by Anne Baker
He whispered into the phone, ‘Hello, I can’t say much now, I could be overheard.’
‘You don’t need to say anything, we’ve got the picture.’ Elvira’s voice was forceful. ‘Listen carefully, Marcus. Get yourself down to Dover. Book yourself into the White Cliffs Hotel for a few nights, that’ll give you time to fix yourself up with something more permanent. It’s a small place two streets back from the harbour. Greg and I will meet you there. Have you got that?’
He assured her he had.
‘Don’t tell anybody where you’re going. You mustn’t leave a path that can be followed. That’s very important, Marcus.’
‘I know.’ He shuddered. At least Elvira and Greg understood his problem. They were as keen as he was to keep him out of the hands of the police.
Suddenly it was Greg’s voice speaking to him. ‘Marcus, you must have done something that’s attracted police attention.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ he wailed.
‘Then it’s that car of yours, it sticks out like a sore thumb. If that was seen anywhere suspicious, it would be child’s play to follow you. Get rid of it tomorrow. Stapleton’s garage on the Dock Road will take it off you for cash. You’ll even gain money on the deal because of the long waiting list for new Jaguars. Get yourself a Morris Eight. No, on second thoughts, it would be safer for you to travel by public transport for a time.’
‘Yes,’ he said faintly. He was suddenly aware that his father was coming downstairs. He lumbered past him and went into the sitting room. Moments later Dando emerged from the kitchen with a tea tray. Marcus missed something of what Greg had been saying.
‘. . . you can’t just disappear,’ he was going on. ‘You must spin a story to your family to explain your absence. We don’t want your father to report you as a missing person as that could start a hue and cry for you. We don’t want the police to speculate about your movements and it would look very suspicious if your father told them you had disappeared.’
‘All right.’
‘We’ll all lie low for a while and see if it blows over, but we might have to jettison everything. We need to see how things go.’
‘Lie low? But I can’t ever come back here. I wouldn’t want to.’
‘Marcus, tomorrow morning take the train down to Dover. Be sure to have your passport with you, in case we have to skip over to France. We’ll see you in the hotel.’
‘What was the name of it again?’
He heard Greg’s tongue click with irritation. ‘The White Cliffs, two streets back from the harbour. You can’t miss it.’
Marcus went back to his room and threw himself on the bed to think. He’d not taken any holiday since he’d started in the office. He’d been half afraid that in his absence Nigel would get his feet further under the table and he’d be elbowed out. He would tell everybody he wanted his holiday now and that he was going to see Elvira in Rochdale, they’d understand why.
Marcus went down to join his father for tea in the sitting room and spin him the story about needing a holiday now. He gave Elvira as his reason, and went on, ‘I haven’t had a break since I started last summer. I feel I need a rest and it’ll help me get over this stomach upset.’
Then he rang Nigel and gave him the same story. ‘Two weeks’ holiday starting tomorrow? For goodness sake, Marcus,’ he said, ‘you don’t give us much notice. Did you finish drawing up those tables I asked you to do?’
Marcus couldn’t remember agreeing to do anything for Nigel. ‘Er . . Not quite finished,’ he said.
Nigel sighed impatiently. ‘Well, it won’t take you long to drive to Rochdale. Could you come into the office first and bring me what you’ve done? I’ll finish the job while you’re away. And be sure to tell Millie that you’re going to see Elvira. Please don’t give her any more grounds for complaint.’
‘All right.’ He’d have to make time for that. What he needed to do now was to find out the times of the trains to Dover. He drove his car down to Lime Street Station and found there were two possibilities between eleven and midday, one train involving a change at Euston the other ran via through Birmingham. Neither would be easy, he’d have to wait three hours in Birmingham for a connection, or he’d have to take a taxi to cross London.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marcus didn’t sleep too well but he was up early on Monday morning. He’d been making his own breakfast since Elvira had left, and as he would be on the train at lunchtime and most didn’t have restaurant cars these days, he needed a substantial one. He found two eggs in the kitchen as well as sausages, and he fried them all. This was not the moment to think of rations.
He switched on the wireless to listen to the news while he ate. His fork stayed poised between his plate and his mouth when he heard the announcer say, ‘Four pilots have been arrested and charged with flying stolen aircraft out of the country. It is understood the planes were sold to Eastern Bloc countries. The thefts occurred between March and May last year and the arrests were made possible by liaison between Interpol, the Air Force Police, and British civilian police forces. More arrests are expected to follow.’
Marcus was so shocked he allowed egg yolk to drip on his tie. He’d heard Greg Livingstone laugh about the effrontery shown by those pilots and he was a great friend of ex-Flying Officer Gilbert Robertson who was dangerously reckless. Marcus was ready to bet Greg had had a hand in making the arrangements and he was in no doubt now that the net was closing in on them all.
He couldn’t eat another mouthful. Dropping his knife and fork on his plate, he switched off the wireless and shot upstairs, in the grip of abject terror. He felt pursued by a thousand fears as he remembered seeing a military policeman in the Sailors’ Return holding forth to Millie on that snowy afternoon; he was afraid she already knew he was caught up in a web of criminal activity.
He was very tempted to drive straight down to Stapleton’s garage, ditch the car and get them to take him straight to the station. But no, it would be safer to stick to what he’d told Pa and Nigel he was going to do. He needed to have the police sent off on a wild goose chase if they did return.
He knew he had to keep his wits about him and stay calm. He put on his coat and went out to his car, but as he drove he was writhing in emotional turmoil. He went up to his office in the turret but couldn’t remember what he’d come here to do. He phoned down to the kitchen to get a cup of tea.
It took him the best part of an hour to find the file Nigel had asked for. He’d done very little of the job and couldn’t face his brother while he was shaking like this. Instead, he took it to the typing pool and asked the nearest girl to deliver it to Nigel in the boardroom.
Marcus wouldn’t have gone anywhere near Millie but she was talking to the sales manager at the head of the stairs as he retraced his steps. She broke off and said, ‘Can I have a word with you, Marcus? There’s something I’d like to show you.’
What could he do but follow her through the lab to her desk? She pushed a trade periodical in front of him. The print danced before his eyes. He had to ask, ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s a company advertising for another to merge with. The name is Arthur Hampton and Sons.’ She sat down. ‘Do you know them?’ He stared blankly down at her. ‘I’ve had a word with Andrew Worthington about it and he says we buy raw soap from them, and their business might be a fit with ours.’
‘Merge with them? Why?’ Marcus tried to focus on what she was saying; his mouth was dry and his tongue felt too big. There was no way he could get his head round merger problems now, he couldn’t care less. Was she making a play to gain more shares or more power in their business? He didn’t care about that either. His head was reeling. The lab was beginning to spin slowly round him.
Millie was staring up at him. ‘Does this business belong to your wife’s family? I’m afraid I don’t remember her maiden name.’
‘Still, it might be an idea to discuss a merger with Nigel. What d’you think?’
He couldn’t grapple with this. He said, ‘I saw you with a military policeman. In the pub across the road that day it was snowing. What was he saying to you?’
Her face, confused and shocked, eddied past him. ‘What’s he got to do with this?’
‘Was he talking about me? He was, wasn’t he?’ Millie had been tormenting him for ages and he was going to let her have it. He lunged for her throat and he heard her scream. For once he had the upper hand. She was trying to fight him off but he was twice her weight. Suddenly, she jerked her knee up to his groin with all her might. He gasped and the pain almost made him let go. He caught a glimpse of her face, there was terror in her eyes, she was frightened of him. Good, he wasn’t going to let her get the better of him, not this time.
She screamed at him, ‘Marcus, what the hell d’you think you’re doing?’
He swung her office chair round and got her head down on her desk but she was screaming and screaming. He took a firmer grasp on her neck and banged her head twice. He hated her, she thought she was so clever and she’d made him feel a fool.
Suddenly, something that felt like an animal pounced on him from behind the racks of jars and demijohns. It weighed a ton and knocked him off balance. Not an animal, he was being hauled away from Millie. He fell back, catching a glimpse of a white coat before he cracked his head on the desk. Marcus struggled upright, gasping for breath, his head was reeling and it hurt. He felt dizzy, and now there were two white coats swinging round him. It was the new woman they had working in the lab, she looked as ferocious as her son. He had to get away.
He tried to turn but tripped and fell against her desk. He pulled himself upright again and hurtled down the lab. In the corridor, men were coming towards him with arms outstretched, trying to stop him. ‘Out of my way,’ he roared.
A familiar face yelled at him, ‘For God’s sake stop.’
Marcus aimed a punch at his nose that hurt his knuckles and skidded on down the stairs at breakneck pace. He had to get to his car. He banged his shoulder on the front door but he was through it and outside. Cold, wet rain blew in his face; he’d left his raincoat in his office but, no matter, his keys were in his jacket pocket.
He almost fell into the driving seat and started the engine, but men were streaming across the car park after him. He locked his car door and headed it towards the exit. Albert Lancaster was standing in front of him and waving him down. Marcus jerked on the steering wheel to avoid him and scraped along the wing of an Austin 12, before he rolled out on to the street and turned down-river towards the Pier Head. His lovely car would be damaged but he had to sell it anyway.
He couldn’t see very well, something was blinding him. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and saw it was coated with blood. He squinted at a heavy dray coming towards him being pulled by two carthorses. The driver was staring at him with his mouth open, looking shocked. Marcus whizzed passed with inches to spare.
At least he’d got away from all those people who were chasing him. He was on course for the garage, all he had to do now was to sell his car and get the 11.42 train to Dover. He drove another couple of miles but he couldn’t see again. He switched on the windscreen wipers but it didn’t help much.
Blood was dripping into his eyes and he caught a glimpse of a large truck chugging towards him. He knew he was too far over to the right on the road, and tried to correct it as he felt in his pocket for his handkerchief. The crash when it came wrenched the steering wheel out of his hand. The screech of metal scraping on metal was deafening, somebody was screaming. His head crashed against the steering wheel and was then flung painfully backwards and a searing pain shot up his leg.
Chapter Thirty
Nigel was in the boardroom dictating letters to his secretary Louise Lambert when his concentration was broken by the noise outside in the corridor.
‘What’s that?’ he barked, but he knew because he’d heard something similar before. Was Marcus having another fight with Billy Sankey? Horrified, Nigel rushed to the door to find out. Pandemonium raged in the corridors, every office door was open and desks were being deserted.
Nigel stood back and roared, ‘What is the matter? What is going on?’
Frightened faces turned towards him. ‘It’s Marcus,’ he heard from several lips. ‘He’s tried to strangle Millie.’
Nigel’s jaw dropped, he felt sick. Had Marcus taken leave of his senses? He pushed through the crowd to the lab.
Millie was coughing and spluttering. Her desk was surrounded. Her screams had brought others running from nearby offices. Denis was trying to explain what had happened and they were all firing questions.
‘Marcus attacked Millie? What did he do?’
‘Millie, how d’you feel?’
She was coughing so much she found it hard to get the words out. ‘I can’t get my breath, he’s hurt my throat.’
‘You sound hoarse.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He’s gone, he ran away like a scalded cat.’
‘Heavens, Millie.’ Billy Sankey pushed himself over to her and lifted her head up to look at her neck. ‘He tried to strangle you. We should get you to a doctor.’
‘I’ll be all right.’
Billy said, ‘I was afraid he might turn on you. You took my part against him.’
‘Mum!’ Sylvie came and threw her arms round her. ‘I told you Marcus was going mad, now d’you believe me? He’s out of his mind. What did he do to you?’
‘He grabbed my throat.’ Millie coughed. ‘My head hurts too. He banged it on my desk.’
‘We should get the doctor.’
‘I’m all right now.’
A glass of water appeared in front of her. Millie could see Nigel had come and was looking down at her, and the story had to be told again from the beginning.
‘I can’t believe it.’ He sounded shocked.
‘It’s true enough,’ Billy Sankey assured him. ‘Look at his finger marks on her neck. He must have put some force behind them to do that. I think the police should be informed, this is serious bodily harm.’
‘No,’ Nigel said, ‘I don’t think we should, it would be bad publicity for the business. We should all calm down.’
Sylvie said furiously, ‘Who cares about the publicity? He would have killed Mum if Denis hadn’t stopped him. He saved her life.’
Billy said, ‘I’m going to ring the police straight away. The man’s damn dangerous. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this. First me and now you, missus. Who knows who he’ll go for next? He could kill somebody.’
‘No, wait,’ Nigel protested. ‘Let’s think carefully before . . .’
Billy pushed past him and others sided with him. ‘This is a police matter. He shouldn’t be allowed to go on working here.’
‘He never did much work.’
‘Where’s he gone?’
Tom Bedford had just joined them. ‘He came rushing downstairs as if he was being chased, almost knocked me over.’
‘But where’s he gone?’
‘Mum, I’ll take you home,’ Sylvie said. ‘You won’t feel like work now.’
‘Millie shouldn’t drive after that. She should see a doctor.’
Sylvie said, ‘We came on the bus this morning.’
‘Millie, I’ll drive you home,’ Nigel offered.
‘I’m all right now,’ Millie put in. ‘Don’t make so much fuss. I think I should stay here if Billy’s calling the police in. They’ll want to talk to me.’
‘The colour is coming back into your face,’ Geraldine agreed. ‘Y
ou’re sure you’re all right?’
‘I’ll be fine. I just need to sit here quietly for a while.’
Tom Bedford began to herd his colleagues out. ‘Give her space. Millie needs air.’
‘What can I do that will help?’ Sylvie wanted to know.
‘A cup of tea,’ Millie coughed. ‘I’d love a cup of tea.’
She felt as though she’d been mangled and was glad to be left alone to recover. Her neck was sore and her heart was still thumping, she’d really believed for an awful minute that Marcus was going to kill her.
In the past, she’d occasionally caught him looking at her with such fixed intensity that it made her feel uncomfortable, and she’d often been nervous when she was alone with him, but nothing had prepared her for an attack like that. She’d really thought her end was coming and she’d been terrified. She’d seen black hate for her on his face. But why had he asked about the military policeman at the pub? Did he know she’d spoken to Jeff Wills and put the police on his trail?
Nigel was furious with his brother. Recently he’d been acting queerly and he was nervous about what Millie was going to tell police. He didn’t want Marcus to get into more trouble and this was the second time he’d caused a fracas in the office. He was making their side of the family look like dangerous fools. Things were going very wrong.
He went out to the car park, meaning to drive over to see his father. He had to involve him or he’d be upset and angry when he found out later. He had difficulty reaching his car, the car park was heaving with their employees. All were excited, aghast even, at the scratches Marcus had inflicted on several cars as he’d driven recklessly out.
‘He was like a mad thing,’ they shouted. ‘Look what he’s done to the gatepost!’
Nigel had to raise his voice above the noise they were making. ‘Go back to work, all of you,’ he bellowed. His hand shook as he opened the door of his car. He was shaking with fury as he edged his way out of the car park and drove upriver towards Maplethorpe. He arrived as his father was coming downstairs, and Dando was taking his morning coffee to the sitting room. ‘Shall I bring you a cup, sir?’ he asked.