Beyond a Misty Shore

by Lyn Andrews

  ‘Oh, bloody hell! Da must have been thrown out again,’ Nora cursed, pulling the old blanket up to cover her naked breasts and hoping he wouldn’t come barging in here. Of all the times for him to have been chucked out of the blasted pub.

  Harry had grabbed his shirt and jacket and was hastily shoving his feet back into his shoes, cursing under his breath as the door was flung open.

  Nora’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Jake standing in the doorway. His face was red and he was panting heavily – he’d obviously been running – but his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Harry Thomas.

  ‘Who the ’ell is ’e?’ he shouted at her.

  Nora decided the best form of defence was attack. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here, Jake, and can’t yer knock before barging in?’ she yelled back.

  Harry didn’t like the look of this bloke at all. He was obviously a thug of the first order. He edged his way slowly towards the door as Jake advanced into the room.

  ‘I said who the ’ell is he? As soon as me back’s turned you’re whoring with this feller!’ Jake yelled, his face turning almost puce and the veins in his neck standing out as anger consumed him.

  Nora held her ground although she was beginning to feel apprehensive; she’d never seen him this angry before. ‘And I asked yer what the bloody hell you was doing here? You said you had something important to do – obviously more flaming “important” than me, so why should I sit at home on me own?’

  Harry left as quickly and as quietly as he could, feeling he’d had a lucky escape for he’d finally realised who this was. He’d heard of Jake Harvey and his reputation.

  ‘It went wrong, didn’t it? That thicko Mick Gates got things mixed up, that’s why I came ’ere, Nora. So youse could say I was with yer all night and I find yer effing well in bed with that feller!’

  Nora was dragging on her dress. ‘You don’t own me, Jake Harvey. I do what I like, now clear off !’

  He came towards her, fury filling him. ‘But everything you’ve got I bloody well gave yer, Nora. You were ’appy enough to take all that stuff.’

  She still held her ground and laughed cuttingly. ‘Stuff you’d nicked! You never paid for any of it and you expect me to be grateful. Oh, thanks a lot, Jake! It’s so generous of yer! And then you come barging in here, calling me a whore, and now you want me to lie for yer ter keep yer out of jail. Well, you can go ter hell, I’m saying nothing of the kind an’ Harry will back me up. It will be our word against yours. You’re going down – again, Jake!’

  A red mist of rage danced before his eyes. She was an ungrateful, two-timing whore and now she was refusing to give him an alibi and he knew this time he’d serve five years with hard labour. The bitch! The bloody whoring bitch!

  Nora screamed as he grabbed her by the throat but the sound was choked off. She began to fight with every ounce of strength she possessed but it wasn’t long before that strength ebbed away and her arms fell to her side. Her knees buckled and at last she fell to the ground, her eyes filled with pure terror before her head rolled to one side and she lay still.

  Jake prodded her with his foot; she didn’t move. He looked down at her lifeless form and panic drove out the rage. He’d killed her. Oh, Christ! He’d swing for this! He could almost feel the rope around his neck – there’d be no five years’ hard labour for this, he’d hang! He had to get away now, this minute! He’d have to get out of the city altogether, he’d have to go down to the docks as fast as he could before anyone found her and try to sneak aboard a ship. He wouldn’t feel safe until he was out of the country.

  He ran out of the house the way he’d come in, leaving the door wide open behind him. As he raced across the yard and into the back entry his heart was pounding and cold sweat ran unheeded down his face. At the bottom of the entry he almost knocked over two young lads who had been kicking an empty can along the pavement. He cursed and kept on running, his legs working like pistons.

  ‘That feller’s in a big hurry! He nearly flattened the pair of us,’ Robbie Ryan said indignantly to his mate Charlie Blackley.

  ‘Wonder what he’s been up to now? Yer know who it was, don’t yer?’ Charlie replied.

  ‘Who? I’ve never seen him round here before,’ Robbie puzzled.

  ‘Jake Harvey. He’s a dead bad lot, me da says.’

  Robbie looked impressed but Charlie had retrieved the can and had resumed kicking it along the road so Robbie forgot all about the incident and ran after his mate.

  It was two hours later when Martha went out into the street wondering who was making such a terrible racket. Nellie Richards was standing in the road screaming hysterically and pointing towards her house. This was more than just a drunken outburst, Martha surmised as she reluctantly crossed towards her. Mary Seddon too was out, as was Flo Caldwell.

  ‘For God’s sake, what’s wrong, Nellie?’ Martha shouted, taking the distraught woman by the shoulders.

  Nellie was incoherent.

  ‘Shake her, Martha, she’s hysterical!’ Mary Seddon urged.

  Martha shook her hard. ‘Calm down, Nellie, and tell us what’s wrong.’

  Nellie began to sob. ‘Nora! It . . . it’s our Nora! She’s . . . she’s been . . . killed! She’s dead! I cum ’ome an’ . . .’ Nellie again became incoherent.

  The three women looked at each other.

  ‘Mary, go and see if she’s telling the truth. The girl might not be dead, just dead drunk. I’ll stay with Nellie.’ Martha had no intention of setting foot in that house.

  Both Mary and Flo went into the house and came out looking pale and shocked. ‘She’s right, Martha. Nora’s lying on the floor in the bedroom and . . . and it looks as if she’s been murdered.’

  ‘Oh, God Almighty! How . . . Are you sure?’

  Flo nodded. ‘We . . . we think she’s been . . . strangled.’ She half whispered the word, unable to believe it.

  ‘What’ll we do now? We’ll get no sense out of Nellie and she can’t go back in there yet,’ Mary asked.

  ‘We’d better get her into our house and I’ll send Pat over to . . . to make sure.’ Much as Martha disliked and despised Nellie Richards she couldn’t leave the women out in the street in this state. And God knows what time Bertie would eventually stagger home.

  Pat was informed of what had happened and while Martha sat Nellie down Mary Seddon put the kettle on.

  Pat was back within minutes, looking shocked and grim. He nodded curtly to his wife, and then turned to his neighbour. ‘Mary, would you ask Fred if he could go and find Bertie Richards and get him home while I go for the police.’

  ‘Tell our Ernie to go with him, Mary, he’ll be in no fit state to take it all in,’ Flo Caldwell instructed.

  Nellie had calmed down a little by the time the police arrived and it soon seemed to Martha that they were completely taking over her home. There were four uniformed officers and three in plain clothes. They could get little out of Nellie except that she’d come home from the pub and found Nora. She had no idea if anyone else had been with her daughter; Nora was a married woman and did as she pleased.

  ‘Where’s the husband?’ one of the grim-faced CID men asked bluntly.

  Martha’s patience had reached breaking point. ‘Our Frank, my son, is away at sea and has been for the past three months. He’s with the Harrison Line, so don’t you dare to even think he had anything to do with . . . all this,’ she snapped.

  He was unfazed by her outburst. ‘It had to be asked,’ he stated flatly before turning to one of the uniformed officers. ‘Jones, get on to the Coroner’s Officer, we’ll need him down here, and Fingerprints, and get someone to cordon the place off. Hardcastle, you and the lads had better start door to door, see if anyone saw or heard anything.’

  Martha was still trembling with shock and indignation at Frank’s name being dragged into it as they all left.

  ‘What are we going to do with her and him when they finally find Bertie Richards?’ Mary muttered to Flo.

 
Flo shrugged and looked questioningly at Martha. Nora had been her daughter-in-law, after all. ‘They won’t let them back into that house yet.’

  ‘Well, they’ll flaming well have to because I’m not having them here all night!’ Martha said flatly.

  Mary nodded. ‘We’ll just have to tell the scuffers that they’ve got to let them back in, they’ve nowhere else to go. It’s not as if they aren’t familiar with them, they know the Richards family only too well,’ she said. It was terrible what had happened to Nora but it didn’t change the facts about that disgraceful lot.

  The discussion was cut short by the appearance of young Robbie, who’d heard all the commotion and had come downstairs. He was astounded to see Nellie Richards in his mam’s kitchen. ‘Mam, what’s going on out there, there’s scuffers everywhere?’

  ‘Nora’s had an . . . accident,’ Martha replied.

  ‘What kind of accident?’

  Nellie, who had been sitting in a silent daze, started to cry again. ‘She’s dead! Someone’s murdered her!’

  Robbie’s eyes widened with shock. ‘Mam, is . . . is . . .’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid it’s true, now you get back up to bed. The police have got everything in hand, there’s nothing for you to worry about,’ Martha said firmly, pushing him towards the door.

  Robbie was halfway down the lobby when he remembered the man who’d come running out of the entry and nearly knocked him over. He turned around and went back into the kitchen. Jake Harvey; that was who Charlie had said it was and he’d been running as fast as he could away from Harebell Street. He must have murdered Nora.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  THE REST OF THAT night and the following day seemed totally chaotic to Martha. It had been an hour and a half before Fred Seddon and Ernie Caldwell brought Bertie Richards back to Martha’s house, a considerably more sober Bertie than when the two men had dragged him out of the Melrose Castle.

  ‘The police want to take a statement from both you and Nellie and then you can go back into your house,’ Martha had informed him. As soon as she’d found out that an ambulance had arrived to take Nora to the City Mortuary she’d gone over and told the CID officer who seemed to be in charge that she wasn’t having Nellie and Bertie Richards staying the night. Hers was a decent, respectable home.

  He’d nodded slowly. ‘Understandable, Mrs Ryan,’ he’d said in a clipped tone. ‘They’re not the most praiseworthy citizens I’ve ever come across. Bertie’s been in the Bridewell overnight on numerous occasions and so has she and I put one of their lads away in Walton myself. Oh, and we’ll have to check with the Harrison Line on your son, it’s standard procedure,’ he’d added as an afterthought.

  ‘You do what you like. The only thing our Frank ever did wrong in his life was to marry Nora Richards, and he’s regretted it every day since,’ Martha had said curtly.

  ‘Well, he won’t have to worry about that any more, will he? He’ll be informed, of course,’ had been the equally curt reply.

  It hadn’t been until she’d been lying in bed beside Pat, trying to get to sleep, that it suddenly hit her what he’d meant. Frank was now a free man. She’d reached out and shook Pat hard. ‘Pat! Pat, our Frank!’

  ‘What? What . . . about Frank?’ Pat had muttered grumpily.

  ‘Now that she – Nora – is dead, he’s free! He’s free to marry Sophie Teare!’

  Pat had grunted and turned over. ‘Suppose he is,’ he’d muttered.

  Martha had lain back, feeling relief wash over her. The nightmare was over for Frank: he could now spend the rest of his life with Sophie. And she, his mother would be able to hold her head up again. Oh, it would be uncharitable in the extreme to say that Nora had got what she deserved, but she’d certainly been no good . . . Martha stopped herself. No one deserved to die in such a terrible way. She’d finally fallen asleep wondering if she should send Lizzie a telegram telling her the news.

  The next morning the police were still there making inquiries and so too were the reporters from the newspapers. Young Robbie and his mate Charlie Blackley had both been interviewed and their statements taken, although the superintendent had assured Martha and Mrs Blackley that it was very unlikely that lads of their age would be expected to go to court and give evidence in person. The reporters had wanted to interview the lads too but the superintendent was very firm with them in his refusal to allow that.

  Martha, Mary and Flo were all asked to relate the events of the previous night but could give only a few sketchy details. Nellie was a different kettle of fish, however. She told them at great length how she’d come home and found her daughter lying dead and with each telling Nora’s character grew more and more spotless. She hadn’t been a bad girl, she’d worked hard. It wasn’t a happy marriage and her husband had neglected her. He was away at sea for months on end; Nora was still young so wasn’t it only natural that she would want to go out a bit, not sit at home night after night.

  Martha was outraged when Mary Seddon had relayed this information. ‘By the time she’s finished that Nora will sound like a flaming saint! Whose fault was it the marriage wasn’t happy? How dare she say our Frank “neglected” her! She didn’t tell them Nora was in and out of bed with all and sundry, and that it had been going on for years – even when he was away in the Navy – did she?’ she raged to Mary.

  ‘Well then, Martha, it’s up to you to put the record straight,’ Mary stated.

  ‘You’ll say nothing, Martha,’ Pat said very firmly indeed. ‘Do you want our Frank to be a laughing stock in every pub in the city? They’ve got that Harvey feller, the superintendent told me the Dock Police caught him trying to sneak aboard a freighter and he put up a fight. It will all come out soon enough in court and then, hopefully, it will be forgotten and we can get on with our lives.’

  ‘And has he admitted it?’ Mary asked, this being news to her.

  ‘He wouldn’t at first, swore he didn’t even know her, but after belting one of the constables who was arresting him, having no good explanation as to why he was trying to stow away and being told that he’d been seen and recognised he changed his tune. I don’t think they told him the witnesses were only two young lads, and there may have been a bit of “persuasion” involved too, but with all that and his reputation . . .’ Pat shrugged.

  ‘He’ll hang,’ Martha stated.

  ‘Serves him right and he’ll be no loss to society,’ Pat added. ‘So don’t get upset about what Nellie’s saying, you can bet your life whoever defends Jake Harvey will make sure everyone knows just what she was like and hopefully our Frank will be away when he goes for trial.’

  Martha nodded. ‘Wait until Lizzie hears all this.’

  ‘The only time she goes away she misses the most shocking thing that has happened around here since the Blitz. When’s she back?’ Mary asked.

  ‘The day after tomorrow,’ Martha replied, wondering if it would be best if Lizzie told Sophie about it, or whether she should do it herself.

  Mary’s thoughts were running along the same lines. ‘Will the Harrison Line get word to Frank?’

  Martha nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m going to write to him myself and explain . . . everything. He’s not due home for another three weeks and I don’t think he’ll be in any rush to get back for Nora’s funeral, even if Harrison’s make the offer to try to get him on a faster ship home.’

  Lizzie couldn’t believe it. Sophie, Bella and Arthur had gone straight to Laurel Road from the Pier Head and they’d come back to Harebell Street. She’d seen the big bold headline on the front of the Daily Post as the news vendor had waved a copy at them after they’d come off the ferry, but all it had said was ‘woman found strangled. man charged’.

  ‘In the name of God Almighty! Nora! Nora Ryan’s been murdered!’ she cried after Martha had told her.

  ‘The street has been in uproar ever since, you can’t go out the door without falling over reporters, police and gawpers. It’s sickening that some people find it entertaining to come and st
and and stare at Nellie’s house.’ Martha was full of disapproval. ‘That Jake Harvey did it but they caught him down at the docks. We heard he came to the house and found her in bed with some other feller and just went berserk.’

  Lizzie nodded slowly. ‘I suppose in a way you can understand it, but . . . but . . . to kill the girl.’

  ‘He’ll probably try to claim it was manslaughter, that he was provoked and didn’t mean to kill her,’ Jim ventured, shocked by the news himself.

  ‘Fat chance with his record for theft, extortion and violence. He’s charged with Murder, Resisting Arrest, Assaulting a Police Officer and Grievous Bodily Harm. They’ve thrown the book at him,’ Martha replied.

  ‘When will they be . . . burying her?’ Lizzie enquired.

  Martha shrugged. ‘Who knows? But I know one thing, Lizzie, I’ll be damned if I’ll be a hypocrite and go to the funeral. I never liked the girl, I hated the way she treated our Frank and I’m not very concerned about “not speaking ill of the dead”; she was no good and everyone knew it. There won’t be many in this street who will be going to the funeral.’

  ‘What about your Frank? Does he know?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘The company are sending a wireless message out to the ship but I’ve written myself, care of the agents in the Canary Islands, giving him all the details. Lord knows what they’ll have put in the message,’ Martha replied.

  ‘What a thing to come home to and after we’d all had such a good time.’ Lizzie suddenly thought of Sophie. ‘Martha, I’ll have to go down and tell Sophie.’

  Martha nodded. ‘Do you want me to come with you? It was quite a while before I realised just what Nora’s . . . death means for our Frank and Sophie.’

  Lizzie considered this but then decided it would be better if she went alone. There would be plenty of time for Martha to talk to Sophie and she admitted to herself that her friend wasn’t always the most tactful of people. ‘Thanks for the offer, Martha, but I’ll go on my own.’