Tilly's Story

by June Francis

  She had typed several pages of notes before Grant replaced the mouthpiece and turned to her. ‘I have to go out, Tilly.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Simpson.’

  He smiled. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t be on first name terms during office hours.’

  Tilly nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. Until what time d’you expect me to stay here?’ she asked.

  ‘I hope to be back by five but if I’m not, just lock this door.’ He held out a Yale key to her. ‘And take the bottom door off the latch and close it behind you. I’ll pick up the key at the shop tomorrow.’

  ‘I probably won’t be able to work for you in the morning,’ said Tilly, taking the key from him. ‘I have to call in at the Bennetts’ and see if I’m needed.’

  He looked disappointed but only said, ‘Fair enough. But I’ll want you on Thursday.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘How much will you pay me?’

  ‘I’ll match at least what Mrs Bennett pays you and if I find other work for you then I’ll pay you extra, as well as expenses.’

  She wondered what other work he was referring to, but did not ask because he was already on his way to the door. ‘See you later, I hope, Tilly.’

  ‘I hope you have a successful afternoon.’

  He gave a twisted smile and closed the door behind him.

  Tilly waited a few moments before rising from her chair and going over to the window. She could hear the sound of traffic in Lord Street and the voices of businessmen wafted up to her from below. She saw Grant appear and wondered where he was going. One thing was for sure: she would get to know sooner or later because she would be typing up his report. Right now she would get on with what was on her desk and then she would slip out the office and buy some cleaning materials and give the place a good going over before she left that evening.

  Grant did not reappear that day and so Tilly locked up the office and left. Its windows now had a sparkle to them and all the surfaces were dust free, the toilet was shining clean and smelt intoxicatingly of pine disinfectant. She felt that she had done a good day’s work and hoped she would be paid accordingly.

  When Tilly arrived back at the shop Mrs Wright was holding the fort. She told Tilly that the police had been to the Bennetts’ house and the upshot was that they had hopes of catching the burglar.

  ‘Did they say how?’ asked Tilly, picking up that night’s Echo and placing a penny on the counter.

  ‘No idea,’ said Mrs Wright, putting the penny in the till.

  ‘How was Dad?’

  ‘I didn’t see him. He was burying the dog.’

  ‘In the garden?’

  ‘Where else? Eudora was overseeing the burial. My brother said that he’d rather not watch. He was very fond of that dog.’

  Tilly thought, so were the others. By the sound of it the ground was now soft enough to dig holes. She was reminded of what her father had said about a body and wondered if he would start digging holes again. Perhaps she should talk to him about that tomorrow.

  She went upstairs and found her bedroom door open. The tap-tap of her typewriter could be heard. Suddenly the noise stopped and she heard a muffled ‘Bloody hell!’ and then the sound of a drawer being opened.

  Tilly walked into the room. ‘What are you doing?’

  Wendy jumped and dropped the photographs.

  Tilly bent and picked them up. ‘I’d rather you didn’t go nosing in my drawers,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was looking for a rubber.’ Wendy’s expression was defiant. She nodded at the photographs. ‘Who is he?’

  Tilly looked down at the picture of Don. ‘He’s none of your business. But if you must know he’s the American who saved my brother-in-law’s life.’

  ‘So why is it you have his photograph?’

  ‘You really are nosy,’ said Tilly, a glint in her eye.

  ‘He looks older than Grant Simpson.’

  ‘He’s twenty-seven and I’ll be eighteen in July.’

  ‘Do you like him?’

  ‘Of course I like Don! He’s on the side of the angels. He cares about people,’ said Tilly, glancing down at his image. He seemed to be gazing straight into her eyes and it gave her a strange feeling. Tears welled up and she brushed them away with the back of her hand. She so missed his letters and he felt so distant from her. ‘Could you go now, Wendy, I want to get changed.’

  Wendy nodded and moved away from the desk, only to pause in the doorway. ‘So how did it go at Grant’s office?’

  ‘Fine. Why didn’t you tell me about his offer of a job?’

  Wendy hesitated before saying, ‘I didn’t see the point with you working for Aunt Eudora’s charity.’

  Tilly wondered if that was the real reason but decided not to press the point. ‘OK. See you later.’ She waited until the other girl had left before glancing at the paper Wendy had practised on. Not bad,’ thought Tilly, before scrunching it up and placing it in the bin. But would typing skills help Wendy to get what she wanted?

  As Tilly changed into a clean skirt and blouse, she thought of Don and wondered why she had placed his photograph away in a drawer, feeling the way she did about him. Surely it had nothing to do with the guilty attraction she felt for Leonard Parker? As she had said to Wendy, Don was on the side of the angels. She felt somehow that was not true about Leonard, with his talk of pirates and making the strikers walk the plank. Yet he was so good-looking he caused her pulse to race – a dangerous sensation in the light of Eudora’s warning. She would be far better holding Don close in her thoughts. She opened the drawer and removed the photograph of that happy day at her sister’s home and gazed at Don’s smiling face and her own. Lest we forget, she thought, before wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  By the time Tilly was ready to call in on Eudora, Grant had still not arrived at the shop, so she left the key with Wendy to give to him. ‘Tell him I’ll be at the office at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  ‘OK! You can trust me,’ said Wendy.

  Tilly hoped so. As she walked to Newsham Drive on what was a lovely spring morning, she decided that if the weather remained fair she would visit her family in Chester the coming weekend. She had still not heard anything about Freddie and Clara’s son’s christening and hoped they had not forgotten about her. If Joy did not get a chance to telephone Kenny at the yard, then she, herself, would do so.

  She hoped the Bennetts were feeling better this morning after the shock of yesterday. They were not getting any younger and this sort of shock wasn’t good for people of their age.

  But Tilly need not have worried. When she arrived at the house it was to discover that both Bennetts were already out and about. ‘But I thought I’d be working today,’ she said, dismayed. ‘Did Mrs Bennett say when next she’d need me? I can’t come tomorrow as I’ve another part-time job now, working for Mr Simpson.’

  ‘Ahhh! The great detective,’ said Joy, smiling. ‘She didn’t actually say. Probably because she has a lot on her mind. I know today she and Mr Bennett are seeing their solicitor.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll come back this evening and see if she wants me on Friday. There’s something I need to ask her about Mrs Doyle.’

  ‘You do that. I’m sure she won’t mind,’ said Joy, taking the vacuum cleaner from a walk-in cupboard. ‘So what are you going to do now? Visit your dad?’

  ‘Yes. I want to see how he is.’

  ‘He’s a bit edgy, if you want my opinion,’ said Joy.

  That isn’t surprising, thought Tilly, leaving the kitchen. She had not gone far down the garden when her father suddenly appeared from behind a bush; his boot narrowly avoided a clump of daffodils. He was clutching a shovel and she thought he looked nervous and excited.

  ‘What are you doing there, Dad? Surely you’re not digging holes again?’

  ‘I’ve found it,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘I’ve found the body.’

  Tilly’s stomach flipped over. This definitely wasn’t the spot where they had buried the baby skelet
on. ‘What body?’

  Mal grabbed her sleeve and urged her to come with him. Reluctantly, she allowed him to lead her to a place that he had cleared last autumn. It was close to the dividing wall between this garden and that of Leonard Parker’s. There was a mound of soil and what appeared to be a trench. Suddenly she did not want to go closer as there was a smell emanating from it that caused her to gag. Oh, dear God, she thought. Had her father really found another body? She swallowed bile.

  ‘What kind of body is it, Dad?’ she croaked.

  ‘A man’s! I want yer to look so yer know I’m not lying. Then we’ll bury it again like we did the baby,’ he said.

  Tilly did not want to do this. Why couldn’t he have told Joy about it or the Bennetts?

  ‘Come on, lass,’ he said, urging her forward. ‘Just a quick peep and then we’ll bury it again and yer can say a prayer.’

  Reluctantly, she looked down into the trench. There was a body there all right. It was naked and in an advanced state of decomposition. She backed away and threw up behind a bush.

  ‘Are ye all right, lass?’ Mal sounded anxious as he patted her shoulder.

  ‘No, I’m not all right,’ she said hoarsely.

  ‘I’ll bury it again.’

  ‘No!’ cried Tilly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘This isn’t the same as the baby’s skeleton, Dad. What’s a grown man’s body doing here? He must have been murdered.’ She took several deep breaths before making for the house. She glanced behind her to see what her father was doing and caught sight of a face peering over the wall. The woman bobbed down as soon as she realised she had been seen.

  ‘Come on, Dad!’ called Tilly. ‘We’re going to have to report this to the police. It’s a pity you couldn’t have told them about it yesterday.’

  Mal hurried towards her. ‘They might think I killed him,’ he whispered. ‘I hit a policeman once and they locked me away.’

  Tilly tried to remember if Alice or Kenny had ever told her about this but her brain did not seem to be functioning properly. ‘You have to tell them, Dad. Anyway, that would have been in Chester when you were ill.’

  She linked her arm through his and hurried him towards the house. As soon as they entered the kitchen they could hear the sound of the vacuum cleaner. ‘You stay here, Dad. I’ll go and find Joy.’

  Looking extremely unhappy, he shook his head. ‘I’ll come with yer, lass.’

  ‘OK!’

  They found Joy vacuuming the dining room carpet. She had her back to them so Tilly did not waste time calling to her but went over and touched her shoulder. Joy turned. ‘Switch it off,’ mouthed Tilly.

  Joy did so. ‘What is it?’ she asked, then frowned as she stared at Mal. What’s he doing in here in his muddy boots? And you, Tilly, your shoes—’

  ‘Dad’s found a body.’

  Joy looked startled. ‘What!’

  ‘Someone has buried a man’s body in the garden,’ said Tilly.

  Joy swallowed. ‘You’re not joking.’

  ‘Would I joke about such a thing?’ cried Tilly, and sat down suddenly on the nearest chair.

  ‘They might think I did it and I didn’t,’ said Mal in a trembling voice. ‘I’m going to bury it again.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Dad!’ Tilly’s voice was fierce. ‘I should imagine that body’s been there for a while.’

  ‘I’m going to have a look,’ said Joy firmly.

  ‘Take a hanky with you,’ advised Tilly.

  Joy looked at her and nodded. ‘Do something, love. Put the kettle on and perhaps we could all do with a drop of Mr Bennett’s brandy.’ She hurried out.

  ‘Wait!’ called Tilly, getting up and following her. ‘You don’t know where the body is.’ She turned to Mal. ‘Dad, show her!’

  Joy paused and popped her head through the doorway and stared at Mal. ‘Come on, then,’ she said. ‘I haven’t got all day.’

  He followed her while Tilly put the kettle on. Then she decided to see how Joy was coping and went outside. She saw her father shambling down the garden to his living quarters. She called to him but he ignored her. Joy appeared from out of the bushes with a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Without speaking she hurried up the garden towards Tilly, shooing her inside. They both sat down at the kitchen table and neither spoke for several minutes. Then Tilly realised the kettle was boiling so she got up and made tea.

  It was not until they had both had a drink that Joy said, ‘Did you notice the cheekbones were smashed.’

  ‘No! Are you going to telephone the police?’

  ‘I should really get in touch with the Bennetts first but as I haven’t a phone number and it could be hours before they get back, I suppose I better had.’ She got up and left the room.

  Tilly was about to follow her to listen in on what she said when she remembered her father. She made another cup of tea and put three spoonfuls of sugar in it and took it down the garden. He must have seen her coming because he came out and stood waiting for her.

  He gulped down the tea before asking, ‘What’s Joy doing?’

  ‘Telephoning the police. It has to be done, Dad. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Why don’t you come back to the house? I don’t like you being here on your own.’

  ‘Yer think the murderer will come back?’

  ‘I haven’t even thought of that but why should he? He doesn’t know you found the body,’ said Tilly.

  ‘It might have been a woman who murdered him,’ said Mal. ‘Women can be strong. Mother was and used to frighten the life out of me when she got into one of her tantrums.’

  ‘Perhaps it was the woman who lived in the house before the Bennetts,’ suggested Tilly. ‘The one who buried the baby. He could be the father and years later returned, thinking to take up with her again. She was angry and they quarrelled and she hit him with a shovel. Maybe she didn’t mean to kill him but was scared to own up to the crime.’

  Mal stared at her, goggle-eyed. ‘Ye haven’t half got some imagination, lass. Shall we go and see whether Joy’s finished telephoning the police and see what they said?’

  Tilly sighed. ‘OK!’

  They went inside the house and found Joy in the kitchen, opening a bottle of brandy. ‘I thought we could all do with a tot,’ she said.

  ‘Won’t Mr Bennett mind?’ asked Tilly.

  Joy shook her head. ‘He’s a very understanding and generous man. If he was here he’d be pouring it out for us.’

  Tilly made no mention of being under age and not used to spirits but accepted the small glass. ‘Dad and I were trying to think who could possibly be the murderer. He thought it might be a woman and so I thought, in that case, it could have been the old spinster who lived here.’

  ‘Don’t you start trying to solve this mystery,’ said Joy sternly. ‘Just because you’re working for that private detective you mustn’t get carried away. Leave this to the police.’

  ‘I can’t help thinking about it,’ said Tilly, sipping the brandy cautiously. ‘You must be curious about who could have done such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t want to think about it,’ said Joy firmly. ‘I just want the police to come with an ambulance and for them to take the body away and that’s the end of it. Let them do their policing somewhere else.’

  ‘They’re bound to want to inspect the grounds and ask us questions,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Not for long,’ said Joy, sitting down by the fire. ‘They’ll soon go away when they realise it’s been there since before we moved here. That part of the garden was real wilderness, if you remember. If it hadn’t been for your dad clearing the area and digging it over today.’

  ‘He didn’t find it today,’ said Tilly. ‘He mentioned it to me ages ago and I thought he was talking about the baby’s skeleton.’

  ‘I remember you mentioning that to me,’ said Joy, ‘but it had slipped my mind. I don’t know what Mr and Mrs Bennett are going to say.’

  They were to find out much later but not before the police arr
ived in the form of Sergeant Jones. Tilly immediately recognised him as the policeman involved in the case of the wig thief, who had been none other than Bert Kirk. Due to her family’s involvement and a shared interest in singing, the sergeant had become friendly with Seb’s mother, Gabrielle.

  ‘Sergeant Jones! I forgot you lived not far from here,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Miss Moran!’ He smiled at her. ‘I did hear that you’d come to live this side of the Mersey but I never expected to find you involved in the discovery of a body,’ he said, shaking her hand.

  ‘It’s Dad who found the body,’ said Tilly.

  ‘And it must have been there for some time,’ interposed Joy.

  Sergeant Jones stared at Mal and said gravely, ‘Then perhaps you’d better show me where it is, Mr Moran.’

  Mal nodded and, getting to his feet, led the way out of the kitchen.

  Tilly glanced at Joy. ‘I think I’d better go with them in case he gets Dad in a tizzy.’

  ‘You do. See that he doesn’t mention having come across the body earlier, too, if I was you.’ said Joy. ‘It will only lead to more questions and could complicate matters.’

  Tilly agreed and hurried out.

  Fortunately Sergeant Jones was in no mind to linger near the body and didn’t even ask Mal why he’d been digging in that part of garden. Tilly could only presume that Joy had told the police over the telephone that the gardener had found the body, so most likely they’d thought he’d been digging over the ground ready for planting. ‘I certainly agree that the body looks like it’s been there for a while. But I’m no expert; the detective inspector will have to be brought in on this.’

  ‘I wonder how old he was and what his name was,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Hopefully they’ll be able to find out,’ said Sergeant Jones. ‘But it’s not going to be easy with him having been stripped of all clothing. Of course, the murderer intended to make it difficult for us if the body was found.’