On that Friday, a few days after Greg’s visit to London, Lottie and Zena went back after lunch with Mabs, to find the shop door wide open and the till completely empty. Zena stared at her mother’s shocked face for a moment then ran to the phone to call the police. The phone had been pulled from the wall and smashed. She stepped warily into the stock room, half afraid of finding someone there, then wailed her dismay.
The shelves had been emptied, everything had been pulled off and lay in a muddled heap on the floor. Worse still the paid and unpaid bills were scattered, the books being prepared each day for the accountant, lay open with the used pages torn out.
To their surprise, the police arrived before they could gather their thoughts and find a telephone.
‘Someone rang but he wouldn’t leave a name,’ they were told. The police took statements and asked people living or working near if they had seen any one near the shop at the time it was unattended. One lady who sat at her front window above the sweet shop for much of the day remembered seeing a man standing staring into the shop.
‘He leaned in and looked around but didn’t go inside,’ she told the sergeant. Encouraged to describe him, she said he was ‘big –huge’ and might have had a beard. She smiled, her eyes glittering with enjoyment, thrilled to be helping in what she described as a daylight robbery. She went on to describe his clothes, closing her eyes as though to see him better. ‘Trilby hat, scruffy suit, raincoat and a bright red scarf.’ She opened her eyes, a dejected expression on her face, spread her hands in disappointment at not having more to offer. The sergeant said he might have been the man who called the police. ‘What a pity I dozed off and didn’t see the robbery,’ she sighed. The policeman sighed and looked at his notes, which he suspected were worthless, thanked her and went away.
When Greg heard, he immediately thought of Arthur, the ex-convict who had been in the café when he and Mabs had been talking about the success of the stationers. The clothing was not unusual, but they sounded like those worn by the man whom Sid had described as having greedy eyes.
Arthur didn’t appear at the café for a week. Greg knew he had to tell of his suspicions although the policeman laughed. ‘A burglar with a beard? Something to make him easily recognisable? And in case you missed that, he wore a bright red scarf. A stupid thief if I’ve ever heard of one, then.’
Their mind was eased from the distress of the robbery by the increase in business giving them little time to dwell on it. Although it was only the end of October, reps were coming in with Christmas on their minds and promises of a better choice if orders were taken early. Surprisingly they were also receiving increases in orders for dance tickets, annual dinners, bridge cards; anything a customer requested would be on order within the hour. Determined to make Christmas a time to boost their business, there were crayons, pen sets, pencils, stationery boxes to fit in school satchels and similar items as gifts for children. Trade grew and increased their hopes of an end to their debts.
The year was set to end happily for them, Greg enjoying the company of Susie Crane, although still unable to free his mind of thoughts of Rose. Zena was no longer dreaming of a magical transformation of Jake into someone she could rely on, and Lottie was learning to cope with life without Ronald.
In London, Jake knew he had to go home for Christmas. He had received no replies to his applications for interviews in his plan to return home. That was one reason to go back for Christmas. The main one was that after his stupid behaviour the previous year, he knew Zena would never forgive him for missing another – even though she hadn’t invited him. He wished he hadn’t been persuaded by Madeleine to forget his intended visit, but she had already bought tickets, and he couldn’t disappoint her, could he?
He went shopping with Madeleine and Rose and bought expensive crackers, a watch and a necklace, besides a variety of foodstuffs they had never seen in his home town. He made sure to pack his bank book to show Zena how well his savings – their savings – were growing. He crossed his fingers and hoped she still loved him enough to care. He would soon find out if the absence had made her regret telling him goodbye.
Although he knew he was being silly, he braced himself before telling Madeleine, afraid she would find a way to stop him going. As if she would bother. Last year was all about Rose and her unhappiness. This year, Rose was settled in a job she enjoyed and shared a house with people she liked. And recently she had seemed very happy, excited, almost as though she were holding a secret that would one day be told and would amaze them. They teased her on their evenings out when he was not travelling, but she wouldn’t tell them what was giving her such secret joy.
Rose was happy, Madeleine would go to friends and, free of concerns about them he would go home and persuade Zena he had changed. No lies, no giving away possessions to people whom he thought deserved them more. He would concentrate on her to the exclusion of everyone else. Nothing Madeleine could say would change his mind this time. He checked the car, worked out the best route and began to count the days, like a child waiting for Father Christmas.
Bypassing Madeleine, he went to see his boss and asked for an extra day off over the Christmas holiday. When he was asked why, he decided to be completely truthful and not spin any of the stories his busy mind so easily invented. He explained that he and his fiancée had problems and he needed to see her, spend some time with her so they could get everything sorted out. He wasn’t very hopeful, this wasn’t the way to talk to the man who could sack him. Why was he such a fool, he wondered gloomily, as the man sat and stared at him for a frighteningly long time?
‘I believe my employees work better when they are happy,’ he said finally.
For Jake it sounded like the introduction to a speech telling him he should leave, that there was no room for people who are unhappy in his empire, but the man smiled, and said he could have two extra days leaving on 22nd and to make sure he had everything happily settled when he came back on 28 December.
Giddy with excitement, believing the permission was an augury for a good outcome, he danced outside the boss’s office then ran to tell Madeleine. This was going to be the best Christmas ever!
Zena and her mother were setting off for the shop when a motor bike was heard coming up the hill. A hand waved and a smiling Kevin stopped beside them.
‘Hello, are you coming to see us?’ Lottie asked curiously.
‘No.’ He grinned at Zena, and lowered his voice. ‘I’m going to the h-h-h-haunted h-h-h-house. What about that then?’ He referred to the abandoned house at the end of the lane passing Llyn Hir, at the edge of the wood above Sam’s farm.
He explained that he had been asked to open it up for the electricians and the gas inspectors to check everything for safety as someone was going to move in. He answered a few questions but knew very little apart from his instructions to look over the place and list anything that needed fixing before the tenants arrived. As they were about to move on, he looked at Zena. ‘Fancy coming for a look-see?’
‘That,’ she replied, ‘is an irresistible invitation. Yes, please.’
She looked at Lottie, who assured her she would manage in the shop for a couple of hours. ‘There are only two people coming to pick up orders, I can manage until lunchtime of you want to stay awhile.’
‘I’ll take you back to the shop, right?’ Kevin promised.
The house looked large and gloomy in the early sunless morning and Zena remembered the creepy feeling she had felt on childhood dares, when she went with giggling friends along the drive to peer through windows.
The door opened smoothly and there was no clutter of forgotten post on the tiled floor. Kevin flicked the switches but no lights came on. He held her hand and led her firstly along a passage through a ragged, green baize door into the kitchen, which was huge.
The room had a fireplace in front of which was something that looked like a Dutch oven, something with a row of hooks which would have been placed in front of a blazing fire to cook meat. The window was
large, but letting in minimal light through its dirty panes. There was a long table with a few chairs, and a sink filled with dead insects and dirt, a gas cooker and what looked like a food safe that belonged outside in a shady place.
In silence they explored the rest of the house, Kevin still holding her hand. A few rooms looked reasonably orderly but the rest had been the repository for unwanted, discarded, dust-covered items. Where there were curtains they were filled with dust that bloomed out when they were touched, and in places had lost their colour and were rotting.
Although it was cold, they sat outside to wait for the surveyors to arrive. They talked about the stories they had invented as children. Even though they hadn’t known each other then, their adventures at the lake and the old house were surprisingly similar. He opened his heavy coat and wrapped her against him, an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled against him, glad of his extra warmth.
The surveyors were there for more than an hour, measuring, and making notes before thanking them, and going on their way. They checked the rooms to make sure nothing had been disturbed, and Kevin locked the door and then they too prepared to leave.
‘Someone is going to have a job getting that place habitable,’ Zena said, looking back at the unloved house.
‘Want the job?’
‘Only if I can burn all those curtains!’ She was shivering.
‘Put your coat on backwards,’ Kevin said, and shook his head when she laughed. She did so, and once on their way she realized it had made sense. The collar was high around her throat instead of there being the gap in the lapels, and she arrived at the shop warmer than she’d expected.
Zena was approaching Mr Roberts’s house a few days later when she saw someone leaving, running fast, he turned towards her then ducked behind a hedge. Curious she pressed hard on the pedals and cycled in the same direction. As she reached the hedge where he had disappeared, she felt a pull at the bike, and was aware of someone behind her pulling on the saddle, slowing her. Then, before she could react, the bike was pushed on its side and she fell.
For a moment she lay there, and foolishly thought about the cake and pastries she had brought for Mr Roberts; they had spilled onto the ground and would be ruined. Then her leg began to hurt, then her ankle that was pressing against the chain, then her elbow started to throb. Slowly she picked herself up. Stopping to collect the wrapped gifts, even though they were probably just a package of crumbs, she left the cycle and limped in to the house, calling as she let herself in.
Doris ran out of her door at the same time and went to help Zena who was limping badly. ‘What happened? I heard shouting and came out and there you are, an accident looking for somewhere to happen,’ she joked, then she realized that Zena was badly hurt. ‘Come on, love, let’s get you inside. What happened to you, fell off your bike, did you?’ She led her into the kitchen and called, ‘Roy? Where are you? Come here. Young Zena fell off her bike. Where is the man,’ she muttered.
‘Someone pushed me off,’ Zena said, tearfully. ‘I didn’t just fall.’
Doris helped her to a chair and she began to shiver, her arms trembling and her teeth chattering. ‘Right,’ Doris said. ‘Roy must be out, so you’d better come in with me and we can get you a good hot cup of tea with lots of sugar.’ As she began to lead her out, arm around her, talking soothingly, reassuring her, the hall door opened and Roy Roberts stood there, his eyes wide with shock, his hand that held the door handle smeared with blood.
‘Roy? What the…? What on earth is happening here?’
‘A burglary. That’s what.’
‘I’ll get you both cleaned up and comfortable then I’m calling the police,’ Doris said, as she filled the kettle and set a tray. Then she went to Roy’s kitchen cupboard, took out the first aid box and began cleaning Zena’s wounds, wrapping her grazed leg and arm in bandages. Then she attended to Roy, who had bruises already developing on his face. ‘Tell me what happened?’ she demanded, ‘the police will want to know every detail, mind.’
‘I don’t want you to tell the police,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell them anything. I didn’t see the man, he just pushed past me and ran out.’ Then with an alarmed glance at Zena, he asked. ‘Did you see him?’
‘No. I couldn’t describe him, he pulled on the back of my bike to stop me and then pushed it and I fell. I didn’t even get a glance at him.’
Roy shrugged. ‘Waste of time calling the police.’ Then he realized his neglect and turned to Zena. ‘I’m sorry, I was so shocked I didn’t think of asking you how you are.’
‘Got any cake, Roy?’ Doris asked. ‘Carbohydrate is good for shock.’
Zena pointed to the bag she had been carrying. ‘There’s a cake in there but I don’t know if it will be fit to eat.’
She was still trembling when, after cake and several cups of sweet tea, she told them about the break-in at the shop. ‘Could it have been the same man?’ she wondered. She told them the description given to the police by a neighbour and at once Roy insisted that it must have been the same man. ‘It’s all coming back to me. I remember now, he was burly, dressed in shabby clothes and he wore a red scarf.’
Doris praised his memory but Zena didn’t believe him and wondered why he had lied. The description had been a fantasy imagined by an old lady who had enjoyed momentary importance.
After the police came, asked questions and were gone, they went out to see if the bike was fit to ride. Apart from a twisted handlebar and a brake that was stuck, it looked possible to ride after a few adjustments, but Doris looked doubtful. ‘I’ll call Kevin, he’ll give you a lift home and you can collect the bike tomorrow when you’re feeling better. He’s asleep, but he won’t mind me waking him. Good lad, our Kevin.’
Zena was quiet as they waited for Kevin to appear. A strong suspicion was growing. The man who had been seen standing at the doorway of the shop at the time of the break-in could have been one of Mab’s night café regulars. Several of them were exprisoners, and they could easily have overheard Greg or Aunty Mabs mentioning that the shop closed and was empty at lunchtime. She crossed her fingers and hoped she was wrong.
Riding pillion on a motor bike was something she would normally have enjoyed but afterwards she had no recollection about the ride apart from hugging Kevin as she had on the ride to the old house. Her mind had been full of all that had happened, suspicions and possible reasons for the attack on her filtering through her mind, faces and names, all abandoned. There was no one in her life who would do such a thing, except the customers in the night café about whom so little was known.
She explained the lack of memory to Kevin, when he called the next day to ask how she was, he said. ‘Right, then. Next time I have a Sunday off, I’ll take you for a proper ride. Clear your mind of the whole thing. Right?’
She smiled and nodded, but she didn’t think it would happen. On a summer’s day perhaps, but in December? Definitely not!
Nelda rang Zena to ask if she could look after the children when school finished but when she heard of the incident at Roy Roberts’s house, she changed her plans and called with flowers and some chocolate. ‘Poor you! What did the police say, is there any news about an arrest?’
‘I don’t think they stand a chance with the robbery at the shop, or finding the maniac who pulled me off my bike.’ She explained to her concerned friend what had happened but couldn’t talk of her suspicions that the man was one of Mabs’s night café regulars. She had promised to say nothing about Mab’s secret night-life and was determined to keep her word.
Days passed and the police had so little to go on that they had little hope of finding Zena’s attacker. There seemed no reason for it unless it was someone having a bit of fun. ‘The theft from the shop could have been done by someone wandering through the village and, seeing an opportunity, took the money and ran. The door was unlocked,’ the constable her.
‘Why did he make such a mess in the store room? If what you say is true then he’d have got out as fast as he
could, not stop to mess up the files and papers.’
‘He might have been looking for something he could sell.’
‘Among statements? Receipts? Invoices?’
‘We are thinking of all the angles,’ the constable assured her, but Zena thought his words were hollow, convinced that he didn’t believe them any more than she did. ‘You’ve arranged for a stronger lock to be fitted?’
‘Of course,’ she said impatiently. ‘It isn’t only the money – that we can ill afford – it’s the anxiety for my mother when she’s here alone.’
The young constable made vague promises and a few sympathetic noises, scribbled a few notes in his book and left.
Jake was leaving the office on the 20 December before he told Madeleine that he was leaving after work in two days’ time. He hadn’t mentioned it before, half afraid she would find a reason to stop him. Rose wouldn’t be a reason this year, she was happily settled with new friends and it was unlikely she would be spending Christmas alone.
He spent the evening ironing – a job he hated, but he wanted to look his best when he met Zena – and packing clothes and gifts for the family. Then he cleaned the room and threw away any food that was likely to smell before he returned, and lay on the bed and dreamed about a happy reunion in which all their differences would melt away. He had to persuade her to try.
The next morning he was met, not by Madeleine but Millie, a shy young typist, who told him that Madeleine had had an accident and would be in after a visit to the doctor. For one guilty moment, Jake wondered if this would cause him to change his plan. Then sympathy returned and he asked what had happened. Before she replied, the phone rang and he was told by the typist that Madeleine couldn’t walk, she had strained her ankle badly and wouldn’t be at work until after Christmas.
The End of a Journey Page 18