Private Sorrow, A (18 page)

Stan said, ‘I’ll go and let you all say goodbye.’ He spoke to Phil. ‘Cheers, Phil. We’ll meet up when you get home on leave.’ Then he turned towards the entrance.

Within five minutes of Stan walking away down the platform, the train came in. Mary asked him, ‘Will it be a long journey, Phil?’

‘Yes, I have to report to Aldershot Barracks and I’ve no idea what else lies ahead.’ He sounded apprehensive about what the future might hold. ‘Will you write to me, Mary?’

‘Yes. Let me know your address and I’ll keep in touch. Look after yourself.’

Then his parents and sisters wanted to say goodbye, so Mary left. Stan was standing at the entrance to the station. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee before you catch the bus?’ he asked.

It was another cold, wet night and Mary had come to the station straight from her job in one of the departmental offices in the council building. ‘I’d love one, thank you.’

Stan suggested the Chrome Rail coffee bar, which was a few hundred yards from the station. It was quiet at this time of night but according to Stan, it normally got busy later as people made their way out for the evening. When they were seated at the counter in the American-styled restaurant with its shiny chrome fittings and mirrored wall, Stan said, ‘It won’t take long to pass, Mary. Phil will get some leave after his training, or the dreaded “square-bashing” as it’s called, and if he’s stationed in this country, then he’ll get home quite often. It’s amazing how fast the time goes by, especially after the first year.’

Mary nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She felt dejected. Although she had only known Phil for a few weeks, she had enjoyed his company and the fact that he was gorgeous was a bonus. She had grown used to the looks of envy from other girls and no doubt there would be plenty of pretty girls in Aldershot.

‘Where are you working now?’ Stan asked, bringing Mary back from her reverie.

‘I’m filling in for someone in the council offices. She’s got the flu. I don’t know how long I’ll be there but that’s the best thing about this job – the variety. What about you, Stan, do you like your job?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do, but I loved my time in Hong Kong. It’s a wonderful exotic place with super people. They are so hard-working. Do you know, you can go in for a suit in the morning and the tailor will have it ready by evening.’

Mary was impressed. ‘Maybe you’ll go back sometime.’

Stan took his glasses off and wiped them with his handkerchief. Mary noticed how blue his eyes were. He laughed. ‘Yes, maybe. Shall I tell you my little secret, Mary? When I get married, I want to take my wife there on our honeymoon.’

Mary felt a strange pang of disappointment. ‘Are you getting married soon?’

Stan roared with laughter and the waitress turned to look at them. ‘I haven’t even got a girlfriend yet. But that’s my dream.’ He looked at his watch. Mary thought he was embarrassed by his confession. ‘I’ll walk you to your bus.’

They walked in companionable silence to Shore Terrace and had to wait a few minutes for Mary’s bus. When it came, he said cheerio and stood waiting till the bus set off.

The woman in the council office wasn’t the only one with flu. Edna was back in Albert’s Stores because Nancy had Asian flu. She was grateful for this opportunity to meet her old friends and it helped her cope with the upset over John. A typewritten letter had arrived at the office at the end of last week and the signature was John’s. Molly had asked her if it was genuine and she thought it was. What she couldn’t understand was the way he was acting now. It was so out of character but maybe his love for Sonia had overcome all his good manners and he was embarrassed by the suddenness of it and didn’t want to face her. Yet, he had seemed so annoyed when she arrived without warning … but it just went to show you that you could never anticipate human nature.

Whatever the reason, she had to try and forget him. Eddie was still doing well at the branch shop and Albert was, as always, his cheery self. Oh yes, it was good to be back. In a way, she hoped Nancy’s flu, Asian or otherwise, would last another couple of weeks. Edna would have gone to see Eddie but Albert had given her all the news since her last stint in the shop and Eddie was going steady with one of the assistants he worked with. She didn’t feel up to meeting both of them.

Snappy Sal came in with a face like a sour lemon. ‘I’ve brought back this cheese, Albert, because it’s mouldy. I’ve only had it for a fortnight and it shouldn’t have turned green like this, and then there’s this bag of biscuits; half of them are broken.’ She dumped the two items on the counter with such force that it was a wonder the biscuits weren’t in crumbs.

‘Now what have we here, Mrs Little?’ said Albert. Trying hard to smile through gritted teeth, he picked up the piece of cheese, which resembled a matchbox. He then marched over to the cheese and butter counter, where he carefully cut a minute piece of cheddar and wrapped it in greaseproof paper. He then chose six rich tea biscuits from the tin and placed them in a bag. ‘There you are, Mrs Little. Service is my policy.’

Snappy Sal’s face was a picture of disbelief. ‘But I bought a half-pound of cheese and a half-pound of biscuits. All you’ve given me is this wee amount back.’

‘Yes, Mrs Little, but you’ve eaten the rest.’ He turned to serve another customer and she left the shop, muttering that she would take her custom to Lipton’s grocery in the future. Later, he said he would pay Lipton’s to take her on.

Then Dolly Pirie came in and she was so different from her pal, Mrs Little. ‘Are you coming up for some soup at dinner time, Edna?’

Edna said she couldn’t, as she had to go home. This wasn’t really true but she couldn’t face Dolly’s questions about John and how the relationship was going. ‘Still, it’s great to see you back. That Nancy and her Asian flu. Why can’t she be like everyone else and get the common cold bug? But no, it has to be some exotic disease she’s got!’

At dinner time, Edna was wishing she had gone to Dolly’s house because it began to rain again and she had to wait ten minutes for the tramcar. While she was waiting, her mind wandered back to John and his upsetting behaviour. He had terminated his contract and Molly had sent out the bill for the work covered, including the two weeks when Edna wasn’t working for him. She had said to Edna how sorry she was but Edna had her pride and said it didn’t really matter that much. However, no one in the office was fooled by that dignified answer.

Like Mary and Edna, Molly was also depressed – she had learned so little from Peter Walsh. During these last three weeks, she had pinned her hopes on being able to solve the case when she finally managed to find him, and now that she had, she still had nothing to show where the girl had gone.

To make matters worse, it was another horrible night, with thick fog that hit your face like a wet clammy glove. When the office closed, she decided to stay indoors with a hot cup of Ovaltine and have an early night. She was sound asleep by eleven o’clock. The book she was reading had been boring and she could barely keep her eyes open, so she switched off the bedside lamp and snuggled down in the cosy bed with her hot water bottle. Before she fell asleep, the thought crossed her mind that she was living her life like some aged spinster:
sans
man,
sans
marriage and
sans
finding Etta Barton.

It was the sound that wakened her. She looked at the alarm clock with its illuminated hands, which showed it was 1:15 a.m. The noise came again but she realised it wasn’t coming from the flat, but from outside. She slipped out of bed and peered through the curtains, but she couldn’t see a thing because of the fog and the fact that the streetlight was broken at her end of the street. The noise had sounded like something metallic, as if a metal door was being opened. She tried to see her car but it was impossible to see anything. She was afraid that someone was damaging her father’s car, so decided to go down to the street and investigate. If it were some youngsters, then she would call the police. Only stopping to put her coat on over her nightdress, she slipped through the door in the bedroom and down the stairs.

As she reached the end of the close, someone had left a bottle sitting at the entrance and she knocked it over. The noise seemed so loud in this fog-bound world, that it took away the chance of spying on the culprit without being seen, so she marched boldly out into the street to find it silent and deserted. The car was still parked in its usual spot and she went up to check it out. Everything seemed fine until she came to the passenger door, which was ajar. Someone had used some kind of tool to force the lock. Molly could have cried because she hated the thought of any damage being done to her father’s pride and joy. It then struck her as odd that anyone would break into a car parked so near a busy street. Baltic Street was quiet but the Wellgate still had people walking through it on their way home.

She glanced at the street again but there was no movement, so she made her way back upstairs. Luckily there hadn’t been any valuables in the car. In fact, there hadn’t been anything worth stealing, so the person with the tool had had an unfruitful night. It wasn’t until she was back in bed that she remembered the bag with her notebooks had been in the car. But why would anyone want a couple of notebooks with addresses and statements written in shorthand? She didn’t want to go downstairs again, back out into the foggy night, and maybe the books were still in the car. She would check in the morning. She found it hard to go back to sleep again, so she picked up the book with the boring plot and read it until her eyes closed with either boredom or tiredness.

When she woke at nine o’clock after a restless night, she felt she had gone ten rounds with Joe Louis. The first thing she did when she was dressed was to go and investigate the car break-in. The fog still lingered but she saw the lock had been forced and her bag with the notebooks was no longer on the back seat. This wasn’t a big deal because she had a copy of all the statements in the office. She had typed them out after each visit to the witnesses’ homes along with their names and addresses.

She would go and see Vera later and ask her about Etta’s post office savings book but, no doubt, like everything else in this case, it would turn into another dead end. Then she thought, stop being so pessimistic, something might turn up.

She thought again about the name Ruby in Vera’s address book but she hesitated to ask her, as she had looked so terrified by the mention of the name the last time. Still, this was the only name not accounted for and she didn’t like overlooking it.

The woman had had a scare. She hadn’t known about the back entrance to the agency flat, thinking it was only accessed from inside the office. Thank goodness for that bottle, otherwise she would have been caught red-handed. She had had time to step into the doorway of Kerr B. Sturrock’s shop-fitting business that was across the street from the car. She was also grateful for the broken street lamp and the fog – it seemed as if divine providence had been working in her favour. No doubt Molly McQueen would report the incident to the police but she had nothing to worry about. No one could pin this robbery on her. Once again, the hatred sprang up in her head, so much so that her hands were shaking when she finally emerged into the foggy night, but not before she saw the light go on in the flat’s window. She quietly walked away, keeping to the shadows until she reached Meadowside. She carried the bag with the books and now she would be able to see what Molly McQueen had found out. She suspected precious little but she couldn’t be sure.

Molly was in two minds about going to the police station to report the break-in but instead she took the car to the garage in Seagate Lane and they said they would fix it. The garage mechanic looked at it and gave his opinion. ‘It’ll need a new door lock but we’ll have to order it. You can either leave the car here for a couple of days or take it home and bring it back in when the part comes in.’

Molly said she would leave it with the garage. She didn’t want it sitting in the dark street with a broken door where anyone could gain access to it and maybe steal it. It was bad enough losing her notebooks. If she was in two minds about going to the police, she was also in two minds about who to see next. She had planned to see Vera this morning and ask about the post office savings book but during her restless night she had suddenly thought of Anita.

She set of for Hill Street, hoping Anita wasn’t out shopping or browsing around Woolworths, and was pleased when the door was answered after the initial knock. Judging by her dress, Anita was in the throes of housework. She wore a very fetching floral apron, had a scarf around her hair and her face was flushed. She seemed pleased to see Molly. ‘Oh, come on in. I’m dying for a cup of tea and now I have the excuse to stop for a while.’

She led Molly into the living room. All the pictures were off the walls. The ornaments were huddled on the table and a large tin of polish sat on the sideboard next to a duster. When they were seated with their tea, Molly said, ‘Do you remember anyone called Ruby who used to visit the Bartons?’

Anita frowned in concentration. ‘I don’t think so. There used to be an old woman called Ruby who lived in the close but she was a bit wandered, I think. She used to go out to the grocer’s shop in her nightdress with a woollen hat on her head. When the shop owner asked her why she hadn’t got dressed, Ruby would say that she was dressed and she would point to her hat. “I’m wearing my hat,” she would say. Poor old soul but she was the only Ruby I knew.’ Anita put her cup and saucer down on the table, where it competed for space with the ornaments. ‘Is this Ruby woman important?’

Molly sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Anita. It was just a name in Vera Barton’s address book.’

‘Can you not ask her about Ruby?’

‘She doesn’t want to say who it is and I can’t force her.’ Molly said truthfully.

‘I wonder if it’s a relative or someone Vera doesn’t like …’ Anita stopped. ‘I’ve suddenly remembered a woman, but her name wasn’t Ruby, it was Robina. She was Vera’s sister.’