The House on Rosebank Lane

by Millie Gray

  ‘I hope not. Mind you, they have their spies everywhere, so they know what we are proposing to get them out. And see that Martin Glover, who recently joined our group.’ She now leaned over to confide to Kirsten. ‘I am sure he is a Labour mole. Got to keep an eye on him. And so, I have a favour to ask.’

  ‘Ask away.’

  ‘It’s just that as Marigold will be staying with her mother tonight, could you stand in and look after the shop?’

  Kirsten’s eyes widened. Her mouth gaped.

  ‘Just from when I leave at seven until I get back at ten thirty, or the very latest eleven or thereabouts. Please don’t say no, Kirsten. It’s your patriotic duty.’

  ‘Patriotic duty?’

  ‘Of course. The country is in a mess and the Conservative Party need to save it! If I thought for a minute that your Labour lot had the savvy, I wouldn’t ask. Besides, you do owe me a favour.’

  Yes, Kirsten nodded, she did owe Stella. She was loath to do it, but her concern for Marigold, who was about to lose her mother, was the deciding factor.

  *

  That evening Kirsten arrived at Castle View at seven o’clock prompt. Stella smiled when she noted that Kirsten was dressed in a dark skirt and white tie blouse. Even her sensible court shoes gave the impression she was going to a meeting of the Women’s Guild.

  ‘Making sure that none of the punters think you are available,’ Stella chuckled as she lifted her mink stole and slung it around her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t laugh! Molly couldn’t do my child-minding, so I had to ask Jeanette. She is the salt of the earth, but I had to tell her I was going to a business meeting with my mother-in-law.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Stella, you just wouldn’t believe how strait-laced Jeanette is. She is a dear friend but she just has never really approved of me . . .’ No way did she wish to insult Stella, so she hesitated before adding, ‘Working here. She really is a . . . puritan.’

  ‘Well, at least she’s looking after Dixie and his sisters. Must be off,’ Stella chanted, as she skipped her way to the door. ‘Any problems tell them to wait until I get back at eleven.’

  ‘Do you think there will be?’

  ‘No. Problems are for others. Not me. They just irritate me. Toodle-oo.’

  The door closed. Stella was gone. Kirsten was in charge.

  *

  The grandfather clock chiming ten caused Kirsten to smile. Everything had gone according to plan. The girls had all arrived for their shifts. Within an hour men were on the doorstep. Money exchanged hands before the clients vacated Castle View. It had all been so much easier than Kirsten had thought.

  One hour was all that was left of her obligation. To pass the time she decided to be kind to Mrs Baxter and wash up some of the drinks glasses and coffee cups. The clock had just sounded ten thirty when the doorbell sounded.

  Thinking it was Stella, and like everyone else who called at night, the door would need to be unlocked from the inside to allow her to enter, Kirsten dashed to open it. A broad grin came to her face as she turned the key.

  ‘Your punctuality is just great,’ she called out as she threw the door open. There, to her consternation, stood a uniformed police inspector and sergeant.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Wise. I am assuming you are Mrs Wise?’ the inspector said, as he gave a polite salute.

  ‘Sir,’ the sergeant said, ‘this is not Mrs Wise. This lady, I think, must be one of the girls. One I have never met.’

  The inspector looked perplexed. True, he had experience of street prostitutes. But he never imagined he would ever meet one in a brothel who dressed like a Sunday school teacher.

  ‘Look, before you get the wrong idea, please come in. I don’t wish anyone to see me speaking to you on the doorstep.’

  Once they were in the lounge, Kirsten blurted, ‘I am just standing in for Stella. She is attending the Tory Party meeting tonight.’

  ‘Be that as it may. We are here because there have been complaints from the residents in Pilrig Street.’

  ‘Don’t like the idea of what is going on in here, they don’t. And they claim it reduces the value of their property,’ the sergeant butted in.

  The inspector raised his hand to indicate to the sergeant that he would lead proceedings. ‘I am Inspector Eddie Carmichael. I have just been promoted into this division and my colleague is Sergeant Jack Weir. We are here tonight to issue a warning about the business that is being conducted here. The day shift should have issued the warning, but they were too busy. We will also be . . .’ He stopped as he became aware that the young woman before him was beginning to hyperventilate. He looked long and hard at her. She was now causing him problems. Feelings that he never thought he would feel for any woman again were rising up inside him. For goodness sake, he told himself, this woman is probably – no, is – a hooker. So how can I possibly be attracted to her? With difficulty, he got himself in control again. ‘As I was saying, I am here to advise Mrs Wise, and any others that are in this establishment tonight, that they are going to be charged with either prostitution or living off immoral earnings.’

  By now Kirsten’s legs were wobbling like jelly. She couldn’t stay upright and flopped down onto a chair. ‘Are you saying that I am –’ She swallowed hard. ‘That I am to be charged? Please, please try and understand I was only doing Stella a favour.’

  ‘Now, where have I heard that one before?’ Sergeant Weir sneered. He then gave a knowing look to the inspector.

  ‘Doing a favour is all I am guilty of,’ Kirsten persisted. ‘It is true that during the day I keep house and do admin for Stella, but I have never, nor will I ever, do anything else.’

  ‘So, you admit you are paid wages from the business that is carried out here?’ the sergeant said.

  Kirsten raised her hand to her mouth. She unwittingly had just given the police the evidence they required to charge her with living off immoral earnings. She just couldn’t believe she had admitted that she was employed here.

  Tears surfaced and, try as she might, she was unable to stop them coursing down her face. All she could think of was what Marigold had told her; that once you got a conviction for either prostitution or living off immoral earnings, then it was more than likely a social worker would be appointed by the courts to see to the welfare of your children. In most cases they deemed that the children, especially girls, were in need of protection, so they were immediately taken into care.

  As Kirsten’s tortured mind went into overdrive, the doorbell rang. Her natural reaction was to get herself up onto her feet but she was too paralysed with fear to move a muscle.

  The person at the door now had their finger on the bell and they obviously were not going to lift it off until they were admitted.

  ‘Look, if you are unable to unlock the door, then give me the key and I will ask Sergeant Weir to do it,’ the inspector said.

  Nodding to the inspector, Kirsten fished in her pocket for the key.

  Sergeant Weir had just left when the inspector said, ‘You are getting yourself into a right state. Try taking deep breaths and, as you calm, things will not look as bad to you.’

  From where she got the surge of energy she did not know, but looking the inspector in the eyes she spat, ‘It is all right for you. You are not a mother. I have three children who depend on me and me alone. Tonight I was doing Stella a favour. And by doing that simple favour my children could end up in care!’

  ‘I think you have got yourself so overwrought that you are seeing the worst scenarios.’

  ‘And what would be the best ones?’

  The inspector shrugged. ‘Firstly, that no action will be taken against you. Or secondly, you could, and I think most likely, be let off with a warning.’

  Sergeant Weir re-entered the room, followed by a bewildered Stella.

  ‘What is going on in here?’ Stella demanded. She seemed to have forgotten that when dealing with the police she always gave the impression that she was a naïve, skittish character rathe
r like the mother in Pride and Prejudice.

  Eddie Carmichael immediately extended his hand to Stella. ‘You and I have not met before. I have just been appointed to this division.’

  ‘Good evening,’ Stella replied, accepting his hand. ‘Now, inspector, given the hour I do wonder if your visit is one of business or pleasure . . .’

  ‘We,’ flustered the inspector, ‘that is, Sergeant Weir and I, are just doing our duty. Mrs Armstrong here has admitted that she is in your paid employ. Therefore it will be for the courts to decide what her job is and if she is guilty of living off immoral earnings.’

  It was true that Stella was advancing in years to the stage where it could be alleged that she was not as bright as she used to be. However, she was still as sharp as a pin. Immediately she realised the problem for Kirsten, whom she could see was upset and anxious.

  ‘Inspector,’ she said in a modified tone, ‘Kirsten tonight was helping me out. She usually works in the mornings doing shopping, banking, just generally seeing to the house.’

  ‘Maybe so, but she is paid, it could be argued, by ill-gotten money.’

  ‘Technically, yes. But, inspector, I pay her from my purse, so technically it could be argued it is my personal money.’

  Eddie pondered.

  ‘Now, while you and I debate on the technicalities, Kirsten needs to go home and relieve her child-minder.’ Stella turned to Kirsten. ‘Come on, now. Home you go. I will sort all this out. See you in the morning.’

  ‘And a member of the constabulary will also be calling on you to charge you with . . .’

  Stella ignored the overzealous sergeant and propelled Kirsten towards the door.

  *

  It was one o’clock in the morning when Eddie got his break. This was because he had spent nearly an hour with Stella, who tried fruitlessly to persuade him to charge everyone except Kirsten. Time after time she had pointed out that everyone, except Kirsten, already had a criminal record, so one more line on their crime sheet wouldn’t matter. Eventually, with great difficulty, he managed to get himself away from Castle View. It was then on to routine duties of meeting up with the beat constables and checking reports.

  He should then have gone to the canteen to have some food, but he didn’t. He started to walk down Leith Walk towards Balfour Street – a street outwith his divisional responsibilities.

  One lower flat dwelling house had a light shining. On checking the number of the tenement, he saw it was the tenement that Kirsten had given as her address. He knew it was madness – he should not be trying to see if the light was coming from her flat. He checked the nameplate and was pleased to note that it read ‘Armstrong’. Lightly, he tapped the door.

  Within a minute the door slightly opened and Kirsten asked, ‘Who the devil are you? And what do you want at this time of night?’

  ‘It is Inspector Carmichael and I just wished to check that you are all right.’

  The door was then flung open wide. Eddie was confronted with a pyjama-clad Kirsten. He saw that she was still furious and frantic with worry. ‘No, I am not all right as you put it. And I am not going to be until I get . . .’ Her voice quivered.

  Eddie then stepped forward: he knew he was crossing a line, and not just that which marked the threshold into Kirsten’s home. He knew this house was not in his division. It was Leith and his division was Gayfield. He also knew he should not be following up an inquiry by visiting a woman at this hour without another officer present. But still, quietly, he closed the door. He couldn’t believe that his instinct was urging him to take her into his arms and comfort her. He was close to throwing caution to the wind when a boy’s voice whimpered, ‘Mummy, where are you? I’m frightened.’

  The change in Kirsten was instant. Running up the hall, she swept Dixie into her arms. ‘There, there Dixie. There’s nothing to worry about. Mummy is home now.’ She then took the boy into the living room, where she sat down, before pulling him onto her knee.

  Eddie followed her into the living room. He was then confronted with Kirsten cradling Dixie into her body, soothing him. This image of devout motherly love moved him. He was surprised that, instead of the obvious deep relationship between Kirsten and Dixie putting a damper on the feelings he was experiencing for her, it only inflamed them.

  He pondered. ‘Your husband?’

  Kirsten tittered. ‘Oh him, well, he simply didn’t like responsibility.’ Eddie looked askance. Kirsten then added, ‘And, as he thought life wasn’t hard enough for us, he did a runner. Left us penniless, he did.’

  ‘You and your little boy?’

  Kirsten nodded. ‘And, as I told you, I also have two lovely daughters.’

  Eddie gazed at the floor. He couldn’t understand how any man could do that.

  Unaware of Eddie’s concern, Kirsten went on dreamlike. ‘If it was not for my mother, my mother-in-law and Stella, goodness knows what would have become of us.’

  ‘Are you divorced?’ he asked. Somehow it was important to him to know that she was available.

  ‘In the process. Then darling Duncan is going to marry another gullible lassie. A native Canadian, apparently . . . The marriage won’t last but that’s her concern. I have enough to worry about here.’ She hesitated. ‘Is there no way to stop action against me?’

  He shook his head. He wished he could somehow lose the report. But that was impossible for him. For the last ten years all he’d had in his life was his police career. He was an exemplary officer who was known to assist people wherever he could. He could bend the rules slightly, but losing the report for Kirsten would mean losing Stella’s, and all her girls’ records too. That action was impossible unless he was prepared to face the repercussions and censure. Oh yes, at the very least questions would be asked as to why a police decision to charge the miscreants was not carried out. Looking at Kirsten again, he was filled with a desire to protect her. But duty was duty, so all he quietly said was, ‘I will try to put in your mitigating circumstances.’

  She now rhythmically began to pat Dixie on the back. Dixie’s eyes dropped and flickered. Try as he might to stave off sleep, it overtook him.

  Glancing at his watch, Eddie was startled to see that he was now over his break time. He was loath to leave this woman who was having such an effect on him. However, duty called, so with the picture of Kirsten gently cradling Dixie now imprinted in his memory, he took his leave.

  Walking briskly back up Leith Walk he became so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not notice two Leith constables on the other side of the road.

  *

  Eddie’s Story

  Had it really been ten years since Eddie’s life had been torn apart? He’d been a cop in A Division then. Married he was to Anna, his school sweetheart. He tried to think back as to whether it was in primary or secondary school that he had fallen in love with her. He shrugged because when exactly he had begun to care for her didn’t matter, only that he did.

  He supposed it was natural for them to find each other. They both resided with their parents in the village of Longniddry in East Lothian. They first met in nursery school. Then it was on to the village primary school. Finally, they travelled on the school bus to their North Berwick secondary school. There was the parting of the ways for two years when they left school. Eddie had to do National Service in Korea. It came as a shock to him to find himself in a foxhole shooting at Chinese soldiers. There seemed to be thousands, but if he did kill any of them, by the morning there were no bodies lying about. Meanwhile, Anna started her training to become a physiotherapist.

  On his return from Korea he met up with her again at the village midsummer party. It felt inevitable that they should get engaged and then married. By that time, he was a constable in the Edinburgh City Police and Anna, having finished her training, was working at the Royal Infirmary in Lauriston Place.

  Three short years after they were wed, his beloved Anna was diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumour. A grade-4 type. When they realised she only had a few s
hort months to live, they went back to Longniddry so her folks could assist him in nursing her.

  The four months seemed, to her mum and dad long, too long for their daughter to suffer. But to Eddie and Anna, who wished to spend their life together, far too short. Before the end she had urged him to marry again. To find a lassie who would have his lovely babies. But marrying again was something he had vowed he would never do. He honestly couldn’t see himself falling in love again. In the ten years since, he had never wavered. There had been offers – especially from the female police constables in the force. He chuckled as he remembered one of the most ardent, Betty Booth, who as luck would have it was now a sergeant in B Division. As he had also been promoted to B Division, they would probably meet on a daily basis.

  He shrugged. He thought up until tonight no other woman would move him as his Anna had. Then out of the blue he came across Kirsten Armstrong. She was a beauty, true; but then so was Betty Booth. There was also the ever-faithful Sylvia, who partnered him whenever he required a social outing companion. Hunching his shoulders again, Eddie tried to think of what exactly it was that was pulling Kirsten to him. It was more than her turquoise eyes and long, soft brown hair. There was something about her. Hadn’t he foolishly left the police station to go and find out if she was okay? That was madness. Truth be told, right now he really wished he was back sitting beside her. Taking her hand in his – trying to allay her fears.

  Eddie was so engrossed in his thoughts that he really wasn’t aware that he had entered the police station until he heard the station sergeant say, ‘Evening, sir. Was there a problem you had to attend to?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, just needed to get some fresh air.’

  Before the sergeant could respond, he took the reports the sergeant had prepared for submission the next morning and started flicking through them.