Anna Jacobs (25 page)

The men stopped moving, glancing at one another then back at him. “You wouldn’t dare!” one said and took a step forward.

Vic took careful aim and managed to hit the man in the fleshy part of the leg. Cursing, both men scrambled back into their vehicle. “I was trained as a sharpshooter,” he yelled after them. “If you don’t drive away, I’ll shoot out the windscreen next and whoever is driving will get it in the face.”

For a moment there was silence except for the puttering noise made by the truck’s motor and he wondered if they too had guns with them. In which case he would be in trouble, exposed as he was on the raised driving seat.

“We’ll be back!” one of them yelled.

“Good. I’d like another shot at you.”

The truck backed down the road cautiously then the men turned it round in the gateway to the next field and drove off.

Justin got out of the cab, looking white and shaken. “Has Fleming run mad? Does he think no one will notice what he’s doing? This is
England
not a battlefield.” He shuddered. “I don’t think you’re safe driving this cab around any more.”

“No. I wonder whose truck that was. It’s not one I recognise from round here. I wish I had a car or motor bike and I’d have chased after them.” Vic shrugged. “Let’s get you into Tinsley now.”

“How are you going to get back to Horton safely from there, though?”

“I’ll keep my revolver beside me. If I come straight back after I’ve dropped you, and take a different route, maybe they’ll not have time to think up any more nasty surprises.”

* * * *

Justin went back to Evadne’s. She took one look at him and shut the door hastily, tugging him into her sitting room. “I can see from your face that something else has happened. Tell me.”

He explained.

“I’ll just finish giving my cook orders for the day then we’ll decide what to do.”

He was glad of a few minutes’ peace to pull himself together. By the time she came back, he’d had a few thoughts. “Can I stay on here with you, Evadne? I don’t think you’ll be in danger, or I wouldn’t ask, but I don’t have live-in help and I think I’d be at risk living on my own.”

“Of course you can. What are you going to do about Fleming, though?”

“I can only work legally.”

She made a scornful noise. “That won’t get you very far.”

“I do have a friend in Marley. In fact, I need to see him. Can you take a message to him from me when you go out?”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll get the lad next door to take it now. No one will think of stopping him. But shouldn’t you report this to the police?”

“I suppose so.”

“It’s not like you to be so indecisive. Are you sure you weren’t hurt?”

He shrugged. “It’s really shaken me. For the first time in my life I’m feeling my age.”

“Pooh! You’re only sixty-three. Plenty of life in you yet.”

* * * *

Aubrey was pleased with his new furniture, which he’d helped the carter to carry up the stairs late that afternoon. It might not be stylish but was more than adequate for his needs. The only thing missing was a mattress, since the old one had been badly stained. The bed frame was in good order, though.

He felt guilty at going through the old lady’s personal possessions, but someone had to do it. In the drawers of a heavy mahogany sideboard, which had been the very devil to get up the stairs, he found old photographs no one would ever recognise again and letters from her parents written decades ago, faded, full of admonitions to behave modestly and save her money. She seemed to have been a governess.

He spent quite a while studying his own face in the dressing table mirror, fingering the grey streaks which ran along each side of his auburn hair now. That made him look older and the scar on his chin didn’t add to his attractions.

But he was beginning to worry that eating Mrs Beamish’s hearty meals had filled in the hollows in his cheeks and made him look more like his old self. It was only a matter of time before someone recognised him and yet he didn’t want to reveal himself to a father who seemed to be universally detested by decent folk. Maybe the best thing would be to leave Tinsley for good?

Only, he had a sister, wanted to meet her because she had a really nice smile. If he was to keep in touch with her, how could he leave? He looked at his watch, wishing he had Jim to talk this through with, then went back to the Weaver’s Arms for tea.

“When are you going to show me round your new place?” Mrs Beamish asked.

“As soon as I’ve got it arranged and tidy. I have to find a mattress for the bed yet and I’m not sure I can get hold of one before Christmas.”

“You can have one of mine if that’s all that’s stopping you. We’ve a couple of new ones in the attics.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Call it a Christmas present.” She smiled at him. “Think I haven’t noticed how eager you are to leave here?”

“Not eager to leave here, just wanting my own place. I’ve spent a long time in institutions, first the Army, then the hospital. You long for a private life again.”

“Promise you’ll come to me for help if you need it.”

He gave her a hug. “Of course I will. And I’ll come and visit you too. What’s more, you’ll be invited to take tea with me one day, cream cakes and all.” He saw her eyes go suspiciously bright and gave her another hug. He hadn’t remembered anything about his mother, but had grown fond of this woman, who was cheerful and got on with her life in spite of her personal tragedies. She was a lesson to him, he reckoned, and if he’d believed in a beneficent fate, would have thought he’d been sent to meet her on purpose. She was another reason why he didn’t want to leave Tinsley.

She patted his cheek, sniffed loudly and said, “Come on. No time like the present. We’ll get that mattress down then find someone to help you carry it to the shop. If you buy them a beer, they’ll be happy to do it.”

He couldn’t help it, he planted a smacking great kiss on her cheek and though she told him not to be impudent, he could see she liked it.

Chapter 13

The following day, which was Saturday, Aubrey nipped out from the shop several times during lulls to buy groceries and greengroceries, soap, a dozen small items for his new home. He was aware at one stage of a man staring at him and later a woman at a market stall asked who he was, saying he looked familiar.

He’d be using the kitchen downstairs behind the shop, but it suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know how to cook, so he went to look for a cookery book in the second-hand section. He chose one designed to provide young women with the basic information on budgeting and shopping to enable them to care for their husbands and families.

This seemed to afford Ted great amusement and he waved aside his offer of payment. “Call it my housewarming present to you. But I want a slice of your first sponge cake.”

Aubrey blew a raspberry at him, a loud noise that echoed in the shop. “I shan’t even try to bake cakes, thank you very much, not when there’s a cake shop a few doors away. But I would like to cook myself proper meals, things to my own taste.” He knew men didn’t usually bother with cooking, but after the bland food of the convalescent home, he had a craving for stronger flavours.

He kept thinking about his sister and fate played into his hands later that morning as Marcus Graye came into the shop to find a book for a Christmas present to his wife. Aubrey hesitated as Marcus inspected the new books then went to ask Ted in a whisper, “That is Marcus Graye of the Hall in Horton, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“He married Fleming’s daughter recently, didn’t he?”

“So the gossips say. There hasn’t been an announcement in the Tinsley Telegraph yet, though.”

“Mind if I take him upstairs for a word once he’s chosen his book? I’ve remembered something else and I need to ask him about it.”

Ted nodded so Aubrey dealt with Graye’s purchase. “Excuse me, but could I have a word with you? It’s private, to do with your wife. We could go to my sitting room upstairs, if you’ve a minute.”

“All right.”

Aubrey led the way, got the other settled on the sofa and plunged into speech. “I don’t know any tactful way to say this, but I think I’m your wife’s brother. I was injured in the war and lost my memory, but remembered the name Tinsley so came back. When I heard the name Fleming, I realised it was
my
name too. I already had a vague memory of a woman smiling and when I saw you and your wife at the station a few days ago, I felt as if I recognised her—though her hair’s different to what I remember. I gather she’s Fleming’s daughter, so I was wondering . . . ”

Graye’s voice was cool and unfriendly, “Shouldn’t you go and see your father first?”

“No. I haven’t heard anything good about him and—” Aubrey rubbed his forehead “—I feel uncomfortable when I try to remember any more about him. To be frank, I’m not sure I want to get in touch with him at all and I’d appreciate your keeping my existence a secret until I decide.”

“Why do you feel when you remember your sister?”

“I don’t remember much, but I see her smiling at me. I’ve been seeing her face for months, actually, but didn’t know who she was. And it’s never brought on a headache, so I’m assuming I got on well with her.” He saw that Graye was studying him, frowning, clearly undecided what to do, so gave him a moment or two to think.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re Frank Fleming?” Marcus said at last. “I’d hate to raise false hopes in Serena. She loved her brother greatly and I don’t want you hurting her.”

“I’m quite sure. Coming back here did the trick and I began to remember.”

“Well then, Frank—”

“Not Frank, not now!” He realised his voice was quite sharp and took a deep breath before continuing. “When I couldn’t remember my own name, the nurses gave me another—Aubrey Smith—and that’s my official name now, on all my papers. I don’t feel comfortable with Frank Fleming as a name, which is another reason I’ve waited to contact my father.”

“Why have you waited to contact Serena?”

“I didn’t want to give her a shock, then you came into the shop so I thought I’d speak to you first, ask you to break the news to her.”

“I don’t know what to say. If you’re telling the truth, it sounds as if Serena
is
your sister, and when she talks about you, it’s obvious she loved you dearly, but . . . ” Marcus hesitated, wondering how much to tell Aubrey Smith, then looked at the other man’s clear-eyed gaze and decided to risk it. If Smith was faking this, he was an amazingly good actor, but Marcus had had a lot of experience in assessing men and he didn’t think the other was lying.

“But what?”

“There’s something you need to know first. We don’t think Fleming
is
her father.” Marcus explained how matters stood. “At the moment we seem in some danger from him. We guess he must be desperate for money. You may prefer to wait to reveal who you are until he’s accepted how matters stand and we’ve sorted out her inheritance, which he’s withholding.”

Aubrey sat there feeling dumbfounded. “It sounds like something you’d read in a novel or see at the cinema.”

“Unfortunately, it’s really happening. I don’t know why the man thinks he’ll get away with it, but he seems to have been lucky so far.”

They sat in silence for a moment or two and this also made Marcus feel more at ease with the other man. He hated it when people gabbled on for no reason.

“What do you advise then?” Aubrey asked. “Should I come and see Serena yet—or not?”

“You still want to?”

“Of course I do. Let alone it’s not pleasant being alone in the world, I have fond memories of her.”

Marcus could understand that. Even a short time of living with Serena had taught him to appreciate her. “I’d guess Fleming will try to get you under his control again once he finds out who you are.”

“I’m not a boy any more and I’m not dependent on him. He’ll never control me again.”

“Don’t be so sure. He doesn’t seem to care what other people want and doesn’t hesitate to exploit their weaknesses, from what I’ve heard.” Marcus hesitated again, but didn’t think this the time to tell Aubrey that his father might have tried to commit murder.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Look, I was going to walk out to Horton tomorrow. Could I come and see Serena then?”

“Come and have lunch with us.”

“You’ll—tell her about me, prepare her?”

“Yes, of course.”

Aubrey walked down with him to the shop door, where they shook hands.

Ted cocked one eyebrow at him when he went back to stand irresolutely next to the counter. His friend clearly wanted to know what was going on.

“It’s a complicated story and involves others so I can’t tell you about it yet,” Aubrey said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s to do with finding your family?”

“Yes.”

“You’re Frank Fleming, aren’t you?”

Aubrey stared at him in dismay. “How did you know?”

“You’ve looked familiar ever since you came to work here. You used to come in quite often as a lad, spending your pocket money on books. You’ve changed a lot so I wasn’t sure at first. If you want to conceal your real identity, that’s your business as far as I’m concerned, but I should warn you that one or two people have told me you remind them of someone. I said you had relatives in the town.”

“I appreciate you keeping this to yourself.”

Ted came to clap him on the shoulder. “I always felt sorry for you when you were a lad. You weren’t happy. Fleming kept trying to change you into something you weren’t. But I think you’ve grown up now and are your own man.”

That compliment pleased Aubrey greatly. It was how he felt, his own man, but of course the proof of that would come when he met his father again.

He knew he had to do that soon, couldn’t run away from his past—not if he hoped to build a better future for himself.

* * * *

Marcus walked slowly home from the station in Horton, still thinking about his encounter with Serena’s brother. At the Hall he went round to the kitchen door, rapping twice, then once again, to let them know it was a friend.

What was the world coming to when you had to keep your door locked in the daytime? Was this a “fit country for heroes to live in” as Lloyd George had promised? It didn’t feel like it at the moment. Well, he’d had just about enough of Fleming and intended to do something about the fellow after Christmas, with Redway’s help.