‘Then it wasn’t a case of careless paperwork. We really were defrauded of stock we’d paid for,’ Benny growled, his rage deepening.
‘Sometimes he buys stock in what he calls a ring, where he bids for them at auction but only against dealers who’ve agreed to drop out, so nobody pays too much for an item. They sort it all out between themselves beforehand, who’s having what. Sometimes its new bankrupt stock, sometimes second-hand. He doesn’t trouble too much what he buys so long as it’s cheap and he can sell it on to some poor fool who pays through the nose for it.’
‘Someone like us.’
‘Aye,’ Percy agreed. ‘And the poor souls who pay Ron week after week, knowing they’ll never settle their debt.’
There was a great deal more and by the time Percy was finished, Benny was spitting mad with fury at having been so used. How could he have been such a gullible fool? His former landlord tucked a grubby muffler about his neck and rubbed his hands together to aid circulation. ‘I saw another friend of yours the other day. Michael Hopkins.’
‘He’s no friend of mine,’ Benny growled, for he didn’t in the least approve of Lucy walking out on her husband, even if sometimes he did feel a tug of conscience that he’d never mentioned that rather odd conversation he’d had with Tom. He’d put it from his mind, deciding the man was a bit sick in the head, and probably couldn’t properly remember what he’d been doing these last years, or where he’d been. War did that to a bloke. Anyroad, Lucy had no right to be gallivanting with her fancy man, not while she was still married to her husband. All the same he was curious to hear about Michael Hopkins, and listened to what Percy had to say.
As the two men went their separate ways with a nod and a hand shake, Benny was satisfied that it’d been a most useful half hour. He’d discovered more about his father-in-law than he’d ever have imagined possible. He’d also learned that Joanna was not half so loyal as Hubert imagined. She had indeed spent much of the war keeping the soldiers and sailors happy, but not simply by knitting balaclavas. He took this nugget of information directly to Polly and together with Lucy, Minnie and Charlie, held what might be termed a Council of War.
It was agreed that Lucy’s task would be to discover more about the nefarious goings-on of Joanna Clarke. ‘If she has a few grudges of her own against Hubert, she might be glad to help. Particularly when she learns what really happened to Belinda,’ Lucy agreed.
Benny readily volunteered to keep an eye on son Ron, smiling at Polly’s caution to ‘go easy on him’.
‘Don’t worry. There are other possibilities I need to follow up first,’ he told her, which he wasn’t yet ready to divulge.
As well as investigating ways of getting the business going again, they were all given their separate jobs. Charlie, with a lessened degree of pain thanks to the new pills he was on, opted to hold the fort at Minnie’s house, keep an eye on the children when necessary and provide meals for them all. This was where they were all now living. Where else could they go? Polly said she was lucky to have such a good friend as Minnie who was prepared to take her family in when she hadn’t a penny to pay for their keep.
‘It wasn’t as if we were ever particularly close, you and me,’ she said, trying to find the right words to thank Minnie for her generosity. ‘But don’t you always manage to be there when one of us needs you? I do appreciate that, to be sure.’
‘I thought of leaving you out on t’street and giving you a brick to lay thee head on, but then I thought, happen not. Waste of a good Accrington brick,’ chortled the old woman, her cackling laughter making her false teeth click.
For all Minnie’s generosity everyone knew it was going to be hard. With no business and therefore no income coming in they would all need to find new jobs which, for Polly and Charlie in particular, wouldn’t be easy. Being poor was bad enough when you were young: in middle age, Polly said, it didn’t bear thinking about.
‘What you need do is to scupper Hubert, then maybe you’ll manage to salvage summat from the mire,’ Minnie kept reminding them.
It was to be Polly and Minnie who would set in motion the method by which they would achieve this seemingly impossible task, and hopefully win back some of the money he’d so artfully stolen from them. They weren’t sure of all the details and implications yet but the intention was to find a way to let him know that at some location, still to be agreed, there were goods for sale at a bargain price, strictly cash, no questions asked.
Minnie volunteered to act as decoy, since she was very nearly sure that he didn’t know her well enough to recognise her. Even if he did, she argued, he’d no reason to suppose she was friendly with the family from Pride Carpets but she doubted he’d ever paid much attention to an old woman who lived in a big old terraced house at the end of Pansy Street. ‘He might recognise our Michael, if he saw us together, but he’s not going to, is he?’
Lucy swallowed the lump which came instantly into her throat at mention of his name, turning her face away so no one would see the flicker of pain that crossed it. She’d had no word from Michael since he left. With each passing week her pregnancy was progressing and he didn’t even know about it, let alone the fact that she had, at last, left her husband. Clasping her hands tightly together she determined to hold fast to her strength and keep hoping that one day, perhaps tomorrow, he would come back to her.
In the meantime, perhaps her own marital problems would at least make it easier to prise some information out of Joanna Clarke. Lucy could certainly sympathise with the woman’s need for a lover, for all she didn’t care much for her choice. Tim Fenton was young enough to be her son, should in fact have been her son-in-law if Hubert had had his way. Lucy wondered if her husband had any idea about the reality of their friendship and rather doubted he did, since arrogant men such as Councillor Clarke, rarely imagined their wives to be capable of asserting themselves let alone having an affair. And not for a moment would he believe that he had subjected her to a miserable existence.
Joanna looked far from miserable when she opened the door to Lucy. She was smiling and dressed in a pretty pink housecoat that had a ruffled collar and hem. She looked like the perfect model of a housewife straight from the pages of Woman Own, except she probably wasn’t eagerly waiting for her husband to come home. Lucy couldn’t help glancing up the stairs behind her, as if half expecting to see lover-boy appear at the top of it.
‘Mrs Clarke, I’m Lucy Shackleton, Benny’s sister. I wonder if I could have a word.’
Joanna coolly responded that this wasn’t possible and would have closed the door in her face had not Lucy managed to get in one more short sentence. ‘I think I know why Belinda died.’ The door stopped closing upon the instant.
She was shown into the conservatory which apparently was the warmest room in the house, kept heated all year round to nurture Hubert’s carnations, his pride and joy. The lush greenery and sweet scents of the flowers was almost overpowering.
Joanna brought Lucy a sherry and then excused herself for a moment. She was back within ten minutes or so, dressed in a simple but clearly expensive scarlet wool dress which showed off her elegant figure to perfection. Her face was a carefully presented picture of cream foundation, powder, and a bright red lipstick. As she drifted by, Lucy caught the scent of Californian Poppy, which was almost too cloying in the sickly sweet room. She arranged herself delicately in a wicker chair and reached for her sherry. ‘What is this you have to say about my daughter? I hope you aren’t here to make trouble or reopen old wounds, Mrs Shackleton. My family has suffered enough.’
‘So has mine.’ Lucy kept strictly to the facts which she delivered as bluntly and smartly as she could. Then she sat back and waited with some trepidation for the woman’s reaction.
Joanna merely blinked and sipped her sherry. ‘I know all of this. Tim discovered it all for me.’
Lucy’s mouth dropped open but she quickly closed it again, remembering to mind her manners as Polly had instructed her. ‘You know that your husb
and was responsible for Belinda’s death, and yet you said nothing?’
‘Indirectly responsible. He didn’t personally kick her out on the streets. It was a mix-up, a mistake.’
‘Oh, I see. It was meant to be my brother, was it? It would’ve been all right for Benny to be chucked out. You obviously had no qualms about making him homeless. But didn’t either of you ever stop and think for one minute that Belinda might insist on staying on with him, the husband she loved, no matter what.’
Joanna began to look agitated, clasping and unclasping her hands, darting anxious glances anywhere rather than meet Lucy’s probing gaze. ‘I do assure you that I knew nothing of this at the time. Nothing at all. It was only after - after Belinda had died that I learned the truth. I wouldn’t have wanted anything serious to happen to Benny, truly I wouldn’t. I just wanted Belinda to come home!’
It was very much a cry from the heart yet Lucy felt nothing but contempt for the woman, and immense pity for her friend. Poor Belinda, no wonder she’d been eager to run straight into her brother’s arms when he obviously worshipped the ground she walked on, no matter if he was a dreamer. She’d probably have done anything to escape her dreadful parents. Their utter selfishness left Lucy gasping, not to mention appreciate her own Mam and Charlie a lot more.
‘But she didn’t come home, did she? Would never have done so.’
Joanna shook her head, a sad little gesture which should have been heartrending yet somehow left her beautiful face unmarked. ‘No. Belinda always had a strong will but then she gets that from Hubert. Whatever he sets his heart on, he doesn’t stop till he gets it.’
‘We’ve discovered that to our cost,’ Lucy drily remarked. Then as if to escape the claustrophobia of the situation she got up and began to prowl about the conservatory, fingering leaves, smelling sickly sweet flowers which somehow reminded her of graveyards. She sat down again. ‘Did you never think to curb this determination of your husband’s to destroy others for his own benefit? Did you never try to put your daughter’s happiness first?’
It was Joanna now who got up to stand with her arms wrapped tightly about herself and gaze out through misted glass on to a dull grey winter’s day, almost as if she were viewing a world that was strange to her. She looked like an exotic flower held fast in a tropical paradise. ‘There’s something you should understand about me, Mrs Shackleton. I loved my daughter. If I was inadequate as a mother, she accepted that. We were never, how shall I put it, a particularly demonstrative family. She led her life and I led mine. We agreed to differ for much of the time. Occasionally I would attempt to ...’ here she paused and drew in a deep breath, ‘… yes, I shall say it. I attempted to civilise her, and curb her foolish rebellions.’
Lucy almost laughed out loud as she went to stand beside Joanna. ‘That’s rich, that is. You thought Belinda needed civilising? Not yourself, nor Hubert - just Belinda?’
‘She tended to go to extremes, just to annoy us. Like her joining the army for goodness sake. All on a reckless whim of rebellion to score a point over Hubert. I couldn’t let her ruin her life yet again out of stubbornness.’
‘You don’t think she might have genuinely wanted to join the army? Or that she really loved our Benny?’
Joanna looked confused, as if this thought had never truly struck her before. ‘Sounds rather monstrous put so bluntly but no, I never did consider that for a moment. I did everything I could to persuade her out of marrying him.’
‘Even though you were sleeping with the man your husband wanted for her?’
She winced slightly, but went on, ‘He was no more than a mild amusement. I would’ve given him up for Belinda.’
‘How very generous of you.’ Lucy had heard enough. If she stayed another minute listening to this selfish woman, she might spew up at her feet. She half turned to go but Joanna caught her arm.
‘Never underestimate my husband, not for a moment. I may be weak and foolish, but he’s an utterly ruthless man when it comes to getting his own way, particularly in business matters. He trusts no one, save for his accountant Colin Wilnshaw who makes sure he doesn’t pay a penny more than he should in tax. Hubert’s made a fortune because he’s a man of considerable acumen and courage, always ahead of the market. You have to admire him for that. It isn’t the only reason I stay with him, but I’ve threatened to leave him many times whenever he too blatantly parades his women friends.’
‘Women friends?’
‘Someone called Myra is the most recent, from Slate Wharf would you believe? She may be history now, of course. Dear Hubert has learned to be more discreet over the years and we rub along rather well, in fact.’
Lucy didn’t wonder at it. Joanna’s explanations of how she enjoyed the comforts that her husband provided, had unfortunately revealed nothing Lucy didn’t already know. ‘We’ve developed a way of life which suits us well,’ she finished, smiling brightly, almost as if the loss of a daughter were an unfortunate consequence of a business matter that had gone wrong. Lucy felt physically sick.
‘As for Tim Fenton. I’m afraid the poor boy became increasingly dependant upon me, particularly when Belinda refused to marry him. Then when she died … Well, I shall let him down lightly.’ The smile became less fixed, the beautiful mouth curling delightfully up at the corners, rather like a woman with a secret, and Lucy wondered if there was another candidate already waiting in the wings. Joanna Clarke gave no indication of a wife scorned, or one eagerly awaiting an opportunity to put the dagger in.
Lucy grabbed for the door handle, suddenly anxious to quit the suffocating heat of this rarefied existence. ‘I won’t waste any more of your time. There’s clearly nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.’ Yet despite, or perhaps because of her failure to learn anything herself from Joanna, Lucy paused at the door, the words almost bursting out of her head. ‘But I’ll have you know that you can’t play with folk’s lives the way your husband does without creating havoc. Apart from ruining my mam’s business and leaving her homeless and jobless with a sick husband to care for, there’s no doubt in any of our minds that if Hubert hadn’t interfered, Belinda would be alive today. Think on that.
‘Benny would have got his allocation licence from the Board of Trade, tried and probably failed with his joinering and then gone in with Mam, as he’d always wanted to do deep down. The only problems they ever had were those caused by your husband which, in my view, is disgusting. You’d think a father would want his daughter to be happy, even if it did cut across his own plans for her. Belinda should be alive now, enjoying her son and a good marriage, well and happy.’
Joanna’s beautiful face had turned ashen, her lips thin and trembling. ‘That’s absolute nonsense. Hubert wasn’t responsible for Belinda having a difficult birth. She might still have died, even if she’d had the baby inside the flat.’
Lucy almost sneered. ‘Rather than in the freezing snow in a back street where she bled to death, you mean? You hang on to that thought, love. It might be the only comfort you have in a lonely old age.’ Lucy escaped into the cold street with tears rolling down her cheeks, and drew in a thankful gasp of coal-tainted air which at least had the benefit of being honest muck.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was agreed that a casual meeting in the Queen’s on Gartside Street was the best way to arouse Hubert’s interest, since it wasn’t a pub where Minnie was known, and the beer was good, not watered down in any way. Even so some doubt was expressed on whether Minnie could carry it off, until they saw her dressed for the part.
She looked entirely different, which of course was the whole idea. Having delved into her old employer’s trunks and boxes kept in the loft, Minnie had decked herself out in a grey sealskin coat that didn’t smell too strongly of moth balls and a pair of well polished court shoes made of finest Italian leather. A shiny black straw hat with a figured veil and a coiled velvet rose sat atop her victory rolls and she sported matching gloves and a large black leather handbag. Instead of her u
sual thick lisle stockings, she wore a pair of purest pale silk which made her skinny legs look like sticks of coltsfoot rock. The finishing touch was a fox stole which she clipped about her shoulders, the mouth of the stuffed animal opening to bite on its own tail.
‘By heck. You look a right bobby-dazzler,’ Benny chortled, impressed by the startling change in her.
‘Aye, till I open me mouth,’ Minnie ruefully admitted. ‘Eeh I’ll go to th’end of our yard, I’ll have a job on, carrying this off.’
‘Just soften those broad vowels a bit,’ Polly suggested with a grin. ‘There’s no harm in being a Lancashire lass, just sound a richer one, that’s all.’
‘I’ll try to hemulate the grand tones of my lady employer,’ she said. ‘How happy hi am to make your hacquaintance.’ Overdoing it to such an extent that they all fell about laughing. But the laughter quickly subsided for this was serious, if not dangerous business. Minnie had every intention of taking Hubert for every penny she could.
They went carefully over the plan in fine detail, leaving nothing to chance and finally decided that some trust would need to be established between them. Funded by Minnie from her savings, Polly bought a consignment of three dozen pairs of leather gloves, fleecy lined and in tan, black and mustard pig skin. They cost seven shillings a pair to sell at eleven shillings and sixpence, but Minnie suggested they ask five bob, so as to prove their worth as suppliers. They’d make a loss, to be sure, but this part of the operation was viewed as an investment for future deals.
A brief note was sent to Hubert to the effect that if he came to The Queens tomorrow night at eight he might hear of a bit of business to his advantage. In point of fact he was there ten minutes early and Minnie was the one to keep him waiting. Stricken with nerves she proceeded into the snug and deposited a box containing a few samples of the gloves on the table in front of him. She was sure that he would notice her hands trembling as she untied the string to let him examine the contents. Minnie didn’t even dare glance up to meet the glowering expression of suspicion she knew would be on his face. Nevertheless she could almost hear his brain ticking over likely profits when she told him the price she wanted for them, and what he could ask from his own customers. No doubt he would add a shilling a pair at least, to her suggestion.
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