you OK to carry on?’ asked Sam.

  Nick nodded. ‘I came the back way because the shop door was locked and the blinds down. The yard door was open. I thought that was odd and then … then when I went up the yard I realized the back door had been forced. The door jamb was splintered and there were bits of wood on the step and paving outside.’ He frowned. ‘That’s odd!’

  Sam stared at him intently. ‘What was odd?’

  ‘If it had been chiselled from outside it would have been damaged differently.’ He stared at Sam. ‘It could be that Dad let someone into the shop earlier and they tried to make it look like …’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘That is a possibility,’ said Sam. ‘Carry on, Nick.’

  ‘I didn’t immediately go into the shop because I thought the burglars might still be around, so I listened for a bit and when I couldn’t hear any movement, I went to investigate …’ Nick’s voice cracked and he blinked back tears.

  ‘Take it easy, lad,’ said the inspector.

  Nick breathed deeply and then told them how he had found his father’s body. ‘I … I … could make out that the shop was in a mess and then I saw Dad, lying across the counter. There was a … a chisel sticking out of his back. I wanted to tidy up. Dad hated mess. Then I thought I should dial 999 and not touch anything.’

  ‘So you didn’t touch the till?’ asked Sam.

  ‘You mean did I check if there was any money in the drawer?’ He frowned. ‘I didn’t have to because the drawer was open and I could see there was no money in it.’ Nick fiddled with his finger again, bending it backwards and forwards.