On Mother Brown's Doorstep

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘How many girls?’ asked the inspector in a conversational way.

  ‘Only a few,’ said Mr Ponsonby. ‘Dear me, it’s been terribly difficult arranging to photograph any girl. One can’t be too careful, parents are unfriendly people. One simply has to win a girl’s confidence before inviting her to sit for me.’

  Sit for him? You nasty old sod, thought Inspector Grant.

  ‘You gave them peppermints, Mr Ponsonby?’

  ‘Ah, everyone had to have a peppermint.’

  ‘From out of a bag like this?’ said the inspector, producing the white bag Boots had found. It smelled of peppermint.

  ‘Of course, yes. Dear me, dear me.’ Mr Ponsonby was very petulant. ‘How silly of me to leave it there.’ He rubbed his bruised jaw. ‘I wish to complain about the interfering busybody who struck me.’

  ‘Complaint noted,’ said the inspector. ‘How many girls, how many did you say?’

  ‘A few, just a few. Three.’ Mr Ponsonby explained how he had come to know them and subsequently invited them to be photographed. The first was in Bermondsey, where he used a scrap yard’s shed. No-one else seemed to be using it, and he had a key that opened the gates. He had found it one day, it had been left in the lock. The girl had been so pure, so delightful, with the prettiest legs. Unfortunately, she recovered very quickly from the second dose of chloroform and he had had to quieten her.

  ‘Strangulation is very quietening,’ said Inspector Grant.

  ‘I trust that is not a criticism,’ said Mr Ponsonby in some irritation. ‘It was quick and merciful, yes, indeed.’ He went on to say he had been just as quick and merciful with two other girls, after finding a most convenient place in which to photograph them. After finding it, he had picked the padlock and replaced it with another. Yes, he agreed with the inspector’s suggestion that he had buried the girls under floorboards. It was convenient to do so, and a kindness to the girls. One simply could not leave them lying about.

  ‘You have the photographs in your lodgings?’ said Inspector Grant.

  ‘Of course, of course, where else? One must have the pleasure of looking at them.’ He hoped he would be allowed to keep them, together with those he had taken of the charming girl Cassie. He could think of nothing more to add, and therefore would like to be allowed to go home to his lodgings.

  ‘I note your request, Mr Ponsonby. After developing the plates at your lodgings, you returned to the factory to help the girl Cassie ascend early to heaven?’

  ‘Much the best thing,’ said Mr Ponsonby. ‘Really, I can’t see why you need to ask. It’s late, and I must get back to my lodgings.’

  ‘We’ll see you do. We’ll go with you, and perhaps you’ll show us these photographs,’ said the inspector.

  ‘Oh, very well,’ said Mr Ponsonby in new irritation. ‘What a day, what a day.’

  As the CID officers suspected, most of the photographs showed the terribly unfortunate girls unconscious and with their clothes drawn back. Much to his sense of outrage, Mr Ponsonby was arrested for murder.

  Cassie slept soundly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ANNIE WOKE UP, looked sleepily at the little tin alarm clock, found it was only five past six, turned over, thought about Cassie, murmured in dreamy relief, thought about Will, wondered about him, and drifted back into sleep.

  Cassie’s cat woke up, sprang on to the bed she shared with Nellie, curled itself up close to the hump of her warm body and purred itself to sleep again, perhaps to dream about Mrs Boddy’s lady cat.

  The Gaffer woke up and got up. He was on an early shift this morning, but would finish at twelve. He looked in on Cassie. Sleeping like an angel next to Nellie. Should he stay home, just in case she woke up with upset feelings? Yes, he would. Only right. Then Annie could go off to her job without worrying. It was his place to stay home, not Annie’s. Annie was looking forward to going to that wedding dance this evening. She was fond of Will, the Gaffer knew that. He’d asked her yesterday morning exactly what she thought of Will as a bloke. Well, Annie had said, he’s my kind of bloke in most ways, he just wants talking to, that’s all. Talking to about what? I’m giving it deep thought, said Annie.

  A little later, Will woke up, thought about the fact that he hadn’t had an attack after kissing Annie last night and wondered if he should take another look at himself.

  Susie woke to the dawning of a sunny Easter Saturday and to the necessity of being at the hairdresser’s with Sally by nine o’clock. And to saying love, honour and obey. She smiled.

  Sammy woke to the dawning of married life, and to the probability that it was going to ruin his pocket. But he had a singular feeling that his pocket didn’t seem to care.

  Freddy woke and thought about Cassie. Crikey, it was hardly believable what had happened. He’d cycle round after breakfast to see her and to tell her she could come to the wedding breakfast. His mum had said so, and that there was a place at the tables for her because Miss Simms had dropped out. If he’d cycled round yesterday, instead of letting her walk round to him, that old geezer Mr Ponsonby wouldn’t have made off with her. But she’d insisted she’d come round to him. Freddy guessed why now. She’d had her barmy cat with her, she’d have arrived at his house with it and he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. A bloke’s mate didn’t ought to be a problem to him. He couldn’t thump her, seeing she was a girl. Still, he could talk to her, although he had a feeling it would be like talking to the empty air. Crikey, it was Susie’s wedding day today.

  Mrs Brown woke to see her husband bringing a morning cup of tea to her, bless him.

  Mr Greenberg, waking, thought about the privilege of carting Susie and Sammy to their Christian wedding breakfast. That reminded him his own wedding was in the offing. Should a free man take to his heels or dwell on the compensation available? The widow Hannah Borovich was splendidly handsome and also an excellent cook. But would her three growing sons eat him out of house and home? Life was a torment to a man when he had to consider taking to his heels or fulfilling the marriage contract. Ah, me, thought Mr Greenberg. He arose, washed himself, put on some old clothes, ate a simple breakfast and then went to the Old Kent Road stables to brush down his pony and polish the little cart.

  Chinese Lady woke up beside her husband, Edwin Finch, recently returned from what she thought of as the Frenchified Continent, where he’d spent some months on Government business. It was nice, having him beside her again. It was what God had ordered for a woman, having a providing husband beside her. She meant ordained, of course. She smiled. It was Sammy’s wedding day. That Sammy, with his sauce, it was time he found there was more to life than making money. Susie was just right for him, she’d become as ladylike as Lizzy had, and she had enough sense to see to it that Sammy turned into a responsible husband, father and provider. That was what any real man was born to be. God’s orders were very strict.

  Will received an official letter that morning. It informed him that as he was medically unfit for further service, he was to receive his discharge papers at the termination of his three months leave, together with back pay due to him. There was a formal acknowledgement of his past services to the Army, but no mention of a disablement pension. The family said what a rotten lot the Army high-ups were, and Sally said she hoped their roof would fall in on them and disable them all. Mrs Brown said well, let’s look on the bright side, Will doesn’t have to go to India any more, nor get fired at. It’s dangerous, getting fired at, said Mr Brown. Yes, I just told you so, said Mrs Brown. You’ll be all right, Will, she said, it’s good news really, specially on Susie’s wedding day. She said nothing about Mr Ponsonby, nor did any of them.

  As soon as he’d had his breakfast, Freddy cycled round to Blackwood Street. There he found Cassie in the pink, the pet of her family.

  ‘’Ello, Freddy, where you been?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I like that,’ said Freddy, ‘I ain’t been anywhere except in me bed an’ then ’aving me breakfast.’ He looked at her fath
er. ‘Is she all right, Mr Ford?’

  ‘Right as rain,’ said the Gaffer.

  ‘She’s our sunshine girl this mornin’,’ said Annie.

  ‘That Mister Po’s’by,’ said Cassie, ‘’e put something over me face, Freddy, and I don’t remember any more.’

  Freddy could have said a lot about Mr Ponsonby. His dad had passed on the news given to him by Boots, but his mum had told him not to say anything in front of Cassie. Mr Ford and Annie weren’t saying anything themselves, although Freddy knew it was all in the newspapers this morning. Well, it was in Dad’s paper, and had caused his mum to say she hoped the guests wouldn’t all talk about it at the wedding. It was a blessing that Mr Ponsonby’s name hadn’t been mentioned, she said, or the whole neighbourhood would be coming round to stare at the Mason house, where he’d been lodging. The paper just said a man was being held in custody. It was another blessing too that Cassie’s name wasn’t in the paper either, and that the police were working to identify the two dead girls.

  The Gaffer’s morning paper had sensational headlines. He’d shown the paper to Annie, and they were keeping it to themselves for the time being.

  As it was, Cassie seemed herself. Her only complaint was that she’d felt sick when she woke up. She was happy to tell Freddy that her cat had come back, and that she thought Mrs Boddy’s lady cat might have gone and fetched him home. Freddy said he wouldn’t be surprised. He also said Cassie could come to the wedding breakfast, his mum had told him to invite her. Cassie nearly fell over in her delight. Annie, due to go to work for the day, told her dad to make sure Cassie was dressed in her Sunday best, and that Nellie could see to it that Cassie’s hair looked nice, with a clean ribbon. Freddy said he’d come and fetch her, otherwise she might go wandering off and end up at Peckham Rye. Cassie said Queen Alice went to Peckham Rye once. Nellie asked who Queen Alice was. Cassie said she’d never met her, she’d just read about her, and that she went to Peckham Rye to meet a magician. She wanted him to cast a spell on a wicked witch and make her disappear, only when she got to Peckham Rye, he wasn’t there. Charlie asked what had happened to him. Cassie said he’d already cast his spell, only it had gone wrong and he’d made himself disappear and no-one ever saw him again.

  Cassie was back to normal.

  She was so much herself that she asked Freddy if she could bring Tabby to the wedding. Annie said no, Cassie love, you just can’t take a cat to a wedding.

  ‘But ’e likes weddings,’ said Cassie.

  ‘Still, leave ’im at home, me pet,’ said the Gaffer, ‘and ’e might ’ave a weddin’ of his own, with Mrs Boddy’s lady cat.’

  Cassie giggled. Annie began to get ready to go to work, and Freddy, after telling Cassie he’d come for her at a quarter to twelve, went back home to do any wedding errands that were necessary.

  Just after eleven, Boots answered the phone.

  ‘Is that Mr Adams?’

  ‘Speaking,’ said Boots.

  ‘Inspector Grant here, Mr Adams. Sorry to interrupt, I know you’ve a wedding on today, but I thought I ought to speak to you.’ Inspector Grant sounded as if his nerves had just taken a hammering.

  ‘What about?’ asked Boots.

  ‘The fact is, Ponsonby’s slipped us.’

  ‘What? I’m to believe you’ve been as careless as that?’

  ‘Bloody inexcusable. He got out through the lavatory window at the station an hour ago. I’m there now. If you could see the size of the window you’d wonder how anyone could have managed it. But he did, the slippery bugger. We’re looking for him, of course, and not sparing the manpower, but he’s a peculiar character and I don’t like the thought of what he might get up to.’

  ‘You’re not asking me to join the search, are you?’

  ‘No, no, not at all, Mr Adams. But he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like the fact that you interfered, to start with.’

  ‘He calls that interference, does he?’ said Boots.

  ‘Intolerable interference, Mr Adams, those were his words. Nor does he like you for knocking him out and handing him over to us. He’s got a vindictive streak, and I’ve a nasty feeling it’ll be aimed at you. Or your daughter. Unless we can find him first.’

  ‘Thanks very much for that slice of cheerful news,’ said Boots. ‘Does he know I’ve got a daughter?’

  ‘When we brought him to the station yesterday evening, Mr Adams, your daughter was waiting with the taxi driver. You were with us. Your daughter greeted you.’

  ‘Well, damn that for what it means,’ said Boots.

  ‘Mr Adams, we’ll do our very best to round the man up, and I’ll let you know immediately we do. ‘I’ll have someone contact you at the wedding, if necessary. Meanwhile, can I ask you to take great care of yourself and your daughter? Ponsonby doesn’t look dangerous, but you and I know he is.’

  ‘If I were him,’ said Boots, ‘I’d be running for my life, not thinking about having my own back. But as I’m not him, I’ll watch out. Thanks for letting me know, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m bloody sick,’ said Inspector Grant, and rang off.

  Boots steeled himself to face the day.

  * * *

  The ceremony was for twelve o’clock. At ten minutes to, St John’s Church was full to overflowing for the wedding of two people who, having been born and bred in Walworth, had risen from poverty to become, respectively, an affluent young lady and a highly reputable businessman. Susie Brown was just about the poshest young lady to be seen in Walworth, and Sammy Adams, well, what a bright spark he’d always been. But they never turned their noses up at any of their old friends and neighbours.

  Mrs Brown in a spring coat and a new toque hat, sat with Will and Freddy in the front pew on the left side of the aisle. Cassie, in her best Sunday dress and a little round straw hat, sat as a special treat between Will and Freddy.

  In the front pew on the right sat Sammy and Boots, the best man. Boots, with Ponsonby on his mind, had brought Rosie to the church along with himself and Sammy. He’d been able to calm Sammy’s nerves by telling him to think of how to cut the overheads on the new contract with Coates. Good idea, said Sammy, your dad’s quite bright sometimes, Rosie. I know, said Rosie, I live an awful trying life trying to get the better of him.

  Behind Sammy and Boots sat Chinese Lady, her husband Mr Finch, Emily and Emily’s four-year-old son Tim. Also present were brown-eyed, glossy-haired Lizzy, her husband Ned Somers and three of their children, Bobby, Emma and Edward. Their eldest, Annabelle, was a bridesmaid, along with Rosie and Sally. Then there were Tommy and his wife Vi. Their daughter Alice, eleven months old, was in the care of neighbours, and Vi was just over four months pregnant with her second child. Next to them were Vi’s parents, known to the family as Aunt Victoria and Uncle Tom. Aunt Victoria was inclined to find fault, though not as much as she used to, and Uncle Tom, bluff and equable, was inclined to turn a deaf ear.

  Chinese Lady, Emily, Lizzy, Vi and yes, even Aunt Victoria, were all wearing new outfits purchased at Sammy’s Brixton shop at such an horrendous family discount that he said he’d never lost that much profit in all his life. You’re breaking my heart, said Lizzy. I feel for you, said Sammy, but that kind of thing can undermine the firm’s financial foundations and ruin the whole family. Emily said there would have been no fun in the transactions if Sammy hadn’t mentioned something about the discount ruining him. He thanked her for her kind words. Aunt Victoria said she wasn’t sure that she couldn’t have done better at Bon Marché of Brixton. Uncle Tom said only at twice the cost, so Aunt Victoria changed the subject. Chinese Lady told Sammy he’d got a cheek to let his shop manageress charge her at all. Me, your own mother, she said, you’re heading for purgatory, my lad. I suppose I’ll have to start up a new kind of business when I get there, Ma, said Sammy. Don’t call me Ma, said Chinese Lady, it’s common, and I didn’t bring you up to be common. However, Vi was so delighted with her outfit and the huge discount that she gave Sammy tuppence, which entitled her to give him tw
o smacking kisses. Sammy was so touched he gave her a penny back.

  At five minutes to twelve, with the church waiting for the arrival of the bride, Boots got up and walked along the side aisle to the open doors. The three bridesmaids were there, with the vicar. In their cerise pink, all three girls looked enchanting. Sally, suffering a crush on Boots, blushed as he smiled at her.

  ‘Daddy, it can’t be all over,’ said Rosie, ‘Aunt Susie hasn’t arrived yet.’

  ‘I’ll tell your Uncle Sammy that,’ said Boots, and spoke a few words to the vicar while looking around. He’d noticed a policeman outside the church, a uniformed constable. He was still there. A few people were at the gates, waiting to see the bride. Boots felt the constable was a safeguard for Rosie, and rejoined Sammy.

  Mrs Rachel Goodman sat in a pew with Mr Greenberg, and neither felt out of place in this Christian church simply because they did not feel out of place with a family of gentiles whom they had known for years and had come to love. Rachel wore a midnight blue costume and hat, as close to black as she could get in letting Sammy see she was in mourning for the imminent loss of his bachelor status. Mr Greenberg, in handsome grey, looked a figure of solemn and august maturity. A nephew of his had charge of the pony and cart for the duration of the service.

  Rachel wondered why Polly Simms wasn’t present. She knew she’d been invited. She also knew the brittle and amusing Polly was incurably attached to Boots. They’d both served in the war, and they had a shared experience of its horrors. But Polly would never get Boots. Rachel knew the family so well she was absolutely certain none of Chinese Lady’s diverting sons would indulge in an affair. And Boots had fine steel beneath his easy-going exterior. Was Polly not going to attend the wedding because she could no longer stand being on the outside of the family?

  The church was buzzing, not only in anticipation of the bride, but because of newspaper headlines. A man was being held in custody over the murder of a young girl in Bermondsey and two right here in Walworth. Horrible. Still, Mrs Brown didn’t look too upset about it.