The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret)

by Catherine Cookson

  But he didn’t have to wait till midnight; he found him in the first building he entered.

  There was a brass plate alongside the highly polished door which read: Freeman & Son: Builders & Contractors. There was a reception desk in the hall and the hall floor was tiled in a special pattern of a star with beams radiating from it. The young man behind the counter raised his head from a ledger and asked politely, ‘What can I do for you, sir?’

  ‘I wish to speak to Mr Freeman.’

  ‘May I ask if you have an appointment, sir?’

  ‘No, I haven’t; but will you tell him that Frederick Musgrave would like a word with him.’

  The man stood up, saying now, ‘Mr Frederick Musgrave. I’ll see if Mr Freeman is in.’

  ‘Do that.’

  He stood looking about him, particularly at the woodwork. It was all mahogany doors, window frames and skirting boards. The man was away four minutes, so did the brass clock on the wall in between two doors tell him. And then there he was, saying, ‘Mr Freeman will see you now. Will you come this way, please?’

  He was ushered into an office that made Maggie’s quay room appear like a slum in comparison. The swift impression was the continuation of the mahogany and the sumptuous brown upholstered leather chairs.

  Freeman was standing by the side of his desk as the man announced him, saying, ‘Mr Frederick Musgrave, sir.’

  Not until the door closed did Larry Freeman speak, and then he said, ‘By! You’ve got me puzzled, and I’m asking myself the question, why should he want to come and see me? He’s never done this before. Could it be he wants to tell me something I’ve been trying to find out for years?’

  ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Mr Freeman, and don’t act the innocent bystander. You know why I’m here.’

  ‘I do?’ Freeman now walked from the desk towards the marble-tiled fireplace and there, stooping down, he picked up the tongs and took a piece of coal from a highly polished brass bucket standing to the side of the equally highly polished brass fender. And having placed it on the fire, he repeated the process four times. Then straightening up, he dusted his hands and, his voice changing, he said, ‘What you after? But before you start, don’t think, young man, you can blackmail me in any way. You were a sly little nipper and I don’t suppose that mind of yours has improved. No, it certainly hasn’t. You’re known as a sharp businessman on the quay—Maggie trained you well in that—but don’t think you’ll use your expertise on me because…’

  ‘Would you like to be quiet for a moment?’

  Freeman now brought his teeth tightly together, and he remained quiet as Freddie said, ‘You’re putting up a very good show, but let me tell you this, Mr Freeman. You can send your anonymous letters to the customs or the police or who you like, but they won’t carry the weight of a feather to what will happen to you when I open my mouth. Not only what I know from when I was a runner but from what I’ve learned since and…’

  Freeman was now glaring at Freddie, and he brought the words out slowly, saying, ‘What the hell are you talking about? Anonymous letters? I’ve written no anonymous letters. That’s not my way. What’s all this?’

  Freddie was nonplussed for a moment; and it was some seconds before he could speak, when he said, ‘I’ve been given the tip that the customs are on to me for something that happened years ago and it could only be connected with you and the running across the river, and I thought that…’

  ‘Then your thinking proves that you’re not as smart as I imagined you were, or as you think you are. What the hell would I be doing in writing an anonymous letter to give you away when the first thing you would do, as you’ve just said, is open your mouth wide? And who would come off worse in the deal, eh? A bit of a lad, as you were then, you would get all the sympathy, and me…the bad man using you…Don’t be so bloody dim, man. Who knows what happened that night anyway?’

  ‘No-one knows, except Gallagher’s three servants who now run Cora’s Coffee House, and the mother died the day before yesterday. But the father’s a drunk and he…’

  ‘Oh, I know all about the father’—Freeman brought his hand across his face in an impatient movement—‘and I’ve got a version of what happened that night, if you can believe it. But the old fellow’s half barmy and most of it was fancy, and I wouldn’t think that old sop would be capable of writing a letter. He could, though, get somebody to write it for him. But why should he, eh? Why should he? And it wouldn’t be his daughter because she keeps a tight rein on him. But there’s a point. Where did that lot get the money to set up a place like that coffee house? There’s a lot of questions to be asked here, and one I’ve been wanting to ask you too, for years: what did you do with the rest of the stones?’

  ‘What d’you mean, what did I do with the rest of the stones? I never saw the stones.’

  ‘Now look, don’t try to hoodwink me. Maggie sold three of those stones to old Taylor. It’s funny how things come about. They can lie dormant for years and then just a word and a door opens. I was in London not long ago seeing a friend of mine, in fact he was the friend who was waiting for that consignment that you took across the river that night. It was a very precious consignment that, and this man knows a lot about stones and their quality. I do a bit myself, but I’m a child compared to him. Well, he recognised the ruby; it happened to be one of a set of six; and the diamonds were all out of a special tiara. Do you know what a tiara is?’ Freddie remained silent but his lips curled slightly. ‘Well, these three stones had come to him through Taylor. He has a great respect for Mr Taylor and Mr Taylor hinted that they had come to him through a lady, a lady of North Shields who was a very sharp businesswoman. So what did I do but put two and two together. So I ask you now, you who were the last person likely to see those stones, what about them, I mean the rest of them?’

  For answer Freddie took two steps towards a chair, then said, ‘May I sit down?’

  With an exaggerated wave of his hand, Freeman answered, ‘By all means. By all means.’

  ‘Then I advise you to do the same, because I am going to tell you a tale that is perfectly true. Yet you may not believe half of it. But before I start you can give up any hope of seeing the rest of those stones, as you call them, through me, as I don’t know what happened to them.’

  Freeman was now sitting opposite to him, his body pushed well back in the big leather chair, his hands resting on the padded arms. And now Freddie said, ‘I’m only telling you this now because I believe you when you say you didn’t write that letter.’

  And so he started, from that night when he reached the Shields side of the river and was picked up by Gallagher, then thrown into the scrub field. He told all that transpired even to the finding of the child. He even went back to the day when it was born. But he finished his tale when Maggie met him on the front and bustled him into the boat.

  It was a good minute before Freeman spoke, his head was making small movements as he said, ‘The old bloke wasn’t lying then, it wasn’t drunken fantasy. But…but he said Gallagher was after you that night…Didn’t you see him?’

  Freddie’s reply was quick and sharp. ‘No. No.’

  Freeman drew himself up in the chair and, leaning forward, he said, ‘And that Spanish-looking girl, Maggie’s ward, she’s Gallagher’s daughter?’

  ‘No, no; as I said, she’s not. She’s the daughter of a sea captain.’

  ‘Oh, aye. Yes, yes. Well now, would you believe that?…But haven’t you left yourself open telling me all this? What would Maggie say?’

  ‘Under the circumstances she would have done the same as me. The fact that you didn’t write that letter proves somebody else did, and apparently they’re not only on to me but also on to those I was mixed up with as a boy. So, have you any ideas?’

  Freeman thought for a moment; then he said, ‘Your one-time friends, the Harpers. You don’t throw a lass over and get off with a black eye and bruised ribs. The bully boy Mick came to me and told me that, years ago, on the night Gallagher
went missing, his dad saw you and Maggie leaving a sculler, and Maggie was hugging a pile of stuff to her. And what he suggests now is that it was very profitable stuff.’

  ‘It was the child.’

  ‘Yes, I can believe that now. But to return to this letter business. I’ll admit I’m more troubled now than when you first entered the room, because I could have dealt with you and the blackmail I thought you were hatching. Strange, isn’t it, that we now find ourselves on the same side as we were years ago, in fact, before Maggie took you under her wing?’

  Freddie did not speak his thoughts on this matter, but he said, ‘What evidence d’you think they’ll need before they attempt to pick me up?’

  ‘Oh, it would have to be pretty strong. Of course, if they have knowledge of the transaction of the stones it could be any time, because, like me, they’ll think if you had three, then you had the lot, but unlike me, they might not be convinced by your strange tale of finding them in the muck of your trouser pocket.’ He scratched the side of his chin now, saying musingly, ‘I wonder where that lot got to? I’d give quite a bit to find out. But now this is the question: where do I stand? If you are picked up are you going to tell them my part in it?’

  Freddie stared at Freeman and he knew that it would be unwise to make an enemy of this man: he mightn’t be a good friend but he’d be a damn bad enemy. And so he said, ‘That wouldn’t do me any good. I could say a man, a stranger, gave me the package and the instructions.’

  ‘That would be wise.’ But the tone in which this was said and the inference caused Freddie’s natural repugnance to come out in a flash, as he said, ‘But don’t take that as weakness, Mr Freeman, because believe this, I’m not afraid of you.’

  A slow smile spread over Freeman’s face, and he gave a short laugh as he said, ‘No, you’re not; and you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’ve always realised that from when you were a nipper. But, as I’ve already indicated’—and now he almost voiced Freddie’s thoughts—‘I can be a tolerable friend but a very bad enemy. Anyway, we’ll certainly keep in touch after this.’

  Freddie didn’t confirm this statement but, rising abruptly, he said, ‘Good day to you, Mr Freeman,’ then he went from the room, and as he did so he admitted to himself that he was now more troubled going out than when he came in, for whoever had sent that letter to the customs wanted him out of the way for some reason. The question was, who and why?

  Ten

  Maggie stayed in bed for five days, and the rest seemed to have done her good, for now she was up and in the sitting room and apparently free from pain; and during this time Belle’s suitor had made two visits.

  The first and very brief one was on the day following Freddie’s meeting with Freeman, his purpose being to ask formally for Belle’s hand in marriage. Maggie duly gave her consent and he put a ring on Belle’s finger, kissed the palm of her hand, and then her lips, to which she had not really responded even though it filled her with excitement, because this was love, a different love that aroused emotions that were new to her and more than a little disturbing.

  But the second time he called things were very different. He had come in a hired cab accompanied by a servant bearing not only a large basket of fruit and a bunch of hothouse-grown flowers for Maggie, but for Belle, a large box of crystallised sweets and a bottle of exclusive French perfume. He had also brought with him an invitation from his grandmother that they should all go to tea, not to his Newcastle home but to the house across the water, just as soon as Miss Hewitt was able to travel.

  Maggie was up from her bed and sitting beside the fire in her bedroom, Belle and her future husband were alone in the sitting room. Freddie was at work.

  And now Marcel kissed her. He began with a peck on her nose; then he kissed her brow, her eyes, her cheeks, and lastly her lips, and this time, and for the first time, her arms went about him and she held him almost as tightly as he held her. And when at last their faces parted, they stared at each other, their eyes bright, and when huskily he said, ‘I…I can’t believe that you love me, Belle. Over the last few days I’ve had to stop myself from dashing down and begging you to say it. You haven’t yet said it in words, but now I know that you do love me, don’t you?’

  And to this she answered, ‘Yes. Oh, yes, Marcel, I love you. From the moment I first saw you when you led me into the dance, I liked you. And, you know, Aunt Maggie says that the best way to start loving is to like. Do you like me?’

  His head went back and he laughed, ‘Oh no, I don’t like you, I love you and I adore you, and I know I can’t live without you and I want you for myself alone; no-one else in the world has to have any part of you. That is how much I love you. As for liking you, well, can one love without liking?’

  ‘Aunt Maggie says you can.’

  ‘Your Aunt Maggie is a very wise woman, and I can say I like her, I like her very much but I don’t love her. Well now’—his head was tilted slightly to the side—‘it wouldn’t be right, would it?’

  They were both laughing now. Her head had dropped onto his shoulder and his arms drew her tightly into him again; and what he said now and very quietly was, ‘We must be married soon, very soon.’

  Her head jerked up. ‘Oh, Marcel, we’ve only just become engaged, there’ll be so much to do! The wedding…well, there’s a lot of arrangements.’

  ‘Do you want a lot of fuss, all the parade?’

  ‘Oh no.’ The statement was firm but not emphatic.

  ‘Then it could be simple and soon by special licence.’

  She withdrew from his arms and turned from him, saying, ‘I don’t think Aunt Maggie would agree to…well, rushing things.’

  He turned her towards him again. ‘Your Aunt Maggie, as you call her, my dear girl, is a very sick woman. You know that, don’t you?’

  She made no reply, only her eyes widened as she looked into his, and he went on, ‘I feel sure that she would like to see you settled, happily settled, while she’s able to.’

  ‘What makes you think she’s a very sick woman, Marcel?’

  ‘Simply because, the other day when I was here, I had a talk with Jinny. Her prognosis wasn’t good.’

  In her heart she knew herself that the prognosis wasn’t good, but when it was voiced it filled her with fear, and already she could feel the loss. Of a sudden she thought of Freddie and how he must be feeling now, and what would happen to him if she should die, for die she would.

  When she voiced her thoughts, saying, ‘Freddie will be devastated when anything happens to her. He thinks the world of her and he owes her so much,’ he stared at her silently for a moment, then said slowly, ‘Freddie’s a man and he has a mother of his own and a father and a brother and sisters, he won’t be alone.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right, Marcel. And I, too, love Freddie.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  She was actually startled, for now he was gripping her arms and saying, ‘From now on I never want you to say you love any man but me.’ But almost as quickly his manner changed and, laughing gently now, he said, ‘Don’t look like that. Isn’t it natural? I must warn you I’ll be a very jealous husband.’

  ‘I’ll never give you reason to be jealous of me, Marcel, never.’

  ‘You promise that?’

  ‘Yes, I promise that.’ She, too, was smiling now as if it were a joke.

  Almost as soon as the tap came on the door it was opened and Jinny stood there, saying, ‘The cabman wants to know, sir, if he’s still to wait? Your servant’s in the kitchen, but the cabman wouldn’t come in, not to have a drink. He’s a surly bloke, he wants to get off.’

  Marcel had swung round and was looking down the room at Jinny and it was evident he was about to make a sharp retort, but then, on a laugh, he said, ‘Tell him I’ll be there in a moment,’ and, turning to Belle again, he said, ‘That’s the last time I’ll come to see you by cab. I’ll be here tomorrow again. I want to talk to…Aunt Maggie about future arrangements.’

 
; ‘Marcel.’

  ‘Yes, my darling?’

  ‘Will you also have a word with Freddie? Because you see, Freddie…’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know; you owe such a lot to Freddie too. All right, anything you say, I’ll have a word with Freddie. I’ll say, please, sir, I want to marry your adopted daughter within the month.’

  ‘Oh no, no.’

  ‘Well, within two months.’

  ‘Oh, Marcel, it couldn’t be arranged in…’

  ‘My dear, dear one, it could be arranged within the next two or three days if necessary.’ He now swiftly pulled her into his arms and his kiss was so breathtaking that when he released her she was left gasping. And now turning from her and in an almost boyish fashion he ran from the room.

  Freddie had never known what it was to experience the feeling of fear since the night he had been chased by Gallagher, then witnessed his end. Of course, he had been worried when the Harpers got at him, but the fear that was filling him now was twofold. The main one was concerning Maggie and her illness, which he couldn’t believe was fatal because here she was going about on her pins like a lintie. And for the last three days she had been down at the office ordering everybody about and disproving the rumour that she was on her last legs. But the other fear was a niggling growing fear and it was gathering momentum now as he looked at John.

  John had asked his employers for leave to take a journey in the middle of the week across the water to see his brother. He said it was important, and he was saying so now as he stood in the back room of Maggie’s office. ‘I thought I’d better come, Freddie…I mean, as Cissy said, although they weren’t in any kind of uniform they were officials. You know, she’s cute, and she said she could smell them a mile off and the way they talked. Well, they wanted to know if we owned the cottage, and she bawled at them and said, “Own the cottage! We pay two shillings and tenpence a week and it’s kept off me husband’s wages. You get nothin’ for nothin’ these days.” You know how Cissy goes on. It was then they asked if I got help from me brother? Wasn’t he well off? And Cissy came back at them on that and said, “Why should we expect help from him? He’s workin’ like the rest of us for his livin’.” Then one of them, she said, laughed, and said, “Oh, but he lives pretty comfortably; I would have thought he would have looked after his own.” At this she had said, “What the hell d’you want, the pair of you? If you want to know anything more, go up to the estate, me husband’s workin’ there. Who are you anyway?” she had asked. And one of them replied. “We are making some enquiries about some lost property.” And to that she said, “Well, what the hell d’you expect to find here? Would you like to dig up the garden?” They then went away laughing, she said,’ He now paused before ending, ‘What’s it all about, Freddie? Are you in trouble?’