by Nancy Revell
If the Elliots wanted to be friendly with Maisie, all well and good. If they didn’t, then they didn’t. Maisie had grown a thick skin over the years and wasn’t too fussed whether people liked her or not. Which was not unlike her mother. In fact, the more time Maisie spent with Pearl, the more she realised just how much alike they were.
This past week they’d managed to have a few honest talks. Her mother might not have remembered much about her twenty-four-hour drinking binge, but she could remember every word spoken in the snug and she had told Maisie that she had meant every one of them. She hadn’t minced her words, nor had there been any tears. She’d just told her straight: ‘What I said was true, pet!’. She hadn’t elaborated and she hadn’t got emotional. Maisie had known she was speaking the truth. And she had understood for the first time what her mother had meant when she’d said that she had given her up because she loved her so much.
Maisie still wished Pearl had kept her as a baby, but at least now she understood why she had not. The night of the search and the snippets she had picked up about the kind of life Pearl had led were enough to make her believe that her mother had – and did – love her. And had loved her as a baby.
‘Dinnit hassle me,’ Pearl shouted back down, ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
Maisie let out an audible, theatrical huff.
‘We’re not going to the Ritz, you know, Ma.’ Maisie straightened the ivory rayon tea dress she was wearing under the fur coat that had taken an age to clean after it had been tossed about that godforsaken beach and then used as a blanket.
‘Oh, sounds intriguing. Where are you two off to, then?’ It was Bel emerging from her room with a sleepy Lucille in her arms. Maisie couldn’t help but stare at the tatty toy rabbit her niece was clutching. She would have chucked it out a long time ago if it had been her daughter.
‘Well,’ Maisie said, quickly thinking up a little white lie. ‘There’s a place in town I’ve been told about that sounds quite nice. It’s near the station.’ Maisie paused as if trying to recall what the place was called.
‘How annoying, I can’t remember the name …’
There was nothing wrong with Maisie’s memory, though, and she knew exactly where she was going.
‘Ah, well,’ Bel said, turning to go into the kitchen where she was to make Lucille a hot chocolate as her bedtime treat, ‘I’m sure it’ll be nice, whatever it’s called. I’m sure Ma’ll be telling us all about it in great detail tomorrow.’
As Bel walked into the kitchen, Maisie watched her sister as she started chattering to Lucille. She and Bel really were like chalk and cheese.
‘At last,’ Maisie said as she looked up to see her mother at the top of the stairs. She looked good – all things considered. Her appearance had been given a massive helping hand by Kate, who had knocked up a simple, yet stylish, little black dress for Pearl.
Maisie herself, however, was still very much in Kate’s bad books and would probably stay there for the foreseeable future.
Rosie had also made it plain that she was far from happy with Maisie – and she had spelt it out to her in no uncertain terms that not only had Maisie ruined Bel and Joe’s wedding, but she had totally spoilt their honeymoon night at the Grand as well.
Guilt had never been something Maisie had been plagued with much in her life – a life, it had to be said, that had been far from blameless. Still, Maisie understood that it was right that she make amends to Bel – and Joe – for the irreparable damage she had done to their special day. And it was for this reason that she was taking Pearl out for a drink this evening to the Grand, where they were also going to find out how much a three-course dinner and an overnight stay would cost.
Maisie’s motivations, though, weren’t entirely selfless, as she was also intending to have a chat to the manager about the opening of the Gentlemen’s Club. It was time to start spreading the word. George and Lily had, thankfully, decided to keep her on, and she was keen to prove that they had made the right decision.
‘You look nice, Ma,’ Maisie said, moving out of the way as Pearl came down the stairs.
‘All thanks to little Katie,’ Pearl said, turning to go into the kitchen. ‘Just need to fetch my purse and fags and gas mask. Can’t go out without the essentials.’
Maisie laughed out loud. ‘I don’t know about your purse, there’s never anything in it.’
‘Nana!’ Lucille perked up on seeing her grandmother. Every time Pearl got ready to leave the house, Lucille would beg to go with them. Bel thought it was because her daughter was afraid she would go walkabout again and not come back, but Maisie thought that the little girl simply wanted to join in the fun and go into town and be treated to a glass of lemonade and a bag of crisps – like she’d done the other day when she and Pearl had taken her out for the afternoon.
While Pearl started hunting around for her fags, the front door went and Maisie turned to see Polly and Rosie walk into the house.
‘Hello, Polly,’ Maisie said in her sweetest of voices. She had learnt that if she put on a show of politeness with a hint of humility, Polly would be pretty amiable with her in return.
‘Hi, Maisie, do you know if Ma’s finished whatever she’s baking for DS Miller?’
‘I’m not sure, Polly, but judging by the lovely smells when I came in, I would guess so.’
Maisie smiled at Polly as she bustled past her and into the kitchen, but her face turned to stone when Rosie passed. The two women simply glared at each other – neither of them bothering to hide their true feelings.
Maisie knew Rosie was here to pick up what smelt like a savoury pie of some description and take it to her detective. She had been gobsmacked when she’d heard snippets about this Peter, and that there had been a possible romance but it had hit the buffers. For Rosie even to be just friends with the man, who, by all accounts, was straight as a die, was, in her opinion, complete lunacy. Women in their businesses simply did not hobnob with the boys in blue, unless those boys in blue were far from lily white.
‘Hello, Maisie.’ It was Arthur, coming through the front door. They smiled at each other and exchanged the usual pleasantries as the old man made his way into the kitchen, where he could be heard asking Rosie about one of the women welders called Gloria, and whether she was all set for the christening on Saturday.
‘Come on, Mother!’ Maisie trilled out.
‘I’m coming, Maisie!’ Pearl shouted back. ‘And dinnit call me “mother” – makes me feel ancient!’
‘Found them!’ Pearl raised her packet of Winston’s in the air like it was a trophy she had just won.
‘Thank the Lord for that,’ Maisie muttered. ‘Come on, it’s getting busier than Clapham Junction in here.’
Pearl laughed and then started to cough.
They could still her laughing and coughing as she and her daughter tottered down Tatham Street in the direction of the Grand Hotel.
Chapter Fifty-Five
The South Dock, Sunderland
Rosie was stepping from one foot to another to keep herself warm. Both of her hands were placed, palms up, underneath the cardboard box containing the leek and potato pie that Agnes had just made. It smelt delicious and she could feel the warm pastry through the bottom of the box.
The fret from the North Sea was just beginning to creep into the large gaping mouth of the River Wear and make its way inland. As Rosie tried to calm her growing nerves she could feel the beginnings of a fine drizzle on her face.
She had left the Elliots’ ten minutes ago and had now been waiting for another ten for DS Miller to show himself. She was standing a little way along the quayside, not far from the ferry landing so that she could catch him leaving the police cabin up by the Sea Lock at the end of his day shift. She knew his routine and that he rarely went home before the start of his evening civil defence duties, preferring to go to the police headquarters in town to grab a cup of tea and a sandwich from the canteen and catch up with his former colleagues.
‘Night a
ll, see you in the morning.’ Rosie heard the familiar sound of Peter’s voice as he said his farewells to the other two police officers she knew worked the docks.
She squinted through the darkness and could just about make out the familiar outline of DS Miller’s overcoat, which always flapped about as he never seemed to button it up, and his distinctive trilby hat. She watched as his darkened silhouette stepped out of the cabin and he closed the door shut behind him.
Rosie couldn’t wait for him to reach her, so she started walking towards him.
‘Hi Peter,’ she spoke out into the darkness, the drizzle now starting to dampen the cardboard box she was carrying in front of her. She tried to force her voice to sound normal – nonchalant, even.
The surprise on the detective’s face said he had not been expecting to see Rosie again, and his look was not one of joy.
‘Ah, Rosie. How are you?’ Peter still managed to sound professional, if not entirely friendly.
Rosie felt the smile she had forced to put on her face wane. This was not like Peter. The only time he had ever talked to her like this – so official and formal – was when she had first met him, almost exactly a year ago, the night he had knocked on her bedsit door and told her that her uncle’s bloated body had been pulled out of the River Wear.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Rosie said, trying to match his formal tone.
She took a deep breath and straightened her back. ‘The reason I’ve come to see you is to give you this present of thanks from the Elliots –’ she put her arm out to hand him the pie ‘– one of Agnes’s home-made specialities.’
On seeing the gift, DS Miller’s face softened.
‘Oh, she shouldn’t have,’ he said looking at the proffered box.
‘To quote the family,’ Rosie continued, now just wanting to end this awkward meeting, ‘… “it’s the very least we can do to show how truly thankful we all are for your help in finding Pearl.” There,’ Rosie added, pushing the box into DS Miller’s hands so that he had to take the pie from her, ‘… the message has been delivered, word for word – as well as the present.’
Rosie turned to go. She knew when she was not wanted. Peter clearly was not exactly overjoyed at seeing her; that was for sure.
‘So,’ DS Miller’s voice sounded panicky and he stretched his arm out to grab the woman he loved, but stopped himself. ‘Is Pearl all right?’
Rosie looked at Peter. He was treating her like she was a complete stranger. Still, what should she have expected? She knew she had hurt him – deeply – when she had told him she did not want him. Of course, he was hardly going to be full of the joys of spring. But still, she felt there was something else going on underneath the surface.
‘Pearl appears to have made a full recovery,’ Rosie explained. ‘She seems to be pretty much back to her normal self.’ Rosie wanted to add that she was not sure whether that was necessarily a good thing.
‘Actually, her brush with death seems to have given her a new lease of life,’ Rosie added, thinking of seeing her this evening in her new black dress and how sprightly she was.
‘Often the case,’ he nodded, sagely.
DS Miller had picked up little bits of information about what had happened at the wedding, which had precipitated Pearl’s disappearance.
‘I suppose, being reunited with her daughter as well …’ he added, not needing to finish the sentence.
DS Miller actually knew more about the child Pearl had given up than Rosie realised. On the night Rosie had asked for his help and he had organised a search party, he had heard through the young uniformed officer he had sent to the Elliots all about the very beautiful and dark-skinned long-lost daughter called Maisie. DS Miller was not easily shocked, but he had been really quite flabbergasted by the coincidence that the stunning, mixed-race woman he had seen coming out of the house in Ashbrooke was the very same person who had revealed herself to Pearl at Bel’s wedding.
‘And everyone else well?’ he asked. Rosie had caught him by surprise by turning up like this. ‘Your girls?’
Rosie turned back, hearing the change in his voice. She looked him in the eye. Something was up and she didn’t have a good feeling.
DS Miller returned Rosie’s look and held it.
‘I mean, your women welders … of course,’ he added.
‘Of course …’ Rosie repeated. The bad feeling in her gut was getting worse. ‘They’re all good.’
‘And Gloria? Is she keeping well?’ The concern in DS Miller’s voice was genuine. He’d not heard of Vinnie kicking off again, but that was not to say he hadn’t. If he had, it was unlikely that the police would have been informed.
Rosie felt herself relax a little.
‘Oh, she’s good. She’s had the baby. Actually, she’s having her christened at St Ignatius’s on Saturday. Dorothy, who Gloria asked to be the godmother, has nagged her into submission.’
‘That’s great news.’ He paused, then added, ‘I’m guessing you’re going – you and all your squad?’
Rosie nodded.
‘And her ex, Vinnie, he’s not been causing her any more trouble?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Not as such, but I don’t think he’s best pleased that Gloria’s not letting him see the baby. She’s just keeping her fingers crossed he doesn’t get to hear about the christening until after the event. I think that’s why Gloria’s organised it at such short notice.’
DS Miller took in Rosie’s words and sighed inwardly. Men like Vinnie never changed.
They both stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of them saying anything. Rosie so wanted them to start walking together, as they had done so many times before, and go to Vera’s café and sit and chat.
But that was in the past. There was no going back.
Rosie looked at DS Miller’s face. He looked like he was going to say something.
‘Well, I better get going,’ she said. As she turned and started to walk away, she heard DS Miller speak again.
‘I know,’ he said simply.
He hadn’t been going to tell her, but the words just came out without thinking. It was as if he needed her to know.
After the night he’d seen her going into the house in Ashbrooke, it hadn’t taken him long to find out what was really going on in there. He was a copper, after all. Had been a detective for longer than he cared to think. And it hadn’t taken a genius to work it out, especially when he had gone round the back lane and found the ‘other’ entrance to the property that he now knew went by the name Lily’s.
Rosie froze.
He knew? What? About her other life? Her other girls?
Had her worst nightmare just become reality?
‘What do you mean, you “know”?’ As she spoke Rosie turned around slowly.
Now it was her turn to sound a little hostile.
DS Miller walked towards Rosie – the woman who had stolen his heart, ripped it up and then thrown it away. He had been so pig-headed in his determination to find out her secret. To solve the puzzle. To find out the real reason she wouldn’t be with him. Now his curiosity was satiated. But, how he wished he could turn back the clock and could have just let it be. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
‘I know about Lily’s,’ he said. His voice was flat and didn’t give away any kind of emotion.
Rosie felt the bottom fall out of her world. It was what she had dreaded more than anything since the moment she realised she was falling in love with him.
For a second she felt sick. Nauseous. Afraid. Ashamed. Annoyed. Angry. All at once. All together.
She had worked so hard – had made so many sacrifices – to make sure this moment never happened.
But it had.
He knew the truth about her.
She had come to deliver a pie – had stupidly been excited about seeing him – and now her life, her livelihood, and that of those she loved, was under threat of being blown up right in front of her.
Immediately her thoughts went to Charlotte. Not only w
ould she no longer be able to afford her sister’s boarding school fees if she was behind bars, but she also knew the stuck-up head teacher would have her little sister marched out of those school gates quick as a flash if she found out that Charlotte’s benefactor was in prison – and, more so, if she found out why.
Since her uncle Raymond had driven her to the depths of despair and exhaustion, and then nearly killed her, Rosie had worked hard at repairing her life. And over the past year she had not only salvaged it, but built on it, and was now doing extremely well for herself. She was managing the girls rather than working as one, and she also part-owned the business with Lily. She was easily affording to pay Charlotte’s school fees, and was putting money aside for the future. Life was on the up.
Or rather, life had been on the up.
Until now.
Now, her lover had become her enemy. The man who had made her feel so happy and carefree had become a portent of misery – as well as her potential jailer.
Within the blink of an eye, her life – and that of Charlotte and those at the bordello – was in serious jeopardy.
Rosie had to think on her feet – and quickly. It was obvious Peter knew everything. There was certainty in his voice. This was no fishing expedition. He had somehow got to know about her work at Lily’s.
They both stood there. Rosie felt unable to move, never mind explain.
‘So, now …’ DS Miller broke the formidable silence, ‘I find myself in an untenable position.’
Rosie had no idea what ‘untenable’ meant, except that it was not good.
How had he found out? She had a million questions, but she knew that whatever came out of her mouth next was going to be a game changer. If ever there was a time to play her cards right, then this was it.
‘Well,’ she said, trying to be calm and keep her dignity, although she could see the hurt and anger now showing in Peter’s eyes, ‘what does this “untenable” position mean you’re going to do?’
Rosie was stalling for time to think. Panic was starting to surge through every pore. She could feel the drizzle start to become rain. A part of her wanted to sprint to the bordello and warn Lily that Peter knew and that the police could be bashing their door down at any time.