The Boy With the Latchkey

by Cathy Sharp

  ‘Like what?’ Ruby’s hackles rose. ‘Are you suggesting I did something wrong deliberately?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘No, I did not!’ Ruby was indignant. ‘What reason do you have for your suspicions?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Sister Beatrice replied. ‘I just have an odd feeling … it may be my conscience, because of the way the children were deceived, but I did not approve of your actions in this matter, and Miss Sampson was very high-handed in her manner when she collected the girl.’

  Ruby remembered Miss Sampson’s comments regarding the nun and her sense of unease deepened. ‘Well, I suppose she has to be firm, considering some of the cases she deals with; the mothers and fathers are often common and abusive in their language and manner when children are removed into care …’

  ‘That did not apply in this case. Besides, I think this case should be reviewed and further checks made on the foster parents chosen.’ Sister Beatrice looked angry and Ruby went cold all over, just as though someone had walked over her grave. ‘I think I should inform you that I have consulted a lawyer over this business and he considers that I may very well have cause to overturn the decision. I shall not hesitate to do so if that is the case – and I should warn you that I shall not stand by and let you interfere in the same way again. Good morning, Miss Saunders.’

  Ruby watched as the nun turned and walked out, leaving her feeling distinctly anxious. She felt a prickling sensation at her nape, because it was odd that Sister Beatrice should say she was uneasy. Ruby had wondered a couple of times if she’d done the right thing. Had her zeal to protect the girl from a feckless mother and a woman she’d thought too soft made her reckless? After all, what did she know of June Miller’s foster parents apart from the fact that he ran a grocer’s business and helped run a youth club in the evenings?

  Ruby’s own childhood and young adulthood had been far from happy and she’d decided to devote her life to this job, because she understood how easy it was for a girl to go wrong. Ruby had been in trouble with the law herself at one stage of her life, but she’d been lucky enough to be put on probation and her officer had been a woman she admired. She’d helped her to conquer her hatred of her uncle and to face the future. It was because of Francine that she’d gone on to pass her exams and now had this job. She’d wanted to be like her, but at the back of her mind the horror of her life at home still lingered and perhaps it was that that had made her act so rashly. Or perhaps it was just that she’d hoped Ruth Sampson might notice her and think of her as more than a colleague – and that part of it had failed, because if anything Ruth had been more formal in her speech since then. She’d actually reprimanded Ruby for failing to keep Sister Beatrice informed.

  Supposing Ruby had been wrong to recommend that June was fostered by the Baileys? No, it was just that silly old trout making waves, she told herself stoutly, and yet she couldn’t quite get rid of the niggling doubts that had crept into her mind …

  CHAPTER 16

  Rose looked at herself in the mirror, straightening her uniform before leaving the nurses’ rest room. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, because she hadn’t been sleeping well recently. It was her own fault for being such a fool over Mike Bonner. He wasn’t worth her tears because all he’d wanted was a brief affair and when she’d refused he’d dropped her.

  ‘Nurse O’Hanran …’ Hearing his voice in the corridor behind her, she hesitated, a tingle of anticipation running through her as she waited for him to catch up to her. ‘You’ve been avoiding me, Rose,’ he said in a teasing voice. ‘I was hoping we might have a nice weekend away somewhere at the sea – are you on duty this weekend?’

  Rose felt her pulse quicken and her knees seemed suddenly as if they’d turned to jelly. A part of Rose longed to say that she was free, and would love the chance of a weekend at the sea with him, but her natural caution held her back.

  ‘Sorry, I’m working Saturday night,’ she managed to say, even though she knew she could have changed with one of the other nurses.

  ‘Surely you could change duty for once?’ Mike asked, looking annoyed. ‘It isn’t often I get a chance to go right away for a couple of days and I like company.’

  Rose took a deep breath, because there was only one way to end the torture she’d been putting herself through. ‘I’m sure you have plenty of other strings to your bow,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you ask Nurse Simmons? Excuse me please; I’m due on the ward …’

  Rose could feel his eyes on her as she walked away and she felt sick. In his position Mike could make things awkward for her, even though she knew she was a good nurse. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to cut at him like that, but it was surely best to finish it for good. Mike Bonner wasn’t the sort of man who would marry a girl like her; he came from a different class and if he married he’d choose a girl with money and background. He was merely fooling around with girls who were daft enough to fall for his charm and his good looks, with no thought of marriage or settling down. Rose was ashamed that she’d been one of those foolish girls, but she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life feeling the way she had when Mike had just ignored her for weeks on end. No, it was better to end it now, even if she might have to change her job.

  It was a lovely sunny afternoon when Rose finished her shift. She didn’t feel like going straight home and decided to have a look round the market; perhaps she would buy herself something new to wear. She hadn’t splashed out for ages, because Mary Ellen made her quite a few things, which were always smart – but Rose felt in the mood to indulge. Since Marion had come to lodge with them, she’d had more money in her purse, money she didn’t have to spend on food or rent or paying the bills. When she thought of all the years she’d spent saving and scrimping to put herself through her training and provide a few treats for her sister, she considered herself lucky these days.

  After browsing the market stalls for a while Rose decided to try a small dress shop on Commercial Street. The busy street was thronged with shoppers, noisy with passing traffic that passed up and down the wide thoroughfare, the air heavy with the odours of exhaust fumes, horse manure that a pair of shire horses pulling a dray cart had left, and spices from a grocer’s shop. Some of the best shops in Spitalfields were here. She saw the lilac tweed suit immediately she stepped inside the dress shop and knew that it was her size and a style she liked. Looking inside the jacket, she saw it bore the label of Mary Ellen’s firm and smiled, because it was priced at four pounds and ten shillings. She could just about afford it, and she took it into the changing cubicle to try it on. The mirror told her that it looked really good on her and she decided to buy it. No doubt Mary Ellen would say she could have made it cheaper, but just for once Rose wanted to buy something from a shop rather than the market or cabbage from Sam’s workshops.

  She paid her money and went back out into the sunshine, feeling pleased with herself. Not knowing why, she turned her steps in the direction of St Saviour’s. She would see if Sister Beatrice had time for a chat, because she’d once mentioned to Rose that she might welcome her there if she ever felt like changing her job …

  ‘Rose, are you there?’ Mary Ellen called out as she let herself into the flat and dumped her shopping on the kitchen table. ‘I bought the stuff you asked me to get … cheese and bread and some ham and tomatoes. I fancy a ham sandwich, what about you?’

  ‘Yes, but I’d like some mustard in mine,’ Rose said and came out of the bedroom wearing the new suit she’d purchased that afternoon. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It looks lovely on you,’ Mary Ellen said and then frowned, moving closer to look at it properly. ‘Where did you buy it?’

  ‘A shop called Polly Anne Fashions on Commercial Street,’ Rose said. ‘I know it’s one of yours but I fancied it so I bought it … and it wasn’t expensive really.’

  ‘How much did they charge you?’

  ‘Four pounds ten shillings,’ Rose said. ‘I thought it might be more and I shouldn’t have b
ought it if it had been …’

  ‘It ought to retail at over seven pounds,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘It’s our own label and that tweed is good material – unless it has a cut label, of course?’

  ‘No, it isn’t cabbage,’ Rose said. ‘If I’d wanted that I should have gone to the market. I fancied something posh for a change … I know you make me lovely things, Mary Ellen, but I was feeling fed up and wanted to splash out.’

  ‘It’s up to you where you buy your clothes,’ Mary Ellen said. She could’ve told her sister that she’d made the suit herself. It wasn’t one that had gone missing from their client’s box, but one of the two made from the extra material without the velvet collar that made the Pretty Patricia Modes version so stylish. It was still stolen goods and the sight of her sister wearing it and looking so pleased with herself made her feel sick to her stomach. ‘If I were you I should return it and ask for your money back – tell them you didn’t like it after all …’

  ‘That’s mean of you,’ Rose said, looking cross. ‘I don’t often spend money on myself. I don’t know why you would grudge it to me.’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘That suit is one of four that were stolen from Sam’s workshops. I didn’t think you’d want to wear something that was stolen goods.’

  Rose looked horrified. ‘Pinched? How can you know that? I can show you the label; it hasn’t been cut out or nicked to show its cabbage …’

  ‘We made two like this one,’ Mary Ellen told her, ‘and several with velvet collars. The ones with velvet collars were meant for a special customer and had their label in the jacket but two were missing when the box arrived at the client’s premises, and when I checked the two own label suits had gone as well, but they hadn’t been listed as being sold.’

  ‘Surely, that can’t be right,’ Rose said, not wanting to admit that the suit was stolen goods. ‘This came from a respectable shop on Commercial Street. If I’d bought it from the market, I might have accepted it was stolen – but I’m sure they wouldn’t steal …’

  ‘I shall tell Sam about it in the morning,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘You can’t keep it, Rose. Sam will go to the shop and ask where they bought it, but you should return it and get your money refunded.’

  Rose glared at her, obviously reluctant to return the suit she’d been so pleased with. ‘How can you be sure it was stolen? It might be one that was bought and paid for in the proper way.’

  ‘There were only two in this material,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘It’s what we do when we have extra material left over from a special order. We make them look different, in this case a different shaped jacket and a collar made from the same material rather than velvet lapels … but they weren’t part of a full range. Sam thought they were too good to go on the cabbage rail and so they went out on the rail with our own label and there’s no record of the suits being sold. You can’t keep it, Rose.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Rose was clearly annoyed. ‘I’ll take it back tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t tell them it’s because it was stolen. Sam will need to see it on the rails if he’s to ask where it came from …’

  ‘Why don’t you take it with you tomorrow, give him my receipt and ask him to deal with it?’ Rose snapped. ‘But whatever happens, I want my money back or the suit.’

  ‘All right, put it in their bag and I’ll show it to Sam in the morning …’

  Rose went off to the bedroom in a temper and Mary Ellen sighed. She knew her sister was upset over the incident but she’d had to speak up, because she couldn’t let her walk round in a suit that had been stolen …

  ‘I know that shop,’ Sam said when Mary Ellen showed him the suit and the receipt Rose had reluctantly handed over. ‘I’m surprised they would buy stolen stuff. They’ve bought from us in the past. I’d better check with Mrs Baxter that she didn’t sell them those suits and forget to put the sale down in the book …’

  Mary Ellen nodded, biting her lip as she asked what he meant to do about the suit. Sam hesitated, frowning, ‘Let me speak to Mrs Baxter about the missing suits and then I’ll decide.’

  Mary Ellen got on with her work, feeling uncomfortable as she remembered Rose’s disappointment over her suit. She hadn’t liked telling her that it was stolen, but it wasn’t right that stuff was disappearing from the showroom.

  She worked on machining a new line of dresses they were making for one of their regular customers and was just sewing the labels in when Sam came back carrying the bag containing Rose’s suit.

  ‘Mrs Baxter assures me she did not sell these suits,’ Sam told her. ‘She does vaguely remembering seeing them on the rail when you put them out but she hadn’t realised they were gone.’

  ‘So they were stolen, just as you thought … but who took them?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know. We’ve only had regular customers here in the last few days – no strangers …’

  ‘So it has to be someone we know.’ Mary Ellen felt sick. ‘That makes it even worse, Sam. Are you going to take the suit to the shop and ask them where they got it?’

  ‘No, because the sales girls wouldn’t know where it had been bought; the stock will be given to them already priced up, all they have to do is sell it. I know the man who owns that shop, so I’ll have a word with him about it … and you can give the suit back to Rose.’

  Mary Ellen nodded. ‘What do you want Rose to do? Should she take it back to the shop?’

  ‘It’s up to her, Mary Ellen. Your sister bought the suit in good faith so I shan’t mind if she decides to keep it. I have to be very careful about this, you see, I can’t just charge in and accuse a good customer of stealing. I have to make discreet inquiries … What we really need is to catch them in the act …’

  ‘You’ve improved the visibility in the showroom,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘Mrs Baxter will be able to see what’s going on behind her back … all those mirrors should make a thief think twice before stealing from you again, Sam.’

  ‘Once a thief always a thief,’ Sam said. ‘If I stop the pilfering they may decide to break in. Trouble is I’m not a young man these days and neither is Bert. We could do with a bit of muscle about the place …’

  Mary Ellen decided to pop home in her lunch break and leave the suit in Rose’s bedroom with a note. If Sam didn’t object to her keeping the suit it was really up to Rose what she did with it.

  When Mary Ellen got home that evening Rose was standing at the sink peeling potatoes. Rose gave her a cross look and said, ‘I took that suit back and told them I’d changed my mind. They were a bit sniffy about returning my money, but I got it in the end. One thing is certain, I shan’t go there again.’

  ‘You could’ve kept it, Rose. Sam didn’t mind …’

  ‘You spoiled it for me,’ Rose retorted. ‘I should have been conscious that it was stolen every time I wore it.’

  Rose obviously wasn’t going to forgive her lightly, but what else could she have done? Mary Ellen would’ve hated it if Sam had seen her wearing the suit and thought that she, Mary Ellen, was the thief.

  ‘I’m sorry, but Sam’s been losing quite a bit of stuff and we need to find out who is behind it …’

  ‘If you ask me that Mrs Baxter is involved,’ Rose sniffed. ‘I’ve never liked her – she thinks she’s above the rest of us with her airs and graces. If I were your boss, I should get myself a new manager to take care of things in that showroom.’

  Mary Ellen was silent as she helped Rose to cook their tea and then did some tidying before settling down with her books. It was awful, having to suspect the people you worked with of stealing … and know that some of them were probably thinking it was you.

  Mary Ellen thought about what Billy had said about seeing a lilac tweed suit on the market – was that where the other one had gone? He’d promised to keep an eye out on the markets for stuff that might have been pinched, and she was going to be vigilant at work, so perhaps they would discover who the villain was before long …

  CHAPTER 17


  ‘Shine the torch over here,’ Ikey said softly as he examined the metal cabinet of drawers. ‘Not locked – that’s a bit of luck. She must trust her staff not to lock her files …’

  ‘Sister Beatrice wouldn’t think anyone would break in,’ Archie said, feeling guilty at what they were doing, but Ikey had tried asking Sister for the information they needed, so it was her fault. ‘Are they what you’re looking for?’ he asked as Ikey took an armful of files out and quickly went through them.

  ‘Yes, this is it,’ Ikey said and placed a file on the desk, before replacing the others in the drawer without looking inside them. He opened the relevant file and shone the torch on the first page. Archie saw that there were only a few pages and Ikey took his time reading them, which made Archie nervous. He kept listening, waiting for someone to throw open the door and demand to know what was going on.

  Ikey took the top page, folded it and slipped it inside his jacket and then returned the file to its original place and closed the cabinet.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said and switched off the torch.

  Everything was quiet as he led the way along the landing, which had only one shaded light, and down the stairs. Archie heard the quiet murmur of voices from inside the sick room and then, as they walked down the stairs, a door opened and Sister Beatrice’s voice could be clearly heard.

  ‘It’s a good thing you called me, Wendy. Dick has a nasty rash and I think we should have the doctor out to him. It isn’t chicken pox, I’m fairly certain of that, so we’ll be on the safe side …’

  Ikey pulled Archie into the shadows of the hall as a light flicked on upstairs. They waited until they heard the door of Sister’s office open and shut and then made their way swiftly to the scullery. Ikey went out of the back door and Archie locked it and then scrambled back out of the window that he’d entered through earlier.

  Ikey took hold of his body and helped him down. He looked serious as they both scaled the side gate but he didn’t speak until they were in the street and away from St Saviour’s.