by June Francis
Relieved that the two seemed to be settling down nicely, Lucia felt a little less on edge. She had several days out with Theresa and Joseph. One day they went with Nellie and her youngsters to Southport, picnicking on the beach and spending time at the fair. They also went blackberrying along the Leeds–Liverpool canal, as well as catching tiddlers with nets and carrying them home in jam jars. The time seemed to drag, though, and a few days before the last of the school holidays, Lucia had to return to work. Theresa kept her eye on Joseph and Jerry, the latter having cycled from Crosby on his bike and was sleeping over for a couple of nights. The two boys spent their time either playing cricket in the back garden or taking turns to ride Jerry’s bicycle around the block.
It was during one such day that Theresa was set on finishing a library book that was due back soon, so for a while she forgot all about the boys. She had believed them to be in the back garden, but when she glanced out of the window there was no sign of them. Thinking that most likely they had decided to play in the street, she went to have a look, but they weren’t there either. She told herself that they could have gone to call on one of their mates from school and that there was no sense in worrying as they would turn up when they were hungry. If only Theresa had checked the boys’ whereabouts three-quarters of an hour earlier, she would have saved several people, including herself, a lot of anxiety.
Fourteen
A short time before, Joseph and Jerry had been taking turns cycling on Jerry’s bicycle and it had been Jerry’s turn to ride round the block while Joseph waited on the pavement for his return. While he stood there practising heading a ball, a black saloon car drew up at the kerb and a man got out. He was a stranger to the boy, so that when the man spoke to him, Joseph ignored him. The next moment the man seized him, pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him off his feet.
Joseph yelled at the man to let him go, but the man ignored his cries, telling him that if he didn’t keep his gob shut and stop wriggling, it would be the worse for him. Joseph yelled all the more and received a clout across the side of his head for his efforts before being slung into the back of the car.
‘Don’t try and attract attention or I’ll knock your block off,’ said the man.
Jerry had just turned the corner into the street and spotted what was happening, and so he acted instinctively when the car began to move off and cycled on the pavement, keeping one eye on the car, memorizing the licence-plate number in case he lost sight of the vehicle, because he knew he’d have a job keeping up with it, especially as it appeared to be heading for the dock road where there were few – if any – traffic lights to slow the car down. He narrowly avoided hitting a dog, and an old woman shouted at him that he shouldn’t be riding on the pavement. Nevertheless he rode on, aware of the ache in his calves but determined to keep going. That man had his best mate and he wasn’t going to get away with kidnapping him. He knew there were bad men who were enemies of his father who had destroyed his garage business; was it possible this man was part of the same gang? But why take Joseph, unless he might have thought he was Jerry, with them both being fair-haired and about the same build and height? It was just like a film on the matinee! Jerry groaned as he saw the car pass the Caradoc pub and turn on to the dock road in the direction of Liverpool.
He knew it would take a miracle for him to keep the car in sight, so he prayed and then remembered it was a weekday; he knew the dock road would be busy with vehicles going back and forth to the various dockyards, so they would slow the car down. He continued to remain on the pavement, riding past various warehouses, timber yards and pubs. He was tiring but was determined not to give up, and was pleased with his efforts when he realized he was approaching the strengthened part of the road that crossed the Leeds–Liverpool canal that emptied into the basin of one of the docks. He did not know where he was exactly, but guessed he must be in Liverpool and had been pedalling for what seemed ages. On his left-hand side were streets of houses; he gave them only a brief glance before returning his gaze to the road just in time to see the car turn into one of the streets ahead.
It was then Jerry’s luck ran out, because he got a puncture. He dismounted and, pushing his bike, ran with it to where the car had turned. It was not a long street but there was no sign of the vehicle. He repeated to himself the licence number, hoping to fix it in his brain so he would not forget it and, as he leaned his bike against a wall, he glanced at the street name. How much help that might be he was unsure, but at least it could pinpoint the area where the car had turned. He knew that Stanley Road and Scotland Road ran almost parallel with the dock road, and that there were other main roads that ran parallel in between, with streets running off them up to Scotland Road. It could be that the car had crossed Scotland Road to a destination in one of the streets on the other side. But thinking about that wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed help.
Unfortunately he did not have his bicycle repair kit with him, so could not fix the puncture. Digging his hand into his jacket pocket he found some coins and drew out several pennies and a couple of halfpennies. He needed to find a phone box, but had no idea where the nearest one was; then he noticed a woman coming towards him and hailed her.
‘Excuse me, missus. Could you tell me where the nearest telephone box is, please?’
The middle-aged woman, wearing a headscarf wrapped in turban fashion over her hair, gazed down at him. ‘I like a polite lad,’ she said. ‘There isn’t one near, but Mrs McGuire who keeps the corner shop might let you use hers for thrupence.’
‘Thank you, can you show me where that is, please?’ Jerry asked.
‘I’ll take you there, lad,’ she said.
He reached for his bike. ‘I’ve a puncture and I want to phone me dad to come and pick me up in his van.’
‘Has he far to come?’
‘Crosby.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t take him long in a van,’ she said.
Jerry hoped so, lifting his bike into the shop with the aid of his Good Samaritan, and thanked her again for her help before she left. It was she who had warned him not to leave his bike outside as it might be nicked. Fortunately there were no customers waiting in the shop so there was room for it.
‘So, chuck,’ said Mrs McGuire, resting her elbows on the counter and gazing down at him. ‘You’d like to use my telephone?’
‘Yes, please. I need to phone me dad.’
‘Come on then, this way, and push your bike through into the back.’
He did as told, following her through a door into a back room cluttered with cardboard boxes and crates. The telephone was fixed to a wall.
‘Would you like me to get the number for you?’ she asked.
‘Yes, please.’ He gave the number and added, ‘My daddy’s name is Tim Murphy. Mine is Jerry Murphy.’
He watched her dial and then heard her ask for Mr Murphy before handing the receiver to Jerry.
He was so relieved to hear his father’s voice that he had to blink back tears and take a deep breath before telling him where he was and that he had a puncture and needed a lift. Tim asked what he was doing there.
Lowering his voice, Jerry said, ‘I’ll explain later, Dad, and it’s important that you get here as quick as you can.’
‘Well, stay where you are. I’ll come for you at the shop.’
Jerry had no intention of moving. His legs were feeling shaky and he was glad to sit down. He gazed at his bike, thinking of Joseph, hoping the man would not hurt him further and that he and his dad could find him soon.
Joseph’s feelings were running along the same lines as Jerry’s. At least his abductor couldn’t hit him right then, because he was driving and had to keep his eyes on the road. In no time at all they stopped in front of a block of flats. He thought that if he managed to escape he should be able to find his way home. He would have to find a bobby. When the car came to a halt near some new buildings, he fumbled with the door to try and open it and get away before the man could get out and catch him.
Only he could not open it and he was filled with despair. He wished Lucia and Jerry’s dad were there. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he attempted to scrub them away with the side of his hand.
The door opened and the man dragged him out by the shoulder of his pullover. He led him to the nearest building and, once inside, forced him up a flight of stairs and along a corridor. He stopped at a door and rang the bell. A few moments later it was opened by a smartly dressed, good-looking woman, who stared at him before throwing her head back and looking up into the man’s face.
‘Who’s the boy, Will?’ she asked.
‘Ask no questions and yer’ll get told no lies,’ he said in a thick, rough voice. ‘But if you must know, Bella, he’s Tommy McGrath’s brat. I’d have thought you’d have recognized him. I want you to keep your eye on him while I take the car back. I also want you to write a ransom note. See if we can get some of the dosh he got away with.’
Isabella had been about to say that she had only seen the boy once or twice, but she felt certain this one was not Jerry. Instead she said, ‘Will, as much as I care for you and was willing to help you with other stuff to avenge yourself on Tommy, or Tim as he calls himself now, I didn’t sign up for kidnapping kids.’
‘Don’t go turning soft on me now, Bella! Get out of the way and let us in. You just do as you’re told or you’ll regret it.’
She was shocked by his threatening her, and for a moment was frozen to the spot. He shoved her aside, thrusting the boy in front of him. ‘Yer’re not to let him out of yer sight and don’t be talking to him. Yer’ll probably get a load of lies out of him. No doubt he’s another like his bloody father.’ Will opened the door and pulled it shut behind him.
Joseph stared at the woman, who appeared vaguely familiar, but he could not remember where he had seen her. At least she wasn’t in favour of what his abductor had done. He wondered what Jerry was doing at that moment. Hopefully he had spotted what happened and had gone for help. In the meantime he must try and escape somehow. At that moment his tummy rumbled and he said, ‘Pardon me!’
‘You hungry, boy?’ she asked.
Joseph nodded wordlessly.
‘Well, come into the kitchen and I’ll make you a jam sandwich.’
‘Thanks,’ said Joseph. ‘Can I have a drink of water, as well, please?’
She turned and looked at him. ‘I’ll say this for you. You’ve got good manners.’
‘I was brought up to say please and thank you. Dad always said it pays to be polite to people.’
‘Did he now? And who is your dad?’
Joseph thought about the question. If he told the truth, where would that leave him if that man came back any minute and she mentioned his father’s name to him? He had to get out of here before that happened. Of course he could give her Jerry’s father’s name, but that would be a lie and a sin. ‘I know your name,’ he said. ‘It’s Bella.
‘And if I’m not mistaken, yours isn’t Jerry. Am I right in thinking that fool has got the wrong boy?’
Joseph nodded. ‘What are you going to do about it?’
She did not answer immediately, but took a loaf from the bread bin and cut a slice from it before reaching for a pot of damson jam from a cupboard. ‘Me ma would be turning in her grave if she knew I’d got mixed up with William again. I was a good sensible girl before she went and died, but that’s love for you. You take note, boy, and don’t get mixed up with the wrong crowd.’
Joseph did not know what she was talking about, so acted dumb and began sidling towards the doorway that led into the sitting room. He was through the doorway and across the other room before she turned round with the jam bread in her hand. He heard her call, ‘Where are you? I’m not going to hurt you.’
Her words caused Joseph to slowly turn and stare at her. ‘Will you let me go, please?’
‘If I do that, my life won’t be worth living. Sit on that sofa and eat your sandwich.’
‘Can I go to the lavatory first, please?’
‘You can, but I’ll be watching out for you.’
Joseph nodded and followed her to the bathroom. Once inside he locked the door and glanced towards the window. At a push he could probably squeeze through it, but how far was it from the ground? He went and had a wee first and then washed his hands, leaving the tap running while he climbed on the bath, unlatched a window and pushed it open. He gazed out and realized he was too high up to risk climbing out and dropping down. At the very least he might break a leg, at the worst he could break his neck. He closed the window and listened and could hear the kettle whistling. It occurred to him that she would go to the kitchen to turn it off, so he left the bathroom. There was no sign of Bella, so he wasted no time creeping up the passage to the front door and nipping outside and running for his life along a corridor and downstairs.
Only to be caught at the building’s entrance by his kidnapper, who seized him by the scruff of the neck and forced him back inside and upstairs to the apartment. Joseph was flung into a bedroom and, near to tears, he kicked the closed door, only to be told to stop that racket or he’d know about it. The boy went and lay on the bed and listened to the raised voices coming from the other side of the door. It was obvious to him that the man was tearing a strip off the woman for allowing him to escape. He heard her telling the man he was a fool and then came the sound of a slap and then silence. Joseph started to pray.
Tim wasted no time climbing in the van and checking his fuel before setting off to fetch Jerry, wondering what had caused him to cycle so far. Maybe he’d done it for a dare? One never knew what boys would take into their head to do if they got bored. Well, it was no use racking his brains, he would find out soon enough. Twenty minutes later, he drew up outside Mrs McGuire’s shop and went inside. He was taken into a back room where he found Jerry sitting, eating broken biscuits from a tin and drinking a cup of water. The lad stood up almost straightaway and went over to Tim, whose arms immediately went round him. Jerry began to snuffle.
‘Hey, there’s no need to be upset,’ said Tim. ‘I’m here now and we can go home.’
Jerry threw back his head and gazed up at Tim through a mist of tears. ‘I’m not upset for meself, Dad. It’s Joseph. He’s been kidnapped.’
‘Kidnapped!’ Tim’s heart seemed to descend into his stomach. ‘Tell me everything.’
Words poured out of Jerry so fast that Tim had difficulty making sense of what his son was saying. ‘Slow down,’ said Tim. ‘Take your time and don’t miss anything out. Have another drink of water first,’ he added, handing the cup to Jerry.
The boy drank most of the water, waited a few moments and began to tell his story over again, ending with the words that he thought Joseph might have been mistaken for him. By the time he had finished, Tim had experienced a whole load of emotions, including admiration for his son’s determination and bravery, as well as bewilderment and anxiety. If a member of the gang was behind the kidnap, this could mean he and Lucia might never be able to be together.
‘You said you remember the licence-plate number?’
‘Yes! It’s one of the ways I managed to keep recognizing the car, because it was black like so many other cars but it helped that it also had a roof rack.’
‘Good lad,’ Tim hugged his son to him. ‘Next move is to get in touch with Inspector Walker. He might have some ideas as to who might be responsible.’ Tim was remembering that the ringleader of the gang could now be out of prison and be hell-bent on punishing Tim further by kidnapping his son, only to have mistaken his identity.
But it was no use thinking about that now; he was wasting valuable time. Lucia had been angry with him for what had happened to Michael. Tim guessed he would really be in her bad books if they didn’t get Joseph back unharmed. He asked to use the telephone, handing over a half-crown to the shopkeeper to cover the cost of the calls he had made. She returned Jerry’s thrupence to him.
Tim was in luck, being able to speak to Sam Walker straightaway, and he told him what had h
appened. He was glad to be able to give him the licence-plate number, as well as a description of the car. Sam was able to confirm that the ringleader had been released from prison recently but, as far as they knew, he had not returned to his previous address as he had parted from his wife. Still, he would get a man on tracing the owner of the vehicle, although it could take some time and it was possible that it had been stolen. He would also put out a call for the bobbies on the beat in the area where Jerry had seen the car vanish to look out for it and report back if they had any luck.
For the moment Tim had to be satisfied that the police would do all that could be done to find Joseph. Although he did not have much hope of tracing the car himself, he decided to drive up to Scotland Road so Jerry could have a lookout to see if he could spot the vehicle. As they headed in that direction, he could hear Jerry praying under his breath and thought, Why not? They needed all the help they could get. They went up and down backstreets running off Great Howard Street and Commercial Road, and then across Scotland Road and up as far as Netherfield Road without spotting the vehicle, then, just when Tim was about to give up, Jerry spotted the car in the grounds of St Anthony’s Church on Scotland Road. Tim parked the van in Newsham Street close by, and he and Jerry made their way swiftly to the church. Tim was convinced the car had been stolen and there was little hope of linking it to William Donahue.
Nevertheless, he and Jerry slipped inside the church, but Tim could see no sign of Donahue, so they went outside again where he and Jerry took up a position where they could watch the car. Tim thought how unusual it was to see a car in such good condition in this area.