The Lodger (38 page)

‘You're so funny, pet,' said Maggie, ‘you're a pair, you are, you an' Bobby.'

Harry, still leading the way with Daisy and Meg, stopped on the corner of a street. Sunday afternoon in Herne Hill seemed even quieter than in Walworth. There was just the little metallic sound of a hand-mower being used in someone's back garden. Harry turned, ‘Here we are, Maggie,' he said.

They all congregated on the corner, and Harry consulted a local paper he'd brought with him.

‘Crikey, it's called Regent Road,' said Lily, ‘ain't that posh, Bobby?'

‘Well, nice,' said Bobby.

‘Yes, nice, not posh,' said Meg, ‘we can't live nowhere posh, we'd 'ave to 'ave servants.'

‘Number ten,' said Harry, and they all walked to number ten. It was empty, its front garden a little overgrown. Maggie regarded the house, and thought its central door made it look quite grand. It was two storeys, not three, like most in the road. But the advertisement had said four bedrooms. Its blank windows shone in the sunlight. It looked much larger than their little house in Charleston Street. There was a bathroom too. Imagine that. They wouldn't have to go to the public baths any more, or use a scullery bath. Of course, they'd only come to look at it from the outside, to see if they liked its appearance.

Harry was making no comment. He knew it was up to Maggie and her girls. It was their choice, yes or no, not his.

But Maggie said, ‘What d'you think, Harry?'

He didn't hesitate then, he said, ‘Looks a good family house, Maggie, and two storeys would mean less work than any of these three-storeyed ones.'

‘And what do you think, Bobby?'

‘Well, Mrs Wilson, I'm glad you asked, I thought you wouldn't – '

‘Here we go,' said Trary joyfully.

‘I can't say I've got much experience about the best kind of 'ouses to buy,' said Bobby, ‘so I can't say – '

‘Not much,' said Trary.

‘Yes, I can't say anything, Mrs Wilson, except I'd like a house just like this when we're married.'

‘When who's married?' asked Lily.

‘Me and me future wife,' said Bobby.

‘Can you believe that boy, Mr Bradshaw?' said Trary. ‘Can you believe what comes out of his mouth sometimes?'

‘Trary's gone all pink,' said Daisy.

‘She keeps doin' that,' said Lily.

‘I suppose all future wives are a little shy,' said Harry.

‘Mr Bradshaw, don't say things like that,' begged Trary, ‘it'll only encourage him, he's daft enough, as it is. Mum, I like the house, don't you? I mean, I like the look of it, it looks as if it's got two parlours and lovely windows. And there's trees about. It's nice, Meg, don't you think it's nice?'

‘Oh, crikey, fancy us livin' 'ere,' said Meg breathlessly.

‘It's my opinion you've got a winner here, Mrs Wilson,' said Bobby, ‘as long as it's all right inside.'

‘Oh, I couldn't do without your opinion, Bobby,' smiled Maggie.

‘My pleasure,' said Bobby. Trary rolled her eyes.

‘Look, the side gate's open,' said Harry, ‘let's see what the back garden's like.'

‘I likes 'Arry,' said Daisy, taking hold of his hand.

‘Will you stop callin' 'im that, you pickle?' said Maggie.

They all walked up the side path to the back garden. Everyone gazed at a long rectangular lawn of long uncut grass, a velvet green to their eyes. There were flower beds down each side, perennials sprouting amid burgeoning weeds.

‘Mum, it's a real garden,' said Meg, ‘it's got flowers and everything.'

‘You could play cricket,' said Bobby.

‘Could you come an' play wiv us?' asked Lily.

‘Could you play wiv us too?' asked Daisy of Harry.

‘They can come to Sunday tea,' said Maggie, eyeing the back of the house. Everything looked just right. ‘What d'you think now, Harry?' The price of the house, according to the advertisement, was two hundred and ninety-five pounds. And the furniture could be offered for.

‘I think you'd like to be shown round,' said Harry. ‘You could come up during the week and get the agents to let you in.'

‘Yes, I suppose so,' said Maggie.

‘But, Mr Bradshaw, Mum couldn't come by herself,' protested Trary, ‘she's only a woman – '

‘Well, thanks very much, I don't think,' said Maggie.

‘Oh, I don't mean you're not as good as a man, Mum, you can do lots of things men can't.' Trary's clear young voice sent echoes rippling around the garden. ‘And I'm easy as good as Bobby. Well, I'm better, in fact, I'm more useful and I'm not barmy. But a woman ought to have a man with her if she's lookin' inside an empty house. There might be mice or spiders. Spiders give mum the 'orrors, Mr Bradshaw, and I wouldn't wish the 'orrors on anybody, I've had them myself just recent.'

‘You didn't tell me,' said Lily.

‘Nor me,' said Daisy.

‘What 'orrors?' asked Meg.

‘I'm over it now,' said Trary. She glanced at Bobby. He was looking up at chimney pots. He had a grin on his face. ‘That boy,' she said.

‘If all goes well, Maggie, I'll be off duty at three o'clock on Tuesday afternoon,' said Harry. ‘Would that do?'

‘I'd be ever so grateful,' said Maggie.

‘I'll look after the spiders.'

‘I'll look after Trary,' said Bobby.

‘I won't be comin',' said Trary, ‘I'll be at school.'

‘I meant I'll look after you gen'rally,' said Bobby. ‘I promised her I would, Mrs Wilson, an' she's relyin' on it. Well, she's still young yet, yer know. Can't believe it sometimes, can you, the looks she's got at her age. Fortunately, I've got manly vigour meself – '

Trary shrieked and clapped a hand to her mouth.

‘Thank you, Bobby,' said Maggie, ‘I need a bit of help with Trary sometimes. Well, we can all go 'ome now. Mr Bradshaw's stayin' to tea. Would you like to stay too, Bobby?'

‘I'm honoured, Mrs Wilson.'

‘I likes Bobby,' said Lily, taking his hand for the walk back to the station.

‘Two talkin' parrots together, that's what you are,' said Trary.

Bobby grinned. Maggie smiled. She caught Harry's eye. He winked.

They were alone again in the parlour, after tea. Bobby and the girls were doing the washing-up once more. Trary had insisted. It was all part of her campaign.

‘Maggie, if you buy the house, you'll have rates to pay,' said Harry.

‘Will I?' said Maggie, as if she hadn't been aware of that. ‘How much would they be?'

‘A few shillings a week.'

‘I think I could manage that, I won't be payin' no rent.'

‘And there'd be a water bill, and any repairs or decoratin'. It'll be a bit of a financial responsibility, and you've only got your pension, haven't you?'

‘I'll have a bit over from Uncle Henry's will.'

‘Not much, I imagine.' Harry lit his pipe and mused over it. ‘I did say buyin' a house is a sound investment, but not if you get into debt. You need to have money comin' in, Maggie. I was wondering.'

‘About what?' smiled Maggie.

‘Well, if you had a lodger, would his bit help?'

‘What lodger?'

‘I was thinkin', I've got my own house, I've paid off the mortgage, and I don't really need a house all to myself.'

‘You're offerin' to be my lodger?' asked Maggie.

‘If there's a room to spare and my rent would help, and if – '

‘Is that the only way you'd live with me an' the girls, as our lodger?'

‘I'd miss you all otherwise,' said Harry.

‘What kind of a miss would it be?' asked Maggie.

‘Like a ruddy great hole in my life,' said Harry.

‘Bless the man,' murmured Maggie, ‘he loves Trary, that's what it is.'

‘I love all your girls, Maggie.'

‘And what about me?' Her faint smile showed. ‘Or don't I count?'

‘I love you too, Maggie, don't you know that?'

‘Well, then?' Her smile became affectionate. ‘You're not just goin' to sit there, are you?' Harry put his pipe aside and stood up. Maggie made her comparison. Yes, Harry was a far nicer man than Mr Jerry Bates. He was quieter, but he wasn't dull, and the girls thought him fun. ‘Harry, why don't you try givin' me a kiss? I'm not an old woman yet, I've still got feelings.'

‘So have I,' said Harry fervently, and kissed her with great feeling. Maggie knew then that here was a man she could be a lover to. When Mr Bates kissed her, she'd felt natural pleasure. But not excitement, not need. With Harry, her healthy body came alive, and she pressed herself close to him. There had been too many years of having no-one to make love to her.

Harry lifted his head and said, ‘I want you Maggie.'

‘You'll do, Harry love,' she said, ‘you'll do for all of us.'

‘The girls won't mind.'

‘Oh, go on with you, you know they can't wait for you to be their new dad.'

Trary danced in delight at the news. Daisy and Lily looked awe-struck at the prospect of having a policeman for a dad. Meg asked him for a kiss and got one. Bobby said, ‘I hardly know what to say, Mrs Wilson, not on an 'istorical day like this.'

‘Well, go on, make it hysterical,' said Trary.

‘If I could try an' say something?' said Bobby.

‘Oh, our pleasure,' said Trary, blissful for her mum.

‘Well, I'll just say you've picked a real 'andsome future wife, Mr Bradshaw. Mind, I'm not surprised, you're a thinkin' man, an' with good sense as well as good taste. I couldn't be more short of breath about you an' Mrs Wilson – '

‘Not much,' said Trary.

‘Which reminds me, Mrs Wilson,' said Bobby, ‘could I ask you about me own future wife? I mean, would you mind tellin' me if she puts curlers in her 'air at nights?'

Trary shrieked at him. Bobby ran for his life. Trary caught him before he could get through the door. She dealt with him.

Daisy, agog, asked, ‘What's Trary 'itting Bobby for?'

‘Girls always 'ave to ‘it boys they're in love with,' said Meg. ‘Well, you do 'ave to or they get cheeky. I expect when mum gets married, she'll 'ave to 'it our new dad with a rollin'-pin.'

‘Oh, you 'orror,' said Maggie.

‘Only now and again,' said Meg.

‘Like Mrs 'Arper does wiv Mr 'Arper,' said Lily.

‘I likes 'Arry for our new dad,' said Daisy. ‘I don't want 'im ‘it wiv no rollin'-pin.'

‘Bless you, Daisy,' said Harry.

Friday, thought Nicholas, as he walked down Browning Street, always on a Friday. Something nagged at his mind. What was it? Damn it, what was it?

Scotland Yard was beginning to believe that the man wasn't local, after all, that he was coming in from distant fields. The Assistant Commissioner, concerned with the public's worry and dissatisfaction, had now authorized the police to offer a reward of five hundred pounds for information that would lead to the apprehension of the killer, wherever he lived.

Emma appeared, turning into Browning Street from King and Queen Street. It gave Nicholas a lift to see her. The skirt of her light grey dress swirled gently around her ankles. Her neat matching hat had a single white feather. She had been a shop assistant in Reading, she was a shop assistant now. But how elegant.

She stopped and smiled as they met.

‘Hello, you're going out?' asked Nicholas.

‘I am out,' said Emma. ‘Were you coming to call on me?'

‘No, to talk to a couple of uniformed men at the police station.'

‘Yes, I see,' she said, feeling a little rebuffed. A breeze picked up dust from the middle of the street and redistributed it. ‘I'm just on my way to visit a friend in Denmark Hill.'

‘How long for?' asked Nicholas.

‘Pardon?'

‘What time will you be back?'

‘Dear me,' she said, ‘am I being interviewed again?'

‘Mrs Carter – '

‘My name's Emma, as you well know. Please don't be so stuffy, Nicholas. It isn't the thing around here.'

‘It's a habit with every copper to be formal with the public,' said Nicholas.

‘Heavens,' said Emma, ‘I thought I'd become a friend, I'd no idea I was still the public.'

‘D'you mind if I ask you what time you'll be back from your outing?'

‘Really, I – ' Emma pulled herself up. He looked tired out. Two murders and one attempted murder, and there was still no arrest. ‘I'm sorry, I know how you must be feeling. I'll be back about nine, just before dark.'

‘I'll be at the tram stop, waiting for you,' said Nicholas. ‘If you're late, if it is dark when you get back, I'll run you in for failing to co-operate with the police.'

‘You're not serious,' said Emma. A passing neighbour said hello to her and gave Nicholas an interested look. Emma knew she was being talked about. Cockneys, in and out of each other's houses, always liked to know what their neighbours were getting up to. ‘You're not keeping a watch on every woman in Walworth, are you?'

‘No, only you,' said Nicholas, ‘you don't happen to be every woman, just yourself. Why isn't your fiancé going with you to Denmark Hill?'

‘Oh, you've given me a fiancé now, have you?'

‘I've assumed he's your fiancé, or close to the privilege.'

Oh, bother, thought Emma, this is getting ridiculous. ‘He's not my fiancé, or about to be,' she said.

‘Well, be back at nine, Emma,' he said firmly.

‘You're really going to be waiting at the tram stop?'

‘Yes.'

She smiled. ‘I'll be a good girl,' she said, and they parted.