A Respectable Woman

by Susanna Bavin

  ‘They’ll be waiting outside the house for us to let them in,’ said Leonie.

  ‘That might teach Alf not to go off with his dad,’ said Nell, but she knew it wouldn’t; and didn’t she sound petty?

  No one was waiting outside the house, which made her feel even more annoyed with Stan. As she walked into the house, she looked straight along the hall into the kitchen, and her insides turned icy cold. The kitchen door was open.

  She pushed Cassie into Leonie’s arms. ‘Wait here.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’ve had an intruder.’

  ‘How do you know? Don’t do owt rash. I’ll see if Mr O’Rourke is back.’

  Nell had no intention of waiting for reinforcements. She strode into the kitchen. Everything looked as it should, but she knew someone had left that door open. She threw open the doors to the pantry and the broom cupboard, then the scullery; she went into the backyard. Opening the gate, she stepped out into the entry, looking up and down. The blood felt warm in her veins. Someone had been in her house. That was a threat to her children and Leonie, and she was ready to fight like a lioness. Back inside, she looked – yes, it was daft, but it was her duty to search thoroughly – under the kitchen table, then she marched into the front room. Nothing had been disturbed.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Mr O’Rourke marched in, followed by his grown-up son, with Leonie bringing up the rear. ‘Mrs Brent says someone broke in. Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive. I was about to check upstairs.’

  ‘We’ll do that.’

  They were closer to the stairs or she would never have let them go first. One of them burst into the bedroom, the other into the front.

  ‘No one here.’

  ‘No one here,’ said Mr O’Rourke. ‘Is anything missing?’

  Nell walked into the bedroom. She made herself stand still and look carefully. Her breath caught. Leonie’s box was missing from the top of the cupboard. Pushing past the two men, she ran downstairs to the pantry. Her hand shot to the back of the bottom shelf. Her Mazawattee tea tin was missing.

  ‘Mr O’Rourke, will you please fetch a policeman? We’ve been burgled.’

  ‘Burgled?’ Leonie cried.

  ‘I’m sorry. Your fireproof box has gone.’

  Leonie pressed a hand to her mouth. ‘No. That’s got … oh, no.’

  By the time the copper arrived, Nell had discovered the rent money was missing from the pot on the mantelpiece, as was the jar into which she put the fees from the neighbours who used the sewing machine.

  ‘I’ll ask up and down the street if anyone else has been burgled,’ said the policeman, but when he returned, he said no one had. ‘Why would someone choose your house?’

  ‘My bad luck, I suppose.’

  ‘An old lady from further along, who didn’t go to the jamboree, said she saw a man walking along the entry, but she didn’t have her glasses on, so she couldn’t see him clearly, just that he was stocky.

  ‘Edmund!’ Leonie exclaimed.

  ‘Edmund who, madam?’ The copper produced his notebook.

  ‘Edmund Tanner, my son-in-law.’

  ‘I’ll need his address.’ He wrote down the details, then asked Nell, ‘Do you have any idea who might burgle your house?’

  Yes, she jolly well would say it. ‘Stanley Hibbert, Constable. My estranged husband. It’s in his interests to see me strapped for cash. He walked to the jamboree with us, but I didn’t see him again until the end. Aren’t you going to write it down?’ she demanded. ‘I think you should question him. I want to see justice done.’

  ‘Justice? You’re asking for justice? I know who you are. My mate is a copper in town and he does duty in the magistrates’ court. He told me about a Mrs Hibbert, who ran away from her husband, thinking he’d done the dirty on her with another wife.’

  ‘Then you understand how difficult the situation is between me and my husband.’

  ‘But he wasn’t the only one to do the dirty, was he? You told your kids he was dead, and you dare to stand there demanding justice. What justice did you show your children, eh? Tell me that.’

  Nell was stunned. There was a knock at the door, but she didn’t move. It was followed by a series of rapid knocks. Leonie hurried down the hall.

  Alf burst in, followed by Stan, who was carrying his jacket rolled up in his arms, holding it firmly.

  ‘It’s Violet,’ yelled Alf. ‘Dad’s found Violet and brought her home. He’s a hero. I want me and Cassie and Violet to go to Annerby and live with Dad for ever.’

  Posy kissed Gerald and thanked him, then put him away. ‘Nasty bugger,’ she breathed as she fixed him in position.

  ‘Go upstairs, Posy,’ said Dad. ‘You’re all red and dishevelled from running about in the sun.’ Oh aye, and being thrashed had nowt to do with it. ‘Your hair’s a mess as well. Don’t come down until you’re presentable.’

  Posy looked at Ma. An offer of help, perhaps? An ‘I’ll brush your hair for you’ would be nice. Huh! Being looked in the eye would be nice. The droopy cowslip lifting her head and facing what was happening would be nice.

  She trudged upstairs. She had to go slowly because her body was roaring with pain and she felt dizzy and sick. And angry and scared. Dad was a thief and she was a coward. But Dad had said he would make sure Gran’s box was found, so he wasn’t really a thief. Thieves kept things for ever.

  She stood at the foot of the bed, leaning over, arms resting on the foot of the bedstead, head on her arms. The sickness subsided, but the pain was still fresh. It stung her flesh and beneath that, it was a deep, dark ache inside her bones. As weak as she felt, she mustn’t lie down or her body would go stiff and getting moving again would be reet buggeration.

  She splashed her face and hands and patted them dry, then combed her hair. She didn’t want to go downstairs, but in the end she had to. She wound her arms round the newel post at the top of the stairs. The staircase looked ever so steep. What if she came over all woozy partway down and missed her footing and fell to her doom?

  Someone knocked on the door. Ma appeared and opened it.

  ‘Good afternoon. Mrs Tanner?’ A man’s voice. A voice with authority. ‘Is Mr Tanner in? I’d like a word.’

  Ma fluttered; Posy felt a rush of shame. It wasn’t easy being descended from a ditherer. Ma turned to the parlour and the man – the policeman – followed. Posy sank down the side of the newel post and landed with a bump on the top stair.

  A policeman. In their house. Wanting Dad. Oh cripes.

  The parlour door had been pushed to, but not fastened. Posy forced herself to her feet and crept halfway downstairs. For once in her life, she didn’t want to listen, but she had to.

  ‘Mr Tanner? Constable Shore, sir. There’s been a burglary in the area and I’d like to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Of course, Constable. Anything I can do to help.’ Dad didn’t sound worried. He didn’t need to. Posy was worried enough for both of them.

  ‘Where were you this afternoon, sir?’

  ‘At the sports jamboree, along with half of Chorlton. I was there all afternoon – wasn’t I, Hilda?’

  ‘Did you and your husband go to the park together, Mrs Tanner?’ asked the copper.

  ‘Well—’

  ‘No,’ Dad cut in smoothly. ‘We walked there separately, but I was only five minutes behind you wasn’t I, Hilda?’

  Posy held her breath. He took longer than that. Go on, Ma. Say it. Tell the truth.

  ‘… Yes.’

  Posy crumpled.

  ‘And before you ask, Constable, no, I didn’t spend the whole afternoon at my wife’s side. I watched my daughter’s races, naturally, but I wasn’t interested in the others, so I walked about, passing the time of day with various neighbours. I can provide a list of names, if it helps, though I don’t see what this has to do with me.’

  ‘Do you know a Mrs Hibbert of Wilton Lane?’

  ‘She used to be my mother-in-law’s lodger.’

&nbs
p; ‘It was her house where the burglary took place.’

  A faint cry from Ma.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Dad. ‘Was much taken?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say, sir.’

  ‘Mrs Brent, who lives with Mrs Hibbert, is my mother-in-law. Is she all right? Has she had anything stolen? Don’t be alarmed, Hilda. I saw her from a distance in the park, so I know she’s safe.’

  ‘No one has been hurt, Mrs Tanner,’ said the policeman.

  ‘So this is what brings you here, Constable,’ said Dad. ‘You’re here to inform us of my mother-in-law’s misfortune?’

  ‘Not exactly, sir. A man answering your description was seen near where the crime took place.’

  ‘Indeed?’ said Dad.

  ‘And your name was suggested to me, sir.’

  ‘By that Hibbert woman, no doubt,’ Dad said sharply. ‘She has a grudge against me.’

  ‘Actually, it wasn’t Mrs Hibbert, sir.’

  ‘You mean it was my mother-in-law?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say, sir.’

  Posy clutched her elbows. Had Gran split on Dad? But how could she? She wasn’t there. The only person who knew it was Dad was Posy – oh, and Mr Hibbert, but he didn’t count.

  A few more questions and answers were batted to and fro. Posy could tell things were winding up and she retreated to the landing. Dad saw Constable Shore out and went back into the parlour, shutting the door.

  Posy waited a couple of minutes, then went down. She meant to walk right in, but, catching a few interesting words, she stopped to listen.

  ‘Edmund, when you said you were five minutes after me …’

  ‘What of it, Hilda?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Well, what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I’m surprised at you if that’s your main concern. I should have expected you to be more bothered by your mother’s betrayal. Imagine her giving the police my name. How’s that for family feeling? She as good as accused me of theft.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Edmund.’

  ‘You can’t possibly want to make friends with her again after this – can you?’

  Sundays were meant to be quiet, but someone was hammering on Nell’s door. She had barely started to open it when it was shoved from the outside, sending her stumbling backwards, and Stan barged in.

  ‘How dare you!’ they exploded in unison.

  ‘How dare you force your way in?’ Nell demanded. ‘This is my home. It’s my name on the rent book.’

  ‘And mine on the marriage lines, which gives me every right to be here – even if you’ve accused me of theft.’

  ‘Oh.’ Guilt flooded her – and uncertainty, then she rallied. ‘You must admit it would suit your purposes if I lost my savings.’

  ‘You stupid article.’ His face was flushed with temper. ‘That magistrate is going to order you to come back to me, so why would I need to steal your money?’

  ‘The policeman asked if anyone had a reason—’

  ‘And you thought: let’s get Stan into trouble. Thanks very much, Nell.’ He jabbed a finger at her. ‘D’you know where I spent this morning? At the cop shop, that’s where.’

  ‘Don’t point your finger in my face.’ She slapped his hand aside, turning to march up the hall.

  He grabbed her wrist and swung her back. ‘Don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking.’

  She wrenched herself free. ‘Don’t touch me – at all – ever.’

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic. You tried to get me locked up and you failed, because I’m innocent – which you knew perfectly well, but you thought you’d try your luck.’

  ‘I knew nowt of the kind. It would suit you if I lost my savings.’ She stuck her hands on her hips. ‘You went missing yesterday afternoon. I never saw you from when we arrived at the park to when you went off with Alf. You could easily have come here.’

  He laughed derisively. ‘If you didn’t see me, you need spectacles. I offered my services to the teachers and spent the afternoon counting heads and picking up the poor little beggars in the sack race who couldn’t even make it to the starting line without falling flat on their faces. Not only was I there all afternoon, but I have umpteen witnesses.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’ve tried to make amends and this is how you repay me. What will Alf say when he hears you accused his dad of theft?’

  Her hand flew to her throat. ‘You wouldn’t tell him.’ Thank goodness the children were at the park with Leonie.

  Stan’s mouth set in a grim line. ‘Why would I tell him? Haven’t I told him over and over to be polite to you? I’m trying to mend the damage you did by telling him I was dead and meanwhile you’re doing your best to blacken my name. And that’s what I’ll tell Mr Aitcheson next time I see him.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Nell had to run for the bus because Mr Miles had dropped in unexpectedly to look at the damaged areas.

  ‘Downstairs is ready to be made good. Upstairs, I’m not so sure. Mr Dawson employs Perkins and Watson, a highly reputable firm. I’ll ask the foreman to inspect the upstairs room and decide.’

  Leonie was delighted. ‘Well, that’s good news and we’re overdue for some of that – aren’t we, Nell?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nell. ‘Thank you, Mr Miles.’

  But after he had gone, their smiles faded.

  Leonie sighed. ‘Let’s hope that when the work is done, we’ll still be living here to benefit from it.’

  ‘Assuming we can still afford it when the rent goes up.’

  It was a relief to get out of the house. She hadn’t recovered from her confrontation with Stan. Discussing it yesterday evening with Leonie had only served to make her friend jumpy about her own suspicions about Edmund.

  ‘You didn’t exactly give his name,’ Nell had tried to comfort her. ‘It was surprised out of you.’

  As she travelled to Victoria Park, she tried to clear her mind of her troubles and concentrate on the work ahead, work that was even more important now her money had been stolen.

  She entered the Fairbrothers’ house by the kitchen door, exchanging good mornings with the cook and the gardener. They were used to her coming and going and she was left to make her own way up the back stairs without the formality of being shown by stroppy Daphne.

  ‘We don’t require any more lessons,’ said Miss Graham while Nell fought to maintain a cheerful expression.

  ‘You’ve taught us so well that we’re confident we can manage,’ said Miss Preston. ‘But we still need you to sort through the clothes Miss Roberta mentioned. They’ve been put in what used to be Nanny’s room.’

  What had happened to Nanny? Had she hung on for years, hoping for another generation to care for? Was Miss Roberta one of those surplus girls you heard about, who had no hope of finding a husband after the terrible loss of life in the war?

  Miss Preston took her along the landing.

  ‘This used to be Nanny’s bedroom.’

  It still was, by the looks of it. Bed, hanging cupboard, a modest dressing table. Did rich people have so many rooms that when one outlived its use, they simply closed the door and forgot about it?

  Clothes hung on hangers from the picture rail, others were piled on the bed. A royal-blue coat with tiered shoulder capes and huge cuffs; a pale-lilac dress with tiny white dots that made it look paler still; a ruby-red costume with a flared and pleated jacket … and these were the ordinary clothes, the daywear! Fringing and piping, accordion pleating, lace and bows and ruching filled the room. The only truly simple clothes were the unfussy, but still beautifully tailored, silk blouses and linen skirts that said someone had enjoyed tennis or golfing.

  ‘I’ll leave you,’ said Miss Preston. ‘Remember, we’re looking for things that can be cut down to make basic garments for children. The more children’s things we can get out of a single item the better.’

  ‘The children who get anything of this quality will be lucky.’

&nb
sp; Miss Preston sighed. ‘I do question the wisdom. The schools will have to be given a selection for the poorest children to change into in the morning and give back at home time. Otherwise there’ll be jealousy in the streets and no doubt many of the garments would end up being pawned. But,’ she said briskly, ‘Miss Roberta has set her heart on it.’

  She withdrew. Nell looked round. She would start with the sporty-looking skirts, as having the most appropriate fabric, and then move onto the crinolines, as being able to produce the greatest number of garments. When she finished, would that be the end of her work here? It looked like it.

  A prickly feeling sprouted across the back of her neck. She turned to find Roberta Fairbrother, boyishly slim yet utterly feminine in a pale-green dress, the slender tiers of the skirt echoed in the daintily tiered short sleeves. She couldn’t have looked more captivating if she had set out to make Nell feel dowdy in her respectable work dress.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Fairbrother. I’m—’

  ‘—Mrs Hibbert, the woman in the court case, whom Mr Franks is representing.’

  Goodness. She hadn’t realised before. Roberta Fairbrother was the woman she had seen kissing Jim. She had been too shocked and embarrassed at the time to recognise that slender, graceful figure, but the moment Miss Fairbrother spoke Jim’s name, it fell into place.

  ‘I know all about you,’ said Miss Fairbrother. ‘I asked my father. He didn’t say much, because he’s so discreet, but he did say it’s a contemptible business involving bigamy that turned out not to be bigamy after all. Do tell: was it you or your husband who … didn’t commit the offence?’

  Nell gritted her teeth. ‘As you rightly point out, neither of us did; but for two years, I believed my husband had. Not that it’s any of your concern, Miss Fairbrother.’

  Roberta Fairbrother smiled. Dazzle, dazzle. ‘I wouldn’t say that. Daddy doesn’t know he’s employing you. I wonder what he’d say? No, that’s not true. I know exactly what he’d say.’