by Pam Weaver
‘Never even thought of that,’ said Wilf. ‘Anyway, the wife is making some tea.’
No sooner had he said it than a grey-haired woman with a blanket over her shoulder came into the room carrying a tea tray. Putting the tray onto a table, she arranged the blanket over Rita. ‘Now you just stay there nice and quiet until the ambulance comes.’
The Harris Tweed passenger put her head around the snug door. Her cheeks were flushed and she held a sherry glass in her hand. ‘The poleesh are here,’ she slurred as she left again.
‘That lot must be costing you a fortune,’ said Bob.
Wilf chuckled and jerked his head. ‘She hasn’t looked at the clock. It’s already opening time and she’s paying.’ He turned to go. ‘You’d better come with me and tell the coppers what happened.’
Bob glanced down at Rita. ‘I’d rather stay here with my colleague.’ He reached for her hand but Rita slid it under the blanket. She didn’t dare be alone with him again.
‘You go,’ she said. ‘I’m fine.’
He hesitated, still staring down at her. Rita closed her eyes, pretending to be sleepy. She opened them again only when she was sure he was leaving the room. Gazing longingly at his receding back, Rita sighed. Oh Bob, she thought. What a fool I’ve been. I never knew … I never knew.
Norris went straight to Central Station. As soon as Manny had a moment, they went into the broom cupboard together.
‘If that letter falls into the wrong hands,’ Norris grumbled, ‘the police will be all over me like a rash. I’ll be ruined.’
Manny grabbed Norris’s lapels and pushed him against the wall. ‘You’d better keep your mouth shut about me,’ he threatened. ‘If you blab about anything we’ve done, I’ll make damned sure you hang with me.’
Thirty-Eight
Having a car in the street caused quite a stir. Grace knew something was happening when she heard the kids shouting ‘Hurrah’, as they ran alongside it. She glanced out of the window and was surprised to see it pull up outside her own house. A posh-looking lady climbed out of the passenger seat and headed towards the little gate. Grace wiped her hands on her apron and whipped it off. Stuffing it behind the breadbin, she looked frantically around her kitchen. It was clean and tidy but she would have made more of an effort had she known someone was coming. Who was she anyway? She seemed vaguely familiar and yet she couldn’t place the face.
There was a gentle knock at the door. Grace opened it and her jaw dropped. Mrs Finley was the very last person she would have expected to come to her house, but politeness allowed Grace to step back and let her in without a word.
‘Mrs Finley,’ said Grace.
‘Mrs Rogers,’ said Mrs Finley.
‘Has something awful happened?’ said Grace, her thoughts immediately going to John.
‘No, no, please don’t concern yourself on that score, Mrs Rogers.’
There was an awkward silence then Grace said, ‘Please, do sit down. What can I do for you?’
They sat opposite each other at the kitchen table. Mrs Finley took off her gloves. ‘I’m afraid this is not going to be an easy occasion for either of us, Mrs Rogers,’ she said with a sigh, ‘but you have been done a grave wrong and I must put it right.’
Grace looked startled. As Mrs Finley began to adjust her jacket, Grace remembered her manners. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Here, let me take your coat. Can I offer you some tea?’
‘That would be lovely, Mrs Rogers. I have just driven down from London and I’m feeling quite parched.’
‘I have some cake,’ said Grace. ‘Or some biscuits, although I’m afraid they’re only broken ones.’
‘Tea would be fine, thank you.’
Grace made the tea with a trembling hand. She’d never actually come face to face with Mrs Finley before. Twenty-five years ago, when the deed was done, it had been behind closed doors. The only glimpse she’d had of her son’s new mother had been from the window of the home when he had been handed to Mrs Finley sitting on the back seat of a car. The two women had both locked eyes for a split second and then John was gone from her life.
It was only when she’d placed the cup and saucer in front of Mrs Finley that she began to talk.
‘Mrs Rogers, all those years ago, did you ever actually sign an adoption paper?’
Grace shook her head. ‘Please call me Grace.’
‘Grace,’ smiled Mrs Finley. ‘My husband is very anxious to get hold of a certain letter Mr Edward Finley wrote to you. I believe your daughter took it with her when she left home.’
Grace gasped. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I have been in contact with Bonnie.’
Grace clutched at her throat. ‘You have? How is she? Is she well? Where did you find her?’
Mrs Finley held her hand up. ‘One at a time, Grace. By the time I leave this house I promise you will know everything there is to know.’
With supreme effort Grace calmed herself and waited.
‘My son is engaged to Dinah Chamberlain. As soon as your daughter realised who he was, she put two and two together and realised that he was her half brother. What she didn’t know was that my husband falsified John’s birth certificate. He had him registered as our natural-born son.’
‘Can you do that?’
‘It’s a criminal offence,’ said Mrs Finley, ‘but nonetheless, my husband did it.’ She sipped some tea. ‘He’s been trying to keep it under wraps ever since.’
Grace touched her lips with the tips of her fingers anxiously. Her mind was struggling to put all the pieces together.
‘The wrongdoing was done on the part of my husband,’ said Mrs Finley. ‘Please don’t concern yourself that you will be in any kind of trouble. He persuaded me that I was as involved as he was, and so all these years I have kept my silence.’ She touched Grace’s hand. ‘My dear, I am sorry.’
Grace avoided her gaze. This was a lot to take in.
‘It gets worse,’ said Mrs Finley. ‘Sebastian and I have been going through my husband’s papers because I want to get a divorce. We have discovered that Norris and I never formally adopted John because you had been left some money. It was only payable to you while you had the boy. Unfortunately for him, Norris has been unable to cream it off because it was tied up in such a way that the payments had to be put into an account with your name. Norris was executor of his father’s will but he’s never passed it on to you, has he?’
Slightly bemused, Grace shook her head.
‘I thought not.’ Mrs Finley continued. ‘It appears that my husband was content to let it accumulate, because when John is twenty-five, any residue would pass to the Finley estate.’
‘I don’t want any money,’ said Grace stoutly.
‘What you do with the money is up to you, my dear,’ said Mrs Finley. ‘But the law says it’s rightfully yours and it should have been given to you to help with the upkeep of your child.’
Grace offered her another cup of tea and poured it. Her mind was in a whirl. She could have kept her baby. All these years without him and it was his grandfather’s wish that she should keep him.
‘Now I will get to the crux of the other matter,’ said Mrs Finley. ‘Your daughter and John have become great friends. You may be shocked to know that Bonnie has a child, but Shirley is a delightful little thing who is coming up for two and a half now.’
Grace stared at her in shocked surprise, her hand over her mouth and her eyes glistening with tears. ‘George Matthews?’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Mrs Finley. ‘John and Dinah are to be her godparents which is so touching, don’t you think?’
Grace swallowed hard. ‘Was that why Bonnie went away?’
‘She and George were planning a new life,’ said Mrs Finley. ‘When he didn’t show up, Bonnie thought she had been deserted, but it appears that George met with an accident.’
‘Now I have a shock for you, Mrs Finley,’ said Grace quietly. ‘I am convinced that George was murdered and I’m rather afraid that Mr Fin
ley may be involved. I happen to know that right now the police are looking for him.’
There was a small silence then Mrs Finley smiled. ‘Oh good.’ Grace was speechless with surprise. After a second or two she took a deep breath. ‘If this is the time for being honest,’ she began, ‘then I have something to tell you. I’m not proud of what I did, but believe me when I say I felt I had no choice.’
Mrs Finley raised a hand. ‘You don’t need to tell me, my dear,’ she said. ‘I can guess. Norris had half the women of Worthing sleeping in his bed. Frankly, so long as he stayed away from my bed, I didn’t care what he did. He can only get them by coercion or blackmail, and I know from bitter experience he’s very clever at that.’
Grace looked her full in the face. ‘You must have suffered a great deal.’
‘You too, my dear.’
‘Part of me wants to make him pay for what he has done,’ Grace said quietly.
‘And you will, my dear. John’s forged birth certificate will be a good place for the police to start and once they have my husband under the spotlight, I am sure everything else will be revealed. It only takes the removal of one to make the whole pack of cards fall.’
‘You want me to expose your husband?’ Grace said cautiously.
Mrs Finley smiled.
Grace couldn’t resist a small smile too. ‘Can I … is it possible for me …’
‘To meet John?’ Mrs Finley finished the sentence for her.
Grace gave a breathy, ‘Yes,’
There was another knock at the door. Grace was halfway out of her chair as Mrs Finley pulled on her gloves and said, ‘That’ll be Sebastian. I expect he’s wondering how much longer I’ll be.’
But when Grace opened the door, it wasn’t Sebastian. It was Bob all out of breath from running.
‘Mrs Rogers,’ he blurted out. ‘There’s been an accident. Rita’s all right but she’s been taken to hospital.’
The doctor in casualty insisted that Rita stay overnight on the ward.
‘You can’t be too careful with a head wound,’ he said as thenurse wheeled her to the ward.
If she was honest, Rita was a little bit relieved. She had a thumping headache and when the police came to take a statement, she was glad that the ward sister shooed them away. They gave her some pills and she’d slept until late afternoon. When she got up to go to the toilet, she felt a bit stiff but apart from a bruise on the back of her head and a graze on her arm, she was none the worse for wear.
Visiting time was six to seven. As the nurse opened the swing doors to let them in, Rita settled down and closed her eyes. She wasn’t badly hurt and she would be out tomorrow, so when the nurse said her mother had rung up, she’d told her to tell Grace not to come in. There would be no visitors by her bedside tonight.
She kept thinking about Bob. How could she have been so blind? She thought back to all the times he’d been there and she’d never really noticed him. Not once. Her heart fluttered whenever she thought about him now, and every time she closed her eyes, she dreamed of that kiss.
Someone touched her arm. She opened her eyes and Bob was looking down at her. Her heart lurched at the sight of him. How come she had never noticed how handsome he was before?
She pulled herself to a sitting position. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to come.’
‘You try and keep me away,’ he said taking her hand. He put an orange onto the bedside locker.
Rita smiled. Her heart was thumping now.
Bob pulled up a chair. She didn’t mention that kiss, but she found herself unable to meet his eye as she thought of it. It never should have happened.
‘I thought I’d killed you, Rite,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. They sent me home for the rest of the day.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ said Rita. ‘And don’t worry. I’m fine.’
The swing door to the ward opened and her mother came in. Bob stood up and offered Grace his seat. Grace embraced her daughter and looked at her anxiously.
‘I’m fine, Mum,’ said Rita. ‘They just wanted to keep an eye on me that’s all.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Bob.
‘No, no,’ said Grace. ‘Don’t go on my account.’
Bob went to fetch another chair from the stack at the end of the ward.
‘He looks nice,’ said Grace, when he was out of earshot.
‘I’ve been an absolute idiot, Mum,’ said Rita.
‘You could say that,’ Grace grinned. ‘It took you a long time to see what everyone else has known for ages.’
‘I love him,’ said Rita. ‘I know it’s too quick, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone.’
Grace laughed softly. ‘After what you’ve been through, I’m glad. You enjoy it.’
Bob came back and they told her what had happened on the bus. Eventually she asked, ‘Does anyone know who was in the car?’
‘One of the passengers said it was Norris Finley,’ said Bob. ‘Whoever it was, the police are going to get him for dangerous driving.’
Grace suppressed a smile. Oh dear, she thought. You are in trouble, Norris.
‘What time will you be out tomorrow?’ Grace asked.
‘The doctor comes around at about ten,’ said Rita. ‘I should be out by lunchtime.’
‘I’ll borrow a car and come and collect you,’ Bob announced.
When the visiting times were over, a nurse came in with a school bell and walked down the ward clanging it loudly.
Grace stood and kissed Rita goodnight while Bob took the chairs back. ‘Get well soon,’ said Grace and then she left them to it.
Bob leaned over the bed and took her into his arms. As she felt Bob’s strong body through her thin hospital nightie, Rita could feel her own body surging with desire. Was this what it felt like? Was this really love? Resting her head on his chest, she willed her pounding heart to slow down and savour the moment.
‘Now that I’ve got you,’ he told her, as he kissed the top of her head, ‘I’ll never ever let you go.’
Norris Finley had had a terrible day. He’d driven back from London like a maniac, narrowly missing a collision with a double-decker bus at Findon, and arrived back at his house to find Major Freeman on the doorstep. He’d forgotten that he’d arranged to come to the house for his answer. Norris’ heart sank. He still hadn’t got that bloody letter and without that, there was a very real danger that something might come out of the woodwork. He’d have to bluff his way through this.
‘Come in, come in,’ he’d said congenially. ‘I’ve no idea where the wife is, but I’m sure you could do with a drink.’
‘If you’re offering another glass of that malt whisky,’ said the major, ‘I wouldn’t say no.’
I bet you wouldn’t, Norris thought darkly. They went to the den and Norris was surprised to find his drawers open and some papers scattered across the desk. Somebody had been riffling about in here. He could feel himself getting angry but he didn’t want to create a scene while the major was around.
‘I apologise for the mess,’ he said gruffly. ‘I had to go up to London in a bit of a rush and I forgot to tidy up. I don’t allow the wife or the maid in here.’
The major threw himself onto the chesterfield sofa. ‘Lovely bit of leatherwork this.’
‘I’ve just got it recovered,’ said Norris. ‘Archie Warren. He’s got a place near Worthing Central. Capital man.’
The major was in no mood for chitchat. He got straight to the point. ‘The Lodge meets tomorrow. Do you want me to put your name forward?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Norris. He hadn’t meant to sound keen. It looked a bit bigheaded but he’d have to take a chance. Everything else had been taken care of. His tenants all had proper rent books now and the factory was whistle-clean.
‘Good, good.’ The major downed his drink in one. ‘I hope you’ll share some of your overseas contacts with us when you’ve been voted in. We all help one another in the Lodge.’
So that was i
t. At last Norris understood why the major was so keen to have him join. He and his cronies had obviously found out that his factory was exporting to Canada and the States and wanted a piece of the pie.
The doorbell rang.
‘Must dash,’ said the major. ‘Got a dinner at the golf club tonight.’
He followed Norris to the door. The maid must be out. She didn’t answer it anyway. When he opened the door Norris nearly died. Two policemen, one in uniform, stood on the doorstep.
‘May we come in, sir? We need to talk to you.’
Norris glanced at the major who had gone a strange colour. ‘It’s not convenient right now,’ he said stiffly as the major pushed past him onto the driveway.
‘We could do it here, or down at the station,’ said the plainclothed policeman.
‘Not now!’ Norris snapped.
‘In that case,’ the policeman began again. ‘I am arresting you for questioning as accessory to the murder of George Matthews on November 12th 1947 or thereabouts.’
Norris gasped in horror. The major was climbing into his car. ‘Shan’t be calling again, Finley,’ he snapped. ‘Our business is at an end.’
Thirty-Nine
When Grace got back from the hospital, there was a soft knock on her door. A young couple stood on the step. The woman smiled. ‘Hello, we meet again, Mrs Rogers.’ It was Dinah Chamberlain.
‘Come in, come in,’ smiled Grace. ‘How nice to see you again. I’ll get the kettle on.’
They came in sheepishly and the young man with her looked around.
‘Sit down,’ smiled Grace as she busied herself with filling the kettle. ‘Make yourself at home.’
‘Mrs Rogers,’ said Dinah. Grace kept her back to them. She knew what was coming and yet she was totally unprepared. She was supposed to be going to the hospital to fetch Rita in the morning. She took a deep breath and made her hands into fists as she fought to keep control of her feelings.
‘Mrs Rogers,’ said Dinah again. ‘This is John.’
Grace didn’t move. Her heart was pounding. She wanted to look at him but she couldn’t. She never should have let him go but at the time she was a young girl and she didn’t know what to do. She should have fought for him. She should have taken him and run, and now he was all grown up and it was too late. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She turned around and looked directly into his face. He was so good looking, so like his father. He had his nose and his strong jaw. Her tears blinded her and she blinked them away.