He liked living here. It was good to come home from work to a hot meal, and Clara was a fantastic cook. He got on well with Robin, Peter and Patty; Harry had become the father he’d never known. Even Clara with her strict mealtimes, the way she never trusted him to take his work boots off in the porch, or even wash his hands before meals, had become very dear to him. But it felt as though he wasn’t really providing for his wife, and he still felt very guilty that he had taken Fifi to a place where she was exposed to so much danger.
They had a row after they arrived in Bristol because Fifi wanted to write to her old friends in Dale Street. Dan said it was dangerous for anyone to know where they were. She argued that if any of Trueman’s men were intent on finding them, it wouldn’t take much effort to do so anyway. She also said Frank, Stan and Nora Diamond all had enough troubles in their own lives without divulging their address to anyone else, and they’d be upset if they were just abandoned as if they’d meant nothing.
She was right, Dan knew that, but the image of the crimes committed in Dale Street wouldn’t leave his mind. Or how he’d felt when he got to that barn and thought Fifi was dead. All he could hope for was that once all those terrible people had been tried and found guilty, he might be able to forget.
Detective Inspector Roper had waited until Dan and Fifi were home in Bristol before visiting them and taking their full statements, but he had telephoned since to update them with what was happening in the case.
The body of a teenage boy had been found buried near the barn, and although the forensic department had not yet finished their investigation, it was thought he was David Harvey, a fifteen-year-old runaway who had been reported missing in November 1962.
Jack Trueman had been charged with the boy’s murder, rape of a minor, abduction, and a whole raft of other lesser crimes which had come to light during the investigation of his business empire. He was being held in custody to await his trial, and although he had tried to rally support from his old friends, associates and employees, Roper reported they had all turned their backs on him, and in the prison he was frequently attacked by other inmates.
Alfie had smugly believed that by turning Queen’s evidence and giving the police a full and frank account of all the crimes committed at number 11, he would escape with just a short sentence. But when Molly found out that he would be a witness for the prosecution, she was so livid at what she saw as betrayal that she started talking too. She had revealed details of several robberies with violence he’d committed, the assault on Dan, and incest with his two oldest daughters. The latter was backed up with a statement from the daughters.
Roper was certain now that both Alfie and Molly would spend the rest of their lives in prison as on top of all their lesser crimes they were accessories to murder and had procured young persons for immoral purposes and endangered their lives. No judge was going to be lenient with a couple who had so little regard for even their own children and showed no real remorse at what their depraved behaviour had led to.
Seven other men who had taken part in some of the activities at number 11 had also been arrested. One was the gangster Tony Lubrano, who admitted helping in the burial of the teenage boy and disposing of John Bolton’s body in the Thames. He claimed that Bolton was already dead when he was sent by Trueman to collect the body. But the amount of water in Bolton’s lungs proved he had died of drowning and had only been stunned by a blow to his head before he went into the water, so he too would be tried for murder.
Dan wasn’t entirely surprised when he learned that Chas Bovey, the labourer he worked with at Stockwell, was involved with Trueman, as he’d always known he had some very shady associates. When Harry had said someone from the building site must have been passing on information, the only man Dan felt was capable of it was Chas. But it was a shock to hear that he’d been present at several of Alfie’s parties, that he’d driven the car with the teenager’s body out to Bexley, and that his sexual tastes ran to young boys. The attack on Dan in the alley was clearly down to Chas tipping Alfie off too.
The remaining five men were present either on the night of Angela’s rape or at the death of the young boy. They all used fear of Jack Trueman as the reason they hadn’t come forward voluntarily but once arrested they were all too eager to spill out details about the nights in question. Roper had charged all of them with aiding and abetting, and concealment of a crime.
George O’Connell, the foreman of the council depot where Stan worked, was in the pay of Trueman too. He claimed it was Trueman’s intention to have Alfie killed in prison, making it look like suicide, because he was afraid Alfie would implicate him. He had been unable to get this carried out as Alfie had been put in solitary for his own safety. O’Connell had bribed Frieda Marchant to make a false complaint about Stan in an attempt to draw the heat away from Alfie in the hope he would be put back amongst the other prisoners, and the original plan could be executed.
The two men who abducted Yvette had been found and charged; Delroy Williams and Martin Broughton, who took Fifi, likewise. But Broughton had been promised that the help he’d given the police would be taken into account when he was sentenced.
Mike Muckle had been almost beaten to death by other prisoners while held in Brixton; ironically he’d been mistaken for his Uncle Alfie. He was still in the prison hospital when Roper learned it was Yvette who killed Angela, so the charges of accessory to murder against Mike were dropped and he was transferred to a civilian hospital.
Roper had told Dan that Mike didn’t appear to have played any part in the card parties, and as he wasn’t very bright, in his opinion the lad was to be pitied rather than punished for having relatives like Alfie and Molly. He believed Mike would go straight now, as his spell in prison had frightened him so badly.
Fifi had asked Roper if he could find out how the three remaining Muckle children, Alan, Mary and Joan, were doing. He came back a few days later with the news that they were all doing surprisingly well in a small children’s home in East Anglia. The matron had reported that they were very difficult to begin with, but right out in the country side, with good food, kindness and no reminders of their former life, they had eventually settled down and seemed happy. Alan was reputed to be very good with animals, and said he wanted to work on a farm when he was old enough.
After hearing this news Fifi took the view that at least one good thing had come out of all the horror. She hoped poor Dora was happier too, wherever she was.
Both Dan and Fifi were very aware that the trial was likely to shake them up again, and that until it was over and sentences passed, they would be living in a kind of limbo. This was why they’d made no attempt to find a home of their own yet.
‘If we did rent a flat it would take us far longer to save a deposit for a house,’ Fifi said thoughtfully. ‘So let’s hang on here until after the trial, it’s only about six weeks away.’
‘As long as we do go then.’ Dan grinned. ‘My idea of a perfect Sunday is to spend it in bed with you, not raking up leaves. And I suppose we’d better get it finished now or your mum will get the tight face again.’
Fifi giggled. Clara was being almost too nice and it was beginning to get on her nerves. When she did do the ‘tight face’ as Dan called it, Fifi secretly hoped it would erupt into a row. Too much calm and serenity wasn’t natural.
Yet finding out how distraught her family were when she went missing had made a huge impact on Fifi. She’d always thought she wasn’t loved as much as Patty and the boys, and she’d often felt like an outsider.
On the first night home she gave her parents the notes she’d made about them in the barn. She’d thought it was important that they knew what she’d been thinking about during that time. Both of them had cried openly, the first time Fifi ever remembered her father crying.
‘Just because you weren’t easy like Patty was as a child didn’t mean we loved you less,’ her mother sobbed out. ‘You were the one that made us laugh, you had a spirit that was all your own. Looking back, I often wonder if some of the problems you had were because I didn’t have enough time for you alone. It was hard having four children in six years. Maybe I didn’t let you be a baby long enough, and I was so anxious too, what with the war and your father away so much. But the oldest child always has the hardest time in a family, because they have to break new ground.’
Fifi had joked to Dan while she was still in hospital that she’d been through a mental spring-clean in the barn. All the old grievances had been pushed aside by good memories, she’d been able to see how much love she had inside her for her parents and how little she’d regarded their feelings in the past. She wasn’t sure before she and Dan came back here to live that this change of heart was a permanent one; she suspected that at the first tiff she’d be back where she started.
But her parents’ total acceptance of Dan, and indeed their affection for him, made Fifi so happy that it was impossible for her to backslide. Furthermore she found herself making a concerted effort to improve the relationship with her mother.
She’d stopped throwing her shoes down in the hall, she kept the spare room tidy, and she did a whole range of chores without being asked. She’d even got her mother to give her cookery lessons, something Clara had been telling her she needed for years and Fifi had claimed she didn’t.
Yet Fifi really wanted a home of her own again. Being looked after and feeling totally safe was good, but she felt inhibited making love when her parents were so close by.She wanted to cook for Dan, have her own things around her again, blast out music when she felt like it, and to have time alone too. There was something else as well, something Fifi hadn’t even told Dan yet. She was pregnant again.
It must have happened soon after they got back to Bristol. There had been a couple of times when they forgot to take precautions. Fifi hadn’t been the least concerned when her period didn’t arrive, as the doctor at the hospital had said the shock of all she’d been through would probably disrupt her normal cycle. But then she began experiencing over-sensitive breasts and a faint nausea at certain smells, just as she had when she was pregnant before, and she knew what was causing it.
She had kept it to herself for many reasons: being afraid she might miscarry again; because her parents might see it as irresponsibility when she and Dan didn’t have a home of their own. But mainly she felt Dan needed some respite from worrying about her. When they first returned to Bristol he’d hardly been able to let her out of his sight.
Two days ago she’d had it confirmed at the doctor’s – their baby was due at the end of June. She intended to wait till Friday to tell Dan. They were going to a special family party in the evening, and if she told him just before, then they could announce it to everyone that night.
‘Don’t you go burning those leaves!’
Dan turned at Clara’s shout from the kitchen door. He was trundling the loaded wheelbarrow towards the incinerator. ‘Where d’you want them then?’ he called back, making a comic face at Fifi.
‘On the compost heap of course,’ Clara replied. ‘But mind you cover it up again!’
Dan began transferring the leaves from the barrow to the compost heap, but the wind was getting up and blowing them around. Giggling, Fifi ran over to help him.
‘I might have known she wouldn’t trust me to light a fire,’ he said glumly. ‘I was looking forward to that part. Is she a secret pyromaniac? Will she wait till we’ve all cleared off tomorrow and then douse all this with petrol?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Fifi replied. ‘They put all this stuff back on the garden when it’s rotted down. You should know that. I thought you were a country boy?’
‘Only when sex comes into it,’ he grinned. ‘Like rolling in the hay, or having it off in long grass.’
‘Speaking of which,’ she smirked lasciviously at him, ‘if we hurry up we could nip upstairs for a while before tea. I’ll tell Mum we’re going to have a dress rehearsal for next weekend.’
This was the party when she intended to make the announcement about the baby. Everyone, including Harry’s brother and Clara’s two sisters and their families, were having a celebration dinner at the Grand Hotel. Neither Fifi nor Dan had been up to celebrating their first wedding anniversary in September but Clara had decided they should have a big party later on to welcome Dan to the family.
It was to be quite a grand affair, the men in dinner jackets and women in evening dress. Fifi had bought a frilly pink chiffon dress which she’d put on dozens of times in the past couple of weeks, but it was only yesterday that Dan had picked up the suit he was hiring.
‘Brilliant idea,’ he agreed, his dark eyes dancing, and he rushed to collect the last heap of leaves. ‘Just make sure they don’t all come bursting in to see how we look,’ he shouted back to her.
All at once Fifi had to tell Dan her news. She felt just like all those leaves dancing around in the wind, too excited to stay still, let alone keep her secret for another five days.
She ran over to him, bending to scoop up a pile of leaves, and threw them all over him. He laughed as she ran away, and chased her towards the summer house. Catching hold of her and scooping her up into his arms, he said he was going to put her in the compost heap.
‘No, you can’t do that,’ she said, wriggling in his arms. ‘It isn’t good for pregnant women!’
‘You what!’ he exclaimed, tightening his arms around her.
‘Did you really say what I thought you said?’
Fifi giggled, because his dark eyes were wide with delight. ‘Yes, I did. Little Reynolds will be here at the end of June.’
He put her on the ground then, but wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing her all over her face. ‘That’s the best news ever,’ he said. ‘But why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I’ve only just found out for sure, and I was waiting for a special occasion. I meant to tell you next Friday.’
‘Every day with you is a special occasion,’ he said, cupping her face between his hands and kissing her cold nose tenderly. ‘But this is an extra special day.’