by BK Duncan
‘Give it back to the sheep then.’
‘I’m to have my first front page story. A piece I’ve written about winkling out the key witness in Clarice Gem’s terrible demise. Just filed it.’
‘What? You didn’t do anything. Of all the cheating liars...’
‘Hey, take it easy. In my honourable profession it’s called working together, co-operation.’
‘I can’t see ever wanting to work with you. All you care about is a good story. My concern is to uncover the truth, yours is only helping yourself.’
‘We would be helping each other. Don’t you want people to know what a resourceful and efficient coroner’s officer you are?’
May looked into his eyes for traces of sarcasm. Could he have guessed about her systematic covering up of Colonel Tindal’s mistakes and omissions? He’d only need to have asked Dr Swan a few questions about past inquests to draw his own conclusions. And that was without knowing the origin of the sentiments in the letter she was holding.
‘I’ll deliver the text of the coroner’s closing remarks to your office by the end of the day. Not that I expect you’ll bother to read it; I’m sure you’ll have made up your own version of events by then.’
He gave her a wink and skipped off the desk and out of the room, leaving her at least with a focus for her anger.
Chapter Twelve
It was Saturday and May should’ve been humping the basket of dirty bed linen to the washhouse. Except she couldn’t face it. Why do something as boring as housework when there was a sticking door that - literally - cried out for attention? She fetched her brother’s tools from the cupboard under the stairs; Albert had been apprenticed to a master carpenter and had ambitions to be a cabinetmaker. But of course he would now never get the chance. The soft stroke of wood under her fingertips always brought him back as she imagined him looking over her shoulder and sharing in her pleasure. She rolled up the sleeves of her overalls, selected a screwdriver, and sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor to set about removing the hinges.
May hummed as she coaxed the damp pine into obeying her will. It was only when she was doing things like this that she was grateful for her dockers’ mitts - a daintier pair of hands could never span enough to grip the plane at just the right angle. She shaved away the last sliver and checked the edge was now completely smooth. She’d done a good job of it; Albert would be proud. There was just enough time left to re-fit the door, sweep up, and start on the apple, raisin and cinnamon pie that was to be her peace offering.
Sally was due for supper. May hadn’t seen her since their frosty ride back on the bus from Gerrard Street. She knew her friend had been offended that she’d treated her like a soft-in-the-head relative in front of Brilliant Chang but it would’ve been unethical to explain what she suspected him of, and what a danger she thought him to susceptible women. She’d sent Alice to the tailor’s in Grundy Street with the invitation on Wednesday, only for her to return with a reply that could hardly have been said to be enthusiastic. But that was moody girls for you; it was impossible to separate the message from the dismissal of everything not of direct interest. She was up in her room now probably ticking off the remaining hours to her first rehearsal - the only thing she seemed to think the sun worth rising for these days.
***
May had washed her face and changed into her print frock by the time Sally let herself in the back door. She paused beside the range, sniffed the air, and shrugged.
‘No one can say I’m hard on the pocket to win around.’
‘I’m sorry, Sal.’
And that was all it took. Sally hobbled over to give May a peck on the cheek. Then she sat at the kitchen table, the hessian bag she’d been carrying at her feet.
‘I wouldn’t say no to a glass of beer if you have one.’
May pulled a pottery flagon from the pail of cold water under the sink. ‘I sent Alice out to the Spotted Dog. Supper will be about an hour. Boiled chicken do you?’
‘I’d eat the coalman’s horse if it was cooked for me.’
‘Are things that bad?’
May filled two glasses and set them on the table.
‘I’m tired, that’s all.’
‘Well, drink this. The working week’s over now.’
‘Not until I’ve done Alice’s fitting.’
‘That can wait for another time; I want you to relax.’
‘It won’t take a minute. Besides, it’s a gift from God to see how good my clothes can look for a change.’ She pushed her frizzy fringe away from her eyes. ‘Is she in?’
‘It’s her night off. Shall I go and call her?’
‘Ask her to slip this on.’ She handed over the hessian bag.
When May returned to the kitchen Sally had moved the glasses onto the draining board, her box of pins and a triangle of buff-coloured tailor’s chalk in their place on the table.
‘Sal, before she comes down, I’ve a favour to ask.’ She tried to keep her voice light.
‘When have I not had to sing for my supper?’
‘You don’t have to do anything. Just hold my hand as it were. I need to have a talk with Alice and I’m scared it’d end in a row without you here.’
‘She in trouble?’
‘No. One of the recent inquests has been upsetting me, and I realised it’s partially because what happened to the young woman made me think of how vulnerable Alice is. I know I can’t stop her working in the theatre if that’s what she wants but I don’t want her prey to those racy types who think picking up a local girl comes with the price of the ticket.’
‘Like you’re suddenly an expert?’
May bit back her reply as Alice made her entrance. She’d taken it upon herself to borrow the dove-grey sandals but the effect was too stunning for May to complain; her sister looked tall and film star slim with just the right amount of curves in just the right places. Alice dropped her pose to give Sally a quick welcoming hug.
‘On the table. I want to pin the hem.’
Alice stepped up using the chair. Her head skimmed the ceiling.
‘You seen the cobwebs up here? Look, over there in the corner.’
May flicked at her legs with the teacloth she was holding. Sally tutted.
‘If you don’t keep still I’ll be sticking these into you instead of the dress.’
Alice stood with her hands by her side. She exuded a confidence in her beauty possessed by those who were unaware of the effect it caused on others. May hoped that wouldn’t change as Alice grew up, and that she wouldn’t have her heart broken too often. The water began to spit and she dropped in the potatoes.
Sally finished marking out the darts. ‘Go and slip this off without pulling at it. And be careful of the pins, blood will be hard to shift from such a light background.’
‘Twenty minutes, mind,’ May replaced the lid on the saucepan, ‘before supper’s on the table. And, guest or no guest, it’s your turn to do the clearing up.’
Alice skipped down off the chair, gave May a mock pout, and sashayed away as if she’d been wearing heels all her life.
***
They finished the flagon of beer over supper. May sent Alice to buy some more. Her sister had been lively and entertaining over the meal - giving a bitingly accurate impression of gossipy Mrs Green - but she’d felt in need of another glass or two if they were to have that talk. She put the kettle on for the washing up before sitting back down and watching Sally sewing running stitches.
‘If you won’t let me repair that chair for you, what else can I do in payment for making the dress?’
‘You can come and read to bubba sometimes. My eyes get sore and she says she’s tired of the sound of my voice anyway. Maybe something else as well...’
‘What?’
‘Let me make you a blouse. There’s e
nough of that material left.’
Alice breezed back into the kitchen.
‘I was telling your sister she needs to brighten herself up.’
Alice poured them all some beer. ‘I saw Mary Pickford and she had all these frills around her neck like soap bubbles.’
May frowned. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed we live in Poplar, not Hollywood.’
Sally bit off the end of the cotton and bundled the dress back in her bag. ‘A little softness around your face would be flattering. In all that schmutter you wear you could be from those old photographs in the library - the ones of women chopping fish on the quay.’
‘And there I was thinking you see me more as a ship’s weathered figurehead.’
Her friend shrugged as if to say that it had crossed her mind only she was too polite to say so. May laughed; it was good to be with someone who enjoyed the challenge of a spirited tease.
Alice, however, was regarding her seriously. ‘It’s lipstick and powder that’ll make the real difference. Let’s have a go now; I’ve some upstairs.’
‘If you’ve money for extravagances then I could do with something towards the housekeeping.’
‘I didn’t buy nothing. Vi at the theatre gave them to me. They were her old and she said I should use them to practise for when I’m on stage.’ She threw herself out of the room.
May wiped away the beer suds from the rim of the glass with her finger. ‘Next thing she’ll be painting herself to go out on the street. Our mother would never have approved.’
‘Times change. She’s young and having fun growing up. Drink up and quit with the sour face.’
‘I know you think I’m trying to interfere too much in her life but I don’t want her trying to look any more sophisticated that she is; it’ll only get her into the sort of trouble I’m not sure she’s equipped to get out of. And this Vi might not be the best influence as far as that is concerned; I was pleased for her when she got a part in the show, I really was, but I’m scared this might just be the beginning.’
‘Make a point of meeting the woman, and then judge if you have to. But remember your sister will choose her glamorous new friend over you, if pushed.’
Alice came back in carrying a lipstick and compact as if they were the crown jewels. She pulled a chair over to where the light from the gas mantle was strongest.
‘Let me do you. Please.’
First Sally with the scarf and then this; it felt like a conspiracy. But if she capitulated then Alice might just repay her by listening to what she had to say without flying off the handle.
‘I think I need some more beer first.’
May drained her glass and topped them all up again.
‘Off you go then, I’m all yours. Do your worst.’
Alice began by stroking her hair off her forehead and pressing it back gently with her palm. Then she dabbed the powder puff here and there. Next she slicked on the sticky lipstick. It was a strange feeling to be ministered to in such an intimate way. May realised that she hadn’t been touched so caressingly for a very long time and her eyes filled with tears. She blinked hard.
‘The powder is getting up my nose; I’m going to sneeze.’
‘Another second. That’s all... there. What do you think, Sally?’
‘That you’re a pair of bookends in your beauty. Your mother would be proud of you both.’
That did make the tears flow. But May didn’t mind because now she had a legitimate reason for crying. Alice blotted her cheeks with the corner of the teacloth.
‘Don’t spoil it. Look in the mirror.’ She held the compact out.
May felt shy in the gaze of the reflection examining her. The cherry redness of the lipstick made her eyes brighter and the powder smoothed out her skin tone without looking plastered on. She looked fresher rather than painted; Alice was certainly talented.
‘I’ll do it for you whenever you like. Why don’t you keep this?’ She handed May the lipstick. ‘Vi gave me a pink one, too, which looks much better than that.’
May caught Sally looking at her. What was that she’d said about learning to accept gifts graciously? ‘Thank you.’ She slipped it into her frock pocket. ‘Now, set to with that washing up while I make the coffee. Want a cup, Sal?’
‘Who am I to turn down what I am not so well placed to come by?’
May felt herself bristle. Yes, it was true she didn’t come by her beans in a strictly legitimate way but everyone in the docks did it - a split sack here, a damaged crate there; how else were families supposed to make ends meet? She was, however, acutely aware of this chink in her integrity as coroner’s officer.
Alice clattered a plate on the draining board. ‘Don’t know how you two can drink that stuff. It’s revolting. I’ve more of a sweet tooth myself; shame we never have chocolates for afters. Strawberry creams are my favourites.’
May wondered how many boxes had been slipped under the grille with the money for the tickets. This was the moment to bring the topic up. The coffee could wait.
‘Leave the saucepan to soak and come and sit down. I need to talk to you.’
‘I thought we’d been doing that all evening.’
‘But this is serious.’
Alice dried her hands and joined them at the table. ‘What have I done wrong now? Because it’s not very nice to tear me off a strip in front of Sally.’
‘I’ve no intention of doing that. I just want to make sure you know to keep your wits about you when it comes to men.’
‘This ain’t going to be the birds and bees is it? Because you’re years too late to tell me about sex.’
May knew her face was registering shock.
‘I don’t mean that,’ Alice leapt in, ‘what sort of a girl do you think I am? And I can spot a stage door Johnny a mile off. Blimey, what it is to be thought a tart by your own flesh and blood.’
The beer was making her even more defensive than usual. May looked across at Sally for help.
‘Listen to what she has to say and cut the smart remarks that feel good in your mouth but leave a taste like the bitterest of coffee beans. Your sister is concerned for your welfare and you should be grateful she loves you enough to be so. Spurn her efforts now, then when you have grown into enough humility to ask for her wisdom you may find she has decided you are no longer worth the effort.’
May was astonished to see Alice dip her head. Perhaps failing to adopt such a direct approach was the mistake she’d been making all along. Or it could simply be that harsh appraisal was easier to swallow when it came from outside the family. She took a steadying breath.
‘You’re at the age when it’s natural to be interested in boys - and maybe try on a little romance for size. But I need to know you’ll be careful who you agree to go out with.’
‘Be like you and stay at home all the time, you mean.’
Sally held her finger to her lips and Alice flushed.
‘Women my age had everything messed up by the War. I’m glad things will be better for you - truly I am - but the absence of men in our lives recently hasn’t exactly been a good preparation.’
‘I see plenty of them right enough. Some are always at it bringing different girls to the theatre each night. Hanging on their arms they are, all giggling and twittering, but anyone can see how they’re going to be treated by the end of the night. I ain’t stupid. I know what goes on.’
The contempt in her voice was the confirmation May needed: like every other young girl Alice would make her mistakes, but throwing her virtue away wasn’t going to be one of them.
‘You should see the way Vi treats them. Like she’s gazing over their heads to the gallery while she tells them she’s delighted they enjoyed the entertainment and next time to bring their friends. She’s a real pro, is Vi.’
‘Well she certainly
sounds like just the person to show you the ropes. Look, I’ve an idea, why don’t you invite her here for tea? I’d really like to meet her.’
‘When? Tomorrow?’
Alice’s excitement was like stage lights all being turned on at once.
‘She’s got herself a spot in the regular show come Monday next and I don’t reckon she’ll have much time then.’
‘Hold your horses. Vi isn’t the only one with responsibilities and pressing commitments. I’ll check the courtroom diary and you let me know when your gruesome manager needs you and we’ll work something out.’
‘Can I leave the saucepan until the morning and write her a proper invitation?’
‘Go on then. But don’t promise anything fancy.’
Alice kissed her, then Sally, and left the kitchen humming.
‘Not bad, May Keaps, not bad. I’ll make something like decent wife and mother material of you yet.’ Sally raised herself stiffly from the chair. ‘And while we’re in the mood for delivering and receiving truths, I will say this one more time and then may my tongue flame in my head if I mention it again. Don’t leave it too late or when you are old and lonely you will wonder why you did. Now I’m off to get my beauty sleep. Thank you for a lovely evening. Sleep well.’
She kissed the top of May’s head before letting herself out of the back door.
***
The world was spinning as May slipped on her nightgown and got into bed. She shouldn’t have sat up to finish the beer. The sheets felt clammy against her skin. She turned and hugged the pillow as the sounds of a nighttime in the docks cradled her - men’s voices returning from the pub; dogs barking; the distant rumble of the trains shunting in the coal-yards; the raising and lowering of cranes and winches. The hoot of a steamer. It was comforting to know that in the morning it would all still be waiting for her to take up her part in it again. She slowed her breathing and relaxed into sleep.
The current is pushing against her arms as she swims. A series of humps in the water - the wake of a ship long gone - buoys her up then drops her. She flips onto her back to look at the moon. It isn’t quite full yet - another day or so and then the tide would turn and sweep her out to sea like a message in a bottle. Where would she wash up? On a desert island... or the shores of Africa where the sun would beat down and the spaces in her head fill with the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg?