The Buffer Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  Belle gaped at her. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Belle – may I call you Belle? – I’ve known about you for years and, in a way, I have reason to be grateful to you. Ours was not a love match, but a marriage of convenience.’ She went on to tell Belle something of her life with Arthur. ‘So you see he gave me what I wanted most – a son – and I lead a comfortable life. I have no bitterness or resentment against him – or you, which, had I been in love with him, no doubt I would have had. I will always care for him and do my best for him and I suppose that is a love of sorts, but it is not the kind that promotes jealousy.’

  ‘I feel sorry for you.’

  Constance shrugged. ‘Don’t be. I am content.’ She put her head on one side as she observed the woman, who was still pretty even though she was now in her middle age. ‘If anything, I should feel sorry for you. I have stood in the way of him marrying you.’

  Now Belle laughed with genuine amusement. ‘That would never have happened, Constance. Arthur would never have married the likes of me. I was a music-hall singer and dancer at the Hippodrome. He used to come every week on a Saturday night and I remember I was singing “The Boy in the Gallery”. It’s Marie Lloyd’s signature tune. Do you know it?’ Belle hummed the music and Constance nodded.

  ‘Well, when it got to the bit about waving a handkerchief, there was a flurry of them in the audience, but it was Arthur I noticed because he stood up and waved vigorously. I couldn’t fail to see him. And after that . . .’ She needed to say no more. Constance could guess that Arthur had become an ardent ‘stage-door Johnny’ and had showered Belle with chocolates, champagne and flowers.

  By the time Constance took her leave, the two women were surprised to find that they actually liked each other. Hesitantly, Belle said, ‘If you can find out if Arthur would like me to visit him, I would love to see him, but—’

  ‘I will,’ Constance promised. ‘If he does, then I will write to you and have Kirkland fetch you in the car.’

  ‘You’re very kind.’ Belle was overwhelmed by Constance’s attitude, but after meeting her and hearing about their married life, she understood why Arthur’s wife had no animosity towards her.

  ‘And now, I’m on my way to visit the factory and to meet your son. I hope he will be agreeable to my suggestion. I already have Thomas’s approval.’

  ‘Really!’ It was another surprise for Belle as she added, ‘I think Richard will feel very relieved. He’s been having sleepless nights.’

  ‘I don’t wonder. It was very unfair to put him in such a position, but we’ll sort it out.’

  With a nod and a wave towards her unlikely newfound friend, Constance climbed back into the motorcar, leaving a bemused Belle watching the vehicle until it turned the corner out of sight.

  ‘My dear, how are you?’ was George Bayes’s greeting as he took Constance’s hands into his. ‘I’ve been thinking of you and wondering how you’ve been coping. How is he?’

  Again, Constance explained Arthur’s condition, the reason for her visit and her proposal. When she had finished, George was beaming. ‘That’s a very sensible solution, Constance. I can’t tell you how pleased I will be to have Master Thomas back here. Richard Beauman is a nice lad, willing and in many ways capable – or he will be, given time – but he’s only sixteen. It’s too much to expect of him.’

  ‘You won’t feel slighted because you’re not to be made manager?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ George said with asperity. ‘I’m quite happy doing what I do. I’ve enough responsibility as it is, and Mr Trippet has always paid me generously. I have no complaints.’

  ‘That’s a relief to me,’ Constance murmured. ‘I wouldn’t want you, of all people, to be unhappy. So,’ she said after a slight pause, ‘may I now meet Thomas’s half-brother?’

  Having been told who was waiting to see him, Richard came into the office a little hesitantly, a worried look in his brown eyes, but Constance held out her hand, smiled and said, without preamble, ‘I have a suggestion to make, though I have to have your father’s approval first – if, indeed, he is able to give it.’

  She paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of the young man. He was so like Thomas, it was uncanny. There was no mistaking that he was Arthur’s son. Then she explained to Richard everything that had happened that morning and as she did so, the anxiety seemed to fall away from him. When she had finished speaking, he was smiling.

  ‘This is amazing – you’re amazing.’ He glanced at George Bayes. ‘Am I dreaming, Mr Bayes? Because if I am, please don’t wake me up.’

  The three of them laughed and Constance left the office well satisfied with her day’s work.

  ‘And now, Kirkland, you and I are going to find a nice little hotel where I will treat you to a late luncheon.’

  ‘Oh ma’am, I don’t think—’ he began but she waved his protestations aside.

  ‘Nonsense, Kirkland. It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Nurse Adams, how is he this evening?’

  ‘A little better, I think. He seems calmer.’

  Constance grimaced. ‘Oh dear, I rather think I could be about to alter that. Will you stay with me, please? I have something to tell him which may upset him.’

  ‘Of course, if you wish me to.’

  ‘I think it best.’

  They entered Arthur’s bedroom together and Constance sat down by the bed whilst Nurse Adams stood at a discreet distance, though she was able to keep watch on her patient.

  As she looked at him, Constance was moved to feel real pity for the man who now lay inert with his face twisted to one side. Only his eyes showed any life and they were watching her now with a mixture of wariness and defiance.

  ‘Arthur,’ Constance began gently, ‘you do understand, don’t you, that you will never be able to run the works again?’

  The man blinked and then slowly, he nodded. Thank goodness, Constance thought, he did understand what she was saying to him.

  ‘Richard has been doing his best, but he really is too young and inexperienced to cope and business is falling off already. And so, I have come up with an idea to solve the problem.’

  Arthur could not speak, but it was as if his eyes were saying, ‘Go on.’

  ‘But it concerns Thomas.’ She hesitated, expecting an agitated reaction, but none came so she pressed on.

  ‘You may recall that legally I still own half the business.’ She paused, waiting for this to sink in, for him to remember. After a moment or two, he nodded.

  ‘To save the business, I intend to have Thomas take up his place – his rightful place – and to work alongside his half-brother. Richard is a nice boy. I’ve met him today and I think they will get on very well together.’

  She waited again and then, at last, said softly, ‘Arthur, I don’t need your approval to do this, but I do want it.’

  Slowly, Arthur nodded and then reached out with the arm that he could still move. She took hold of his hand. ‘What is it? Is it about Thomas?’

  A nod.

  ‘Do you agree to him going back?’

  Another nod.

  ‘So, what is it?’ She couldn’t guess and glanced up at the nurse, who came forward.

  ‘I think perhaps, Mrs Trippet, he would like to see Thomas.’

  Constance turned back to him. ‘Is that it, Arthur? Do you want Thomas to come to see you?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘You – you want to make it up with him?’ Her question was hesitant, but his answer was firm as he nodded quite vigorously.

  ‘And Richard – would you like to see Richard too? And what about Belle? I am happy for Belle to come here, if you would like to see her.’

  This time it was Arthur who hesitated, but Constance could see the pleading in his eyes.

  It was all the answer she needed.

  Forty-Six

  ‘Oh Trip, it’s such wonderful news.’

  Trip put his arms around Emily. ‘It’s all working out for us now, isn’t it? I’m back i
n the business. Richard and I are getting along very well together. I rather like having a brother, though it’s a bit of a strange situation. And best of all, I’ve been accepted back home. We’ve been accepted back home.’

  On the day that Trip had journeyed to Ashford to see his father, Emily had gone with him. She had thought she would stay with her own family whilst he went to Riversdale House but he wanted her at his side.

  ‘Mother insisted you are to come too,’ he told her.

  When they entered Arthur’s bedroom, the man in the bed bore no resemblance to the one who had brought them so much unhappiness. He was a shadow of the man he had been and Emily was moved to pity; Arthur Trippet looked in a much worse condition than did her own father now, for Walter was improving daily. He was talking, albeit slowly, the terrible shaking had all but stopped and there was a constant smile on his face whenever his grandson was around.

  Though Arthur could not speak, father and son had settled their differences and, by holding out his good hand to her, Arthur had welcomed Emily too.

  ‘But you look as if you don’t quite agree,’ Trip said to her now. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I just wish – oh I’m being silly, I know, but I don’t like the neighbours not speaking to us.’

  ‘Then we’ll move. We’ll look for somewhere else.’

  ‘Can we afford to?’

  ‘We can’t afford not to, if you’re unhappy.’

  ‘It’s just that they were once all so friendly. It’s such a difference. Lizzie tosses her head in the air and walks away, Mrs Dugdale just glares at me and the rest of the neighbours do their best to avoid me. Even Billy, and he was always so friendly.’

  ‘Well, he’s pining for Lizzie, isn’t he? Always has been. He’s going to take her side, although, I’d’ve thought he’d have been pleased to see the back of Josh. It gives him more of a chance now.’

  ‘And Mick gives me the creeps.’ Emily shuddered. ‘Every time he sees me, he’s got this sort of smirk on his face as if he knows something I don’t or as if he’s planning something.’

  ‘Then the sooner we move, the better. I’ll start looking tomorrow.’

  But they’d left it a day too late. When Emily arrived home the following evening, she found the door into their home had been forced open, the lock broken. For, despite Bess Dugdale’s pronouncement when they’d first arrived, Emily had always locked their door. She glanced around the courtyard behind her. There was no one about, though she had the unpleasant feeling that she was being watched. The tapping still came from the workshop across the yard and no doubt Lizzie was out seeking employment, but it was Mick or one of his mates she was most afraid of finding inside. She hadn’t forgotten the fear she’d felt the night some of his cronies had waylaid her in an alley. He wouldn’t help her now, she thought. But she couldn’t stand out here until Trip came home; she had no idea how late he would be. Tentatively, she pushed the door wider and then took in a sharp breath. Everything in the kitchen had been smashed. Broken crockery littered the floor, drawers had been wrenched open and their contents scattered. Curtains had been torn from the window and furniture upturned. The stew that she had left simmering gently on the hob for their evening meal had been tipped into the sink. The range – her pride and joy – had been daubed with white distemper and the fire doused. The peg rug on the hearth lay in shreds.

  She was still wary that there could be someone in the house, so before stepping inside, she listened, but all was eerily quiet. Even the tapping from the workshop had paused. It was as if everyone was listening – and waiting. At last, taking a deep breath, she stepped inside and crossed the room to the staircase.

  In the bedroom she now shared with Trip – the one that had been her parents’ room – it was the same. Their clothes and all the bedding had been torn or cut to pieces, even Trip’s best suit, and the mattress looked as if it had been hacked at with a knife. She was gazing round at the devastation when she heard a noise below. Not caring who it was, anger giving her courage, she hurried downstairs, flinging open the door to see Trip standing amidst the shambles. ‘Oh Em, who’s done this?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’ve got a good idea, haven’t you?’

  Trip nodded and his face hardened. ‘Then I’d better have a word with Master Dugdale.’

  ‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘Leave it. He’s got his so-called friends to back him up. We’re no match for them. We’ll leave. We’ll just go. Now – tonight. I don’t care where, we’ll just go.’

  ‘We should report this to the police, you know . . .’

  ‘No. It’ll just escalate, if we do that. Besides, it’s probably over now. Lizzie will have had her revenge.’

  ‘You think Lizzie did this?’

  ‘Not personally, no, but I think her brother did, or he organized it.’

  They salvaged what they could of their belongings, wrapped them in a blanket and then they left the court. It was dark by now.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Trip said.

  ‘We’ll go to one of the workshops just for tonight. The one in Broad Lane above Mr Hawke’s would be the best.’

  As they neared the building, Trip said, ‘There’s still a light on, on the ground floor. I’d better see if Mr Hawke is all right.’

  He tried the door, but it was locked. ‘That’s strange,’ he murmured. ‘He never locks his door.’

  ‘Maybe he does at night-time, if he’s working late,’ Emily said, trying to peer through the grimy window. ‘He’s there. I can see him sitting at his bench.’

  Trip rattled the door and then knocked, calling out, ‘Mr Hawke, it’s Trip. Are you all right?’

  ‘He’s getting up and coming to the door,’ Emily said, leaving the window and waiting beside Trip.

  The door opened, but Nathan turned away and went back to his workbench. They stepped inside. ‘Are you all right?’ Trip repeated. ‘You’re working late.’

  ‘Aye, I’ve a job I wanted to finish for Nell to start on tomorrow.’ He sat down at his bench again. ‘Nearly done. I’ll be off home in a minute.’ Then he became aware of the bundles they were carrying. ‘What are you doing back here?’

  Emily frowned. Something wasn’t right. Nathan wasn’t his usual cheery self. He seemed on edge and she was sure his hands were shaking. Was he ill? She moved closer and then she saw the bruise around his eye. ‘What happened, Mr Hawke? Has someone—?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said a little too quickly as he waved aside her question. ‘I fell. I’d – misplaced my glasses and tripped over when I was looking for them.’

  Trip and Emily glanced at each other and then around the workshop. Everything seemed in place. There was no sign that Nathan had had a visit from the vandals who’d wrecked their home.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, we’ll go and try to make ourselves as comfortable as we can upstairs for the night.’

  Nathan’s head shot up. ‘What? What d’you mean, “upstairs”? Why? Have you been turned out?’

  ‘Not exactly. Our home has been smashed up. Emily got home first, but thank God they’d gone before she got there.’

  Nathan was silent for a moment and then he sighed. ‘Sit down, the pair of you. I’d better tell you. Maybe I should have done before, but . . . sit down, sit down. It’s time you knew.’

  With a mystified glance at each other, Trip and Emily sat down on two upturned boxes and waited whilst the older man polished his glasses and turned on his chair to face them.

  ‘Where shall I start, because I don’t know how much you know?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Trip said, ‘because I don’t understand what it is you want to tell us.’

  ‘You know about the gangs in this city, don’t you?’

  Trip shook his head and Emily frowned. ‘No,’ they said together.

  ‘Ah, well, I rather thought Emily didn’t, but I thought you might have, Trip. After all, you’ve been living and working in the city for a little longer than Emily. But then,’ he smiled a little, ‘you don�
�t move in that sort of company. I’m surprised you hadn’t guessed though, Emily, living next door to one of the leaders of a gang.’

  Emily gasped and her eyes widened. ‘Next door? Oh, you don’t mean . . . ?’ She stopped and then went on, flatly, ‘You do, don’t you? Mick Dugdale.’

  Solemnly, Nathan nodded.

  ‘You remember when you first came to see me about starting a little missus business?’

  Emily nodded, silent now and quaking inside. She didn’t think she was going to like hearing what Nathan had to say.

  ‘I would have been pleased to help you girls, anyway – I think I said so at the time.’

  ‘You did.’ Emily’s voice was a croak, her mouth dry.

  ‘But Mick had to be the heavy-handed big brother and threaten that if I didn’t let you have my premises free of rent for at least the first few months, I’d soon find I hadn’t any premises left to let out.’

  ‘Isn’t that what they call an “extortion racket”?’ Trip said.

  ‘Very similar, Trip, yes,’ Nathan said drily. ‘He also went to “talk nicely” to some colleagues of mine to persuade them to put their business your way.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Emily was horrified. ‘Mr Hawke – please believe me, I knew nothing of this, I promise you. None of us did.’

  ‘I believe you, lass, but can you be sure about his sister?’

  ‘I . . .’ Emily began and then she stopped, so many memories coming back to her. Lizzie’s veiled threats over Josh. ‘I really don’t know,’ she ended lamely because, now, she didn’t.

  As if reading her mind, Nathan said, ‘And I reckon it’s a good job your brother has gone back to Derbyshire. He was getting reeled in good and proper by Mick and his gang. George Bayes was telling me that he’d heard it on good authority – that authority being Eddie Crossland, whose nephew’s a copper – that Josh’d been seen up on Sky Edge with Mick. The police had thought there’d been a pitch and toss game going on, but by the time Eddie’s nephew and his colleague got there, they’d all scarpered. They post lookouts, you know.’