Tilly's Story

by June Francis

  Grant’s expression was thoughtful. ‘That’s not a bad idea. I’ll mention it to him at some time.’

  Tilly smiled. ‘Perhaps she might even want to adopt an orphan.’

  ‘Don’t let’s get ahead of ourselves, Tilly. One step at a time. Now let’s get to work.’

  * * *

  Tilly was in a hurry when she left work at the end of the day. She had promised to go the cinema with Wendy, as Robbie had given them complimentary tickets for the Palladium. She ran to the tram stop but groaned when she saw the length of the queue.

  ‘Hello, Miss Moran. How are you this evening? I haven’t seen anything of you recently.’

  At the sound of Leonard Parker’s voice Tilly felt that strange tingling inside her and she turned to look at him. ‘Good evening, Mr Parker. I’ve been ill and that’s why you haven’t seen me.’

  He looked concerned. ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’

  ‘A severe chill.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He gazed at her intently. ‘Yes. I can see you’ve lost some of the bloom from your cheeks.’

  ‘I know! I look terrible! But I’m definitely on the mend now and summer’s on its way. I’m planning on a trip on the ferry to visit my family in Chester soon.’

  At that moment a tram came rattling along and there was a concerted surge towards it. Tilly was knocked off her feet and only saved from being trampled on by Leonard grabbing hold of her and dragging her out of the crowd. She clung to him, getting her breath back.

  ‘What do you say, Miss Moran, to us popping into a Kardomah for a coffee?’ he suggested. ‘I reckon in half an hour the queue will have vanished and you won’t have any trouble catching a tram. There’s something I’d like to ask you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure if I have the time,’ she said, thinking of the proposed visit to the cinema.

  ‘It’ll only take half an hour. Surely you can spare me that time?’ He smiled.

  Tilly felt suddenly weak at the knees and decided that perhaps half an hour was not very long. Besides, she was curious to know what he had to say to her. ‘OK. Just for half an hour.’

  He looked pleased and, taking her arm, escorted her to Dale Street and the Kardomah cafe situated between a plumber’s merchant’s shop and Liverpool China and India Tea Company. They were shown to a table and Leonard drew out her chair and waited until she was comfortably seated before sitting down himself. He asked her if she would like a cake with her coffee.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Tilly, despite having a feeling this little excursion from the normal was going to take more than half an hour – and wondering whether Don would care if he knew that she was sitting here with another man drinking coffee.

  She felt an ache inside her, wondering about the blonde in the photograph and whether she and Don were lovers.

  He gave their order and then sat back and gazed across at her. There was an expression in his eyes that brought a blush to her cheeks. Lowering her gaze, she drew off her gloves. ‘This is an unexpected treat for me,’ she murmured. ‘I only started back at work today.’

  ‘I didn’t see you at the Bennetts’ this morning.’

  ‘Oh, I have another part-time job. I work for Mr Simpson’s detective agency.’

  He stilled. ‘I thought your other occupation was writing.’

  ‘It is! But I have to support myself doing other work as my writing income isn’t enough for me to live on.’

  ‘Don’t you have family that would help support you while you write your novel?’

  ‘Oh yes, but I want to be independent.’

  He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. ‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me, Miss Moran? I suspected you of being a free spirit. If you had been older I should imagine you’d have been a suffragette, smashing windows and insulting members of parliament before the war.’

  ‘I don’t know if I’d have gone that far,’ said Tilly, wondering if she should attempt to free her hand from that strong grasp. ‘But-but my sister went to London and attended a rally in Hyde Park. She heard Mrs Pankhurst speak.’

  ‘Ahhh! The great woman rallying her troops.’

  Tilly nodded. ‘Although I can’t say I admired her behaviour during the war or since. She doesn’t seem to care very much for her poorer sisters and their rights.’

  ‘But at least she got the vote for women.’

  ‘Only some women,’ said Tilly. ‘I’ll have to wait years before I can vote. Unless the law changes before I’m thirty.’ She withdrew her hand. ‘So, Mr Parker, what is it you wish to speak to me about?’

  ‘I wondered if you’d heard anything more about the identity of the body and whether the burglar had been captured yet.’

  Tilly was surprised he should ask her. ‘Surely you could have asked the Bennetts about that?’

  ‘True. But I’d rather not. They haven’t taken Fang to their hearts and that creates an awkwardness between us. I regret it but I feel I do have to protect my property.’

  Tilly decided it was wiser to not state an opinion about Fang. ‘I can only say that I can’t answer your questions because I don’t know the answers. Although I suppose if either had happened, I would have been told.’

  He nodded. ‘It must be frustrating for the Bennetts that the police have not made any progress.’

  Tilly said, ‘Naturally they would like to hear of the capture of the burglar and recover their property but I suppose the police have a lot on their plate. One is always reading in the newspapers about some crime or other taking place.’

  ‘Perhaps what they need is to hire your boss,’ said Leonard. ‘Didn’t I meet him at the Bennetts’ New Year’s party?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tilly’s brow knit. ‘But Mr Simpson has enough on his plate at the moment.

  ‘And in what capacity do you work for him?’

  ‘I do secretarial work and also help in his investigations sometimes.’

  ‘You mean you spy on people.’

  Tilly reddened. ‘I wouldn’t call it spying.’

  ‘Please, don’t take offence but isn’t that what detectives do?’

  ‘No! They investigate.’ She was almost wishing that she had not agreed to come with him now. ‘They use their brains to think matters through.’

  ‘And no doubt they go through a lot of shoe leather trying to find out what people are about?’

  There was a look in his eyes that caused Tilly to wonder if he could have caught sight of her that day she had followed him. What had he been doing in the pawnshop and talking to Patricia’s uncle? She cleared her throat. ‘Yes. But I’ve only worked on one case so far and that was to do with a client who suspected his wife having an affair. Fortunately, she wasn’t. So you see, Mr Parker, we clear the innocent. Thanks for mentioning the shoe leather. I’ll have a word with Mr Simpson about claiming expenses for it,’ she said rather stiffly.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve been of some help to you.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps now I can get to the real reason I asked to talk to you.’ He leant towards her. ‘How would you like to attend a soirée with me?’

  ‘A soirée!’

  He smiled. ‘I know, it reminds one of another century. It’s at the home of a business acquaintance of mine. There’ll be music, conversation and supper.’

  Tilly was so surprised by the invitation that she did not know how to answer him. Why had he asked her? How would her family feel if she answered yes? She thought again about Don, too. Not that she had to tell anyone about seeing a man but even so… ‘When-when is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Not for six weeks but I thought I might as well get in early.’

  ‘That would be July.’

  ‘Yes. The second week in July. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.’ His eyes gleamed as he leant across the table towards her. ‘Look upon it as material for your novel. The women’s gowns alone will take some describing. Your readers will imagine themselves dressed in such clothes and picture themselves waltzing with some handsome stranger.’

  ‘Yo
u should try your hand at writing yourself, Mr Parker. You’ve certainly got a way with words,’ said Tilly dryly. ‘I’ll need to think about it.’

  She was already wondering what on earth she had in her wardrobe that could match anything these women he mentioned would be wearing.

  ‘You can let me know sometime next week,’ said Leonard. ‘If we don’t bump into each other before then, you could put a note through my letterbox when you call next door.’

  ‘Yes, of course, I could do that,’ she agreed, thinking it would save any embarrassment if she turned down his offer. She noticed the waitress coming towards them. ‘Here’s our coffee and cakes.’

  They did not talk whilst they ate and drank. Tilly’s head was still in a whirl over the very idea of his wanting to take her out. It seemed strange to her when they hardly knew each other.

  ‘More coffee, Miss Moran?’ asked Leonard, smiling. ‘Or may I call you Tilly and you can call me Leonard?’

  She supposed their being on first name terms was a step forward. And he really was extremely handsome and charming. The kind of man not only Eudora Bennett had warned her against but Hanny, too. ‘If that’s what you wish,’ she answered. ‘But I’m afraid I have to leave. I’m going to the cinema this evening.’ She reached for her gloves.

  ‘The cinema! I hope you enjoy yourself. I prefer the theatre myself.’

  ‘I like the theatre, as well,’ said Tilly instantly. ‘But the films have something different to offer.’

  ‘Far away places with strange-sounding names?’

  Tilly smiled. ‘You could say that, Mr. Leonard.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I’d best be going. Thanks so much for giving me this treat and for your invitation. I’ll be in touch.’

  He stood up. ‘I hope it will be yes. Take care of yourself, Tilly. We don’t want you falling foul of something nasty again, do we?’ he said smoothly.

  ‘No.’ She hurried from the cafe, still undecided whether to accept his invitation or not. It would certainly be an experience. If Don had been in touch then she would not have even considered accepting the invitation. But as things stood between them at the moment, then… She sighed and decided not to mention it to anyone for the moment.

  ‘You’re late,’ said Wendy in an accusing voice, as soon as Tilly arrived home.

  ‘Sorry. The queues at the tram stops were terrible. I won’t keep you long. I just need to have a quick wash and change. I’ll eat my supper later.’ Tilly disappeared upstairs before Wendy could say anything else.

  Shortly afterwards when they crossed the road to the Palladium, Wendy asked Tilly how she had got on at the office. ‘Fine,’ answered Tilly. ‘Lots of work for me to catch up on and Mr Simpson told me that Mr Nuttall is taking his wife on holiday. Isn’t that nice?’

  ‘It would be lovely with the right man,’ said Wendy. ‘Are you going to be doing anymore detecting for him?’

  ‘Possibly. I’ll let you know.’

  They arrived outside the cinema and Tilly was glad that the commissionaire did not even spare her a glance. Yet once inside the magnificent auditorium, she found it difficult to concentrate on the screen. Her thoughts alternated between thinking of those moments in the cafe with Leonard Parker and what Grant Simpson had told her that morning about Sylvia Adams. How could she use these experiences in her novel? Her tummy rumbled, reminding her that she had not had supper and despite the bag of sweets Wendy produced, Tilly was glad when it was time to go home.

  As soon as she had eaten her dried-up supper, she went upstairs and sat at her typewriter and began to write. That night, Tilly dreamt she was dancing with Leonard Parker in a sumptuous gown with Don sitting on the sidelines watching her with such an expression on his face that she felt terribly guilty. Then she remembered the blonde in the magazine article and was hurt and angry. She told herself that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander. She woke up with the conviction that she would miss out on a great opportunity if she turned down his offer. But what could she wear? She had nothing suitable in her wardrobe and even her best dress might look out of place. Was she going to have to buy a new outfit?

  Her question was to be answered within the next few days when Wendy read out to her a description of the latest Parisienne design for a walking outfit from ‘Jacqueline’s Mirror of Fashion’.

  ‘The couturiers have devised a tunic of very fine lace, falling over the front of the dress, but having no back; the sides of this tunic are taken in the stitches of the sleeves, producing a wing-like effect when the arms move. This wing-like effect is also seen on tea gowns and evening dresses, in which case the ends of the tunic are frequently caught up at each wrist in a bracelet or bangle.’ Wendy glanced across at Tilly over the newspaper. ‘How d’you fancy one of them?’

  ‘I do,’ she replied truthfully, taking the copy of the Echo from the other girl. ‘I’ll post off the design to my sister.’

  Wendy’s eyes widened. ‘You’re serious!’

  ‘Of course I’m serious. I’m sure she’ll enjoy the challenge of copying it.’

  ‘But where will you go to wear a dress like that?’

  ‘A soirée,’ said Tilly, her eyes sparkling as she lifted the counter flap.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Look it up in a dictionary,’ called Tilly.

  She did not pause to talk to the rest of the Wrights, only greeting them as she passed through the room. She needed to cut out the description of the gown and send it to Alice. Perhaps it might be worth suggesting the dress could be her eighteenth birthday present and explain why she needed such a gown. Fingers and toes crossed, Alice would agree to do as she asked. So Tilly dashed off a letter and posted it the next morning.

  She was alone in the office a couple of days later when she received a telephone call, not from Alice but from Seb, wanting to know the name of this man Tilly had mentioned in her letter.

  ‘How did you get this number?’ she asked.

  ‘I got in touch with the operator,’ said Seb. ‘So who is this bloke who wants to take you out?’

  She told him and was glad that Grant was out of the office as she sensed he wouldn’t be pleased at the thought of her going out with Leonard.

  ‘What does this Mr Parker do?’ asked Seb.

  ‘He’s in shipping,’ replied Tilly, adding, ‘He’s perfectly respectable and it’s not as if I’m going to be alone in his company.’

  ‘How did you meet him?’

  ‘At a New Year’s Eve party at the other Bennetts’ house. We’ve met several times since and he took me for coffee and cake the other day. But this is the first time he’s asked me out,’ said Tilly.

  There was a silence at the other end of the line. ‘I’d better not mention that to Alice or you won’t be getting your dress,’ said Seb. ‘Leave it until next week before you come. Alice has your measurements and she knows the kind of material and colour that would suit you. She’ll probably tack it together before you arrive, so you can try it on. Take care.’ He rang off.

  Tilly let out a relieved sigh. She would write a note to Leonard Parker that evening and drop it through his letterbox next time she was at the Bennetts’.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Good morning, Tilly!’ said Robbie, looking up from the newspaper.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Bennett!’ She smiled at him, clasping her handbag in both hands in front of her. She felt slightly jumpy, having just popped her note through Leonard’s letterbox and been barked at by Fang. She hoped her note would not be torn to shreds.

  She glanced around the drawing room, wondering where Eudora was and murmured, ‘Mrs Bennett hasn’t forgotten I was coming today, has she?’

  ‘No. But an unexpected telephone call meant she’s had to go and visit someone in a hurry.’

  Tilly was curious about the emergency. ‘It isn’t to do with the Doyles, is it?’

  ‘She didn’t mention any names.’

  ‘Did she leave a message about what she wanted me to do today?’

 
; ‘I’m to take you to the hall where they’re going to have the concert.’

  Tilly was surprised. ‘She made no mention of it to me.’

  ‘That’s because they’ve only recently settled on a building and booked it for rehearsals and two nights in September,’ said Robbie. ‘There might be a couple of other people there sounding out the acoustics. A few have enquired about an accompanist, so you could have your work cut out.’

  Tilly felt a little nervous but excited, as well. ‘What about Pete?’

  ‘He doesn’t have to see the place yet,’ said Robbie. ‘Besides, I think he’s doing something with the scouts this weekend.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know that,’ said Tilly. ‘So when will we be going?’

  ‘After our cup of tea.’

  A moment later the door opened and Joy entered carrying a tray. ‘Did you hear that dog, Mr Bennett? One of these days he’s going to have someone’s throat.’

  ‘He certainly makes me jump,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Perhaps I should get another dog,’ said Robbie, getting up and taking the tray from Joy and placing it on the table. She poured out the tea and handed a cup first to him and then to Tilly.

  ‘Have you heard anything more about your burglary?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘They’ve questioned your father again and searched his quarters,’ said Robbie.

  Tilly almost spilt the tea Joy handed her. ‘Surely they can’t suspect him?’

  ‘I told the inspector they were making a mistake,’ said Robbie. ‘He said they had to make sure because they reckon the spate of burglaries this year is due to someone giving the burglars inside information. Myself, I think they’re stumped and feel they have to be seen to be doing something.’

  ‘Is Dad OK?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘I don’t think he’s going to put his head in the gas oven,’ said Joy. ‘Unlike this poor girl found reading a novel while she killed herself. Apparently she had been doing things she oughtn’t with men in the park.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ said Tilly, thinking there had been a lot of suicides reported in the newspapers since the war.