by Nancy Revell
Bel’s words struck Maisie hard.
‘I do – I did … hate her …’ Maisie stumbled over the words. ‘Honestly … I don’t know what I feel at the moment … All I do know is that I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Or worse still, dying – and it being my fault.’
Bel stared at Maisie dressed in her fur coat, looking like she was off to some kind of posh cocktail party.
‘Well, Maisie, if you want to help look for “our ma”, I can’t stop you. Do as you want. But if you want to come with me, you might well find some of the places I’ll be looking a tad – how would someone like you say it – unpalatable.’
Bel started walking again, as did Maisie.
Her half-sister’s comments had annoyed her, though, and as they marched on, Maisie broke the angry silence between them.
‘I’ve been in a few “unpalatable” places as well, you know, during my life.’ Maisie shot a sidelong look at Bel. ‘I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.’
Bel’s head snapped round to look at Maisie as they approached the glazed tile frontage of the Three Crowns.
‘Really? You could have fooled me.’ Bel looked down at Maisie’s perfectly smooth hands, which she was rubbing together to keep from going numb in the cold.
‘Those hands look like they’ve never done a hard day’s work in their life. And no one’s born speaking with a plum in their mouth – it’s learnt from an early age. As is that air of confidence and arrogance you carry off so well.’
Maisie opened her mouth to speak, but was beaten to it by Bel.
‘You know, Maisie, you obviously think that you’ve had a hard time of it after Ma “gave you away” as you put it, but I’ve lost count of the number of times in my life I wished Ma’d had me adopted out. You have no idea what “our ma” was like when I was growing up. If it hadn’t been for Agnes I probably wouldn’t be here now, or at the very least I’d have ended up in the workhouse. You think you had it bad, well you don’t know the kind of childhood I had to endure. But you don’t see me moaning on about it – or ruining other people’s wedding days to try and make myself feel better.’
Bel drew breath. Since Maisie’s appearance and poor-little-me Orphan Annie performance in the snug, all her own anger and resentment about her childhood had been building up, as well as the anger she had forced down at having her wedding day ruined.
‘If you had a hard time of it growing up,’ Bel was leaning forward glaring into Maisie’s startling hazel eyes, ‘well then, you want to take a walk in my shoes.’
Suddenly Bel straightened up and let out an angry laugh. ‘Ha! Actually, you’d be hard pushed to do that as our ma didn’t think I needed shoes! God, I could tell you some stories that would make your hair curl. You weren’t the only daughter our ma abandoned, you know!’
Bel stopped. The adrenaline and the cold had suddenly made her feel she was going to retch.
Maisie reached her arm out to help steady her sister, who had gone as white as a sheet and looked like she might faint.
‘You know, Bel,’ she said, trying to make her voice as soft and as caring as possible. ‘I am sorry I ruined your wedding day. I really am. I shouldn’t have involved you … I can see now that I made a mistake. And that … let’s just say … I misread the situation. I can see now that you’ve not had an easy time of it either.’
Maisie paused.
‘The thing is, we could stand here all day, freezing our socks off, arguing about who got the worst deal, but that’s not going to do any good. Maybe we could do that later, eh?’ Maisie tried a smile. ‘And then you can make my hair curl even more?’
Bel took a deep breath and felt the wave of nausea leave her.
‘Why don’t we just concentrate on finding our mother for now?’ Maisie said. She could see she had talked Bel down. ‘She mightn’t have been much cop to you or me, but we need to find her. And at the end of the day she is our mother – whether we like it or not.’
Bel stood for a few moments looking at the woman who was her sister, and digested the words she had just said.
Then she nodded her head slightly, but didn’t stay anything. Instead, she turned round and pulled open the door of the Three Crowns and walked into the busy, smoke-filled pub that was known to be particularly popular with sailors on shore leave.
Maisie took a deep, nervous intake of air and followed her younger sister inside.
Bloody hell, she hadn’t planned for any of this.
By six in the evening Agnes, Ronald, Arthur and Joe had regrouped in the kitchen at Tatham Street and were exchanging information.
‘Beryl’s not heard anything, but will give us a shout straight away if she does,’ Agnes said as she grabbed her oven gloves and swung open the door of the range to check on the stew and dumplings she was cooking that was made up with the assortment of vegetables Arthur had brought back from the allotment. He and Albert had gone on a long walk around the Town Moor and had been relieved not to find any sign of Pearl; if she’d staggered on to the moor last night and passed out, there would have been next to no chance of her surviving the night, especially as she had barely an ounce of fat on her, and was wearing a flimsy dress.
‘I’m going back out to meet up with the Major and some of the lads from our squad,’ Joe said, picking up Lucille. ‘Once I’ve put this one to bed and we’ve done a few rounds with the Lambton Worm,’ he joked as his stepdaughter’s face lit up at the prospect of having her favourite story read to her.
‘Good,’ Agnes said, ‘she’s had her tea and she needs an early night after yesterday’s excitement.’
Just then they heard the front door go and everyone fell silent.
‘It’s only me!’ It was Polly back from work. ‘And I’ve brought a visitor.’
Agnes’s face lit up, thinking her daughter had found Pearl on her way home and that finally they could all get back to normal.
When Polly came into the kitchen, followed by Rosie, her face fell.
‘Oh Rosie,’ Agnes said, apologetically. ‘Sorry, I thought you might be Pearl … come in and get warm.’
Rosie forced a smile, but the tense atmosphere in the house was evidence of the serious concerns they all had for Pearl’s welfare.
‘Nana?’ Lucille asked, putting her thumb in her mouth and nestling into the crook of Joe’s neck. She had been asking for her grandma sporadically throughout the day.
‘Nana’s not back home yet, sweetie,’ Polly said, giving her niece a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be back by the time you wake up tomorrow.’
Rosie looked at the worried faces around the kitchen table and thought that none of them seemed convinced by Polly’s hopeful forecast.
‘Come on, I’ll put you to bed and your uncle Joe can read you a story,’ Polly said.
Lucille immediately objected.
‘No, Daddy!’
Polly rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Joe carried an over-tired Lucille into her bedroom, thanking Rosie again for her kind wedding gift.
‘I’m guessing that means you’ve still not heard anything?’ Rosie said to everyone.
‘Not a whisper,’ Agnes said, looking at Rosie standing there in her dirty overalls, her hair tied up with a headscarf. She forced herself not to stare at the scars on her face. She’d had them well covered yesterday at the wedding and this was only the second time she had seen Rosie since that fateful night last year.
‘Ronald’s just nipped across to the Tatham to check Bill still hasn’t heard anything, but that’s doubtful, as I know Bill would have come over and told us himself if he’d got wind of anything. And Joe,’ Agnes continued, ‘said one of the local Home Guard lads heard Pearl’d been spotted coming out of the Norfolk House worse for wear late last night around last orders.’
There was a depressed silence. Everyone knew the pub that was in one of the poorest areas of the town. It was not a place a woman on her own should be frequenting, especially one in a ‘mother of the bride’ velvet dress.<
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‘Honestly, Rosie,’ Agnes suddenly blustered, ‘I’m forgetting my manners. A nice hot cuppa tea? And what about staying for a bit of stew? I’m just about to serve up.’
‘Ah, that’s very kind of you, Mrs Elliot,’ Rosie said, ‘but I’m not hanging about. I just nipped in to see if Pearl had turned up.’
Seconds later they all heard the sound of the front door being opened and closed, and once again they fell silent in anticipation of Pearl’s return home.
‘Ma?’ It was Bel’s voice, sounding out down the hallway.
‘Oh God,’ Agnes mumbled under her breath.
‘Bel … sweetheart … she’s not here.’ Agnes got up to see her daughter-in-law, who she knew would now be even more worried about her mother, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw Maisie following Bel into the room.
‘Oh.’ Agnes couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. It was the last person she had expected to see this evening.
Bel looked at everyone’s bewildered faces.
‘No introductions needed,’ she said, turning to Maisie, who forced an unconvincing smile on to her face. ‘Maisie’s been helping me look for Ma, but so far we’ve not had any joy.’
Bel looked expectantly at everyone else.
‘Sorry, pet.’ It was Arthur; his voice was calm. ‘Nothing at the moment, but everyone’s out looking for her. Joe’s rallied the Home Guard, Beryl’s got her ear to the ground, Ronald’s at the Tatham now – and me and Albert’s been round the Town Moor.’
‘And no one’s even spotted her?’ Bel asked.
There was an awkward silence.
‘Just at Norfolk House.’ Arthur knew it was important to be honest. Bel wasn’t one to be soft-soaped and would be angry if they kept anything from her.
‘Oh, God,’ Bel said under her breath. Maisie looked at her for an explanation.
‘Only the worst dive this side of town,’ Bel said.
‘There’s someone else I know might be able to help,’ Rosie chipped in, hopefully.
Everyone looked at her.
‘He’s one of the coppers down by the docks. He should be coming off his shift now …’ She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘If I go now, I should catch him.’ Rosie grabbed Bel’s hand and squeezed it. ‘The more people looking for her, the more likely she is to be found.’
Rosie completely ignored Maisie, who was standing by Bel’s side. Rosie and Maisie had exchanged words late last night and it had not been pleasant. The whole house had heard them, although everyone knew well enough to stay in their rooms and keep out of the way.
After shutting the front door behind her, Rosie started jogging down Tatham Street towards the south dock. Her heart was hammering hard in her chest, although its pounding had nothing to do with the exertion of running in heavy hobnailed boots – and everything to do with her nervousness at seeing the man she still loved.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Rosie had just turned the corner on to Borough Road when she saw him.
Part of her wanted to turn back and run away – the other wanted to race to him.
She did neither. Instead she slowed her pace – and her breathing – and told herself to get a grip, and do what she had to do. For Bel’s sake. For Bel’s mother’s sake.
‘Peter.’ She didn’t have to shout as he had spotted her straight away, despite the darkness created by the enforced blackout.
‘Rosie.’ His voice was neither friendly nor hostile.
Rosie immediately picked up on a change in him.
‘I didn’t want to bother you …’ she said, trying to keep her voice even. She had to remind herself of the lies she had told him – that she no longer had any feelings for him. She had to play the part. And it was important she play it well – she didn’t want him thinking this was her way of trying to resume their courtship.
‘It’s a bit of an emergency,’ she explained, putting her hands together as she suddenly felt awkward and didn’t know what to do with them.
‘It’s Bel’s mother – Pearl. She got a bit of a shock the other night and she’s been missing ever since. Everyone’s been looking for her, but so far she’s not turned up. I thought of you …’ Rosie voice trailed off.
DS Miller looked at Rosie. This was the first time he had seen her up close since they had drunk their final cup of tea together at Vera’s. She looked tired and her face was still dirty from the yard. There was so much he wanted to say, but he knew this was not the time.
‘Just rewind for a moment,’ he said, putting his gloved hand out as if he were stopping her getting too close to him.
‘You say Pearl got a shock the other night. What about?’
Rosie took a deep breath and tried to explain as simply as possible that the daughter Pearl had adopted out had made a sudden appearance at Bel’s wedding and unveiled herself at the reception party.
‘Afterwards Pearl just walked out – and hasn’t been seen since,’ Rosie finished.
‘Did she have a coat or any other belongings with her?’ DS Miller asked. His mind was now totally switched on to the present crisis. Last night the temperature had been below zero. He knew because he’d been out on patrol. And if the woman was, as Rosie had suggested, prone to drinking a lot, and had been wearing just a dress, the prognosis was not good.
‘Right, I’m going to headquarters to organise a search party. Do you know where Pearl grew up?’
Rosie thought for a moment. ‘As far as I know, the east end … Hendon,’ she said. ‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Just a thought,’ DS Miller said, starting to move away. ‘Go and tell the family we’re organising a search. Tell them to keep looking themselves. Try and think of any places she might go to if she’s upset – apart from the pub.’
As he turned to go, he stopped. His hand pushed his grey-streaked black hair away from his face and he looked at Rosie.
‘I may be going out on a limb here, but tell Bel to think of anywhere her mother used to go to as a child – and to look there. It’s worth a shot.’
He started to hurry away, but again stopped. ‘What number Tatham Street do they live at?’
‘Thirty-four,’ Rosie shouted back, before adding, ‘And … thank you Peter … Hopefully, I’ll see you later.’
The words were out of her mouth before she had time to pull them back in.
She didn’t see any reaction from Peter – only the back of his black coat swooping behind him as he hurried away.
As promised, DS Miller organised a search party for Pearl; he also sent a young police constable to the Elliots to be with the family and keep them informed of any developments.
Beryl kept bobbing in to see Agnes every now and again when she had any bits of tittle tattle to impart, although none of it amounted to much. A couple of fishwives had spotted Pearl last night in various pubs on the south dock, as well as at the Welcome Tavern on Barrack Street. They’d noticed her because they had thought she was ‘a bit of posh’ in her velvet dress, and had thought she was lost – that was until Pearl had opened her mouth and started gobbing off at them.
‘Barrack Street? That’s where Ma was brought up, I think,’ Bel said when she and Maisie had gone back to Tatham Street to check that Pearl hadn’t turned up.
Maisie had looked surprised. ‘Don’t you know where your mother was raised?’ she asked, without thinking. She was tired and she hadn’t been able to hide the criticism in her voice.
‘No,’ Bel snapped back. ‘I’m not sure “where she was raised”, but then again, my ma didn’t bother telling me I had a sister either.’
Bel had glowered at Maisie, who was wise enough not to rise to the bait and bite back.
As they both headed back out into the dark, frosty night, Bel had to admit to herself that she actually knew very little about her mother, or about the upbringing she’d had. Her ma had never talked about it – hadn’t talked about much, really.
Rosie’s detective friend was right, though – it did look like her ma
had been going round her old haunts; probably because she knew she’d get a drink on the house ‘for old times’ sake’.
Joe had seen his new wife for just a few minutes when he’d caught her and Maisie leaving the house as he was coming back with a few of his mates from the Home Guard. On hearing that his mother-in-law had been drinking down by the south dock, they had done an about-turn and immediately gone back out to do a search along the quayside.
A chill had gone down their spines on hearing Pearl had been seen down by the river. It was not uncommon for drinkers there to have one too many and stumble on the cobbles in the darkness and end up in the ice cold river – and those that went in the Wear rarely came back out. At least, not alive.
Rosie and Polly, meanwhile, had been scouring the Villette Road area just up from the east end, and ended up calling in on Hannah, who lived near the Barley Mow Park, and then Martha in Cairo Street – and finally Dorothy, who lived further up in The Cedars.
Not one of them had hesitated – they’d grabbed their coats and gas masks, pulled on their hats and gloves, wrapped scarves around their necks, and joined the hunt.
Martha’s mother had made a round of sandwiches for them all to share, and Hannah’s aunty Rina had gone to see the local rabbi, who in turn had sent a group of young Jewish lads out to find Pearl with instructions to take her to the synagogue – and not to be deterred if she was drunk and abusive.
From the start of their joint search for their ma earlier on in the day, Bel and Maisie must have covered miles as they trooped from one pub to the next. They had gone to all the pubs their mother had been seen in, and cross-examined the regulars and the bar staff on what Pearl had said, done, and where she might have gone – but still, they’d had no joy. Most of the drinking dens they went to, the clientele could barely remember what day it was, never mind much about what Pearl had been up to, or where she had been going to next.
It was now nearly nine o’clock and, although neither of them would admit it, they were both exhausted, and becoming more worried by the minute.