When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by When the Clouds Go Rolling By (retail) (epub)

  ‘Fair to middling,’ she replied chirpily. ‘How are you, Sergeant?

  He washed his craggy face and moustache with his hands. ‘I was awake half the night, thinking about this case. Do you definitely believe, like Miss O’Toole, that he was wearing a wig?’

  ‘Hair that red?’ She smiled. ‘I was on the stage for several years, Sergeant, I’d swear to it. You can get some that are made of real human hair but sometimes they’re made of horse hair and dyed. I’d say the one he was wearing was probably for a character in a pantomime.’ She was about to mention the robber’s fair moustache when there was a knock at the door. Clara excused herself, hoping it was Freddie.

  It was but he was not alone. ‘Hello, Freddie. Hello, Seb,’ she said in surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Look at your face!’ exclaimed Freddie, taking hold of her chin gently and tilting her face up to the sun. ‘I’ll bloody kill the swine when I get my hands on him.’

  ‘You know about what happened last evening?’ she asked, gazing into his blazing eyes.

  ‘Yes, we both know,’ said Seb grimly. ‘A policeman called at our house early this morning so I caught a train to Eastham. Tilly told me that Freddie was aiming to see you today and I thought we might as well come over here together, so here we are. Neither of us is happy about you and Ma being alone here without a man to protect you while Bert’s on the loose. The police are desperate to catch him.’

  ‘You’d best come in,’ said Clara, removing Freddie’s hand from her chin and holding it firmly. ‘Although, at the moment we’re not without protection. Police Sergeant Jones is here now, interviewing your Ma, Seb.’

  The three of them went inside and Clara introduced Freddie and Seb to the sergeant. Seb shook his hand before turning to his mother. ‘You should have come straight home instead of chasing after…’ He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. ‘Well, never mind that now. I’m taking you back today and I’m not having any arguments.’

  Gabrielle’s lips trembled and her fingers plucked at her skirt. ‘Easy for you to say that with Alice not here. I know what she’ll think if I walk into your house with you.’

  ‘Alice is as shocked as everyone else by what happened last night,’ said Seb, his eye glinting. ‘Anyway, she’ll go along with my decision, no matter how she feels towards you.’

  Clara spoke up, ‘I bet none of you were told that your mother probably saved my life at risk to her own.’

  Seb turned his head and looked at her in amazement. ‘No. He just told us you’d both been hurt and that you suspected the gunman was Bert.’

  ‘What concerns me,’ said Freddie, frowning and drawing Clara down onto the sofa with him, ‘is that Bert might try to rob the Palladium again. He’s vengeful and, although he probably didn’t recognise Clara as being the woman outside Hanny’s house on Easter Sunday, he might want to get back at the cashier and woman who foiled his plans.’

  Sergeant Jones murmured, ‘Now you’ve said that about this man, I wonder… there’s a possibility he could have removed his disguise and followed us back here. I can get a policeman to watch this house and the Palladium.’

  ‘But the police couldn’t do that for weeks and months on end, could they, Sergeant?’ asked Freddie, his expression serious. ‘Bert is a man who is prepared to wait to get his revenge. He’s cunning. I say that Clara can’t stay here or return to her job until Bert is found.’

  ‘So where are you suggesting Miss O’Toole hides out, Mr Kirk?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘My employer, Mrs Black, has offered for her to stay at her house in Eastham. Bert doesn’t know the place, so she’ll be safe there.’ Freddie glanced at Clara and smiled. ‘Besides, I’ll be there to keep an eye on her.’

  ‘Humph! I don’t know why you think so well of Edie,’ said Gabrielle, wincing as she hunched her shoulders. ‘I could tell you things about her.’

  ‘We don’t want to know,’ said Clara hastily. ‘If Freddie’s right, then I’ll be happy to stay at her house. I’m sure Mr Walsh will understand, in the circumstances. Besides, with the way my face looks right now, I don’t think I’d be a particularly good advertisement for the Palladium!’

  The sergeant said, ‘I’ll be seeing Mr Walsh soon, so I’ll explain to him.’

  ‘When you do, Sergeant Jones, ask him about my handbag, if you would,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I threw it at that swine and I didn’t bring it here with me, so it must still be at the Palladium.’

  ‘I’ll need an address to see that it gets to you,’ he said, his pencil poised above his notepad.

  ‘Better make it my son’s, then,’ she murmured, glancing at Seb.

  The sergeant wrote the address down and then put away his notebook and pencil. ‘I’ll be leaving you now then and I hope you both will soon recover from this terrible experience.’

  Clara and Gabrielle smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ they both said.

  Seb saw him out and then came back to the sunlit kitchen. ‘So what next?’ he asked, gazing at his mother. ‘Are you ready to go now or is there anything you need to fetch?’

  ‘My luggage is at a small guest house in Lord Nelson Street, so we’ll have to go there.’ She stretched out a hand to him. ‘Help me up, please. I’m not feeling quite myself today.’

  Seb placed an arm round her and hoisted her to her feet. ‘We’ll get my doctor to look at your wound.’

  ‘I hope you’ve some money on you. I owe a pound to the landlady.’ Gabrielle looked up into her son’s face and touched his scarred cheek. ‘It doesn’t look as bad as it did when I first saw it.’

  ‘Time heals,’ he said.

  They both smiled and he escorted her out of the house.

  Clara and Freddie exchanged looks and he leant forward and kissed her gently. ‘You’ll need to pack some clothes,’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘That won’t take long, and I’ll need to leave a note for Mary. She’s out seeing a friend today.’

  ‘Want any help?’ he asked, lifting her to her feet.

  She shook her head. ‘You can wait outside in the car if you want. I won’t be long.’

  After Clara had packed a few things in a holdall and written a note, she glanced about the silent kitchen and could almost see her grandmother sitting in her old chair. She hoped she would have approved of the burgeoning relationship between her daughter and granddaughter. With mixed feelings, Clara picked up the holdall and left, uncertain whether she would ever live in this house again.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Bert lay on the bed with the crocodile skin handbag by his side. He stroked the powder puff from the container of face powder down his cheek, feeling a frisson of pleasure as he did so. Its delicate perfume brought back memories of several women he’d slept with, but then, suddenly another darker recollection came to him and he broke out into a sweat as he relived the shock of a woman dying on him. He thought he had managed to rid himself of that terrible memory, but every now and again the remembrance would come to him so unexpectedly that it never failed to scare the life out of him.

  He threw the powder puff on the chair at the bedside and sat up. No more wasting time. He took the money from the handbag and pocketed it. Not much, but he had quite a few pounds tucked away now and, once he had settled several old scores, he was going to take a well earned holiday somewhere far away from England and enjoy himself.

  He emptied the rest of the contents of the handbag onto the bed and had a closer look at them. He took up the passport and opened it, and read the name Mrs Gertrude Bernadette Waters. The address was a farm in Delamere, Cheshire. Waters! That was a name he knew only too well!

  A shiver ran through him, as once again, he saw in his mind the limp body of Victoria Waters, the woman he had raped. She was haunting him! He tossed the passport on the bed and went over to the window, gazing out across the cobbled road of Mount Pleasant, where he saw a couple of nuns hurrying to the convent further up. Inexplicably, the nuns reminded him of his mother. He experi
enced a familiar pain when he thought of her, remembering how he had longed for her to visit him in prison.

  He had waited in vain and for a while he had blamed his dah, but then he had learnt that his mother was in the lunatic asylum, a fact his father failed to mention. His blue eyes darkened. It was the women’s fault; Hanny and Joy, Alice and her friend Emma, and that interfering Mrs Black. They were responsible not only for his degradation but the loss of his mother’s support. The girl who had snatched Alice’s daughter from him had joined their ranks, and now another woman, Mrs Gertrude Bernadette Waters, was there alongside them.

  Pity he hadn’t been able to hurt Mrs Black when he had seen her with Freddie in that motor in Lime Street. His body began to shake with laughter. He had fooled them all right. Good disguise dressing up as a woman. It was the wig that had given him the idea. Good wheeze, as well, for getting money off the public. He had thought the medium had penetrated his disguise and she’d had him sweating for a second, but then they had driven off. But it was a good disguise and he was seriously considering using it again sometime in the future.

  From his pocket he took a packet of strong mints and popped one into his mouth. Then he returned to the bed and rifled through the rest of the items on the bed and came across a solicitor’s business card; the address was in Chester. That decided it, a visit to the city of his birth was meant to be. He would book himself in at the premier hotel in the city, the Grosvenor. No one was going to think of looking for him there. Perhaps he should take the name he had used years ago, before the war, when he had needed to go to ground; Albert Church. He would shave off his moustache and wear the dark curly-haired wig. It was time to make a move on his enemies, once and for all.

  * * *

  Alice had finished preparing the spare room for her mother-in-law, having placed a vase of pink roses on the dressing table. She had worked out some of her bad mood by beating the bedside rug out on the line and then banging pillows. She had told herself that she had to try and be a good Christian and make Gabrielle welcome. Of course, that was if she agreed to come, but Alice was convinced she would. Her heart sank. A short while ago she had begun to believe that life was going to get better but not only had Bert come back from the dead, but her dad was weaning Tilly away from them and now Seb’s mother was about to appear on the scene again. When Seb had gone missing it had been an extremely testing time, and now she felt that God was testing her faith again and she knew that she must not be found wanting. She had to rise to the challenge that was Gabrielle. If Seb could forgive her for the pain she had caused him, then she must do so, too. After all, Gabrielle was not getting any younger and it was no fun at anytime having a gun pointed at you, never mind being shot. She thought of her dad bleeding as he had lain on the ground outside Hanny’s. He had done wrong but her mother had forgiven him time and again, so couldn’t she try and imitate her and close the rift that was growing between herself and Tilly?

  She heard the sound of a car engine and then it stopped outside. Hurrying over to the window, she rested her hands on the sill and gazed down on the crescent. Seb was climbing out of the car and there was his mother and Clara; Freddie was in the driving seat. Would they all be coming in, needing something to eat and a drink? The joint might not stretch that far. Was Clara expecting to stay? She whipped off her apron and hurried downstairs.

  Tilly must have heard the car, as well, because she already had the front door open and was welcoming Gabrielle and Clara into the house.

  ‘I won’t be staying long,’ said Clara to Tilly. ‘I’m going with Freddie to Mrs Black’s. She’s invited me to stay with her.’

  ‘But you and Freddie will have a cup of tea, won’t you?’ called Alice from the stairs.

  Clara looked up and smiled. ‘A cup of tea would be very nice.’

  ‘Your face!’ cried Alice, holding out both hands to her.

  ‘She’s a brave girl,’ said Gabrielle, gazing at them both.

  ‘No braver than you,’ said Clara, returning her gaze.

  Gabrielle shook her head. ‘I was just plain stupid. He got my dander up and I let fly.’

  ‘Just as you did to Mr Robbie Bennett,’ teased Clara.

  ‘What’s this about Mr Robbie Bennett?’ asked Alice, squeezing Clara’s hands before freeing them. ‘Seb told me about his meeting with him.’

  Gabrielle groaned and put a hand to her head. ‘Don’t tell her, Clara. I’ve been all kinds of a fool but from now on I’m going to leave him where he belongs… in the past.’

  ‘That’s a good start for your new life,’ said Seb, thinking that it was a pity because he had rather taken to Robbie. He put down one of his mother’s suitcases and flexed his fingers. Freddie was just behind him with the other one.

  The hall suddenly seemed crowded. ‘You can take them upstairs,’ said Alice, wondering what Seb meant by your new life. Was she going to live here with them from now on? She sent up a quick prayer. ‘I’ve put you in old Mrs Waters’ bedroom, mother-in-law,’ she said. ‘It has been done up.’

  Gabrielle looked at her, remembering all the letters Alice had sent to her without any real words of reproach. ‘Call me Gabrielle,’ she said. ‘I’ll go up straightaway, if you don’t mind? I’m a bit tired and would like to lie down for an hour.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Alice, trying not to sound relieved. ‘Do you want a cup of tea brought up?’

  ‘No. I’ll make myself one later, if you don’t mind me in your kitchen?’

  Alice remembered when the kitchen had been Gabrielle’s kingdom and magnanimously said, ‘Make yourself at home. Seb’s told the children about your macaroons. Perhaps, when you have a chance, you can make them some.’

  Gabrielle flushed with pleasure and felt a tightness in her throat so that she could only nod before going upstairs.

  ‘That went off better than I thought it would,’ whispered Seb against his wife’s ear. Then he went upstairs in his mother’s wake.

  Tilly turned to Clara. ‘So, are you going to tell us all what happened?’

  ‘Once I’ve had my cup of tea,’ she replied.

  It took a good half hour telling the whole story and when Clara had finished, Tilly said, ‘Can I have an exclusive on this? It just might be the piece that gets me published in the newspapers.’

  Clara said, ‘If that’s what you want to do.’

  ‘But keep her name and whereabouts a secret,’ said Freddie.

  ‘As if I needed telling that Bert might read newspapers,’ responded Tilly, sticking her tongue out at him.

  Freddie took Clara’s hand and drew her to her feet. ‘It’s time we were going.’

  They said their goodbyes and left. Soon they were bowling along the country lanes that led to Eastham. Clara had her eyes closed and could smell the sweet scent of dog roses. She was thinking about Mrs Black and wondered if she dared ask her how she and Robbie Bennett had found each other’s company when they met at her grandmother’s funeral.

  ‘I suppose you didn’t sleep too well last night?’ asked Freddie, rousing Clara from her reverie.

  ‘No. My face was painful and my mind kept going over what had happened. Do you really believe Bert will have another go at stealing the takings from the Palladium?’

  ‘If he does, the police are going to be ready for him. But then perhaps that’ll occur to Bert, so he’ll do something entirely different. At least at Mrs Black’s you can relax.’

  ‘I’m not used to relaxing.’ Clara smothered a yawn.

  ‘Then learn,’ said Freddie, glancing at her with a tender expression. ‘Being tense all the time isn’t good for anyone. I know that from being at sea, never knowing when a U-boat would torpedo us.’

  ‘Thank God the war’s over,’ said Clara, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze and feeling warmed by it.

  ‘Amen,’ he said. ‘So, you learn from me and relax for the next few days… although, no doubt it won’t be long before Mrs Black or Joy finds you something to do.’

  * * *


  Eudora rose from the rustic seat and enveloped Clara in a hug. ‘My dear, how are you? What a thing to happen! You could so easily have been seriously injured or killed.’

  Clara felt slightly awkward being embraced by a woman whom she felt was generally very much in control of her feelings. ‘I’m fine, just a bit tired.’

  ‘Then you must rest. Later I’ll give you some witch hazel for the bruising.’ Eudora released her and turned to where Joy was sitting in a deckchair doing some sewing. ‘Joy, dear, sherry and some of those little biscuits you’ve baked, please? And Freddie, if you could fetch a couple more deckchairs from the old stable. I want to hear from Clara all that has happened, though I’m sure you already know most of it.’

  ‘I never tire of hearing Clara’s voice,’ said Freddie, winking at her before moving away to fetch the deckchairs.

  Joy touched Clara’s shoulder as she passed on her way to the house. ‘Glad you’re safe,’ she murmured.

  Eudora waved Clara to the deckchair vacated by Joy. ‘Now, dear, tell me all.’

  So Clara told her tale yet again, aware that Eudora was listening closely. She was also aware of Mr Moran not far away, tying up a rambling rose, and thought that no doubt he was listening, too. By the time she had finished, the sherry and biscuits had arrived and Joy heard the end of the story.

  ‘I never thought Bert would come to this,’ said Joy, handing first Eudora a glass of sherry and then Clara. ‘When we were young, he was so religious, used to win prizes at Bible Class and charmed the old ladies in our street. Mother, of course, thought the sun shone out of him.’

  Eudora glanced at Mal. ‘Some mothers have a lot to answer for. When I first studied Bert’s character more than fifteen years ago, I realised that he was a crafty, unstable, arrogant, cruel bully. Despite being a churchgoer and knowing his Bible, he had somehow managed to confuse what it says about what is right and wrong. He also did not seem to realise what was acceptable in those times is not so today. Clara and Joy, you must not go to Liverpool or Chester unaccompanied until he is caught.’ Eudora’s dark eyes were thoughtful as she sipped her sherry. ‘Bert must realise by now that he is a hunted man in Liverpool. He must go undisguised some of the time, so if the police accept for certain that he’s their thief and they have a photograph of him, then they will publish it in the Liverpool newspapers.’