by Dilly Court
Irene’s curiosity was aroused. She had thought that Miss Greenwood was simply a grumpy old woman, and rather eccentric, but now she wanted to know more. ‘Why doesn’t she like people, Martha? And why is she so bitter when she has a lovely home and everything she could possibly want?’
‘She had a disappointment in love and a younger sister who betrayed her.’
‘What happened?’
‘It’s something we don’t talk about.’
Irene digested this in silence, watching Martha as she brushed the piecrust with beaten egg before placing the dish in the oven.
‘There,’ Martha said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. ‘That’s done. Hadn’t you better get back to the sickroom?’
‘Yes, of course, and I don’t want to pry into Miss Maude’s business, but did my room once belong to her sister?’
‘Yes, that was Miss Dora’s room. She was a lovely girl, full of life and pretty as a picture. It wasn’t surprising that Miss Maude’s old sweetheart fell in love with her when his first wife died.’
‘That sounds like a story from a penny novelette. What happened?’
‘I’ve said too much already. It was a long time ago and best forgotten. You mustn’t mention a word of this to Miss Maude; she’d be mortified if she knew I’d told you this much.’
‘I won’t, I promise,’ Irene said reluctantly. ‘I’ll take some of that broth upstairs to Artie. He might be able to manage a few mouthfuls.’
‘My beef tea has been known to work miracles,’ Martha said, beaming as she ladled the savoury-smelling liquid into a bowl. ‘We’ll soon have him back on his feet. And if you write that letter I’ll take it to the post this afternoon.’
‘Maybe it’s not such a good idea after all,’ Irene said thoughtfully. ‘If the police start asking questions and they find out I’m here, they’ll come back for Artie. I don’t want that to happen.’
‘Well, you’re stuck then, aren’t you? She won’t let you go until young Mr Arthur has recovered, so you’d best make the most of it. Now take him that beef tea before it gets cold.’
Arthur’s recovery was slow. Irene was torn between the desire to return to London and the need to make certain that he did not suffer a relapse, which Dr Joliffe warned was quite possible, especially after the patient had been dosed with goodness-knows-what, which might eventually prove to have fatal consequences. In the old days, he added darkly, Biddy Thorne would have been burned at the stake or put in the ducking stool and drowned in the village pond.
After three days, Arthur was well enough to sit in the chair by the fire for an hour or two each afternoon. It was now almost a week since Irene had left London and she was desperately worried. She could not imagine what Pa might be thinking and Ma would be worried sick if she had discovered her missing. She simply had to go home, and now that Arthur was out of danger there was really nothing to keep her here. It was almost four o’clock and Irene had brought a tray of tea to the sickroom with some of Martha’s fairy cakes to tempt his appetite. She set it down on a table beside his chair and she poured the tea. She placed one of the delicate bone china cups in his hand, and went over to the window to draw the curtains. Outside, the sky was the colour of old pewter and a heavy drenching rain was beating against the windowpanes. The lawn below was rapidly turning into a huge muddy puddle.
‘Are you all right, Renie?’ Arthur asked tentatively. ‘You’re very quiet.’
She turned to him, forcing a smile. ‘I can’t fool you, can I, Artie? As a matter of fact I’ve been wondering how to tell you this, but I really must go back to London.’
‘I thought that was it, but I was afraid to ask.’
She was quick to hear the tremulous note in his voice and she hurried over to kneel by his side. ‘You’re well on the mend now. I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t think you was over the worst, but I’ve left the shop all shut up and I didn’t have a chance to tell Pa where I was going. Goodness knows what sort of state he’ll be in by now.’
‘If he’s even noticed,’ Arthur said with a hint of his old spirit. ‘He goes away for weeks on end without a word. It’ll do him good to have a taste of his own medicine.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t want him telling Ma that I’ve disappeared, or Emmie come to that.’
‘And there’s Inspector Kent. What will you say to him?’
‘Nothing about your whereabouts, that’s for sure.’
‘But you were supposed to be passing on information I’d given you. He’ll be wondering where you are. I don’t want you getting into bother with the police because of me. I’ve let him down badly, and you too.’
She squeezed his fingers. ‘Don’t talk soft. Drink your tea and try one of Martha’s cakes. They’re very good.’
Arthur took one, crumbling it between his fingers and frowning. ‘You must go when you please, Renie. I’m getting better all the time.’
‘Are you sure, Artie? I don’t want you going and having one of them relapses that the doctor talks about.’
He flashed her a weak smile. ‘I’m well on the road to recovery, and you’ve done enough for me. I’ll never forget it. I mean that.’
‘Don’t be daft. You’d do the same for me. We’re mates, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, mates. I suppose that is all.’
She stared at him, angling her head. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing. Don’t take any notice of me. It’s the weakness talking, and I’m just being selfish, wanting to keep you here. You go home tomorrow, Renie.’
‘I will, and you’ll follow me as soon as you’re strong enough.’
He shook his head, avoiding her eyes and staring into the fire. ‘I won’t be coming back to London, Renie. There’s nothing there for me now. I’ve missed my chance of taking the journeyman’s examination this year and I’m not even sure I want to be a silversmith. Perhaps I never did and I just let the old man talk me into it. But I won’t let him do that any more. In fact, I think I’d like to stay here in the country and help Aunt Maude on the farm.’
Irene sat back on her haunches, staring at him in astonishment. ‘What? You working on a farm, Arthur Greenwood? You’d miss London and all its excitements too much to bury yourself in the country.’
He turned his head slowly to meet her gaze. ‘If I go back to London I’ll only end up like Billy. The gambling fever got into my blood and it makes me afraid. If I stay here there won’t be the temptations that there are in the city, and I’ll be safe from the Sykes gang.’ He reached out to grasp her hand. ‘You could stay here too, Renie. Send word to London and tell Billy that you’ve had enough of slaving away in the pickle shop, and stay here with me.’
She thought for a moment that he was joking, but there was no hint of humour in his eyes. ‘There now, that’s a pleasant thought, Artie, but what would your Aunt Maude say to it?’
‘She must like you or she wouldn’t have let you have Aunt Dora’s room. My family rarely speak of her, but Mother told me the tale years ago.’
‘Miss Maude has been good to me, but I can’t stay. I’m a London girl through and through and this sort of life ain’t for me. I must go, Artie. You do understand, don’t you?’
He released her hand and his lips curved in an attempt at a smile, but his eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘I do, but if you change your mind you can always come back. We could have a good life here, girl.’
She did not pretend to misunderstand, but she hoped that his dependence on her had been brought about more by illness than a deeper emotion. She rose to her feet and, leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek. ‘It wouldn’t do, but I’ll always love you as a friend, you know that.’
‘I don’t know how I’ll manage without you. Stay with me. Marry me and live here in comfort and safety.’
‘You know I can’t do that, Artie.’
‘Go back to London then. Spend the rest of your life keeping Billy out of trouble and trying to keep one step ahead of the police. It’s not what I�
��d choose for you, but I know I can’t change your mind once it’s made up. I never could, but my offer is still there.’
She sensed the hurt beneath his harsh words and she longed to give him a hug. She wanted to comfort him as she would have done when they were children, but she knew that one wrong word might give him false hope, and that would be cruel. ‘You mustn’t overtire yourself,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll leave you now so that you can get some rest, but I’ll be up again later with your supper.’
She left the room without giving him a chance to argue. She needed time alone to think and restore her equilibrium. Instead of returning to the kitchen where Martha was preparing the evening meal, Irene went to her room. A waft of cold air enveloped her as she opened the door and the room was in darkness. She moved swiftly to the fireplace and went down on her knees to set a match to the kindling. Orange and crimson flames licked round twigs and dry sticks, snapping and crackling and sending sparks up the chimney. When the coals began to glow, Irene raised herself to sit in the chair by the fireside, holding her hands out to the warmth.
She glanced round the room where the flickering firelight sent shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling, and she felt a sudden strong empathy with Dora Greenwood. She wondered if that young woman had sat in this same chair all those years ago, agonising over her future as she did now. Dora had had to make a choice between her sister and her lover and that must have been heart-wrenching indeed. Irene would have liked to know more, but it seemed that the passage of time had not healed the wounds inflicted on Miss Maude and she was afraid to enquire further.
Staring into the flames, she thought about Arthur’s sudden and unexpected proposal. Although she had never for a moment considered him in that light, it would be so easy to accept his offer of marriage and to stay here in the safety of Miss Maude’s lovely old house far away from the stews of London, but she did not love him as he wanted to be loved. He was like a brother to her and always would be. And yet, the thought of a quiet life in the country had a certain appeal. There would be no more long hours spent behind the shop counter, or worries as to where the next meal was coming from. She would not have to worry about Pa’s involvement with the Sykes brothers or his addiction to gambling, nor would she have any further contact with the City of London Police. All she had to do was to change her mind and accept Artie’s proposal.
Chapter Eleven
IRENE ARRIVED HOME after a long and tedious journey. Miss Maude had driven her to Romford station in the farm cart, and she had paid the extra money needed to enable Irene to travel first class to Shoreditch. Touched by this generosity, Irene had been moved to give Maude a hug and a kiss on her leathery cheek. Although Miss Maude had backed away as if she had been stung by a wasp, she had not seemed too put out and had gruffly repeated her invitation to visit the Round House whenever Irene felt like a stay in the country. She had shaken Irene’s hand and stomped off along the platform as the train wheezed to a halt.
Irene was tired after the long walk from Shoreditch to Wood Street. The cold smoky smell of the city filled her nostrils and clogged her lungs in sharp contrast to the fresh country air that she had left just a few hours previously. It was almost dark by the time she reached the shop and she fumbled in her pocket for the key, but when she tried to insert it in the lock she found to her horror that it did not fit. A notice had been pasted to the inside of the door, and she moved closer to read the spidery scrawl. Under new management. Shop closed until further notice. She took a step backwards and was horrified to see that the window was boarded up. She tried the lock again but to no avail.
She stood on the pavement, clutching the bag containing her few possessions and staring helplessly at her former home. It was as if she had awakened from a nightmare only to find that it was actually happening. She looked around, hoping to spot a familiar face, someone who might know what had been going on in her absence, and on the far side of the street she saw a constable patrolling his beat. Her first thought was to run from the law, but then she recognised the friendly face of Constable Burton. She ran across the road, dodging in and out between horse-drawn vehicles and only narrowly avoided being run down by a messenger on horseback. ‘Constable Burton, stop.’
He paused, glancing over his shoulder, and a gleam of recognition lit his eyes with a warm smile. ‘Miss Angel, is it you?’
She hurried to his side. ‘Yes, it’s me. I need your help.’
He puffed out his chest and the buttons on his uniform glinted in the light of the gas lamp. ‘Happy to oblige, miss. What can I do for you?’
‘Do you know what’s happened to my shop? Why is it shuttered and under new management? I never agreed to such a thing.’
‘Don’t you know, miss?’
‘I wouldn’t be asking you if I did.’ Irene hesitated, seeing his face fall at her sharp tone. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been in the country for a few days and now I’ve come back to find I’m locked out of my own home.’
‘I’d like to help you, but it’s not my place to say. Perhaps you’d best speak to the guvner about it.’
‘If you know anything, please tell me.’
‘I can’t tell you much, but Billy – I mean, Mr Angel – was arrested last week. Like I said, miss, you’ll have to see Inspector Kent if you want to know more.’
Irene stared at him in horror. ‘My pa’s been arrested?’
Burton ran his finger round the inside of his collar and his brow puckered with consternation. ‘Like I said, miss, it’s not up to me to give you that information. Is there somewhere you can go for the present? A relative or a close friend who could put you up for a while?’
‘No. I mean, yes. But that doesn’t matter. I must find out what’s happened to my father.’
‘They might be able to tell you at the police station,’ Burton said reluctantly. ‘I’d take you there myself but I can’t leave my beat.’
Despite her agitation, Irene could not help but be touched by his obvious concern for her. She patted him on the sleeve. ‘Don’t worry about me, Constable. I know me way to Old Jewry.’
He looked as though he would like to say more, but he saluted her and strode off at a measured pace with his hands clasped behind his back.
Irene stared after him, stunned by the shocking news. Her father’s parting words came back to her like a hammer blow and she could only hazard a guess that he had been caught red-handed doing a job with the Sykes gang. If that were true, he was in terrible trouble. As Constable Burton had said, there was only one person who could put her straight. She did not relish the thought of seeing Inspector Kent, but she had no choice. She made her way along Cheapside to the police station in Old Jewry.
The desk sergeant raised his eyebrows when she demanded to see his superior. ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, miss.’
‘But I must see him,’ Irene insisted. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’
A grim smile flickered across the officer’s craggy features. ‘I don’t think so, miss. Tell me what the problem is and I’ll see if I can help you.’
‘Please, Sergeant,’ Irene said with what she hoped was a persuasive smile. ‘I really do need to see Inspector Kent. If you would just tell him that Miss Irene Angel is here and must see him urgently.’
‘Even if I was so inclined I couldn’t do that. The inspector ain’t here. Put your question in writing if you must, but that’s all I have to say to you.’
‘But I’ve got to speak to him today. Please tell me where to find him.’
‘I’ve already told you that it’s out of the question, miss.’
Irene had never had hysterics in her life, but now she could feel a bubble rising in her throat which threatened to erupt into a scream. With difficulty, she forced herself to remain calm, and she fluttered her eyelashes. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important. Just tell me where he lives and I’ll put a note through his door. He won’t mind, honest! We’re working together, you might say. He r
elies on me for information.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing a flicker of uncertainty in the sergeant’s grey eyes.
‘I’d lose my job if I gave out such information, miss.’
Irene moved a little closer to the desk. ‘I won’t tell and it really is urgent.’
He shook his head as he scribbled something on a sheet torn from his notebook. ‘I can see I won’t get rid of you until you get what you want, but if you breathe a word of this to anyone …’
‘I won’t, I promise,’ Irene said, snatching the paper from his hand. ‘Cross me heart and hope to die.’ She reached across the counter and kissed his whiskery cheek. ‘Ta, ever so. You’re a darling.’ She did not wait to see his reaction and she left the police station at a run, just in case he should change his mind and send one of his constables chasing after her. She did not stop until she was certain that no one was following her, and she leaned against a lamppost, peering at the scrawled note. 6 Robin Hood Court, Robin Hood Passage, Milk Street. She breathed a sigh of relief; it was not far away. She quickened her step with a burst of energy borne out of desperation. Kent was the only person who knew where her father was and why he had been arrested. She wouldn’t put it past the ambitious police inspector to set Pa up if only to get closer to the Sykes gang. She was angry now as well as worried, and her dismay on finding the shop closed was as nothing compared to her fear for her hapless father.
She knew Milk Street well, and although she must have passed the narrow entrance to Robin Hood Passage many times before, she had never noticed it until now. The dark alleyway opened out into Robin Hood Court, which proved to be a small square surrounded on three sides by modest red-brick houses. These were the type of dwellings that might be inhabited by respectable persons of limited means such as bank clerks, printers and junior lawyers. Irene found number six easily enough and rapped on the door knocker. At first she thought that there was no one in, but as she stepped aside to peer through the window she could see the glow of a coal fire burning in the grate and there appeared to be a small figure lying on the sofa. She knocked again.