Missing Person

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘Rachel isn’t that kind of woman, Em. She’s an orthodox wife and mother.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Emily, ‘so watch yourself when you’re havin’ lunch with her. I might just be behind you. D’you think the information she’s got might make Sammy think twice about callin’ a shareholders’ meetin’?’

  ‘It might,’ said Boots.

  ‘You still don’t want to let the scrap metal business go?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Boots. He had no real desire to be rich. He always felt life had given him as much as he deserved. He had survived the trenches, even the first horrendous battle of the Somme, and found Emily waiting for him, Emily the godsend to the family. His sight had been restored, even if his left eye was of very little use. Rosie had appeared, little five-year-old Rosie, who had sat on his doorstep with him and taken hold of so much of his affection. Then Tim had come along, a boy of eager friendliness who now shared his love of cricket. And there were other people, his indomitable mother paramount among them, while not forgetting the two men he admired more than any others. One, his company commander, Major Harris, was gone, shot to pieces on the Somme. The second was Edwin Finch, his stepfather. Polly, the woman, he kept out of any analysis or any reflections. Because he had survived, because he had been given so much, Boots never experienced moments when he wanted more. He and his sister Lizzy were alike in that respect. ‘It’s not really a question of an itchy palm, Em,’ he said, ‘it’s a question of good business. Is it better to sell now or to wait? I’d say wait. Also, I’m very curious as to Johnson’s real reasons for wanting to buy.’

  ‘I see,’ said Emily, ‘that’s what’s taken your fancy.’

  ‘That’s a clever girl,’ said Boots.

  ‘Same to you,’ said Emily.

  When Dan arrived home he found everything in perfect order, including the girls. They’d enjoyed a full day, been taken out and about by Mrs Brooks, had their faces and hands washed regularly, and been given a very appetizing midday meal. And they had been dressed in the late afternoon in their new frocks, socks and vests, with the result that when Dan came in he was confronted with a vision of two little angels indeed. He thanked the good lady and paid her for the day, her preference being for a daily setttlement.

  Tilly came down as soon as Mrs Brooks left.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘Look at my little sausages,’ said Dan.

  ‘I’ve looked at them.’

  ‘Look at their hands and faces.’

  ‘I’ve seen them,’ said Tilly. She had been up and down several times to see how Mrs Brooks was coping. She couldn’t think why she kept bothering, but she did, and each time she had to admit she’d recommended the perfect solution to a serious problem. ‘Well, say something.’

  ‘What can I say?’ said Dan.

  ‘What about their frocks?’

  ‘Lovely, Tilly me treasured friend,’ said Dan, and looked so delighted with everything that Tilly, correctly, thought he was going to give her a kiss of robust manly gratitude. Dan, however, held the impulse in check in case she landed him one in the eye. ‘I’ve got to say it, Tilly, it was me lucky day when you turned up, strike me if it wasn’t.’

  ‘Yes, Tilly’s nice, ain’t she, Dad?’ said Penny-Farving.

  ‘I’ve never asked before,’ said Tilly, ‘but where do your parents live?’

  ‘Greenwich,’ said Dan.

  ‘Don’t you take the gels to see them?’

  ‘Not much,’ said Dan.

  ‘You mean they don’t approve of them bein’—’ Tilly wanted to say born out of wedlock, but stopped herself.

  ‘It ain’t that,’ said Dan, ‘it’s more that they’ve both taken to drink.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry for you, Dan Rogers,’ said Tilly, ‘I don’t know many men daft enough to choose a woman like Gladys Hobday and parents that ’ave taken to drink.’ She smiled at the angels. ‘When you two are older, you’ll ’ave to keep an eye on yer dad or he might get barmy enough to fall down a coal-hole and never be seen again.’

  ‘Oh, crumbs,’ said Bubbles.

  ‘Don’t worry, sausage, it won’t happen if you keep yer fingers crossed,’ said Dan, and both girls crossed their fingers immediately.

  ‘When does Penny-Farvin’ start school?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘September,’ said Dan, ‘at St John’s.’

  ‘Well, by then you might ’ave been unlucky enough to get Gladys Hobday to a church,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Well,’ said Dan, and moved out of the kitchen, taking Tilly with him.

  ‘Well what?’ said Tilly.

  ‘A letter came by the midday post,’ said Dan.

  ‘From ’er?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘Yes, Elvira.’

  ‘Elvira my eye,’ said Tilly forthrightly. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Yes, just that. “No” in capital letters.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tilly.

  ‘And underlined,’ said Dan.

  ‘So now what’re you goin’ to do?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘I thought of goin’ down by train and givin’ her a good hidin’,’ said Dan. ‘Well, all your other advice has made sense.’

  ‘You’re actu’lly goin’ to put ’er over your knees?’ said Tilly.

  ‘Well, no. I only thought I would, then I decided I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Oh, yer dozy ’a’porth,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Still, it ’asn’t been a bad day,’ said Dan, ‘and I’ve arranged for Gus to come round this evenin’.’

  ‘Gus? Gus who?’

  ‘Gus Bradley, one of our best mechanics.’

  ‘The tall, dark and ’andsome bloke?’ said Tilly.

  ‘That’s him,’ said Dan. ‘I didn’t make a mistake, did I? You’d like to meet him socially? It’s my opinion a fine woman like you, Tilly, ought to be able to enjoy some sociable get-togethers with a sound upstandin’ bloke like Gus.’

  ‘Well, ’ow thoughtful of you,’ said Tilly, ‘but I wish you wouldn’t be so bloody cheerful about it.’

  ‘But it’s a cheerful prospect, ain’t it?’ said Dan. ‘He’ll be along about half-seven.’

  ‘Listen, you ’aven’t told ’im I’m dyin’ to fall over meself, ’ave you?’

  ‘Haven’t said anything about you, except I’ve got a lady lodger he might like to meet. I’ll bring him up after I’ve split a bottle of beer with him.’

  ‘Well, thanks very much, I’m sure,’ said Tilly, ‘I can ’ardly wait.’

  The sound upstanding bloke turned out to be as described: tall, dark and handsome. Dan, having introduced him to Tilly, left them to get to know each other. Tilly looked him over, and Gus, a man of thirty, eyed her with interest.

  ‘Nice to meet yer, Tilly,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you look all right,’ said Tilly. ‘Mind me askin’ why you ain’t married?’

  ‘Pleasure,’ said Gus. ‘It’s just that I never wanted to rush into permanent wedlock, yer know, not till we was sure we’d found the right woman.’

  ‘We?’ said Tilly. ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Mother and me,’ said Gus.

  That was the end of Gus as a proposition. Tilly asked him to kindly leave the room. Gus said he didn’t need to, he’d gone before he left home. Tilly said what she meant was thank you for coming up, but good night. I’ve got things to do, she said. I don’t get it, said Gus. So long, said Tilly. Gus left, looking puzzled. He reported to Dan that the lady lodger was a bit peculiar. Dan, of course, went up to see Tilly after Gus had departed.

  ‘No go, Tilly?’ he said.

  ‘Do me a favour, would you?’ said Tilly. ‘Close the door nice and quiet when you leave.’

  ‘Wait a bit,’ said Dan, ‘I thought you were lookin’ for someone like Gus.’

  ‘I was, I am,’ said Tilly, ‘but not ’im and ’is mother both.’

  ‘Come again?’ said Dan.

  ‘I don’t know how it’s escaped your notice, seein’ you work e
very day with ’im,’ said Tilly, ‘but ’is dear old mother is the reason why he’s not married, nor ever likely to be. But if he ever is, by some wondrous reason, ’is would-be wife will ’ave to marry ’is mother as well.’

  Dan laughed his head off. Tilly wasn’t impressed.

  ‘Think it’s funny, do yer, Dan Rogers?’ she said.

  ‘Not half,’ said Dan. ‘Oh, blimey, marry his mother as well? You’re killing me, Tilly.’

  ‘Oh, I am, am I? Well, try this at yer funeral!’ Her egg saucepan came flying at him. It hit the door. Dan bolted for his life. He knew what was good for him. Plain honest cowardice.

  * * *

  It was twilight and Boots was out in the garden, watering the sweet peas he and Edwin always liked to grow. The blooms could be prolific, and Emily and Chinese Lady delighted in having vases of them around the house.

  Rosie came out.

  ‘Pot of tea’s nearly ready,’ she said.

  ‘Count me in,’ said Boots.

  ‘Daddy, that parrot’s a lark.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘You spoofer, you know it is. And did you also know it can say “Heil Hitler”?’

  ‘I did think your grandma could teach it to say “Rule, Britannia” instead.’

  ‘Daddy, where did you get it from?’

  ‘D’you really want to know?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘I acquired it,’ said Boots, ‘from the house we raided. I thought we could improve its manners.’

  ‘I bet,’ said Rosie. ‘Daddy, you’re ever so deep sometimes. Hitler’s that peculiar German character whose followers say “Heil Hitler” to him.’

  ‘Well, what I’d like and what you’d like, poppet, is for Percy to say “Rule, Britannia” to him. Wouldn’t we?’

  ‘Is Hitler dangerous?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘Let’s say he’d be a lot safer if he were locked up,’ said Boots. ‘On the other hand, you and I know someone who’s more than a match for him.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Rosie.

  ‘Your grandma,’ said Boots.

  Rosie laughed and cuddled his arm, and they entered the house together.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  MRS BROOKS, IN taking charge of the welfare of Bubbles and Penny-Farving, enabled Dan to go off to his daily work in a whistling mood, and allowed Tilly to attend to her dressmaking orders without worrying. She was also able to get out in the afternoons and go down the market. She liked the East Street market with its boisterous cockney atmosphere, where stallholders quickly became your friends, even if you still had to watch that some of them didn’t slip a bit of a dud apple in with a pound. The market, generally, enriched cockney spirits. Everyone knew it didn’t hurt the pocket as much as shops with marble counters or stores with posh-looking floorwalkers.

  But for all that she didn’t have to worry any more about Bubbles and Penny-Farving, Tilly found she couldn’t stop herself looking in on them from time to time, just to see how they were getting on in the care of Mrs Brooks. The motherly lady’s understanding of how to deal with high-spirited children was such that little accidents and alarming moments were becoming a thing of the past.

  I’ve done Dan Rogers a really good turn in bringing Mrs Brooks to look after his girls, thought Tilly. Next time he offers me a box of chocolates, I might accept.

  Boots and Rachel enjoyed another companionable lunch in the plush surroundings of the Trocadero, which provided an almost perfect background to Rachel’s lush beauty and colourful hat. Boots commented on her eye-catching appearance, and Rachel said she was glad he’d noticed. She had never had any difficulty in communicating easily with all the members of the Adams family, particularly with Sammy of the electric blue eyes, and in a special way with Boots, whom she saw as the very personable elder of the tribe.

  Happily, she imparted to him that which she had referred to as very interesting information, which so tickled Boots that he asked her if she’d like to share a second bottle of wine with him.

  ‘Love to, my dear, but I daren’t, unless you offer to drive me back home,’ she said. ‘Too much wine goes to my head, and I don’t want to get arrested for dancing the Charleston in Piccadilly Circus.’

  ‘Of course I’ll drive you home,’ smiled Boots.

  ‘And I’ll be able to trust you on the way?’

  ‘Give you my word,’ said Boots.

  ‘One must put up with some disappointments,’ said Rachel. ‘Order the wine, lovey.’

  They shared it very enjoyably. Rachel asked if the shareholders’ meeting had been called yet.

  ‘Yes, for next Tuesday evening in the offices,’ said Boots.

  ‘Will you pass this information to Sammy before the meeting?’

  ‘I think it would have more effect if I presented it to everyone at the same time, during the meeting,’ said Boots.

  ‘Well, lovey, it’s been a pleasure gathering it for you, with the help of Eli Greenberg,’ said Rachel.

  ‘What, in return, can I do for you?’ asked Boots. ‘Lunch isn’t much of a reward.’

  ‘My life, there’s a sweetie, ain’t you?’ said Rachel. ‘How many shares do you have in Adams Enterprises?’

  ‘Two-fifty,’ said Boots.

  ‘Sell me fifty, ducky, and get me elected to the board.’

  ‘I’ll consider that,’ said Boots.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Is that what you’d seriously like?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Have some more wine,’ said Boots.

  With Sammy plotting a fairly honest campaign which, he hoped, would ensure a smooth and relatively uncontentious sale of the scrap metal business, and with Boots keeping some very interesting information close to his chest, confiding it only to Emily, Chinese Lady took it upon herself to pay Sammy a call. Cornering him in his office, she let him know she was generally disapproving of all this money-making. Sammy pointed out he hadn’t made it yet, and in return Chinese Lady pointed out she didn’t like being contradicted, specially not by her youngest son. There’s enough money as it is to go round for everyone, she said, and I don’t like anyone getting covetous for more, so that they can hoard it like a miser. Sammy assured her he wasn’t going to hoard it, he was going to spend it. Not all at once, but gradually, while keeping enough in his wallet – well, his bank – to look after any unexpected family overheads. Sammy, you’re going to get addicted to money if you keep on like this, said Chinese Lady. Well, I’ve got to be honest, Ma, said Sammy, I started life addicted. Yes, but there was no need to make a bad habit of it, said Chinese Lady. If you’ve got a business, it’s best to keep it, she said. We’ve got three businesses, Ma, three companies, said Sammy. I don’t know why you’re so argufying, said Chinese Lady. Just remember that I’m not going to stand for any of Susie’s family being put out of work, not when they’re as good as part of our own family. I’ll see to it, said Sammy. You’d better, my lad, said Chinese Lady.

  By Friday, more than a week after Mrs Brooks had become Dan’s daily help, Tilly was suffering dissatisfaction with what was going on. Actually, nothing at all was going on as far as she was concerned, for her pleasant and creative routine was free of all interruptions. So it was sickening to realize the lack of any little incidents was the cause of her dissatisfaction.

  I must be barmy, she said to herself. I’ll go out to a tea dance one day at that hall in Brixton. Yes, one Saturday afternoon, when there might be a spare bloke that’s just waiting to catch sight of me in me best dance frock, the short one with a fringed hem. I wouldn’t mind a spare bloke interrupting some of me evenings or Sundays.

  She had to admit Mrs Brooks kept the girls behaving themselves. On the other hand, she’d found out that the motherly lady used the constant threat of a policeman to sober them up. Once or twice was all right, but not all the time. Or so Tilly thought. It occurred to her that she wasn’t displeased at finding what could be called a chink in the lady’s armour. Well, it would be a chink i
f Dan Rogers didn’t like his girls being kept under that kind of threat.

  But no, she couldn’t tell him. She’d never been a telltale, and why should she tell on Mrs Brooks of all people? She was a friend, and Tilly had recommended her herself. So why was she a bit pleased at finding the lady wasn’t perfect?

  The light suddenly dawned for Tilly.

  ‘You called me, Tilly?’ Dan was home from his work, and with Mrs Brooks having left for her own home, he was up on the landing in response to a verbal summons from Tilly.

  ‘Come in, me door’s ajar,’ she said, and Dan entered. He blinked pleasurably, for Tilly was adjusting the top of her left stocking. She was seated on the arm of her fireside chair and wearing a shimmering silky creation with a fringed hem. Gladdening, that is, thought Dan. Tilly, having teased his appreciative eyes, said, ‘I didn’t know you was goin’ to come in as quick as that, and anyway, you should ’ave knocked first.’

  ‘Lucky for me I didn’t,’ said Dan, grinning.

  ‘What d’you mean, lucky?’ said Tilly. ‘It’s not lucky to embarrass a respectable lady, it’s downright indecent. Were you lookin’ through the keyhole?’

  ‘Me?’ said Dan.

  ‘Don’t come the old acid,’ said Tilly. ‘Were you or wasn’t you?’

  ‘Well, I won’t say I wouldn’t’ve been tempted, if I’d known what the magic lantern slide was showin’.’

  ‘What a piece of impudence,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Can I help bein’ admirin’ of your legs?’ said Dan. ‘And your dress? Blimey, you’re a charmer, you are, Tilly.’

  ‘This dress is just an old thing that I’ve just put on to see if it’s ’ad its day,’ said Tilly. ‘D’you think it’s got too short?’

  ‘Well, if it was twelve inches shorter, it ’ud be a knockout,’ said Dan.

  ‘’Ow disgustin’,’ said Tilly, ‘I’ll start lookin’ for me egg saucepan in a minute. Anyway, how’s them gels of yours?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Dan, ‘and might I say you look the same?’

  ‘Is that a compliment?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘It’s meant to be,’ said Dan.

  ‘I thought you liked fat women,’ said Tilly.

  ‘I don’t dislike ’em,’ said Dan, ‘they’re sort of jolly.’