Frankie's Manor

by Frankie's Manor (retail) (epub)

  Since his move he had written to Rose almost every week: apart from wanting to keep in contact with her, there was precious little else for Jack to do in the remote hamlet where crime was virtually unheard-of.

  The only thing missing to make his life complete was Rose. Until a few weeks ago, she had answered all of his letters, reaffirming her intention not to leave London. Then, suddenly, the letters had stopped coming. Upset by her silence, Jack had redoubled his efforts to convince her – and Mary, of course – to join him. But the emotions he felt were too complex to transcribe on to paper: they needed to be spoken. So here he was, on his way to London, in a last, desperate mission to persuade the irrepressible Mary Miller to uproot herself and move away from her place of origin. He was certain that the formidable woman was the only obstacle preventing Rose from joining him.

  He arrived at Victoria, sweating and rumpled from the journey, and immediately climbed into a waiting hansom cab. On arrival at Mare Street he paid the driver and stood, looking across the road at the Red Lion, which offered the tantalising prospect of a large glass of ale to wash away the dust of the train ride. It would also provide him with a shot of Dutch courage.

  There was only a handful of customers in the bar so he didn’t have to wait for the longed-for drink. He put a florin on the counter and said, to a startled Sally, ‘Cheers, Sal. Bet you’re surprised to see me back, ain’t you?’

  The blonde barmaid, normally ready for a laugh and a chat with any male customer, was strangely subdued. ‘Yeah, you could say that, Jack. Come back to see Rosie, have you?’

  Jack took a long, cool gulp of his drink, smacked his lips appreciatively and answered, ‘Yep.’ Then, he glanced round the pub and asked, ‘She ain’t here by any chance, is she?’

  Before Sally could answer, Henry Dixon, a cloth in his hands, came to stand beside her. He picked up a beer glass and began to polish it.

  Jack looked at him, then did a double-take at the fading bruises around the landlord’s eyes. ‘Bleeding hell, Henry! What happened to you? Those boys from Spitalfields been in here causing trouble again?’

  Dixon avoided the question. ‘Knows you’re coming, does she, mate?’ he asked, matter-of-factly.

  Jack sensed an awkwardness in the pair and he lowered his glass. ‘No. I thought I’d surprise her.’

  Sally uttered a grating laugh. ‘It’ll be a surprise all right.’ Then she flushed as Dixon gave her an angry, reproachful look.

  Resting a foot on the bar-rail, Jack directed his gaze at the landlord. ‘What’s going on, Henry?’

  The landlord gave a heavy shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Look, mate, why don’t you just go back to where you came from and leave well alone? You’re only asking for grief staying round here.’

  Jack stared thoughtfully into space. What the hell was going on? He glanced around the pub, noted the way eyes fell before his searching gaze, and felt his stomach tighten.

  ‘Frankie ain’t gonna like it, Jack. Look, why don’t—’

  Jack spun away from the bar angrily, everything suddenly clear. So Buchannon had put out the word, had he? He, Jack Adams, was no longer welcome in these parts. His eyes raked over those present and he sneered, ‘Look at the lot of you. All frightened of the big Mr Buchannon. You’re all Buchannon’s toadies, the whole cowardly lot of you. Well, don’t worry,’ he tossed back the remainder of his drink and slammed the empty glass on the counter, ‘I’m off. I wouldn’t want to put any of you in danger of being caught in my company. Huh! You all oughter be ashamed of yourselves.’

  ‘Wait a minute, mate.’ Dixon hurried after him, not knowing if he was doing the right thing in interfering but impelled to tell him the truth. Out in the street, he caught hold of Jack’s arm. ‘Look, this ain’t easy to say, Jack, but I think you deserve to know what’s been going on.’

  Jack waited impassively, his grey eyes smouldering with quiet anger.

  Scratching the back of his neck uneasily, Dixon searched for the right words to help ease the pain that would ensue from what he was about to say, but there were none. There was no kind way to say what had to be said.

  ‘Hurry up, Henry, I ain’t got all day. I’ve got to be back in Southampton by tonight.’

  Dixon swallowed hard, lowered his eyes, then, his tone betraying his sympathy, he said flatly, ‘Rose is married, Jack. Couple of weeks ago. I’m sorry, mate. I thought she’d have written to let you know.’

  Jack was motionless. Then he knocked Dixon’s hand from his arm. ‘What you talking about? I only left her six weeks ago! She can’t have got married so soon. What you playing at, Henry? You trying to cause trouble between me and Rose? Oh…’ His eyes were blazing. ‘Buchannon’s put you up to this, ain’t he? Told you to spin me a story if I came back!’ He threw back his head and laughed mirthlessly. ‘I thought you had more balls than that, Henry. I never took you for one of Buchannon’s flunkeys.’

  Anger mixed with compassion tore through the publican. ‘I ain’t one of Buchannon’s boys, Jack,’ he growled. ‘Never have been, you should know that. You and me are about the only ones round these parts that ain’t in his pockets. Now, I’m telling you straight. Rose is married, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So get back on that train an’ go home. There’s nothing left for you round here – not any more.’

  Jack stumbled back, his face ashen. He stared intently at Dixon and, with a growing sickness in the pit of his stomach, knew that he was telling him the truth. He looked beseechingly at the other man and muttered, ‘Who? Who did she marry, Henry? My God, I can’t believe it. Tell me before I knock it out of you.’

  Like everyone else Dixon had been dumbfounded when he’d heard that Rose had married Frankie. No one had been invited to the hasty wedding, and rumours abounded that Rose had been in hospital, though no one knew why. It was a rum do and no mistake. Like everyone else he was bursting with curiosity, but you didn’t ask too many questions where Buchannon was concerned. If anyone knew what was going on, it was Sally, but she was keeping tight-lipped about the whole affair. Then there had been Rita’s sudden departure from the pub. No notice, no warning, just didn’t turn up for work one day. She’d written him a short, untidy note saying she’d got a better job elsewhere, but there was something going on, and if Sally hadn’t reassured him that Rita was all right, he’d have been more worried than he was.

  Still, that was all done with. Now Jack Adams was waiting for answers and he wasn’t going to go away until he received them. Dixon cleared his throat. ‘Look, mate, I wish it wasn’t me that had to tell you, but the truth is, Rose married Frankie. It was all a bit of a rush, an’ everyone’s as surprised as you are. But there it is.’

  The words acted like a hammer blow on Jack’s brain, and as the blood rushed to his face he shouted, ‘I don’t believe you! Where is she? Tell me, damn it! Where’s that bastard hiding her?’

  Dixon folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. ‘I ain’t got the address. All I know is it’s somewhere over Bow way, some avenue or other… Genhan… Graham, something like that. I don’t know the number, you’ll have to ask around.’

  Jack swore, then stalked off in search of a cab. Dixon watched the departing figure with sympathy, glad that he wasn’t going to be present when the two men finally met up. If he had to make a bet on who came out the winner, though, his money would be on Buchannon.

  * * *

  Rose was lying in a hammock with a pillow under her head in the spacious garden at the back of her new home in Grantham Avenue. Nearby, seated in a wicker garden chair, was a young nurse, hired to watch over her patient during the day. Another older woman would come in later for the night.

  Fanning herself, Rose looked out over the landscaped garden, her eyes curiously dimmed. Her treatment included sedation with a mild opiate drug to ensure complete rest during the remainder of her pregnancy, and sometimes it seemed to her that all she ever did was eat and sleep, yet she was content in a detached sort of way.

  In the
house she could hear Mary’s voice, and smiled. Dear Aunt Mary. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to living in such grandiose surroundings, and seemed to take comfort from berating the servants on the flimsiest of excuses. It was as if she was constantly striving to prove the worth of her existence in her new home, and had taken it on herself to oversee the servants and the running of the household.

  Rose let herself swing from side to side, the muffled sounds of her aunt’s strident voice echoing in the background.

  Then another, equally familiar voice penetrated her somnolent state. Rose attempted to swing her legs over the side of the hammock. The clumsy action brought the nurse swiftly to her side. ‘Now, then, Mrs Buchannon. You know we mustn’t try to move by ourselves.’

  Irritated, Rose snapped, ‘I want to go into the house. If that’s all right with you, of course?’

  The sarcasm slid over the earnest young woman’s head. ‘I think it’s time for your medicine, dear. There you are. Just lean on me and I’ll soon have you inside.’

  Too weak to argue, Rose allowed herself to be led, like a docile child, across the luscious lawn, protesting feebly, ‘I don’t want any medicine. I feel half dead as it is… What’s that noise? I—’

  The voices from the house were getting louder and, sensing trouble, and perhaps danger to her patient, the nurse called for help. One of Frankie’s men came running from the bottom of the garden.

  Then the back door of the conservatory burst open and an irate man, his eyes seeming to bulge from his head, bounded towards Rose.

  ‘Jack!’ Rose struggled to free herself from the nurse’s iron grip but she hadn’t the strength. Frustrated, all she could do was gaze at the dishevelled figure, who was now only a few feet away.

  Then Frankie’s man sprang forward, blocking Jack’s way, his arms in a pugilistic pose. ‘Stay where you are, mate, or I’ll knock your bleeding block off. Now, I’m warning you…’

  Jack fended off the blow, and his own fist connected with the jaw of the other man, who dropped like a stone. Almost before he’d hit the ground, the nurse screamed and, as if out of thin air, two more men appeared, grabbed Jack roughly and forced him to the ground.

  ‘Rose, Rose,’ Jack cried, but Rose could only watch helplessly as Fred Green and his brother-in-law, Joe Perkins, now joined by the man Jack had knocked down, dragged the resisting figure away.

  Then Mary was at Rose’s side, her mouth working furiously as she ordered the men to throw Jack out.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, Rose?’ Jack shouted wildly, as he was dragged unceremoniously away. ‘Rose, Rose! For God’s sake, what’s happened to you?’

  Rose stared at the tormented figure, her eyes brimming with helpless tears. There was so much she wanted to say to him, but the words were frozen at the back of her throat. Twice she tried to speak, but each time no sound came. It was as if she had been struck dumb.

  ‘That’s enough of that, Jack Adams.’ Mary positioned herself in front of him. ‘She’s married now, lad. You had your chance and you threw it away. So don’t come round here starting trouble ’cos I won’t let you go upsetting Rose. I mean it, Jack. I ain’t gonna let you hurt her again. Now… you gonna behave yerself, lad? Or do I get you thrown out on your arse? Come on, answer me. You gonna behave or not?’

  Jack ceased struggling and jerked away from the men who held him. At a word from Mary they stood back, but stayed ready to pounce. Shooting them a look of loathing, Jack dusted down his sleeves and looked at Rose, who was now trembling in a large wicker chair.

  ‘Jack,’ Mary said warningly, but she knew him of old. He wasn’t the kind of man to go meekly without a good explanation, so she would have to be convincing. ‘Come here… No, not there,’ she barked, as Jack moved in Rose’s direction. ‘Over there, where I can keep me eyes on you.’ She indicated a canvas chair, a good few feet away from her distressed niece.

  ‘Really, I must protest. Mrs Buchannon mustn’t be exposed to this kind of disturbance, not in her—’

  The nurse was rudely shoved aside as Mary stopped her from revealing Rose’s condition. If Jack Adams knew the truth, there was no way Rose would ever be rid of him. Besides, she was married now: there was no point in raking over old coals. Mary had to get rid of the angry policeman before anyone present let slip the real reason behind the hasty wedding.

  She placed a protective arm around her niece and strove to manage the volatile situation. ‘Look, I know it’s come as a bit of a shock, Jack, but there it is. There’s no point in you coming here shouting the odds ’cos you can’t change what’s happened. Now, then, why don’t you…’

  But Jack was enraged at the sight of Rose surrounded on all sides, effectively shutting him out. ‘Oh, I can see why you don’t want me hanging around, Mary. It’s all making sense now. You never intended Rose to marry me, did you, you spiteful old cow? I bet you didn’t tell Frankie he’d have to wait till she was twenty-one, did you? Oh, no. I’ll bet when he asked, you couldn’t get Rose up to the altar quick enough, could you, you scheming bitch? God! You must think you’ve died and gone to heaven, ’cos this,’ he threw out his arms wildly, ‘this is what you always wanted, ain’t it? Just the three of you, all tucked up cosy under the same roof!’

  Panting, Jack glared at the woman who, in his mind, was at the root of all that had happened. He had known from the start that Mary had been against Rose taking up with him, but he had never for one moment imagined that she had been saving her niece for Frankie Buchannon. It was sick. Because apart from the pair of them having been brought up practically as blood relatives, Frankie was a good fifteen years older than Rose. God! He couldn’t believe Mary had been so devious – and bloody vindictive into the bargain! But Rose could have said no. She had a mind of her own, didn’t she? So why was she just sitting there staring at him like that? ‘Why can’t Rose speak for herself? She been struck dumb all of a sudden?’ Then, he lowered his voice and pleaded, ‘Rose, what’s the matter, love? What have they done to you? Look, just give me the word and I’ll get you away from here. Don’t be frightened, darling. I don’t know what Buchannon and this old witch have done to make you like this, but I’ll make it right, I swear to you, Rose. All you’ve gotta do is say the word, and I’ll have you out of here quicker than you can blink.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Adams.’ A cool, sardonic voice came from behind him, and in an instant he was facing his old adversary, his hands clenching into fists. Frankie saw the gesture. ‘Come off it, Jack, I ain’t gonna fight you, there ain’t no point.’ He strolled easily to Rose’s side and placed a strong hand on her shoulder. ‘I don’t want no trouble, mate, not here, not anywhere. Those days are gone. I’m a respectable businessman now.’

  Jack laughed scornfully. ‘Don’t give me that, Buchannon. You might have fooled most people, but not me. You’re nothing but a crook. Always have been, always will be. Underneath the fancy clothes and the smart talk you’re still rotten.’

  ‘I’ve been patient with you, Adams,’ Frankie said quietly. ‘Now I want you out of my house. You’re upsetting my wife.’

  His voice sent a shiver down Rose’s spine. She lifted her eyes beseechingly to Jack and whispered, ‘Please, Jack, don’t cause any more trouble. Just go. I’m sorry things turned out like this, but it’s for the best. Honestly, Jack, it’s for the best.’

  Jack spun to face Frankie and Mary. ‘What’ve you done to her? She looks drugged up to the eyeballs. And why’s that nurse here?’ He assumed a dangerous stance, ready to fight tooth and nail to get to the bottom of the sinister situation. ‘There’s something fishy going on here. I ain’t been gone more than six weeks, and Rose suddenly ups and married the man she always seemed to think of as an uncle—’

  Mary started to speak, but Frankie, his hand on her arm, stopped her. ‘I don’t owe you any explanations, Adams. But if it’ll get shot of you, I’ll tell you what happened.’ Glancing down at the copper mass of curls, he said, ‘Rose was in an accident. She walked under a carr
iage. She’s still not recovered, that’s why the nurse is here with her. And you’re right, she is taking drugs. But only what the doctor prescribed for her. It’s to keep her calm so as she’ll get better quicker. And that’s all I’m telling you. The rest is none of your business. If it’ll make you feel any better, ask her. Go on, Adams. Ask Rose if she’s happy. If she says she wants to go with you, I’ll drive you both to wherever you want to go. You have me word. Go on. Ask her.’

  Jack stared at the united trio, sick with despair. He had only to look at Rose to know she didn’t want him any more. But still, he had to ask. Just one more time… Just in case…

  His hands clenching and unclenching, he caught Rose’s dazed blue eyes and implored, ‘Is he telling the truth, Rose? Are you happy? I mean, he ain’t making you stay here, is he?’ A low groan passed his lips. ‘Please, Rosie, say something, please.’

  Her heart nearly breaking, Rose tried to focus on Jack’s face, then, her voice low but clear, she said, ‘I’m happy, Jack. I’m where I want to be. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I’d – I’d rather you left now.’

  Triumphant, Frankie squeezed her shoulder. ‘There! You satisfied now, Adams?’ Then he addressed the hovering, frightened nurse, in a voice of command, ‘Take my wife indoors, Nurse, and see she’s put to bed to rest. And just to be on the safe side, you can go and fetch the doctor. She’s supposed to be kept quiet and peaceful, and I want to make sure this commotion hasn’t done her any harm.’

  Jumping to obey, the nurse, with Mary hobbling beside her, helped the unprotesting Rose into the house.

  His eyes bleak, Jack watched them go. Watched his only love walking away from him and out of his life. Defeated, he straightened his jacket, lifted his head proudly and looked Frankie straight in the eye. ‘All right, Buchannon, I’m going. But before I do, there’s one more thing I want to know. Why did you marry her? Why did you marry my Rose?’