by Cathy Sharp
‘What do you mean exactly when you say you didn’t like the look of things?’
‘I’m not sure. I just felt uncomfortable.’ Margaret frowned. ‘I think I’ve seen the woman who runs the place before. She didn’t interview me, but I saw her in her office talking to a man. I was told he had recently bought the business.’
‘Where had you see the woman, Margaret? Was it here?’ She looked doubtful. ‘Could it have been Mrs Simpson – the customer we made that afternoon dress for?’
‘It might have been. Yes, now you say that, I think it was.’ Margaret nodded vigorously. ‘I knew I’d seen her. It was when I brought something through to the shop for you one morning. She was just leaving the shop but I wasn’t sure who she was. You mentioned her having been in to ask about that dress.’
‘Then she must have sent both our letters. She did ask a lot of questions at the time. I did wonder if she might have had something to do with your letter, but now I think …’
Suddenly the answer came to me in a flash. I hadn’t sent a design to that fashion house; I hadn’t even heard of it until now. Mrs Simpson must have taken something from my portfolio when I showed it to her. But why should she do that? Unless she was acting on behalf of the man who had recently bought her firm …
I knew only one man who might go to such lengths to get me to work for him. It must be Mary’s father. Of course – I had seen Mrs Simpson with him the night Terry took me out to dinner!
It all slotted into place. They had tried to entice my best worker away and then made that generous offer to me – but why? I shivered as I wondered about the motives behind Mr Maitland’s devious activities. Why was he so interested in me?
Without being vain, I knew I was attractive and I did have some talent, but there had to be more to it than that. There were hundreds of pretty girls out there, so why choose me in particular? Was it for another reason, perhaps? A form of revenge against my father? It hardly seemed possible, but I could not think that he had fallen in love with me.
He was far more likely to want to use me for reasons of his own. A shiver went down my spine as I realized Mr Maitland was even more dangerous than I had first believed.
‘You won’t work for them, will you?’ Margaret asked, breaking into my thoughts.
‘No, certainly not. I shall sell them the design if they want it and say that I am not looking for a job.’
‘Good for you,’ Margaret said. ‘But you might have been if Miss O’Rourke had sold the shop.’ She blushed. ‘Terry mentioned it …’
‘And you still decided to stay with us?’
‘I could find another job if I had to, but I wanted to stay, Amy. We’re friends – you, Terry and me.’ Her cheeks were bright red. ‘I’ve invited him for tea this weekend.’
‘Good,’ I said and smiled. ‘You, Sally and I should all go out together one evening. We ought to celebrate.’
‘Only if it’s the Music Hall,’ Sally said. ‘I don’t want to go to one of them fancy concerts.’
‘We’ll go wherever you want; it’s my treat,’ I replied. ‘And now I really must do some work.’
I woke from the dream trembling and sweating that night. It was the first time I’d ever had it at Lainie’s and it frightened me, perhaps because the man’s face was so clear to me now. His eyes were wide and staring and there was blood all over him.
It was a horrible nightmare, the more so because I knew it was Mary’s father who lay there staring up at me with his dead eyes. And I knew that I was frightened of him, frightened that he might not take my refusal to work for him as an answer.
My mother and Lainie had both warned me that he was an evil man, and for some reason I did not understand he wanted me. I knew that I must stay well away from him. I must give him no opportunity to harm my family or me.
I had been back to work for a week when Millie Fairchild came into the shop. I was serving a customer so she took her time looking through the rails and waited until I had finished.
‘I came in when you were away,’ she said, seeming anxious.
‘Yes, I know. My father wasn’t well and I had to take time off to help my mother look after him.’
‘Is he better?’
‘Yes, much better, thank you,’
‘I’m glad,’ Millie said, then hesitated. ‘I want a new evening dress … But there’s something I have to tell you, Amy.’
She was clearly on edge and somehow I guessed it was to do with Mary. ‘It’s obviously private. You had better come into my aunt’s office. She is out this afternoon so we shan’t be disturbed.’
Millie followed me inside and closed the door. Her face was strained as she looked at me, and I could see she was struggling to stay calm.
‘I thought you might have heard, but you haven’t …’ She took a deep breath as I shook my head. ‘It … It’s Paul. He had a terrible accident in his car last night. They took him to hospital, but my father says there isn’t much hope.’
‘Paul … Paul Ross?’ I was in shock, unable to take in what she was saying for a moment. I must have misheard her. She couldn’t have said what I thought, but I could see by her face that she had. I sat down suddenly as my legs went weak, my head spinning. ‘Paul had an accident? Was it on the road or at Brooklands? He told me he liked to race his car there.’
‘On the road. I don’t know much but they say his brakes must have failed. He skidded off the road and hit a tree head on. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Amy. I know you liked him …’
‘Yes. Yes, I did.’ I felt sick and dizzy. It was terrible, terrible news. I couldn’t take it in, didn’t want to believe it was true. ‘I can hardly believe it. You say he won’t recover – there’s no hope?’
It couldn’t be true! Paul dying? It was too much to take in, too terrible to accept.
‘My father says he’s unconscious. They think there’s brain damage. If he lived …’ Millie broke off, a sob in her voice. ‘I can’t bear to think about it. Paul was strange sometimes but I did like him.’
‘Poor Mary,’ I said. ‘She must be suffering so much.’
‘How like you to think of her. She was very unpleasant about you after you left, Amy.’
‘She loved Paul. She was afraid I might take him away from her.’
‘Hardly an excuse for her behaviour.’ Millie frowned. ‘But I do feel sorry for her. She always wanted Paul. Her father was furious when she announced their engagement. They had a terrible row about it that Sunday. He said he would stop the marriage, and she … Well, I couldn’t possibly repeat what she said, Amy, but it wasn’t nice. I’ve decided that I shan’t visit Mary again. I’ll speak to her if I see her out, but I shan’t go to her home. My father is pleased, and Alan agrees that I should drop her. I think Jane feels the same. Alan and I are getting engaged next month.’ She smiled at me. ‘It won’t be a grand affair like Mary’s, of course, but I should like you to come.’
‘Oh, of course, if you want …’ I stared at her. I hadn’t been concentrating. All I could think about was Paul lying in hospital, dying. ‘Do you know where they’ve taken him?’
‘Paul? Yes, it’s a small private hospital. I’ll write the address down for you.’ She took out a leather notebook, wrote the address carefully and tore the page out. ‘Of course. You will want to see him.’
I struggled to contain my impatience. How could she talk about her party at a time like this?
‘I must. Would you excuse me? One of the girls will take your measurements – ask for Margaret, and she will make an appointment for a consultation. I shall be happy to design your dress, Millie, but I have to go to Paul.’
‘Please don’t let me delay you. I’m so sorry …’
I was no longer listening. Hurrying upstairs to collect my bag and coat, my mind was denying the terrible news. Millie was wrong. Paul would live, of course he would. My eyes were smarting with tears as I remembered the last time we had spoken. He had been so desperately unhappy – and now he was dying.
‘Are you a relative?’ the nurse asked when I told her why I had come. ‘Mr Ross is very ill. Doctor says only relatives.’
‘I was a very close friend. Please, I must see him! It means so much to me.’
‘I am very sorry, Miss Robinson. I cannot let you see Mr Ross without permission from his family.’
I gave a sob of despair and turned away. It made things worse to know that Paul was so near, so close to death, and I could not say my farewell to him.
As I walked towards the door once more someone called my name. I turned and saw Mary. She looked awful. Her dress was creased, hair tangled, face red from weeping – but it was the wild look of despair in her eyes that held me rooted to the spot. As I stood there uncertainly she came running towards me and I could see that she was in terrible distress. Without thinking, I opened my arms and she ran into them.
‘Oh, Amy,’ she sobbed. ‘He’s dead … A few minutes ago. He never even knew I was there and I loved him so. I loved him so!’
‘I know, I know,’ I said and stroked her hair as I felt her pain, her despair. The arrogance, the selfishness and the spite had all gone. She was the vulnerable, lonely girl I had taken to my heart when we first met. And I knew what I had to do. ‘He cared for you, Mary. He would have known you were there. I am sure he would have known.’
‘I want to go home.’ Mary was shaking violently, clearly in shock. ‘I can’t go alone. The house is empty; the housekeeper left us last week, and the maids went with her. Come with me, Amy. Please don’t let me be alone now. I can’t bear it. Paul was all I had. I know I was rotten to you, but I was afraid he might choose you, and I loved him so much. I don’t know what to do. I’ll die if I’m alone. I can’t bear it. I can’t!’
‘Yes, of course I’ll come.’
I didn’t hesitate. Mary couldn’t be left alone in this state and there was no point in staying at the hospital. Paul was dead. They wouldn’t allow me to see him while he was still alive, and now it was too late.
The pain of loss that swept over me then was almost unbearable. If I had been alone I might have broken down as Mary had, but somehow I had to get through it; I had to take her home. The thought that she mustn’t be left alone in an empty house was paramount in my mind.
I wondered briefly why Mary’s housekeeper had left them, but it wasn’t important. Nothing mattered but our shared grief.
Tears were slipping down my cheeks as I led Mary outside. The sun was shining. How could the sun still shine when Paul was dead? It seemed all wrong somehow. I was hurting so dreadfully inside but I knew I had to be strong. I had to take Mary home and look after her until she was feeling better.
I saw a taxi and hailed it, then paused for one moment.
‘Is your father at home, Mary?’
‘No. He’s away on business. He won’t be back for ages. I don’t care if he never comes back. I hate him. He’s cruel and ruthless. It should have been him that died. I wish it had been. Oh, God, I wish he was dead and Paul was alive!’
She was near to collapse as I helped her into the taxi. If Mr Maitland had been at home I couldn’t have taken Mary to her house, but neither could I have deserted her in this state. It seemed that I had no choice but to go with her.
She sobbed all the way there, in such a state that I had to deal with paying the taxi and getting her into the house. She told me that the back door was unlocked. She had rushed out in such a hurry when she heard about Paul’s accident that she hadn’t bothered to lock it.
I could hear the dogs howling as I took her round to the back of the house, and realized that they probably hadn’t been fed. If the housekeeper was away and there was no one here to look after them they must be in a terrible state.
‘Who has been feeding the dogs?’
Mary blinked and looked at me stupidly. ‘Paul fed them yesterday, I suppose. I didn’t think. I daren’t go near them. Let them starve. I don’t care what happens to them. They are his … I hope they die. I hope he dies!’
‘It’s not their fault, poor things,’ I said, remembering the way Paul had controlled the dog when I’d first come to the house that day. He at least had cared about their welfare. ‘I’ll see if I can find them some food in a while, after I’ve got you to bed.’
‘Don’t go in to them,’ she warned. ‘They would tear you to pieces.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Isn’t there someone you can telephone to help you, Mary? Someone who would come and see to things for you?’
As we passed through the house I could see that it looked neglected. No one had cleaned up for a while, and I could see Mary’s things lying about where she had dropped them.
‘You can’t go on like this for much longer. You need someone to look after you.’
‘Don’t leave me, Amy.’ She clutched at my arm. ‘Stay with me, please. I need you. You’re my only real friend. The others only came because I gave them a good time. They never really liked me. You liked me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, you know I did, Mary. You were the one who turned against me.’
‘I’m sorry, so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you anything you want – the diamonds my father gave me for my dance if you like.’
‘Don’t be silly! I don’t want your diamonds. I’ll stay with you for a while. You need to sleep. When you’re calmer we’ll talk about this sensibly. You can’t stay here in this house alone, especially while you’re so upset. Could you stay with your aunt?’
‘She isn’t my aunt. She only sponsored me because he paid her. She wouldn’t come near me if he didn’t pay her – and I told her I didn’t need her any more. Why should I put up with her nagging? She was always telling me not to do things, and she didn’t approve of my marrying Paul.’
‘But there must be someone – your mother’s relatives?’
‘There aren’t many and they hate my father. Everyone hates him, Amy. He isn’t a gentleman. He bought my mother with his filthy money, but he couldn’t buy respectability – not once they knew what he was really like.’
‘What do you mean?’
She gave a shrill laugh. ‘Why do you think I never use my father’s name? I’m ashamed of him, that’s why – ashamed of what he does, of his rotten money.’
‘What does he do, Amy?’
‘All the nasty things you can think of,’ she said bitterly. ‘He is a crook and a thief, a pimp and a gangster – and probably a murderer, for all I know.’
‘You don’t mean that? You can’t!’ I stared at her in horror. ‘Your father can’t be all those things, Amy.’
‘Oh, yes he can,’ she said, her eyes gleaming with hatred. ‘I heard him telling my mother once when they quarrelled. She had accused him of something, and he stood there laughing, telling her exactly where the money that paid for her clothes had come from.’
‘But you may have misheard …’ I was fighting the horror, not wanting to accept that such evil could really exist, yet in my heart I knew it did. ‘When people quarrel they often say terrible things.’
‘I know what he does,’ Mary said and her voice was hard, full of hatred. ‘I listen when he doesn’t know I’m around. I hear what he talks about to those men – the ones who do his filthy work for him. Oh, his hands are clean, Amy. He doesn’t actually do these things himself. He just gives the orders and other people do it for him – but that doesn’t make him any the less guilty.’
‘Oh, Mary …’ I stared at her, not knowing what to say.
‘I found proof of something,’ she went on, a small cynical smile on her mouth now. ‘I hid it where he could never find it, and I told him – I told him I knew what he was and that I could prove it. I made a bargain with him. He was my father but we were to live separate lives. He wasn’t to interfere with me, and I wouldn’t interfere with him – but if he ever touched any of my friends or did anything to harm them or me I would go to the police and give them my
evidence, tell them what I knew. And I know a lot, Amy – names, dates, and places. If I told the police they would throw him in prison and never let him out.’
It was blackmail, exactly as she had used against Paul. For a moment I was revolted and wondered why I was there in her house with her, but then I began to see what it must have been like for her, growing up with a father who was steeped in crime and a mother who drank to forget what her husband did.
She had used blackmail to protect herself against her father, and in a way I applauded her courage.
‘Didn’t you ever think he might …’
‘Get rid of me?’ Mary laughed bitterly. ‘If he did, my evidence would find its way to the police. Besides, he says he loves me, accuses me of being cruel to him. I don’t believe him, of course. He doesn’t know what love is …’ Tears filled her eyes once more. ‘The only people I ever had to love me were Eleanor and Paul and now they are both dead.’
‘Come and lie down for a while,’ I said. ‘You should try to rest, Mary. You are exhausted.’
She allowed me to persuade her up to her bedroom, which was far more untidy than the rest of the house and it convinced me that Mary couldn’t stay here alone. I had to find somewhere for her to stay – but where? I knew Lainie had told her she wouldn’t be welcome at the shop again, and she would hardly welcome her to her flat – which wasn’t big enough for all of us anyway.
Mary clutched at my hand as I drew the quilt over her.
‘You aren’t going to leave me? Please, Amy. I’m afraid of being alone. The nightmares will come back if I’m alone.’
‘I have nightmares too,’ I said and sat beside her for a moment. ‘Will you drink something if I make it?’
‘I don’t want anything.’
‘Some warm milk if there is any – or tea. You should have a cup of hot sweet tea, Mary. Will you let me call a doctor for you? He might give you something to help you sleep.’