Eve of the Isle (42 page)

Quickly Eve put on her coat and was soon joined by Peg and Joan. The little group marched up the hill and stood at Joseph's front door. They knocked and tapped on the window but could get no reply.

‘Is his key hanging down?' suggested Maude.

Peg slid her hand through the letter box. ‘There ain't nothing, not even the string.'

‘We can climb over the back wall,' said Samuel. ‘There's dustbins round there you can stand on. We use 'em when we climb up to the bowsprit.'

A minute later they were standing at the rear, waiting for the boys to try the back door.

‘It ain't open,' they shouted over the wall.

‘Try the window,' Eve shouted back. ‘It's never closed properly.'

She could hear the boys lifting the sash. Once again they all hurried round to the front of the cottage and waited.

Samuel and Albert let them in and when the search of the house was complete, they stood in the kitchen.

‘His bed's made but it don't look like it's been slept in. Cold as ice it is in his room,' said Maude.

‘And look at that stove,' nodded Peg. ‘It's as clean as a whistle. It ain't been used lately.'

Eve nodded slowly, then saw the samovar on the dresser. The internal pipe was dismantled and the metal bottom and tap looked gleaming as if newly polished. ‘He's taken apart the samovar, Peg, and cleaned it. As if . . . as if—'

But she was cut short as Peg grabbed her arm. ‘And look, hanging from the tap is the front door key.'

‘Did he take it off the string deliberate like?' pondered Maude.

‘P'raps the nail fell off.'

They went out to inspect the letter box. But the nail above it was in place. ‘Shall we hang it up again?' said Eve. ‘It can't do any harm. And I expect he just forgot.'

Everyone nodded and the key was returned to where it always hung.

‘If I didn't know better,' said Maude, frowning at the clean grate in the front room, ‘I'd say he's gorn away. And he had a bit of a spring clean before he went.'

‘But he don't go away – ever,' pointed out Peg as they studied the tidy room.

‘The larder's bare,' shouted Samuel and Albert from the kitchen.

Everyone went to have a look. ‘What? No vegetables' for 'is borsch?' said Maude disbelievingly.

‘P'raps he's gone to the market,' suggested Joan. ‘Get 'imself a few nice spuds and beets.'

‘It's a bloody long shopping trip if he did,' remarked Peg, and they all nodded in agreement once more.

They stared at the empty shelves and Eve knew they were all thinking the same thought. Why hadn't Joseph told them where he was going?

Chapter Twenty-Four

C
harlie stood at the door of the Overseas Sailors' Home, staring into the large interior chamber. Unlike the busy halls of the Salvation Army with its noisy and ill-mannered destitutes, this retreat housed a surprisingly quiet and well-ordered number of human beings. He had thought on his first visit here that he was unlikely to discover anyone who had known Raj Kumar, for there were so many Asiatic, African and South Sea Island sailors.

As most of the sailors had fallen on hard times and spoke only fragments of English it was no wonder, thought Charlie, that they carried a certain detached look on their faces. He knew from what he had learned before that these good-natured seamen often fell victim to thieves who robbed them of their small purses and left them destitute on the London streets. This big, airy, substantial building with its natural order was their only refuge. And the sailors who ended up here – Charlie understood – once removed from the city's temptations, reverted to their natural quiet demeanour.

Charlie studied the dark faces, the downcast eyes under the colourful tarbooshes and turbans that alternated with the dull and uniform English peaked caps, and wondered if they were missing the warmth of their native shores. He imagined many had families and children to maintain and yet they were stranded here.

Watching them move around in their unresisting manner, his heart went out to them. It must be dreadful to end up here in a bitterly cold winter, without a return passage. He knew, however, that despite the discomfort and abuse these men were subjected to, the number of lascars employed by British trading vessels was increasing every year. It seemed the country's ships could not run without them. And equally important to the lascars was the work provided on these shipping lines. When one lascar failed to take a contract, another swiftly grasped it. And yet Raj Kumar had been an exception; he had not only faithfully served his employers but he had chosen to marry and live in a land that regarded him as an alien.

Charlie wondered once more what sort of young man he had been. Obedient and conscientious without doubt. Charlie had learned from his investigations that many lascars were trained to endure 160 degrees of heat in a stokehold, if they were contracted on such a voyage as a Red Sea trip. Others were forced to freeze as they maintained the exteriors of the vessels that sailed on winter passages through storms and gales. Raj Kumar
had worked his way up through the lascar ranks and become a cook in the purser's department. Not only would he have mixed with his fellow lascars, but with the British crew too. He spoke English – and by all accounts rather well.

So what had led to his death, this respected man who was neither threatened by the elements nor the unbearable heat of an engine room? Who were his friends? How had his employers regarded his marriage and efforts to settle in the docklands of England?

Eve's words sprang to his mind. ‘I dared to marry a lascar. Me and Raj . . . we knew what we'd done but it wasn't easy . . .'

Charlie shook his head slightly, as if it to clear his thoughts, and found himself staring at a small group of men seated at a table. He walked over and joined them.

‘My name is Charlie Merritt,' he began quietly, not knowing if they understood him. ‘I'm looking for anyone who knew a man by the name of Raj Kumar.' This time he didn't add that he was a policeman. He knew now that it could count against him and that it was sheer luck that he'd happened upon the lascar who'd told him about Singh.

The four faces stared at him in silence. Each with that curious expression of detachment.

‘If not Raj Kumar,' he continued, enunciating each word, ‘then Dilip Bal. Both men served on the
Star of Bengal
.'

It was several moments before two of the seated
sailors rose quietly to their feet. Almost bowing, they lowered their heads and moved silently away.

Charlie looked at the two remaining lascars; one wore an ordinary peaked cap and boiler suit, the other the loose, native costume of an Oriental seaman. It was cold inside the big room, but he had made no attempt to dress warmly. His eyes stared into Charlie's and Charlie was certain that when he said the next three words, there was, for the first time, a fleeting flicker of recognition.

‘Or Somar Singh,' he murmured, ‘who also served on the
Star
and, later, the
Tarkay
.'

Once again there was no response and soon he found himself sitting alone at the table, the air of quiet around him deepening to a disturbing silence.

The four women stood on the pavement outside Joseph's house. Eve had sent the twins and younger children into Maude's yard to play whilst they decided what to do.

‘But what
can
we do?' posed Maude, pulling her collar up to her double chins. ‘'Cept worry!'

‘He wasn't in the peak of health,' nodded Peg, shivering in the cold wind.

‘Has he got any relations?' asked Joan, tying her scarf tighter under her chin.

‘None that I know of.' Eve thought of the two young people that had had stayed with him recently. But they hadn't been relations, and all she knew about them was that they'd gone up north.

‘Do you think Charlie could help?' asked Maude.

They all looked at Eve. She hadn't told them he had been suspended. ‘I don't know.'

‘You don't think he took ill somewhere?' suggested Joan.

‘Don't forget, the larder was empty. Like someone deliberately going away,' Maude pointed out.

Peg shrugged. ‘There's nothing more we can do tonight.'

‘He might be back soon,' said Joan hopefully. ‘Give us all a nice surprise.'

They all nodded. But Eve had a heavy weight in her stomach. It was as if he'd left the house clean and tidy for a reason. But what kind of reason could it be? He had lived in the cottage ever since she could remember. He didn't take holidays or go away; he was a homebird.

‘Better get in for me old man's tea,' said Maude.

‘Send the boys back when you've had enough of them,' called Eve as she watched Maude hurry across the road. It was dusk and the chill night was settling in. Could an old man like Joseph really stay out in this weather?

The three women walked down the hill very slowly. But the more they suggested this or that, the more it seemed a puzzle. Eve decided that tomorrow she would go to the hospital. And she would ask Jimmy to call at Charlie's and tell him that Joseph had disappeared.

On Friday, after Eve sent the boys to school, she tried knocking again on Joseph's door. There was no reply.

‘I used the key and took a gander early this morning,' shouted Maude, dragging on her coat as she hurried across the road. ‘It just don't make no sense.'

‘I think I'll make enquiries at the hospital.'

‘If you wait till Eric or Duggie comes in, I can leave the kids with them and come with you.'

But Eve shook her head. ‘No, it won't take me long if I leave now.'

‘Well, wrap up warm, love. And I hope to gawd you don't find 'im. Not in 'ospital anyway.'

Maude needn't have worried, Eve reflected as she left the hospital and returned to the island. All her enquiries had been fruitless. The hospital hadn't had anyone brought in of that name or description. She went to the market at Cox Street as she knew that Joseph shopped there. But once more she was met with the same answer. No one had seen Joseph Petrovsky. The next place to enquire would be at the police station. Had Jimmy remembered to call on Charlie?

As Peg and Joan were out and the boys at school, Eve decided she would go to Joseph's house. Perhaps there was some indication as to where he might have gone that they had overlooked previously.

Putting on her coat again, she made her way up the hill. Should she ask Maude to help her? But she was probably busy with the children. Eve drew up the string
and let herself in. The house was very cold and already beginning to smell strongly of damp. Joseph always had a fire burning but the empty grate was lifeless now. As Eve walked through the rooms, she shivered. The cottage was an empty shell without Joseph. She missed the delicious smells that always came from the kitchen.

Upstairs she looked in the big wardrobe in Joseph's bedroom. She couldn't tell if any clothes had been taken as she only ever saw Joseph in the same clothes: heavy trousers, a shirt and waistcoat and jacket. There were just a few things hanging inside. A large pair of boots were tucked neatly at the bottom, but Joseph's big coat was missing. There seemed to be no cap, gloves or scarf either. Had he been wearing them on the day Maude saw him?

Eve pulled out a drawer beside the bed. It contained just a few papers and not very much else. A bill from the coal merchant and another from the shoe mender.

Eve gazed round the room that she and the boys had occupied when they had lived here. It brought back many happy memories of a very kind man who took them under his wing.

‘Where are you, Joseph?' Eve asked aloud and sighing heavily she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Everything was in its place, neat and tidy. Maude was right, it was as though Joseph had decided to go away and cleaned the cottage before leaving.

Just then, Eve heard the front door creak. ‘Maude, I'm in the kitchen,' she called, bending down to open
the drawer in the kitchen table. This time she saw it was full of papers.

‘Maude – I'm just searching for anything that might help us find out—' she began only to feel the words freeze in her throat as she looked up.

A man in an overcoat and cap was standing there. The same man who had been watching her on Westferry Road . . .

Charlie had his head stuck in the big black interior of the oven at the bakery. He hadn't got a clue what had gone wrong, but it wasn't heating up enough to bake the bread properly inside. His dad had been complaining about it for weeks, months probably. But they all knew that if they had to have it repaired it would cost an arm and a leg.

‘Look at this, Charlie,' said his father prodding him in the ribs. ‘My customers are beginning to complain Soft as a baby's bum inside and yet it's baked to perfection outside.'

Charlie pulled his head out of the oven, hitting it as he did so and cursing under his breath.