by Louise Hare
Evie got off at the next stop despite the driving rain, her umbrella blowing inside out within seconds. She struggled to right it but it was a cheap, flimsy thing, not constructed for more than a light drizzle. She jammed it into a bin as she passed. At least the rain would hide her tears, she thought, marching along Battersea Rise, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
‘What happened to you?’ Delia asked, her forehead wrinkling as she saw her best friend walk in, drenched and miserable.
Evie just shook her head, scared to speak in case she started to cry again. She was ten minutes late and she was relieved to see through the glass panel of his office door that Mr Sullivan was occupied, busy in conversation with young Mr Vernon.
‘Oh, Evie!’ Delia stood and Evie fled, seeking sanctuary in the tiny cupboard that served as the ladies’ WC, locking the door behind her.
The mirror above the sink showed the damage inflicted by rain and misery. Just as well she hadn’t bothered with mascara that morning; it would have run all down her face and made her look even more of a sight. Her hair had formed wet curls, stuck across her forehead. She pulled the hand towel from the rail and held it to her face, hoping it was clean. At least it was dry.
Delia knocked on the door. ‘Evie! Let me in, will you?’
She knew from experience that it would be easier to let her in quickly before she caused a scene. Delia locked them both in as Evie perched on the closed toilet lid.
‘I’ve covered for you with Mrs Jones so you’re welcome.’ Despite her brusque tone, Delia looked concerned. ‘Evie, has something happened? Lawrie’s not in trouble again, is he?’
Evie shook her head. ‘No, I just…’ She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
‘Oh, Evie, then whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.’ Delia hugged her, crouching in the small space.
‘I just, I feel like everyone’s watching me. Have you read the papers? I mean, if anyone finds out that they arrested Lawrie…’ Delia was the only person she’d told about Lawrie’s arrest but enough people had seen it happen. Word could get around in no time. ‘He won’t be safe. He has to spend all day out on the streets and what if someone decides to take matters into their own hands. There were these women on the bus, the way they looked at me…’
‘Evie, this will all blow over. Trust me. And Lawrie will be fine. People know him round our way. They see him every day, delivering their letters. Things might be horrid for a while but once they catch whoever did this, things will be back to normal in no time.’
Evie blew her nose on the rough loo paper and managed a weak smile. ‘Thank you. You always make me feel better.’
‘That’s my job,’ Delia pointed out. ‘Best friend duties. Now come on. I told Sullivan you’d gone to fetch stationery but even he’ll realise soon enough if you’re not at your desk. Get out of that wet coat and we’ll have a nice hot cup of tea.’
Evie nodded and let herself be led by the hand back into the office. The radiator was on full blast and she arranged her coat along it, feeling the steam rise. She warmed her hands on the mug of tea that Delia brought her along with two ginger snaps that were supposed to be for clients only. If Mr Sullivan noticed her odd behaviour then he didn’t say a word, simply calling her in for dictation and issuing tasks as they arose. The tax year was drawing to a close and she supposed he had his hands too full to pay attention to a young secretary. Delia made up for Evie’s uncharacteristic silence, talking endlessly about her evening assignation with Sid from the Lyceum.
‘He must be keen,’ Evie said as they packed up for the day. ‘It’s been less than a week.’
‘I know. I really shouldn’t let him think he’s something special but I can’t help myself.’ Delia peered out of the window. ‘There he is!’ She waved frantically, tutting as Sid failed to notice her, and rushed off shouting goodbye over her shoulder.
Evie took her time going downstairs, waiting for a couple of buses to pass by below the window to make sure that Mildred and her cronies would have left. Famous last words, she thought, as she emerged onto the street and saw who was waiting for her at the bus stop.
Rose Armstrong hadn’t changed in the two years or so since Evie had last seen her. Red hair, dark and sophisticated, a million miles from the carrot hue of Delia’s new beau, perfectly set in waves that sat up on her shoulder. Her navy blue eyes were bravely outlined in deep black mascara despite the inclement weather, and Evie had never seen her without the bright red lipstick that she hoarded, fearful that the prolonged austerity might cause a shortage.
‘Hello, Evie. Been a while.’ The words came out smoothly but Evie saw her mouth twitch as she spoke.
They hadn’t seen one another since the party almost two summers ago. Rose had written to her once, a couple of weeks afterwards, a pitiful page of excuses that just reminded Evie of her own foolishness. She’d held a match to the letter afterwards and burned it in the kitchen sink while Ma was out, rinsing the ashes away so that she could almost believe there never had been a letter at all.
‘Can we talk?’ Rose asked. ‘I know it’s the last thing you want but I promise you this is important. I read the papers like anyone else. I just need ten minutes of your time and then I’ll not bother you again. I swear.’
Evie’s bus pulled up and it would have been so easy to bypass Rose and skip on board. She chewed her lip as she watched the crowded bus stop empty and took a step towards the vehicle.
‘Please? I’ll buy you a cup of tea.’ Rose forced a laugh. ‘And a slice of cake as well if you’re hungry.’
Underneath the make-up Rose looked tired, Evie thought. She didn’t want to sit and drink tea with her but she could see that Rose would not have chosen to wait for her in the freezing cold for no reason. And she’d mentioned the newspaper. Rose might know something, something that could be useful for Lawrie to know.
‘All right,’ she said, injecting her tone with as much reluctance as two syllables could bear the weight of.
They went to the nearest café, the one that Evie usually went to with Delia. At this time of day it was almost empty.
‘We close in twenty minutes.’ The waitress didn’t look best pleased to see them.
‘We won’t be long. Tea for two, please.’ Evie took them to the table furthest from the window.
‘I wanted to come and see you before. To explain properly,’ Rose said when they were settled in their seats, coats shed and unable to bear the silence that Evie forced upon her. ‘Did you ever get my letter? I know it was ages ago now.’
Evie nodded.
‘I did come round after that. Just before Christmas, not the one just gone, the one before. Your mother answered the door and said you’d gone to stay with a relative.’
‘I had pneumonia. The doctor said the city air was bad for my lungs.’ Evie’s tone was flat as she recited the words her mother had told her to say after she’d sent her away.
Rose looked down at her hands. They sat in silence for a few pained minutes, Rose struggling to find the words she obviously needed to say; why else had she come? Evie enjoyed watching her torment.
‘I’ll get right to it then, shall I?’ Rose asked eventually.
Evie nodded again.
‘I know that it was Lawrie who found the baby.’ Rose kept her voice low.
‘The papers haven’t mentioned his name. I checked,’ Evie said, defensive even as she felt a tendril of anxiety stir deep inside. She’d examined all the papers she could think of, had visited different shops each day so that the owners didn’t cotton on to her, but could she have missed one vital report?
‘No, I know. But Frank saw the paper, asking for information, and he rang the police station. Out of spite. They came straight away when he gave them Lawrie’s name,’ Rose told her, her face twisted in apology.
‘I suppose this was DS Rathbone?’ Evie said, shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Yes.’ Rose fixed her gaze on her hands, sitting clenched before her on the tab
le top. ‘Turns out he knows Frank, sort of. They went to the same school, would you believe. Over the moon he was, Rathbone, once he started questioning me. And Frank was sitting there smirking at me the whole time, the jealous fool, too stupid to realise what that copper would be thinking about him, let alone me. It took ages. Rathbone wouldn’t leave me alone even though I told him it was all ages ago and I hadn’t seen Lawrie in well over a year.’ She stopped talking and pressed her lips together so firmly that they all but vanished.
Evie bit her lip. ‘And?’
Rose looked up. ‘And what?’
‘And what did you tell him?’ Evie’s voice rose as she leaned forward over the table.
‘I just… I… Hang on.’
Rose rummaged in her handbag and found a packet of Craven ‘A’, her hands shaking slightly as she flipped open the lid and took out a cigarette before offering the packet to Evie. She paused before accepting. They took a moment to light them as the tea was delivered, the waitress watching them warily as Evie’s fingers shook with barely controlled anger, the match flame wavering.
‘God, that’s better.’ Rose blew out a lungful of smoke, angling it towards the ceiling. ‘Look, I told him nothing new. Just what I knew Frank would tell him anyway.’
‘Which was?’
‘That I…’ Rose sniffed and at least had the decency to look ashamed. ‘I told him that I had entertained the thought – that I—’ She took a deep breath and let it out, her body sagging. ‘You’re really going to make me say it?’
‘You weren’t this embarrassed about telling everyone once upon a time,’ Evie pointed out.
‘I was living in a dream world back then, thinking that Lawrie could save me! Crazy, isn’t it?’ She laughed bitterly. ‘Rathbone told me that you and Lawrie are still together, by the way. I think he was trying to make me jealous but I’m happy for you. I really am.’
‘Rose, you need to tell me what you said to him,’ Evie told her, leaning forward. ‘They arrested Lawrie at the weekend, did he tell you that?’ Rose nodded, blinking her damp eyes, her face pale. ‘You need to tell me now if you’ve said anything that can be used against him.’
‘I kept to the facts. Nothing incriminating. I said that I knew Lawrie from being a volunteer. I’m still in the WVS so I told him to check with them. And that we’d had a… flirtation, but that I hadn’t seen him since.’ The rouge on her cheeks couldn’t disguise her guilty blush.
Evie leaned back as she sipped her tea, hoping to remove the bitter taste from her mouth.
‘Did Rathbone ask you anything else?’
‘He wanted to know if I’d ever had a baby, or got myself in the family way,’ Rose admitted, dropping her gaze from Evie’s cold stare. ‘If I’d ever left Frank. If I made a habit of running around with other men behind my husband’s back.’ She laughed softly. ‘That was when Frank finally stood up and told him he’d asked enough.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s it. I told him I’d been careful, that I’d never got myself in the family way, not even with Frank. And I did leave him for a while, but not long enough to cover up something like that.’
‘You actually left Frank?’ Evie couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. ‘So why go back? Why not get a divorce? The way you read it in the papers, everyone’s doing it these days.’
Rose had bitten away most of her lipstick by now. ‘I stayed in Putney with my sister, Stella, for a while, but she’d just remarried. Her new husband didn’t want me there and Frank kept coming round drunk and making a scene. I tried to get my own place. I still had some savings, enough to rent a flat for a few months, but it was disgusting. Miserable but it was all I could afford.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I’ve not had a proper job since the war, and the jobs I did then aren’t open to women any longer. Apart from anything else, I couldn’t afford a solicitor.’
‘No choice but to go back to being a bored housewife,’ Evie sneered, feeling her lip curl in disgust. What was it about Rose that made her feel like this? This sick hatred that was swirling up now and threatening to overcome her.
‘You don’t understand, Evie!’ Rose slapped her hand on the table, before whipping it back, startled as Evie by her outburst. The waitress glanced over anxiously as she fussed with the sign by the door, flipping it to read CLOSED. Rose leaned forward again, her voice low and fierce, quiet tears flowing in twin mascaraed streams down her face. ‘I hate Frank. I can’t stand to be near him so don’t you dare sit there and think that my life is easy. I did my best to make it clear to that copper that Lawrie could never have done what they’re accusing him of. I certainly didn’t make it any worse than it already is.’
‘Are you really that dense?’ Evie hissed. ‘Can’t you do simple maths? That baby was probably born eight or nine months after you first met Lawrie. Rathbone has proof now that Lawrie knew a local woman at exactly the right time. Even if he believes you, it’s not too far to leap to the conclusion that you weren’t the only woman who made eyes at Lawrie. You’ve made things ten times worse than they already were.’
‘But I came here to warn you!’
‘You came here because you felt guilty, because you know you’ve landed Lawrie right in it. Rathbone only has your word that you didn’t leave your husband to cover up a pregnancy. And Frank’s no good – he’d hardly admit to his wife giving birth to another man’s child, would he? You’ve just given Lawrie a motive, you absolute fool.’
Evie slammed back her chair, twisting her arm as Rose leaned out to grab her. She heard Rose call her name, begging her to come back, but she couldn’t breathe. She flew out of the café, almost crashing into a passer-by on the pavement. It had just started to rain again but, for once, she was grateful, the cold water cooling her down as she managed to catch her breath. She walked fast, heading towards home on foot. She could catch the bus further down, when she knew she was safe from Rose Armstrong.
She jumped on the bus halfway along Battersea Rise and sat down, soaked through now and shivering, her day ending as miserably as it had begun. Now that she could think rationally she could kick herself. She should have questioned Rose, as thoroughly as Rathbone had done. Because she didn’t know how long Rose had been away from her husband. Long enough to bear a child? Evie had been out in Devon for months, had had no contact with anyone in London bar her mother and Delia while she was gone. She had no idea whether Lawrie had seen Rose in that time. She’d never asked him because she was too scared of what his answer might be. And now, as hard as she tried, she couldn’t shake the thought that perhaps Rathbone might just be right about Lawrie.
11
Tuesday had not begun in any better fashion for Lawrie.
‘There was a bloke round here yesterday after you’d left,’ Bert told him as they packed their bags at the start of their shift at the sorting office. ‘Asking questions about you.’
He could guess who easily enough. ‘About me? Who? What’d he look like?’ He tried to keep his tone level but the words came out in a fast staccato.
‘Skinny chap with a ’tache. Walked in here like he owned the place and asked if you were in. There was only me and Dave out here. He asked to speak to the boss.’
‘He spoke to Donovan? You hear what he was asking?’
‘Nah. He showed him something, a card, and then Donovan took him into the office.’ Bert frowned. ‘I’d put money on him being a copper, though. You’re not in trouble, are you?’
Lawrie glanced over at the closed office door and, as if psychic, Eric Donovan threw it open, glaring at him. ‘Matthews! In here.’
‘Sir.’ He took his bag with him in case proof were needed that he was just trying to get on with his job.
Donovan was squeezing back behind his desk when Lawrie entered, every square inch of it covered: paperwork, tea-stained mugs, manila folders. Lawrie thought he even spied the ripped cover of a paperback novel amongst the litter. Funny, he’d not thought of Donovan as a bookworm. He preferred to keep his rather less flattering per
ception of his boss as an unkempt jobsworth, with no skill meriting the promotion to his current role save his ability to lick the boots of his own boss.
‘Don’t bother sitting,’ Donovan warned.
Where would he have sat anyway? There were four large personnel folders stacked up on the chair opposite Donovan, one of which was Lawrie’s own, he could see. He stood behind this tower, his bag slung over his shoulder, hands crossed before him respectfully.
‘You know why you’re here?’
Lawrie shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
‘The police have been round, Mr Matthews. Asking questions about you. D’you know what about?’
‘You know I spoke to them after what happened. That I was there when they found that poor baby. I would guess it was about that.’ He tried to keep his gaze steady as he addressed Donovan.
‘Trust me, son, I’ve no problem letting you go if I find out you’ve lied, either to me or to DS Rathbone.’
‘Sir, I promise. I told you exactly what happened. Everything I know.’ Thank God he’d been straight with Donovan from the beginning. ‘I don’t know what sort of monster could even think of doing such a thing but it’s got nothing to do with me. It was just my bad luck that I happened to be passing.’
‘If there’s any more trouble then—’
‘There won’t be,’ Lawrie interrupted.
‘I won’t protect you, you know. Just ’cause we’ve got an arrangement on the side, don’t think I’ll risk my neck for you.’
The idea almost made Lawrie laugh. As if he’d ever imagined that Donovan would go an inch out of his way to help him!
‘I know, sir. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘Donovan sighed. ‘Last chance. Now, you’ve got something for me?’
Lawrie pulled a brown paper bag from his coat pocket. ‘Here you go, sir.’ An off-ration pound of sugar procured by Derek. ‘Mr Ryan says that you might want to stock up while he has availability.’
‘Tell him I’ll be in touch.’ Donovan secreted the package away in a drawer. ‘Back to work then.’