An Independent Woman

by Anna Jacobs

  But he couldn’t turn his back to the images of the lovely curves of her soft woman’s body, which played and re-played in his mind.

  And he couldn’t turn off his need for her.

  It seemed a very long time before he got to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  As the flames began to lick around his trouser legs, Justin rocked the chair to and fro, calling for help as loudly as he could in between coughing and choking from the hot, smoke-filled air.

  Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. He managed to move the chair backwards away from the flames, still trying desperately to free his hands, but then the chair hit something and would go no further.

  Suddenly a voice spoke beside him, “Did you mean what you said about paying anyone as set you free?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “How much?”

  “A hundred pounds.”

  “Two hundred.”

  “All right, all right.” Justin’s feet felt hot, he could smell singing wool and sweat was pouring down his face.

  “Get me out of here quickly then or I’ll be in no state to pay you anything.”

  The ropes tying his wrists suddenly fell away and the man bent to slice through the bindings on his ankles. With a sob of relief, Justin pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his briefcase from the floor near the filing cabinet. He hesitated, then braved the flames for a few seconds more to snatch at the pile of papers on it, which were curling up and turning brown from the heat. Stuffing them down his jacket front, he prayed he’d got the one that had fallen out of the file.

  The man was tugging his arm. “Come on!”

  Struggling for breath, Justin stumbled through a nightmare of flames and smoke. He’d have lost his way but for his companion and as they pushed the door into the street open, the flames behind them blazed higher with an angry roar. “Shut the door!” he rasped, his throat feeling as if it had been sandpapered.

  As a bell began clanging in the distance, the man looked at him, eyes pleading. “The fire brigade mustn’t find me here.”

  “Meet me at Number Ten at three o’clock this afternoon. Go in through the back yard.” Justin pointed up the street towards the headquarters of the WSPC. “I’ll have the money waiting for you there.”

  “Swear it!”

  “I promise! You saved my life, didn’t you? Do you really think I’m not grateful?”

  “I’ll be there.” The man slipped away into the smoke-filled darkness just as the fire engine rumbled down the street and stopped outside the offices.

  Justin had been one of those who’d pressed for the purchase of a Merryweather fire engine several years ago, but had never thought to need it himself. The modern motorised vehicle didn’t have to wait for horses to be harnessed and could transport five or six trained men to a fire anywhere in the town within minutes of the warning being given.

  “Stand clear, sir.” Working rapidity and efficiently, the uniformed men found the nearest water main, attached a hose and began pumping water into the building.

  Justin watched in shuddering relief as they extinguished the fire before it could destroy the whole place.

  As the flames died down inside, they left a black, sodden, stinking mess, with windows broken, sprouting fringes of blackened glass shards, and smoke still curling up here and there.

  The Captain of the brigade came to stand next to Justin. “You’re lucky this place is close to a fire point.” He squinted sideways by the light of a street lamp. “Mr Redway. Do you know how the fire started, sir?”

  “Yes, it was deliberately started by two men who broke into my rooms and robbed me.” He’d decided on this story because he had no way of proving it was Fleming who’d arranged it, but wanted it made obvious that someone in the town was committing crimes. “I was dazed and I think they thought I’d perish, but I got out in time.” He shook his head. “It spread so quickly. I can’t believe how quickly. I was never so glad to see anyone as you and your men, and may I congratulate you on your speedy arrival?”

  “Someone saw the fire and sent to warn us. The lad who brought the message slipped away before we could take his name, though, so we don’t know who your saviour was.” He scowled at the mess. “Looks like we’ve got a firebug in town, what with Mr Fleming’s offices going up, then yours. Both were definitely deliberate.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Oh, yes. Fleming says he can’t believe it, but I know what I found and there was a smell of paraffin. You can’t hide that completely, sir. It lingers even after the fire.”

  A policeman turned up just then and Justin had to go through it all over again with him, though his voice was little more than a croak now.

  Then Evadne came running down the street and flung her arms around him. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re safe!”

  “So am I,” he said shakily.

  “There was I thinking you’d let me down for dinner when we heard the fire engine bell. A passer-by told our maid there was a house burning in Bridge Lane and I knew, somehow I just knew, that it was yours. Are you all right, Justin? Really, are you?”

  He held on to her for a minute, because he most certainly wasn’t all right. Now that the emergency was over, reaction had set in. “I’ll t-tell you about it l-later.” He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t even get another word out properly, because it was sinking in how close he’d come to death. Flames still seemed to be burning round him, people’s voices coming and going in his ears.

  Evadne took charge. “Constable, my cousin is very upset after his narrow escape so I’m taking him home with me. You can find him at my house if you need to question him further. He’ll be spending the night there.” She put her arm round Justin’s waist and they walked slowly up the lane and out from the town towards her house.

  Once there, she took him into the sitting room and he collapsed into a chair, putting his head in his hands. When she closed his fingers round a glass he looked down and saw it was a brandy. He took a gulp, then another. Gradually the shuddering stopped and when he looked round, she too had a glass in her hand. Although she gave him a half-smile, she didn’t press him to talk until he was ready.

  Then, in jerky sentences punctuated by shudders and silences, he fumbled for the words to tell her what had really happened.

  She stared at him in horror, not speaking till he’d finished. “But you have to tell the police, Justin. You can’t let Fleming get away with this.”

  “I’ve no proof. He’d charge me with slander. But I will have a word with Marley. He knows what’s really going on, though he’s as helpless as me to stop the man without proof.”

  “You will be careful from now on, won’t you?”

  He nodded.

  “Surely you’re not going to pay this man who untied you? He should be locked up, not rewarded.”

  “He didn’t want to harm me, I heard him say so, and he came back and saved my life. I find I value that rather highly.”

  “Well, have it your own way. You usually do. But you’re staying here tonight, where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “Thanks.” He definitely didn’t want to be on his own tonight—or any other night until Fleming was dealt with.

  Surely there must be some way to stop the man?

  Ernest heard the fire engine’s bell clanging away as the ancient apparatus made its way to Bridge Lane. He looked at the clock and smiled as he ate the last piece of beef sandwich with great relish. Redway should be nicely toasted by now and serve him right for poking his nose where it shouldn’t go. He hoped the man had died in agony. He looked down at his empty plate and rang for it to be cleared away.

  Ruby worked in silence as usual, which he much preferred.

  He watched her go out then settled down with the newspaper. The folder with all the papers in it was now in his home safe which was in the wall behind a singularly ugly portrait of his late wife’s mother. He scowled as he thought about Grace. He supposed he’d better find himself anothe
r wife and try once again for a son, though he’d make sure he selected someone young and healthy, best of all a widow with a child to raise who had already proved she was fertile and would be grateful to find another protector. He’d have a look round. There were plenty of young widows, thanks to the war.

  Pity Frank had been killed. Ernest didn’t really want to marry again. Women were such a nuisance and if he found one from a good family, she’d be expensive too, and he was just a trifle short of money at present. Though that was going to be remedied.

  He stood up and began to pace to and fro, wondering exactly how to deal with Serena. Married or not, she definitely wasn’t going to keep that damned annuity when he needed the money so much more. He’d have to stop gambling with Hammerton, though. The fellow was so lucky you had to wonder if he cheated.

  He smiled as he thought of the fire. Well, at least Redway wouldn’t be poking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted now. He was still smiling about that as he fell asleep in his cosy bed.

  The customers coming into the bookshop the following day all talked about the latest fire. Aubrey listened to them patiently, getting the same story several times over, with details that changed each time. At one stage Ted grinned at him. “You’ll do for me, son. You not only love books, you listen to folk, and customers like that.”

  “Thanks. It’s strange, though, isn’t it? No big fires in the town for years, then two houses burn down within the week, one of them completely destroyed.”

  “I wish that bugger had been destroyed with it.”

  “Fleming?”

  “Aye. Who else? Redway’s a decent sort of chap, for a lawyer, but Fleming’s a nasty sod. He owns quite a lot of property round the town. I’m thankful this building belongs to me, though he’s had a go at me a few times, trying to persuade me to sell to him. As if I would!”

  “What do you mean, ‘had a go’?”

  “Came in to persuade me himself, hinted at problems I might encounter if I didn’t sell. Though he hasn’t set fire to the place yet, at least. Luckily I’m just opposite the police station here. Easy enough to call for help, eh?”

  Aubrey frowned at this and Ted grinned even more broadly. “I bet you haven’t heard the rumour that he set fire to his own office to hide what he’s been doing? It’s not the sort of thing people say publicly, but it’s being whispered in private.”

  “No, I haven’t heard it. Is it true?”

  “Could be. He’s a gambler. Him and a few other fine gentlemen in this town in that fancy club of theirs with its private rooms. There’s two unlawful things that go on in those private rooms: women and gambling. I wonder why Fleming doesn’t want folk finding out what he’s been doing? They say that daughter of his can’t even get her own inheritance money out of him. There must be some truth in it.”

  Aubrey’s head was spinning at these revelations about his father. “I didn’t know Fleming was a gambler.”

  “Well, how could you? You’ve only been in Tinsley for a few days.”

  “And you say he has a daughter?” Suddenly Aubrey had a mental image of the woman with the kind smile again and a stab of pain went through his head. “Where is she?”

  “Rumour says she ran away from home a couple of days ago. She’s not living with him any longer, that’s certain.”

  The run spun round Aubrey for a moment or two. “Serena,” he said suddenly. “She’s called Serena, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, that’s her. Poor dowdy thing, she is.”

  Aubrey stared at him in puzzlement. “Dowdy? I think I saw her at the station and she looked very modern, smart, with bobbed hair and shorter skirts. In fact, I’d call her pretty.”

  “Can’t have been the same person,” Ted said dismissively. “She’s a real frump, Fleming’s daughter. Who was she with?”

  “A man, tall with a badly scarred face. They got into a cab together going to the Hall, so I assumed they were married. They had two suitcases and well—they just seemed married.”

  Ted stared at him in surprise. “She was with a scarred man? Does he have a bit of a limp?”

  “Yes.”

  “A chap called Marcus Graye inherited the Hall recently, and he was badly injured down one side of his face and body. Surely he hasn’t married her?”

  Aubrey shrugged. “I don’t know. I just saw them together at the station.” He was puzzled about all this, wanted to think about it, see if he could remember any more.

  Ted clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ll make a start on clearing out the upstairs while there’s a lull. Though I don’t think you should move in until after Christmas.

  It’s a lonely time to be on your own, Christmas is. I’d invite you over for a meal, but to tell you the truth, my Margaret isn’t up to visitors.”

  “I like being on my own.” Aubrey could see that Ted didn’t believe him, but it was true. He’d spent most of the past few months living cheek by jowl with other people and the thought of being absolutely on his own was very appealing.

  He followed Ted upstairs to the three rooms on the first floor. Two of them were filled with boxes and miscellaneous piles of books, and above them were two attic rooms with sloping ceilings. He’d been up here before but this time he looked around with a proprietorial feeling. The front room was empty and very spacious, with a big window looking down on the station end of Yorkshire Road and as Ted had said, the police station opposite. He’d have this room for his sitting room, could imagine a big armchair in that square bay window, a small table with a pile of books on it nearby.

  “I’ll still need the big back room for storage,” Ted said, “but with the middle one for your bedroom and one of the attic rooms at your disposal, you’ll even be able to put up a friend, if you want.” Even as he was speaking the doorbell of the shop tinkled.

  “You go and get it, lad. You’ve got younger knees than I have.”

  Aubrey went down to find one of the two men who’d pushed past him at the station standing there. “Can I help you?”

  “Need to see Mr Bailey. Urgent. Tell him it’s Jem Pitterby.”

  Aubrey called up the stairs, “It’s for you.” He waited in the shop until Ted came down and even then he didn’t go up the stairs, because for some strange reason the man made him feel uneasy.

  “Message from Mr Fleming. There’s a house to clear out. Old lady in Cooter’s Lane hadn’t paid her rent for a few months, so Mr Fleming is taking the furniture in lieu. Wants you to make an offer on the books. There are a bloody lot of ’em cluttering up the place, should be worth something to you.”

  “All right. Where is it?” Ted wrote down the address. “I can come there with you now if you want. I’ve got a new assistant, so I don’t need to wait till after the shop closes.”

  The man nodded, his eyes sliding sideways to Aubrey, his brow wrinkling as if something puzzled him.

  As Ted went for his coat, Aubrey walked forward to ask the fellow, “What’s happening to the old lady’s furniture?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “I need to furnish some rooms. Might suit me to take it off your hands. Might suit your employer too. What’s the furniture like?”

  “Clean. Old-fashioned but solid enough. She’d known better days. You’d have to clear it out straight away, though. He’s got someone waiting to move in tomorrow. Shortage of decent houses, there is.”

  So after Ted came back from valuing the books, Aubrey walked the few streets up to the house in question and looked over it with the man breathing down his neck.

  “How much?” he asked at last.

  “Fifteen pound.”

  “Ten.”

  He saw the other study him calculatingly and folded his arms. “I’m not made of money and I’m not going much higher because it isn’t worth it. How about splitting the difference? I’ll give you twelve pounds ten shillings.””

  “All right, but you’ll have to take everything and move it today. Mr Fleming allus sells house contents to a dealer
in one lot. Says it’s not worth the trouble of splitting them up, except for the books.”

  “Always? Does he do this often?”

  The man grinned. “As often as necessary. He gets his rent money one way or the other. Clever fellow, Mr Fleming. Well? I can’t stand here all day waiting?”

  “All right. I’ll arrange for the whole contents to be collected.”

  “I know a fellow as’d do it for you.”

  “Thanks, but I know someone too.” He didn’t, but when he got back he asked Ted who would shift the stuff and then walked down the street to the address Ted gave him and arranged to have it moved that very afternoon. As Ted said, who was to know what Pitterby would take for himself if the house contents were left lying around?

  “Are you always so suspicious?” Aubrey asked.

  “Only when I’m dealing with Fleming and his men. Wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw them.”

  “Yet you do business with them.”

  Ted shrugged. “I’m not stupid enough to show them how I feel. That’d really be asking for trouble.”

  Which gave Aubrey even more to think about.

  The day after his brush with death, Justin hired Vic and his cab to drive him out to the Hall. He felt safer with a man he knew had no link to Fleming. That sod was walking round town looking like a cat that had swallowed a plump canary, for all that his offices had burned down recently.

  “You all right, sir?” Vic asked, shocked by Justin’s pallor.

  “Sort of. When we get out there, can you come in and join us while we talk? I reckon everyone who lives at the Hall is involved in this, whether they want to be or not.”