Instead of going in at the double doors of the flats at ground level as I’d expected, Yusuf took my elbow and shook his head slightly, walking past and heading towards a street beyond. A row of mean Victorian terraced houses, very much like my own, stretched on either side of the street, grey and drab apart from an unexpected couple of hanging baskets, a shiny letter box and knocker, a newly painted yellow door standing out primrose-like in a field of green and brown sludge.
Yusuf stopped a quarter of the way down the street and Musa touched my elbow, silently indicating I should follow them down the narrow passage that led to the house at the back of the terrace. We were obviously expected, because the brightly painted, pillar-box-red door which opened onto the neat patch of garden was ajar and welcoming.
‘Come on in, all of you,’ a disembodied voice floated down the flagged path. ‘I’ve got the kettle on. Is it warm enough to sit outside in the garden, do you think?’
Musa pushed me from behind and all three of us went through the red door that led directly into the tiny kitchen. A motherly looking woman, at a glance I calculated to be around sixty, was reaching into one of the cupboards for a tin.
‘I know I shouldn’t.’ She grinned as she opened the tin, taking a long, almost lascivious look before taking out a chocolate biscuit. ‘But they’re M&S and, quite frankly, I’m totally addicted to anything that comes out of their food hall. Bloody expensive, all of it, but, at my age, I reckon I deserve it…’ She stopped suddenly as she turned her full attention onto me rather than the biscuits she was lovingly and proudly decanting onto a plate. ‘Jesus,’ she said, ‘you’re the spit of her.’
She said nothing more but handed the tray of tea things to Musa and indicated to Yusuf that he should bring one of the chairs from the kitchen in order that all four of us could be seated around the tiny table outside. She poured Yusuf a mug of brackish-looking tea and frowned slightly. ‘Does your dad know you’re hanging around down here on Emerald Street?’
‘I do actually live round here, you know,’ Yusuf laughed.
She snorted disparagingly. ‘Don’t give me that, Yusuf, you’re up in the posh bit. Your dad’s my landlord and wouldn’t be too happy with you coming down on a social visit. I know what your dad and his brother think of us lot actually living down here on this side of the river. Why aren’t you studying, any road? I thought you were set on becoming a lawyer?’
‘That’s what my dad wants, rather than me. Anyway, I’ve finished for the summer and promised Clem I’d bring her down to meet you.’ Yusuf turned to me and smiled. ‘I told you, last time I was collecting rents for my dad, Sheena and I started chatting and she said to bring you down. She does know who Lucy is, don’t you, Sheena? I mean, now that you’ve seen Clementine, is Lucy who you thought she was?’
My heart started pounding uncomfortably in my chest. ‘Is she OK, Sheena? Do you know where she is now?’
‘Well, love, that’s why I suggested Yusuf bring you down. When he said Lucy, I said to him I don’t think any of the girls are called Lucy. You have to remember that most of the girls change their name, usually to something rather more exotic. Tracy becomes Brigitte one night and Genevieve or Lulu the next.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know what it is with the French names, but we’ve all been there, love. I mean, I was born Margaret and I’ve ended up as Sheena. If you hadn’t come down, I wouldn’t have known who the hell he was talking about. I have to say, love, you’re looking a lot better than Lucy did last time I saw her.’
‘When was that? When did you see her last?’
Sheena dunked the remains of her biscuit and ate the soggy result in one mouthful, washing it down with a large mouthful of strong tea. She shook her head as she swallowed. ‘Not for a while now, love. I bet it’s a year at least. I know several of them moved over to, er, Manchester, I think it was. The special constables like to move the girls on. There’s a big push to try and clean up the streets every now and again—usually around election time—and those with no real ties leave for a while and try other cities. Mind you, that’s the younger ones. Most of the girls have children to get back to and are stuck around here.’
I realised I’d been holding my breath, tensing every muscle as Sheena spoke. I breathed out slowly, trying to calm the beat of my heart. ‘Has she definitely left the area, Sheena? I’ve been living around here for nearly a year now and in that time I thought I saw her in the distance a couple of times. The last time I saw her was over two years ago when she was clean. She came to my parents’ house for a fleeting visit and I really thought she was going to be all right that time… She promised me she’d come off the stuff…’
Sheena looked across at me. ‘Sorry, love, but she’s certainly been using again since then and working the streets. So, how come you’re obviously very all right and your sister—your twin—isn’t? Where are your parents? Have they been looking for her too?’
‘It’s complicated—’ I began, but Sheena interrupted me.
‘It always is, love. And believe me there’s nothing I haven’t seen or heard.’ She leaned forward and said, almost proudly, ‘If Helen Rytka hadn’t gone off with that bastard Yorkshire Ripper, taken him into yon wood yard… you know where I mean? Well, it could well have been me he finished off that night. Helen had only just moved from Bradford with her twin—yes, she had a twin too, you know. And they didn’t stick together either.’
‘Sheena, I really don’t think Clementine wants to hear this.’ Yusuf looked uncomfortable. ‘You said you might be able to help, we thought you might be able to tell us where Lucy is living.’
‘I’ve been to Emerald House,’ I said. ‘Several times over the past few months. But no one seems to know of her. Or at least they’re not telling me if they do.’
Musa, usually very much the quieter of my two escorts, was obviously fascinated by Sheena’s claim that she’d only narrowly missed becoming one of the Yorkshire Ripper’s victims. ‘You must have been very young to have been out on the streets when the Ripper was about. I was reading an article about him in the Yorkshire Post the other day; it’s years ago, isn’t it?’
Sheena’s possible escape from the Ripper’s clutches was obviously her party piece and, after pouring more tea for herself—the three of us hadn’t really touched ours—she launched.
‘Well, to you it’d seem like years ago, history I reckon, but to us that went through it all it seems like yesterday. I’d only been at it a couple of weeks—me dad had hit me mum again, you see and he were allus drunk. I knew he’d be coming after me next so I left and went to find one of me cousins down in town. Any road, she put me up in her bedsit for a few nights—let me sleep on her floor—and it were only then I realised she were making her money on the streets. Bloody naïve, I was. After a couple of days, she said I’d either have to go back home or I could try going out with her on the street, which I did. Quite a few of the girls had moved over to Midhope from Bradford and Leeds because of the Ripper, and the Rytka twins were a bit like me: they were fairly new to the game.’
Musa was fully engaged with Sheena’s story, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open, but Yusuf was indicating with little movements of his head that we should be off. I shook my head slightly; if Sheena was going to be on my side I didn’t want to offend her when she was so obviously relishing the retelling of the tale she must have told hundreds of times over the years.
‘Anyhow, one night, it were a Tuesday in January back in 1978, me and Lisa—that’s me cousin—and Helen and Rita Rytka were out for the start of the night. It were bloody cold I can tell you. All the girls were a bit spooked because the Ripper had struck in Leeds the month before, and so we tried to stick together, work in pairs as much as we could. Some of the girls from Bradford and Leeds had come up with a plan: they worked in pairs and one would take down the car number that the other were going off in and then once they returned the piece of paper would be ripped up in front of the driver. Lisa and me thought this were a right good idea, like, and we d
id it too.’ Sheena dipped another biscuit, sucked at it and cackled. ‘Eh, love, you should have seen some of them johns’ faces when they saw us tekking down their number plate—probably thought we was going to blackmail ’em or summat. Anyway, there wasn’t much doing that night so the twins moved down towards the timber yard end of the street arranging to rendezvous—’ Sheena pronounced it rendy vooz ‘—back at the public lavs. They’ve gone now, those, so you won’t really know where I mean. Lisa and me were going to go with Helen and Rita and try our luck down there too, but then a couple of cars stopped for us and they went off by themselves. That’s when the bastard had Helen—killed her with his bloody ’ammer and dumped her body in yon timber yard. And do you know, Rita were so frightened of the cops she didn’t go and tell ’em that Helen were missing for three days. Three bloody days, knowing your twin hadn’t come back…’
I felt sick. I had to get out of there, get some fresh air. Get back to Allegra who at that very moment was being tainted by my stubbornness in moving us into Emerald Street. I stood up, swaying a little, knocking into Sheena’s table. The teacups rattled and I clutched at the table for support.
‘I think we’ll be off, Sheena.’ Yusuf got up from his chair. ‘Thanks for seeing us. If you see or hear anything about Lucy could you let me know? You’ve got my phone number.’
Sheena put her hand on my arm. ‘I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have gone on about the Rytka twins and the Ripper, especially as you’re a twin yourself. I suppose I were just telling you about what it used to be like round here. It’s all different these days, I don’t know all of the girls like I used to. There’s quite a few from Europe, you know, Poland and Romania and I think there’s even a couple of Russian girls out there too. Some don’t even speak English.’ She cackled again. ‘Mind you, I don’t suppose a chat on what’s going on in the world is what the punters are after.’ Sheena paused and then said, ‘And you wouldn’t believe this but some of them are students at the university, trying to make their grants go a bit further I suppose. I reckon they think it’s a bit glamorous, a bit of fun; think that they can make a bit of cash on the side and then go back to who they were. It dunt work like that though—once you start it becomes addictive, especially if you’ve got a habit to feed.’ She looked across at me and raised her eyebrows. ‘Everyone seems to be at it.’
I sat down again, the rising panic that had made me want to get out of the garden and Sheena’s company beginning to subside.
‘So how do you know these two, Clementine?’ Sheena stood and walked over to the tiny patch of garden where pots of herbs were taking in the last of the evening light. She pulled a weed from the oregano, crumbled rosemary between her fingers and sniffed before moving over to the coriander where she pinched compound umbels of tiny purplish flowers from the abundant pot.
‘We’re all at Midhope University together,’ I said, soothed by the loving way this woman was tending her herbs. ‘We’re on different courses—I’m doing Hotel Management—and Yusuf’s dad is my landlord too. Amirah, his sister, is babysitting my little girl at the moment.’
Sheena turned from where she was dividing a clump of lavender and gave me an appraising stare. ‘And you live round here with a little girl? Not the best place for her, is it?’
‘No, you’re right,’ I said, staring back. ‘It’s not. In fact I’m in the process of packing up. I’m getting married in a couple of weeks and taking my daughter to live in Westenbury.’
Sheena whistled. ‘Westenbury? Well that’s certainly a better spot for you both to be. Look, love, I’m sorry I upset you talking about the bloody Ripper and all that. I’m allus here—if you want to come down again at any time, feel free. I did have a bit of an idea about moving myself—I were hoping for a little council flat just out of town but, you know, I’ve been here so long now, it’s home. I still have me regulars, can’t let them down even though they’re getting on a bit like me. And, if I do hear anything about your sister, I’ll let Yusuf here know and he can get in touch with you.’
It was almost ten-thirty by the time the three of us retraced our steps back towards Emerald Street. The street workers were out in ones and twos, plugged into their iPhones, talking on mobiles or to each other. Most stood alone, skimpily dressed or wearing strange combinations of high boots with backless dresses or tiny skirts. I scrutinised each one, desperate to see my own features reflected back at me from just one of them.
Lucy wasn’t there.
*
‘You’re right to get Allegra out of this area,’ Amirah said, as she picked up the textbooks she’d been reading and walked with me down the path to where Yusuf was impatiently waiting at the gate. Cyril, next door’s dog, was doing its usual flinging against the fence trick, barking as it did so and I could see she was relieved once she was away from it.
I went to check on Allegra. She had flung off her covers in the warmth of the July evening and her cheeks were flushed as she slept. A moth was bashing itself against the night-light on the little table by Allegra’s bed and as I watched it, I felt, for the first time since I’d accepted Peter’s proposal, I’d made the right decision about where our lives were heading. I didn’t love Peter—I wasn’t even going to pretend to myself that I did—but I’d had enough of our life down here on Emerald Street. Even if Peter hadn’t come into my life, I told myself, I’d have spent the summer break from college looking for somewhere more suitable for us to live.
I kissed my daughter’s warm cheek. She stirred and muttered, ‘My dog, George,’ before turning and settling back into a deep sleep once more.
‘We’re moving to the country, my darling,’ I whispered. ‘You deserve better than this.’
12
‘Taxi’s here,’ Peter shouted up the stairs. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Mummy, you look lovely. Why can’t I come with you on your hen night? I’m a hen too, aren’t I?’ Allegra was having a bit of a sulk, traipsing round the bedroom in my new high heels and refusing to take them off. ‘Look, these fit me really well,’ she said, pushing her feet to the very end of the open toes so that, if one ignored the huge amount of space at the other end, they did indeed appear to be a perfect fit.
‘Come on, Allegra, Izzy is waiting for me and Peter is taking you and Max to the cinema. He’s ready to go as well, so give me my shoes, go and find your trainers and then we can all get off.’
‘But I want to come with you,’ she whined. ‘Sophie is coming with us too…’
‘Well, that’s lovely, darling. You’ll have a lovely time all together. I think Peter said something about an ice cream once you get there…’
‘But, Mummy, I don’t like Sophie. She’s a big lady, she’s not a little girl like me. She’s bossy.’
I knew just where Allegra was coming from re Sophie, but now was not the time to be analysing either Allegra’s or my relationship with Peter’s fifteen-year-old daughter. I had to push the not overly pleasant thoughts of my soon-to-be stepdaughter from my head for later.
The irritable honking of the taxi’s horn in the drive had me gathering up my bag and phone in one hand and Allegra in the other. ‘Come on, come downstairs and say hello to Auntie Izzy and then I can get off.’
Trailing her feet, Allegra followed me outside into the early evening sunshine where, through the open taxi window, Izzy was wafting her arms, obviously trying to find some cooler air as well as impatiently shouting at me to get in. Swallows were swooping over the newly mown garden and the smell of honeysuckle and lavender had me almost swooning. The two weeks that Allegra and I had been living at ‘Cocky’s Crest’ had coincided with the longest heatwave, apparently, this century. I thanked Peter, God and anyone else listening that Peter had fallen in love with me and we were now living out here in this heavenly house surrounded by glorious countryside.
I breathed in the warm scented air, relieved to see that Allegra was now running off with Max and George—like characters in an Enid Blyton story, I smiled to myself—and got i
nto the back of the taxi with Izzy.
‘What are you grinning at?’ Izzy asked, ‘Is it Cocky or his crest that’s put the big smile on your face?’
‘Bloody stupid name for a house,’ I laughed. ‘Something to do with an Australian cockatoo, I think. Apparently Vanessa spent some time out there and it was her idea to call the house that.’
‘And have you?’
‘Have I what?
‘You know.’ Izzy patted my leg and raised her eyebrows suggestively very much in the manner of Les Dawson. ‘Had a cock or two?’
I tutted as the taxi driver grinned at me through his mirror. ‘Oh, God, have you been drinking already?’
‘Might have. Declan opened a bottle and we drank your health even though you weren’t there. The thought was there though, so I do hope you appreciate it.’
I peered over her shoulder and then squinted down at the floor of the cab. ‘Well at least you haven’t brought pink cowboy hats or veils with ‘Learner’ emblazoned on them.’
‘They’re actually silver and pink,’ Izzy said, ‘and all safely in the boot. This very kind taxi man said I could put them in there so they wouldn’t crease.’
‘Oh, you are joking. Please say you’re joking. I can’t see Mandy Henderson wearing a silver and pink cowboy hat.’
‘Ah, but you couldn’t see her actually wanting to come with us in the first place.’ Izzy grinned. ‘But Harriet said it was actually Mandy herself who asked if you were having a hen do. Hat couldn’t say no and she sort of invited herself along. She and Hat and Grace go back a long way. They were all at school together apparently.’
‘So have you met this Grace woman yet?’ I asked. It seemed a bit weird having a hen do at all but with women I didn’t really know, it was even stranger.
‘No, but if she’s anything like Harriet she’ll be great fun. You did like Harriet, didn’t you?’
‘Very much. Yes, I really did.’
Looking For Lucy Page 11