by Pam Weaver
‘I don’t think you have to,’ said Grace. ‘Would you mind if I talk to someone about this?’
Rita’s eyes had grown wide. ‘Who? Whatever for? Mum, I don’t want the whole street knowing my business.’
‘They won’t,’ said Grace. ‘Solicitors are bound by the law not to talk about their clients. I think a solicitor would tell us that a judge in a divorce court would annul a marriage that wasn’t consummated and …’
‘Consummated?’ Rita had interrupted. ‘What’s that?’
Grace was moved with compassion. What sort of a mother had she been? She should have done some plain talking but instead she’d allowed her daughter to remain ignorant of the facts of life. Poor Rita. So innocent, so naive.
‘That you and Emilio never made love together.’
‘I’d have to tell a judge that!’
‘Darling, if you do, you’ll be rid of him forever.’
Rita stared at her mother as if unable to speak. Grace had patted her hand. She needed time to think, Grace could see that. ‘Let’s sleep on it,’ she’d said brightly. ‘Things will look a whole lot better in the morning.’
They parted on the stair with a hug. Grace lay awake for some time thinking. Uppermost in her mind was this business with Emilio, but gradually her thoughts moved in another direction. Norris Finley had been panic-stricken when he’d turned up here just before Christmas. Why? He’d never come back to the house, nor had he asked her why she wasn’t returning to work. He’d mentioned the locket and as abruptly as he’d barged into her life, he’d disappeared from it. Once more her thoughts turned to the other things he’d got in that safe. The gold watch and her moneybag. She should have thought of this before but what with her mother dying and all of Rita’s troubles, she’d had no time to dwell on other things. Had Norris really arranged for her to be attacked and then given her back her own money? The answer was probably yes, because he wanted a hold over her. Now that Snowy had told her he’d got his hands on poor little Polly, the man had to be stopped, but the question was, how? Exposure was the only answer but with his exposure came the exposure of others. Innocent people could be ruined.
When Rita came down the next morning, although her eyes still looked puffy, she was a lot calmer. ‘I thought you’d be at work.’
‘I never went back to the factory,’ said Grace. ‘I’ve started another arm to the agency. Babysitting this time. I can work when I like.’
‘Babysitting?’ Rita smiled.
‘Simple enough,’ said Grace. ‘I saw the idea in Woman magazine and I got to thinking about some of the girls round here stuck at home all the time because there’s no one to look after their babies. I charge five bob to join which will cover my costs and the babysitters get about a bob an hour.’
‘Never short on ideas, are you, Mum,’ Rita grinned.
‘Well, if ever you’ve got a spare evening and you want some cash …’ Grace teased and Rita laughed.
A few minutes later, Rita sat down at the table with some toast and a cup of tea.
‘Rita,’ Grace began cautiously. ‘We found a suitcase in your bedroom.’
‘I’d forgotten all about that.’ Rita’s face had coloured.
‘It belongs to George Matthews,’ Grace went on. ‘Have you any idea why Bonnie was keeping it?’
‘It wasn’t Bonnie,’ said Rita. ‘It was me.’
Now Grace was puzzled. Was Rita going out with George too? ‘What?’
Rita told her about meeting Mrs Kerr, and going to George’s digs. ‘A few months later, when she came into Hubbard’s,’ Rita continued, ‘she told me to come and get it.’
Grace frowned. ‘But why didn’t you take it to the police? Or tell me about it?’
‘Have you looked inside, Mum? There’s stuff about the Nazis in it. I didn’t tell you because I was scared Bonnie was mixed up in something.’ Rita cut herself another slice of bread. ‘Will you come back to the flat tonight and help me collect my things? Emilio will be out fishing.’
‘Of course, darling.’ Grace avoided her eye. She would dearly love to thump Emilio, and Salvatore and Liliana for that matter. She blamed herself for not being more forthright when talking about Emilio’s preferences, but Salvatore and Liliana had played their part in this sorry state of affairs as well. They had known all along what the boy was like, and yet they had encouraged the marriage. How could they have let it happen?
‘Have you thought any more about asking a solicitor what todo?’
Rita put her bread under the grill. ‘I suppose we’d better get it over and done with.’
Clara Cooper wasn’t looking forward to clearing out her aunt’s house and she had put it off for far too long. Miss Reeves had been a meticulous person with a place for everything and everything in its place, but it was painful packing up a person’s life like this. The furniture was positively ancient and most of her clothes were hopelessly old fashioned, but Clara had a mind to take them to the church anyway. Sometimes the church gave furniture to people starting out in life. Auntie would have approved of her things helping some poor soul in need. Her dresses could be cut up and the material used for more modern dresses or children’s clothes, and there were plenty of women skilled enough to do it. The country had moved on from make do and mend to alter and re-create.
It was when she had almost finished that she came across the box of letters. Her aunt had been corresponding with Bonnie Rogers. Clara could hardly believe it. Her daughter had gone to school with Bonnie and they had been quite good friends at one time. She had been as shocked as anybody when Bonnie left Worthing. They said that her poor mother spent days and days at the station asking people if they had seen her. She looked distraught.
Rumour and gossip had been rife. They said Bonnie had stolen something and run away, or that she’d got herself in the family way and when George Matthews was found in the old factory, there were plenty who said they’d seen her in his company. A couple of times she had seen Mrs Rogers in the street but she had crossed over the road rather than speak to her. It was all too embarrassing.
Clara spent some time reading the letters but there was nothing in them. Bonnie was doing her nursery nurse training, but all she talked about was her mother and sister. Clara thought about throwing the letters in the bin. After all, Bonnie had written them to her aunt and her aunt was dead. Whatever passed between them was their business … But then her conscience got the better of her. It wouldn’t be fair to deny her the letters. They wouldn’t do much good. There was no address at the top of the page but at least knowing that her daughter was doing well would give her a crumb of comfort. She put the letters into a large envelope. She would drop them in sometime when she was passing.
Lunch in the nursery was over. Shirley was asleep in her cot in the Tweenies room when Bonnie went in to see her. She ran her fingers gently through her blonde curls and smiled. ‘You would have loved our little girl, George,’ she whispered, swallowing the lump that was forming in her throat.
She lingered a while to talk to Monica who was cleaning the paint pots and painting aprons the children had been using during the morning then, yawning, she made her way back to her room in the staff cottage. That’s funny, she thought, there’s no sign of the painters and they hadn’t done any work. Perhaps they were only measuring up or something.
She knew something was wrong as soon as she walked along the corridor towards her room. Her door was ajar and there was a petticoat in the doorway. Bonnie’s heart began to quicken.
‘Who’s there?’ she called but there was no answer.. Bonnie pushed the door gingerly and looked inside. The room was completely ransacked. Her clothes and bedding were on the floor, her mattress on the top. Doreen’s part of the room was the same. The wardrobe was empty. Of the chest of drawers, every drawer had been emptied and tipped on top of the already mountainous pile in the middle of the room. Even the corkboard with Shirley’s paintings had been taken off the wall. Bonnie stood in the doorway with her mouth open. Who c
ould have done this? And why? She glanced around nervously. Her mind went back to the day before and the man with the rasping voice and she turned and ran back to the main house.
Matron and Mr Bennett called the police. Bonnie went to find Doreen and to arrange cover for her to come back to their room. When she saw the mess, she was beside herself with fear.
‘It was that bloke,’ she said. ‘You never should have gone back and spoken to him.’
The same thought had crossed Bonnie’s mind too.
‘Oh Lord,’ Doreen went on, ‘if I’d been in here, he would have had his evil way with me and all.’
‘He wasn’t a rapist,’ said Bonnie. ‘He was a thief.’
‘So, what was he looking for?’ Doreen wailed.
Bonnie had a shrewd idea but said nothing. They waited until the police came before beginning the mammoth task of clearingup. In the end, a bobby on a bicycle turned up and a Detective Constable Elliot, who was dropped off by car, quickly followed him.
Their interest was really aroused when Bonnie told them about the painter.
‘Who was he?’ asked Elliot.
Doreen was already giving him the glad eye. ‘I never saw him,’ she sighed.
‘I’ve never seen him before either,’ said Bonnie.
‘Did he threaten you?’
Doreen gasped and burst into tears.
‘No,’ said Bonnie, putting her arm around Doreen’s shoulders. ‘We just said good morning.’
‘So you weren’t in the least bit suspicious?’
‘No,’ said Bonnie. ‘I thought how good it was that the place was going to get a lick of paint.’
‘That’s not very likely to happen,’ Matron interrupted. ‘The council is strapped for cash. Even if we were able to decorate, the only colours available are deadly dull. Who wants battleship grey everywhere?’
Bonnie was asked to describe the man which she did as best she could. ‘I didn’t take that much notice of him. After all, it was only seven in the morning.’
‘He must have been looking for something,’ the DC said accusingly.
Doreen blew her nose noisily.
‘Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?’ said Bonnie.
‘If either of you has got herself involved with some lowlife, you’d be sensible to tell us before this gets any worse,’ said the DC. He waited for an answer but Bonnie comforted the sobbing Doreen who probably hadn’t even heard the question.
‘Is anything missing?’
‘How do we know?’ Bonnie retorted. ‘We can’t possibly tell until we’ve put everything back.’
‘I bet it was that man from yesterday,’ said Doreen.
Bonnie glanced at Shirley’s picture on the wall and remembered the driver’s rasping voice. ‘You’ve got something that belongs to Mr Finley …’
Doreen began to tell the police about the black Lanchester which had followed them to Chessington. ‘Bonnie confronted the driver when we got off the Greenline bus.’
For the first time, Bonnie felt afraid. She was in danger. Worse than that, Shirley was in danger. ‘If you value your daughter’s life …’ the man had said. She had to get away from here. They knew she lived here, they’d be back. She wished she had pursued her plan to visit her mother. She would have had somewhere to go if she had done, but she couldn’t turn up on her mother’s doorstep unannounced, not with all this trouble in her wake and with a baby in tow. It would be too much to bear. And besides, her mother worked for Mr Finley.
‘Miss Rogers,’ the policeman was saying. ‘Could the driver and the painter have been the same person?’
Bonnie shook her head. ‘I don’t think so … no.’
The questioning went on for some time. ‘If you find something is missing,’ the DC said as they got ready to leave, ‘let us know.’
As soon as the police had gone, Matron told Bonnie she needn’t come back on duty until six and she gave Doreen the rest of the day off. ‘That,’ she told them, ‘should give you both time to clear this mess up.’
Doreen was so upset, it took a while to get everything straight. She was too scared to walk to the bus stop on her own, so Bonnie went with her. On her way back to the nursery, Bonnie went to the telephone box.
Dinah gasped when Bonnie told her what had happened.
‘What were they looking for?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you. I need to get away from here,’ said Bonnie. ‘I have the feeling that if they haven’t found what they’re looking for, they’ll be back, and I must protect Shirley.’
‘Of course, darling,’ said Dinah. ‘Leave it with me. John and I have friends we can call on. Be ready at seven and someone will be there to fetch you.’
Quick-thinking, Bonnie said, ‘How will I know they’ve come from you?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be with them,’ said Dinah.
As Bonnie hurried back, she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder a couple of times. Dear Lord, she was getting as jumpy as Doreen. It was plainly obvious that the man had been looking for that letter, but why? You’ve got something that belongs to Mr Finley … Why would he want his son’s letter? It didn’t say anything important.
When she got back to her room and she was alone, Bonnie lifted the corner of Shirley’s painting on the wall and relaxed. Thank God they hadn’t found it. After the confrontation with the driver of the car, she had folded it carefully and pushed it into one of the holes on the wall. She’d picked a little more plaster away so that it fitted snugly and then she’d Sellotaped it in. The little painting covered it perfectly. She would leave it there until she had finished her duty for today and then she’d take it with her. She’d lose her job of course, as well as the chance to take her exams. She’d have to let Matron and Lady Brayfield down badly, but it couldn’t be helped. Her only thought was to protect Shirley.
Dinah took her to a friend’s flat.
‘It’s all right,’ she said as Bonnie was looking around. ‘She’s in the States. She told me I could use it any time I wanted. As soon as I can get a transatlantic line, I’ll telephone her to say you and Shirley are here.’
They had to put Shirley in a single bed. She was dry at night, so Bonnie wasn’t worried about spoiling the mattress, but there was a danger she would fall out of bed. They pushed it against the wall and managed to get a chair wedged on the other side so that the back of the chair made a guard.
‘I hope we’ll be safe,’ said Bonnie.
‘Of course you will, darling,’ said Dinah. ‘Even if we were followed, which we weren’t, you can only get in with the permission of the concierge on the door. You have a double lock on the front door to the flat as well. Now what’s this all about?’
‘I don’t want to sound mysterious,’ she said, ‘but I really need to speak to John.’
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ smiled Dinah, and Bonnie couldn’t resist giving her a hug.
‘You are such a wonderful friend,’ she said. ‘Anyone else would be upset and think I was keeping them in the dark, but you don’t seem to mind.’
‘I am absolutely furious,’ Dinah joked. ‘But I trust you, and I know you will tell me when you can.’
‘Thanks Dinah.’
As soon as Bonnie was settled, Dinah turned to go. ‘I’ll bring John here the day after tomorrow,’ she said. ‘He’s in Bournemouth. He’ll be back by then.’
‘Would you do me one more favour?’ Bonnie asked. She handed Dinah Shirley’s doll, the one Dinah had given her.
‘Didn’t she like it?’
‘She loves it. Would you give it to her again? I don’t want her to have all her toys at once. She’ll get bored with them and besides she’s still got Leggy Peggy.’
‘Good idea,’ smiled Dinah. ‘See you the day after tomorrow with John.’
‘It’s really coming together with you two, isn’t it?’ said Bonnie. ‘You both deserve it. Will you live in the house in Worthing?’
‘Didn’t I tell you?’ said Dinah. ‘I sold Granny’s
house.’
Bonnie gasped.
‘I had an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ Dinah went on. ‘Most of our lives are in London now. What do I want with a little house in Worthing?’
‘What indeed,’ Bonnie sighed wistfully.
Thirty-Five
Bonnie and Shirley spent a pleasant day together in the flat. It was a beautiful home and after Bonnie had spent some time moving ornaments and precious things out of the reach of inquisitive little hands, they played chase and made dens under the table and behind the dressing table curtain. Dinah had brought a little food with her, only the basic stuff, eggs, cheese and a little bread, but it was enough for a couple of days, so Bonnie decided to lie low for a while. She missed her friends in the nursery and there was a serious risk that she would not be able to complete her course, but Shirley’s safety was paramount.
She had just put Shirley to bed when the telephone rang. Bonnie picked it up cautiously. ‘Hello?’
‘This is your concierge, Madam. There is a Mr Finley here. Shall I give him admittance?’
‘Oh yes, yes,’ Bonnie cried. ‘Send him up.’
In the few minutes before John arrived, she rushed around the flat, plumping up cushions and picking up Shirley’s few toys. She only had time to glance in the mirror to tidy her hair before the doorbell rang, but her beaming smile died as she opened it and Norris Finley barged his way inside.
When she opened the front door, Bonnie nearly died of shock. She tried to close it quickly but Norris Finley pushed his way past her.
‘What do you want?’ Bonnie willed her voice to be steady. ‘How did you find me?’
‘It was easy enough to have you followed, and you know perfectly well what I want,’ he said, walking into the flat and looking around.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Bonnie, ‘and if you don’t get out of here, I shall call security.’
Norris rounded on her and grabbed her cardigan, pulling her towards him. ‘Now listen to me, you stupid cow, I’ve no time to mess around. I want that letter you took from your mother’s place.’