‘After tea,’ she told him, and wondered what she ought to wear.
She was surprised. He seemed to understand the machine, to control it quite easily. Lottie had wondered how scared she’d be, but by the time they reached the Old Red Lion out along the York Road, she felt comfortable and safe. Just buffeted by the wind.
‘Well?’ Geoff asked with pride as he dismounted, ‘what do you think?’
‘It’s more fun than I expected. Colder, too.’ She’d put on a heavy coat but could still feel it on her face. ‘I need goggles or something.’
‘Me too.’ He rubbed at the grit in his eye. ‘Better dress up warm next time. Come on, a quick drink then home again?’
‘You shouldn’t have spent the money without talking to me first,’ Lottie said, picking up her gin and tonic. They’d started the conversation at home but she wasn’t ready to let it drop yet.
‘I’m sorry.’ He gave her a rueful look. ‘But you have to admit it was worth every penny.’
‘That’s not the point,’ she said. ‘We’re married, we’re supposed to make decisions together.’
‘I know.’ He played with his pint glass, looking like a chastened schoolboy. She wasn’t really angry, she just wanted to remind him that he didn’t run everything.
‘Just don’t do it again.’ She put her hand over his. ‘Please.’
‘I won’t,’ he answered with a smile. ‘Promise.’
It was dusk as they rode home, the headlight picking out figures on the pavement, the shadows of parked cars. It was different, thrilling. And being so low, just above the road in the sidecar, she felt every bump and dip.
She could get used to this, Lottie decided as he helped her out. And whoever said that about the freedom was right.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
YOUR hair looks wonderful.’
Cathy smiled and primped herself. ‘Do you think Jimmy will like it? The hairdresser did a beautiful job.’
‘He’ll love it,’ Lottie assured her.
‘I bought the dress, too. I’ll change as soon as I’m home so I’ll be ready.’ Her smile started to waver.
‘When’s he due?’ Lottie asked quickly.
‘Eight, he said. Look at me.’ She held up a shaking hand.
‘Talk to him. He’ll believe you.’
‘God, I hope so.’ She didn’t sound certain.
‘We have a shift to do first. Hannah Moorcroft,’ Lottie reminded her.
‘She drifts in and out of consciousness,’ the ward sister told them. Her uniform was crisp, the apron and cap startling white. She had a brisk manner, used to being obeyed without question. ‘Even when she’s with us she doesn’t make much sense. I can’t allow you to interview her.’
‘We need to find out who’s responsible for her being here.’ Cathy’s voice was just as firm. ‘She’s the only one who can say.’
‘Not this morning. The doctor hasn’t seen her yet. He might want to change her medicines.’
‘You do realise that while we’re standing here, some other girl could be ending her pregnancy?’ Cathy asked. ‘That she might end up in the same condition as Hannah?’
The sister sniffed and pursed her lips. She wasn’t used to being challenged, Lottie thought.
‘You’ll still need to wait until the doctor gives his permission.’
‘That’s fine,’ Cathy agreed. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Doctor Harrison.’
‘Where can I find him?’
‘At his rooms, I’d imagine. In Park Square. He does his consultations before he comes for rounds.’
‘We’ll go there.’ She turned on her heel and marched away, leaving Lottie to follow.
‘Snotty madam,’ Cathy said as they crossed the Headrow by the Town Hall. The building was black, towering high above them. Lottie glanced up. It had been part of her life since she was a little girl. Going into town with her mother she always wanted to watch the clocks strike the hour in the Grand and County arcades, laughing at the mechanical display of figures. Then it would be along the Headrow to stand on the open space in front of the Town Hall for a minute. What had happened to that child, she wondered? When did she lose that sense of wonder? ‘Thinks she owns the place,’ Cathy continued.
‘It’s her ward; what she says is law.’
‘Not if a doctor overrules her.’
‘If you can persuade him.’
Cathy grinned. ‘He’s a man. Of course I can.’ She realised what she’d just said. ‘The last time, honestly. Apart from Jimmy.’
That was the beauty of the policewoman’s uniform, Lottie thought. It made people uncomfortable. Within five minutes they were sitting in Doctor Harrison’s consulting room. He had expensive rooms in one of the houses on the north side of Park Square, all elaborate flocked wallpaper and dark wood. Older women with fox stoles sat in the waiting room.
He was in his late forties, a man with a hint of Douglas Fairbanks in his looks, dressed in a lounge suit that hadn’t come from the Fifty Shilling Tailors.
‘How may I help you?’ He took a cigarette from a box on his desk and lit it. The heady smell of Turkish tobacco filled the room.
Cathy explained the situation. As she finished, she slowly crossed her legs, smiling as he heard the swish of the stockings. ‘We need to talk to her as soon as we can.’ Another smile. ‘I’m sure you understand, Doctor.’
‘Of course,’ he agreed, watching her carefully. ‘But we have to be certain she’s well enough to answer. I’m sure you can see that, Constable.’
‘We’d be very grateful if you could arrange something. If she’s not too poorly.’
Harrison look at his wristwatch. ‘I have rounds in an hour. Why don’t you go back to the ward after dinner? I’ll leave instructions that you can talk to Miss Moorcroft if she’s able.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s nothing.’ He stood to show them out. ‘And if there’s anything else I can do to help you…’
‘I’ll be certain to ask.’ Cathy beamed at him.
‘See, I told you it would be easy,’ Cathy said as they sat in the Craven Dairies restaurant on Boar Lane.
‘For you,’ Lottie pointed out.
‘He’s a man. Honestly, give them a kind smile and they’re putty.’
‘That’s what you think. Sometimes they do what they like. Geoff bought a motorbike without even telling me first.’
‘You’re kidding.’
Lottie explained as she ate her ham sandwich and sipped at a cup of tea.
‘I suppose I don’t mind too much, really,’ she finished. ‘I can’t remember the last time I saw him looking so pleased.’
‘He’ll be out tinkering with it every weekend,’ Cathy warned. ‘There’s one down our way. He has his bike in bits so often it never goes anywhere.’
‘I’ll make sure it’s not like that,’ Lottie said. ‘But I did let him know it annoyed me. He won’t do that again.’
‘Until the next time.’
Lottie hoped not.
‘You talk to Hannah,’ Lottie said as they walked into the infirmary, the harsh smell of antiseptic all around. ‘You’ve done all the work on this so far.’
‘Don’t you want to be there?’ Cathy asked in surprise. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I thought I’d see Jocelyn Hill. They’ll be sending her home soon.’
‘I’d forgotten. There’s been so much.’
‘She’s where it all starts,’ Lottie said. ‘Her and Ronnie.’
The ward was spotless, the nurses busy changing one of the beds. The girl sat in bed, hands above the covers, staring at nothing. Her hair was washed, brushed until it shone, and there was colour in her cheeks.
But what was she like inside? Did she manage to sleep at night? Lottie couldn’t know, she’d never know. And there was little she could do.
‘Hello, Jos.’
Jocelyn turned her head quickly. ‘Hello.’ No expression on her face, no pleasure. But at least no pain.
&
nbsp; ‘You’re looking better.’ She settled on to the chair.
Jocelyn shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Home soon?’
The girl’s mouth drooped. ‘Tomorrow. Do you remember Ray?’
‘Of course.’ The young man who’d set them on Jos’s trail. The one who carried a torch for her.
‘He’s coming for me. Bringing some clothes.’ She smiled. ‘Said we could take a taxi an’ all.’
‘You could do a lot worse than him.’
‘I know. But… well, no one’s going to want me now. Not after, you know.’ Absently she rubbed her stomach, where the baby had once been.
‘You wait,’ Lottie told her. ‘Ray’s hardly running away, is he?’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘Have you found Ronnie’s sister yet?’
‘Not yet.’ Lottie hesitated. Should she tell the girl about Jane Walker? The news would be out soon enough. ‘Her mother killed herself.’
‘What?’ Her face contorted. ‘Oh God, no.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
The tears began, and Jos dabbed at them with the back of her hand as she apologised. But few of them were for Jane Walker, Lottie thought. Some for Ronnie; most for her murdered baby. It would be a long time before those stopped flowing, if they ever did.
‘Is there anything else you’ve remembered? Even a little something? It might help us. We don’t want anyone else hurt, Jos.’ But the girl just shook her head, hair swinging like a curtain. Lottie stroked her arm. ‘You just look after yourself. And give Ray a chance. He thinks the world of you.’
She was a few yards away when Jocelyn said quietly, ‘I don’t know what it means but there might be something.’
‘What?’
‘You know how you remember things when you’re not expecting it?’ Jos asked, looking down at her hands.
‘Yes.’ Was this how information happened, she wondered, drip by drip?
‘Last night, just before I went to sleep, something popped into my head.’ Lottie didn’t interrupt; better to let her say it in her own time. ‘It must have been after I thought I’d passed out, after the fat one stabbed me and kicked me. Or maybe I was on the edge, I don’t know. Suddenly I could hear him saying “You’ll have to tell Donough you banged up the car.”’ She looked up. ‘That’s all. I’m sorry.’
‘Donough?’
‘Yes. I’m sure I didn’t imagine it. I’ve never even heard the name before.’
‘That’s wonderful. Thank you.’ She didn’t know if it helped, if it even meant anything. But it was one more piece for the puzzle. Perhaps McMillan would understand. ‘Please, look after yourself.’
At the switchboard they let her use the telephone. A new desk sergeant at Millgarth, a voice she didn’t recognise, then McMillan was on the line.
‘Donough?’ he asked when she’d finished. ‘You’re certain?’
‘That’s what Jos told me,’ Lottie said. ‘Why?’
‘It’s—’ he began. ‘Never mind. Are you still at the infirmary?’
‘Yes.’
‘Stay there. I’ll come and pick you up.’
‘All right,’ she replied, but he’d gone. For a moment she stared at the receiver, then put it down gently. She’d find out soon enough.
‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’ Cathy was standing outside, hiding a cigarette in her cupped palm.
‘McMillan’s on his way over. He wants me for something.’
‘Very mysterious. I got a name from Hannah.’
‘Miss Jackson?’
‘Mrs Manningham. I’ve never heard of her. No address. She didn’t remember, or she didn’t want to say. Somewhere in Hunslet, that’s all. How long will you be?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lottie told her. ‘I don’t even know why he wants me.’
‘You love it. He can’t resist you.’
‘Oh, give over.’ She smiled and shook her head. ‘But it looks like you’ll get to find Mrs Manningham without me.’
‘I’ll tell you all about it later.’ The Peugeot pulled up at the far end of the car park and the horn sounded. ‘His Master’s Voice. You’d better go.’
‘What’s so urgent?’ she asked as he pulled out on to Great George Street.
‘What did Miss Hill tell you?’ McMillan asked as he drove. A cigarette hung from his mouth and he squinted against the smoke.
‘I already said.’
‘Word for word.’
‘“You’ll have to tell Donough you banged up the car.” That’s what Jos said she heard. Who is he, anyway?’
‘James Donough,’ he said with a smile. ‘The type of man you spend a career hoping to get in court.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Lottie said.
‘We’ve been certain for years that he’s behind a number of things. It started during the war. The thing is, he’s clever. He keeps everything at arm’s length. There’s never anything to connect him. It’s all done through companies, nothing to prove he’s involved.’ He grimaced. ‘It’s modern crime and he’s good at it.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Lottie asked. She didn’t understand why he’d brought her along.
‘He’s a widower, but he’s bound to have staff. Grand house: you understand. Talk to them, especially the women.’
‘I can try,’ she said doubtfully. If he was that clever, he wouldn’t be letting the servants know his business.
‘This is the closest I’ve come to having anything on him.’
‘But you don’t,’ Lottie pointed out. ‘Not really.’ Something a woman might have heard, spoken by a man they hadn’t found. It was thin as gauze and he knew it.
‘I’m going to make him think we have more. Try and put the wind up him a little. If you get the chance to plant a few seeds with the servants…’
‘I will.’
Far Headingley. She felt she could almost smell the money in the air. Big, well-kept houses. Large, expensive motor cars in the drives, the fronts gardens lovingly tended.
‘Welcome to the world of the rich,’ McMillan said.
She went to the back door, knocked, then walked into the kitchen. A new gas cooker stood next to the old range. A geyser for hot water by the stone sink. The old world and the new, side by side.
A woman in a black dress and white apron bustled into the room, soles hard on the flagstone floor, stopping suddenly when she saw Lottie.
‘You almost gave me a heart attack.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she began, then stopped, taken aback. ‘Aren’t you Andrea Baldwin?’
‘I am,’ the woman admitted as she stared. ‘Do I know you? You’re dressed like a copper.’
‘I’m a policewoman. Lottie Armstrong.’ The woman looked none the wiser. ‘Lottie. Lottie Thomas when you knew me.’
Barnbow. There’d been thousands of them there during the war, making the shells. Andrea had been in Shed 40, there since the fighting began and the first of the girls were employed. The two of them had shared digs for two months late in 1918 after Lottie had left her previous lodgings. Never friends, but they’d known each other, gossiping over meals, travelling to and from work together.
‘Lottie?’ She seemed to peer, not quite believing. ‘Go on, it can’t be.’ She laughed. ‘You, a rozzer? I’d never have expected that.’
‘I couldn’t have pictured you as a domestic, Andrea. Not after the factory.’
The woman’s smile vanished. She shrugged, putting a pile of tea towels on the table. ‘Didn’t have much choice. No work around, they told me it was take a job as a servant or starve.’
‘What’s it like? Big place.’
‘There are three of us so it’s not too bad. I’m the housekeeper, I live in, up in the attic. Mr Donough could be worse, I suppose. Why are you here, any road?’
‘Your employer. My detective sergeant thinks he’s a criminal. Behind all sorts of things, evidently.’
‘Mr Donough?’ Andrea asked in disbelief. ‘He can’t be. Come on, sit yourself down. I’ll put th
e kettle on.’
She’d worked there almost a year, it turned out. There’d been other jobs after Barnbow. Another factory until the soldiers were home, working in a shop for a while and then a mill. But that had closed and she’d joined all the others, too many people chasing too little work.
‘Are you serious about Mr Donough being a crook?’
‘That’s what the sergeant said. Don’t be fooled by the uniform, I don’t have much in the way of authority. And they don’t tell me more than they have to.’ A thought struck her. ‘Does your boss get many visitors?’
‘A fair few, I suppose. He’s in business.’
Lottie described the men who’d killed Ronnie Walker and Jos’s baby. ‘Have they ever been here?’
‘The fat one, I remember him. He kept looking at me and licking his lips. It was horrible. I don’t know about the other one.’
‘Do you know the fat one’s name?’
‘I never asked. He was here to see Mr Donough, that’s all. I kept out of the way as much as I could. Why?’
‘He might be involved in something.’
‘I wouldn’t put that past him. He made my stomach all queasy.’
‘Could you find out who he is? Just quietly.’
‘I suppose so. I can try.’
‘It would be a big help.’
‘Is it something serious?’ Andrea asked.
‘Yes,’ Lottie told her. ‘Very serious.’ She wasn’t about to give more details.
‘I’ll ask. Someone’s bound to know.’
‘If you could leave a message for me at Millgarth police station, I’d appreciate it. You have a telephone here, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’ She smiled. ‘If it’s new, we have it. Gadget mad, is Mr Donough. Vacuum cleaner, all sorts. I can’t keep up with it.’
‘How many cars does he own?’
‘Only one,’ Andrea answered. ‘How many do you need?’
‘I just wondered.’
‘I know he has an interest in a garage, but the only motor car he has is the one that’s out there now.’
They sat with a pot of tea and a plate of scones, the talk moving from the present to the past. People they’d both known at Barnbow, the strange twists life had taken.
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