The Pawnbroker's Niece

by June Francis

  The padre wasted no time asking questions but went with her to where William rested. He looked at his grazed forehead, smelt his breath, then hoisted him upright.

  William opened his eyes and squinted at the padre. ‘Jerry! What are you doing here?’ he slurred, then his head lolled to one side and his eyes closed.

  Rita looked across at the padre. ‘You know each other?’

  ‘From way back, lass.’ He smiled. ‘Now, are you sure you can manage him that side?’

  She chuckled. ‘With your help it’ll be a doddle.’

  It was not that easy, especially as William kept falling over his own feet, but they reached the yard and got him to the house.

  Alice opened the door and as soon as Rita saw her tear-stained face, she knew what had happened and felt sympathy for the whole family.

  Alice stared at the clergyman. ‘Padre, what are you doing here? What’s wrong with Pops?’ She reached out a hand to William.

  ‘He fell outside our shop,’ said Rita.

  ‘If you could step aside, Alice, we’ll get him inside,’ said the padre.

  ‘It’s been terrible these last few days. I’m so glad you’re here.’ Alice led the way along a passage to the back of the house and into a large room with windows either end. It was furnished with a shabby but comfortable-looking sofa and two easy chairs; the remains of a meal were on a dining table over by a window that looked out on a paved area. William was lowered into one of the chairs by a blazing fire.

  ‘I felt cold,’ said Alice, as if she felt the need to explain the fire being lit on a warm summer day. ‘Did Pops tell you Mother’s passed away?’ Her eyes were large and sad in her wan face.

  ‘No. I am sorry,’ said Rita, going over to her and touching her gently on the shoulder.

  Alice’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Jimmy’s taken it really bad. He’s gone off and I don’t know what to do. Pops vanished too, and the funeral needs arranging.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, my dear,’ said the padre, a hand on the back of William’s chair. ‘You go and have a lie down and I’ll talk things over with him.’

  ‘Thanks!’ Alice sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do about Billy. Could you get in touch with his ship? Pops might change his mind about having him here now Mother’s dead. He’d cheer me up.’ She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  ‘I’ll see what William says,’ said the padre.

  ‘Perhaps you could go up with her, my dear,’ he added to Rita.

  ‘Yes, please, do come with me,’ said Alice, clutching Rita’s arm. ‘I don’t want to be on my own.’

  Rita knew she should be getting back to the shop, but how could she leave when the girl obviously wanted her to stay? They went upstairs. Inside the bedroom Alice kicked off her shoes, undid the button of her skirt and sat on the bed. She picked up a framed photograph from the bedside table, gazed at it, then lay down and closed her eyes with it clutched to her.

  Rita perched on the edge of the bed, glad to get off her feet. She eased back aching shoulders and glanced round the room. There seemed no lack of money here. She had never seen so many ornaments, frills and so much pink in one small space. The curtains, the bedcover, pillowcases and skirt around the dressing table were all made from the same floral material. A vase on the glass-topped dressing table caught her eye. It looked familiar and she got up to have a closer look.

  ‘Don’t go,’ cried Alice.

  ‘I’m not going! I’m just looking out of the window to see if there’s any sign of Jimmy.’ She went over and picked up the vase. It looked very much like the one that Alice had brought into the shop and had been stolen. Could Billy have brought her another one to replace it? No, he couldn’t have known about the theft when he came home. He wouldn’t have had the time to bring her another. Besides, would she have told him that she had sold it? If this was the same one, then that meant that Alice knew the person who had broken into the shop. There was only one person who Rita could think of who had promised to get it back for her — and that was Jimmy in that conversation she’d overheard here in the yard.

  ‘You like my vase?’

  Rita almost jumped out of her skin. She looked at Alice, sitting up against the pillows, staring at her. ‘Yes, it’s —’

  ‘The exact replica of the one I sold to your aunt. Billy brought me another.’

  ‘So you told him you sold it?’

  ‘No! He-he just brought it to match the other one. He hasn’t been in this room so he doesn’t know I sold it.’

  Rita was starting to feel confused but she did have a vague feeling that Billy had been told about the break-in at the shop and that a Chinese vase brought in by Alice had been stolen. She thought she remembered him mentioning it to her.

  ‘He’s very generous, is Billy.’ Alice glanced at the photograph and then closed her eyes. ‘You can go now if you want. Thanks for helping with Pops. I’ll tell Jimmy you were here, and you will come to the funeral, won’t you? I’m sure he’d like you to be there.’

  ‘Yes, OK.’

  Rita replaced the vase and left the bedroom. Downstairs she found William looking much better. The padre was there and they were drinking tea. ‘I’ll go now,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about your wife, Mr Brodie.’

  ‘Thanks, Rita, you’re a good girl. I really appreciate your help.’ William smiled warmly.

  ‘You’re welcome, as I said.’ She laced her hands behind her back and shuffled her feet. ‘I’m sorry about my aunt’s behaviour.’

  ‘Forget it. I upset her — a misunderstanding, I’m sure. Is Alice OK?’

  Rita nodded.

  The padre looked at her, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Shall I give Miss Turner your regards? She’s mentioned your name several times when I’ve visited her.’

  Rita felt uncomfortable, wondering just what her former teacher had said to him. She said tarrah and let herself out of the house, still wondering about the Chinese vase and whether Alice had told her the truth.

  As she neared the shop Rita wondered what kind of reception she would get from her aunt. She was relieved to find the door unlocked and Margaret serving a customer. She told Rita to put the kettle on.

  Five minutes later Margaret entered the kitchen. ‘Well, did you see him home?’

  ‘Yes. The padre from the Sailors’ Home helped me with him. It seems they know each other.’

  ‘Not surprising, I suppose. William was a seaman at one time and was bound to have dropped in there at some time or other.’ She shrugged. ‘Now you’re back I don’t want you having anything to do with them up at the yard. I’ll see to William when he calls here next.’

  Rita banged her cup on the table. ‘What’s he done to make you act like this? His wife’s just died. You should be showing some compassion. I felt embarrassed and ashamed when you shut the door on him. I’d come to believe you were a nicer person than that!’

  ‘I won’t have you criticising me like this!’ Margaret sat down and gazed into the fire. ‘You’re like your mother; a man only has to smile at you and you’ll go chasing after him.’

  Rita was indignant. ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Isn’t it? You keep away from the Brodie family or you’ll be out on your ear.’

  ‘Jimmy’s not a Brodie. His sister said his mother’s death has affected him deeply and I said I’d go to the funeral.’

  ‘He has his sister. Let her fuss over him.’

  ‘She needs help, too.’

  Margaret’s expression was uncompromising. Her hurt and anger had not abated and, if William had fallen flat on his face in front of her right now, she would have left him lying there. She could not forgive him for what he had done with Bella and she intended making him suffer. She looked at her niece and decided it might be useful to have a spy in William’s camp. So she said that she could go to the funeral and be a friend to Alice.

  *

  When Rita saw Jimmy at the funeral her heart went out to him in his grief. If she could have suffered for him she wo
uld have. It seemed impossible to think that he could have anything to do with the stolen vase. It had to be as Alice had said.

  In the weeks that followed there did not seem anything Rita could do to cheer Jimmy up. When she mentioned that to her aunt, Margaret said sharply, ‘You can’t cheer people up when they’ve lost someone they love. The Bible has that right, at least. You have to weep with those who weep or at least give them a bit of peace and quiet and time to come to terms with their loss.’ She put a hand to her breast. ‘I’ve been through it so I know.’

  The girl sighed and went to rearrange the shop window. She determined to be patient with Jimmy, who only spoke to her in monosyllables and did not seem to care if he saw her or not. But she had to believe that one day all would come right. At least it was a lovely day. The autumn sun was glinting on a brass bowl that Rita had polished earlier. She found such tasks soothing and they left her mind free to wander, not only to think about Jimmy and her aunt’s antagonism towards William, but also about Sam and his not getting in touch, as well as her mother and the little brother she had never seen. Why couldn’t people write?

  A knock on the window drew her attention to the man standing outside. She smiled in surprised delight at Billy. ‘Had a good trip?’ she mouthed.

  He vanished to reappear at her side. ‘Not bad. Is your aunt around?’

  ‘She’s in the back but I’ll tell you now that she might be very short with you. She’s fallen out with your father. Have you something to sell?’

  He patted his pocket and she did a double-take, noticing that instead of his reefer jacket he was wearing a navy pinstriped suit. ‘Why, you’re all done up to the nines!’ She fingered the sleeve. ‘You didn’t have this made at the Fifty-Shilling Tailors.’

  ‘No, Hong Kong. Like it?’ He did a turn.

  ‘Is that Billy’s voice I hear?’ Margaret came out of the storeroom and for a moment stared at him in silence, stirred by memories. ‘What’s the suit in aid of? Got yourself a girl?’

  He grinned, his teeth white in his tanned face. ‘Can’t get anything past you, can I?’

  Shock quivered down Rita’s spine. What kind of girl would he fancy…a blue-eyed blonde? According to her mother men preferred blondes. ‘Where did you meet her?’

  ‘Gibraltar. She’s part of an all-girls band entertaining the passengers on one of those cheap cruises the White Star Line started up. You mightn’t have known that their ships were lying in dock a few years back, men laid off, because the rich could no longer afford luxury cruises.’

  ‘How old is she?’ Margaret raised her eyebrows. ‘If I was a parent I’d think twice about letting my daughter go off like that.’

  ‘She hasn’t got a mother and her father’s with the army in India. Her ship’ll be docking in Liverpool this week.’

  ‘So where’ll she be staying?’ asked Rita.

  Billy grimaced and rattled the change in his pocket. ‘That’s something I’ve got to sort out. She’s paid buttons so it’s got to be cheap. I offered to sub her but she refused.’

  ‘Well, that’s something in her favour,’ said Margaret. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve been up to your father’s yard.’

  ‘No, I’m staying at the Sailors’ Home — and yes, I know my stepmother’s dead. The padre wired me but I couldn’t get home any quicker.’

  ‘Jimmy and Alice really miss her. Don’t you think you should go up there? Your father’s attitude towards you might have changed since your stepmother’s death,’ said Rita, thinking that he really suited a tan. Lucky girlfriend!

  ‘Ever the optimist, Rita?’ She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘But perhaps I should have a bit of your faith.’ Billy slipped a hand into his pocket and brought out a package. ‘But first things first.’

  Margaret reached for her spectacles and the scissors. She snipped the string. ‘By the way, your father hasn’t paid me any money for three weeks.’

  ‘If that’s a hint for me to hand over some of the money from this to pay his debts then you can forget it. I have plans for it.’

  ‘You want to wine and dine your lady-love, do you?’ Margaret was distracted momentarily from the carved piece of jade.

  ‘Something like that. She’s seen a bit of life and is used to getting out and about.’

  ‘Then I’ll be sending in the bailiffs. You can tell him that, if you change your mind about seeing him.’

  ‘I’ll mention it to Alice as I’ll definitely be seeing her, but it’s not going to make her happy.’

  Margaret stiffened. ‘That’s not my problem. Now, this piece of jade, I can offer you…’ She named a sum. He laughed and she told him that he could go elsewhere if he wasn’t happy with the price. He stared at her. ‘Rita said you and Dad have fallen out. No need to take it out on me. I’m on your side. Did he take someone else’s side against you? That’s what he did to me.’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Margaret.

  ‘What were his reasons?’ said Rita.

  They both stared at her and it was as if they drew together, forming an alliance and, turning their backs on her, began to barter amicably until they settled on a price.

  Billy took his money and said that it was nice doing business with them and with a wink at Rita he left.

  Two days later a shapely young woman wearing a bum-hugging scarlet coat and a black cloche hat decorated with a small bunch of cherries, entered the shop. She was carrying a musical instrument case. Rita was dealing with a customer so gave her only a cursory glance, but when she placed it on the counter, Rita said, ‘D’you mind, love? I need that space.’

  ‘Sor-ree! But my arm’s killing me and I don’t want to put it on the floor.’ She flashed a wide smile and Rita noticed she was wearing lipstick and her eyebrows were pencilled.

  ‘Just shift it over a bit, then? I’ll be with you soon.’

  ‘Fine!’ The girl moved the musical instrument case a few inches and then from a pocket took a packet of Woodbines and lit up, drawing in a lungful of smoke with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘My nerves are shot to pieces. Some of those passengers on the liners are enough to send you up the wall.’

  Rita paused, then continued writing out the customer’s pawn ticket. As soon as the woman left the shop she turned to the girl. ‘You’ve come off a ship?’

  ‘That’s right!’ She flashed her wide smile again. ‘Girls Quintet. Only we’ve split up now because two of them have met men and are getting married and the other two have gone home to see their families. I want to stay in Liverpool.’

  What were the odds against a girl musician off a liner coming in here a couple of days after Billy had mentioned one? And if this one was Billy’s girl, then it was as she thought. Blonde curls peeped out from beneath her hat and she had baby-blue eyes.

  ‘Remember me next time, will you?’ said the girl with a twinkle.

  Rita did her best to twinkle back. ‘Sorry! But would I be wrong in thinking you know Billy Brodie?’

  ‘Nope! He sent me here. I want to pawn this.’ She patted the case on the counter. ‘I’m a bit short of ready cash.’

  ‘Aren’t most that come in here?’ said Rita, wanting to like the girl for Billy’s sake. Instead she felt rip-roaringly jealous of her clothes, her make-up and the fact that she was going to be wined and dined by Billy while she languished, waiting for Jimmy to notice her again. She unfastened the case and saw that it contained a saxophone and her interest was stirred. ‘Do you play jazz?’ She had heard snatches of what her aunt called ‘jungle music’ when passing Crane’s music store in town.

  ‘Amongst other things. Why, do you like music?’

  ‘I listen to the wireless. I’ll have to call my aunt as I’ve no idea what this is worth. I take it you’ll be going out with Billy tonight?’

  ‘Too right.’ The girl’s eyes were lively and she stretched languidly. ‘I could do with a good dinner and some smoochy dancing.’ She flicked ash on the floor.

  Rita experienced another dart of envy. She’d nev
er learnt to dance and what wouldn’t she give to be able to do so. Everyone was doing it and in all kinds of places. She had seen couples dancing the Black Bottom and the Charleston in the streets during summer, and in the park some girls had being doing the Bunny Hop, as well as the kind of dance exercises encouraged by the Health and Fitness Movement.

  Rita found Margaret in the kitchen talking to Mrs Richards, who had taken over from Mrs McGinty. The new char was a widow who was rearing her granddaughter, an orphan. She told her aunt about the latest customer and, curious to see this girl of Billy’s, Margaret hurried into the shop. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of her. ‘So, you’re Billy’s girl!’

  ‘That’s right!’ She treated Margaret to one of her wide smiles. ‘He said you’d be fair. It’s in good nick.’ Her touch on the saxophone was like a caress. ‘My mother was musical and encouraged my brother and I to follow in her footsteps, but Sandy prefers acting and has just joined a travelling theatre company.’

  ‘Very interesting,’ said Margaret without any change of expression, and named a sum.

  The girl’s face fell and suddenly she appeared much younger and vulnerable. ‘Oh, come on! It’s worth more than that!’

  ‘Probably, but if you don’t reclaim it I might end up with it on my hands. We don’t have much call for saxophones round here.’

  ‘But I have every intention of reclaiming it once my brother arrives in Liverpool. Couldn’t you forward me a little more because I’m a friend of Billy’s?’

  ‘Ha! You think that’s a recommendation? This is a business I’m running.’

  ‘But he said you’d help me.’ Her voice quivered.

  ‘I think we should,’ said Rita.

  ‘We?’ said Margaret, giving her niece a look that should have silenced her.

  ‘Yes! But not necessarily by offering her more money.’ She looked at the girl. ‘Have you found somewhere to stay yet?’