Ironmonger's Daughter (66 page)

Dennis lowered the gun and reached for her. He held her arm gently and slowly shook his head. ‘Sit down, Con,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s so much yer don’t know. Let me try ter explain.’

 

Darkness was falling down over the ramshackle houses and, along the street, folk stood silently at their front doors like shadowy statues, their silhouettes dark against the grey walls. Coggins crouched down beside the car, his fingers drumming on the metal. The minutes ticked slowly away and only the occasional nervous cough or a shuffling of feet broke the silence. The inspector began to get fidgety and he wondered whether or not he had made the right decision.

Suddenly Connie Morgan appeared in the doorway and walked slowly towards the police car. She was not crying any more and her face looked impassive. As she rounded the car Billy stood up and took her arm.

She looked at the inspector without showing any emotion. ‘Dennis Foreman said ’e needs five more minutes, then ’e’ll give ’imself up,’ she said simply.

Detective Sergeant Roberts looked enquiringly at the inspector who nodded. ‘I think we can give him another five minutes, Roberts.’

Connie walked slowly away from the wardens’ post, her head lying against Billy’s shoulder, his arm around her waist. They reached Ada’s house and Connie straightened up. Ada was at the door beside Widow Pacey and Joe Cooper.

‘Yer shouldn’t ’ave done it, Con. Yer could ’ave got yerself killed,’ Ada said, resting her hand on Connie’s forearm.

‘It’s all right, Ada. I wasn’t in any danger.’

Ada was about to speak when the shot rang out.

‘Christ!’ Billy gasped, swinging around. ‘’E’s shot ’imself!’

Connie dropped her eyes to the pavement. ‘I knew ’e was gonna do it. I asked ’im ter give ’imself up. I pleaded wiv ’im, but I knew it was useless. It was in ’is eyes, Billy. I could see it in ’is eyes.’

Ada looked at the young man. ‘Take ’er upstairs, Billy. Don’t leave ’er.’

Billy Argrieves nodded. ‘I won’t leave ’er, Ada. She’ll be all right.’

 

The sun had risen over the little street and already the children were out. The rag-and-bone man had arrived with his creaking barrow, his unintelligible cry for old lumber echoing through the turning. The wardens’ post was securely locked and a sad-faced policeman stood on guard at a discreet distance. Children jumped in and out of a skipping rope and rolled their marbles along the gutters just like on any other Sunday morning, but today they did not stray to the top of the turning. Folk returned with the morning papers and glanced furtively across to the sand-bagged entrance as they passed by. A few people stood at their front doors, talking quietly and shaking their heads as they recalled the events of the previous day. Some of the street folk turned their heads and lowered their voices when they saw the young woman walk up to number sixteen and knock on the door.

Joe Cooper looked surprised as he opened the door. ‘C’mon in, Con,’ he said with a tired smile. ‘Yer’ll ’ave ter excuse the place, I ain’t cleared up yet. Bin sittin’ in the chair all night.’

Connie walked into the parlour and sat down beside the hearth. Joe threw a paper off the chair facing her and slumped down heavily, his eyes searching her face enquiringly. She drew a deep breath.

‘Joe, I need ter talk ter yer,’ she said with a sigh. ‘An’ I need some answers.’

‘I’ll ’elp yer if I can, girl,’ he said, a concerned look showing on his face.

Connie leaned forward. ‘Yer know they let me talk ter Dennis Foreman before ’e killed ’imself?’

Joe nodded, ‘I know, Con. But what made yer do it?’

‘I ’ad to, Joe. Last night Widow Pacey showed me an’ Ada some photos. They was photos of you an’ Dennis an’ me mum. She told me about ’ow you three was always tergevver when yer was kids. There was one photo of me mum wiv Dennis. ’E’ad ’is arm round ’er. Mrs Pacey said they used ter go out tergevver fer a time.’

Joe nodded. ‘That’s right, Con. They did, fer a time.’

‘Yer see, Joe, it suddenly all fitted tergevver. I was convinced that Dennis Foreman was me farvver an’ I knew that if I got a chance ter talk wiv ’im, I’d find out fer sure. I knew’e wouldn’t lie ter me.’

Joe looked closely at the young woman. ‘Did ’e tell yer? Did yer get ter the truth?’

In answer Connie reached into her blouse pocket and Joe’s eyes widened as he saw the locket lying in the palm of her hand.

‘Yer reco’nise this, don’t yer, Joe.’

He nodded slowly.

‘This little locket kept me goin’. It gave me somefink ter ’old on to when the grief was so bad I thought about endin’ it all. Yer see, I was sure that one day this would lead me ter the truth about me farvver. ’Elen Bartlett gave it ter me jus’ before she died. I thought this locket was buried wiv me mum, but it never was. I fink it was me aunt’s dyin’ wish that I should ’ave the chance ter find out who me farvver was. Yes, I did get ter the truth. Dennis Foreman told me everyfing, Joe.’

‘’E told yer?’ he said, looking down at the little trinket in Connie’s hand.

‘Yeah. ’E told me about the inscription inside. ’E told me you was Bonny. This locket is the one yer gave ter me mum. It’s the one she always wore around her neck, until the day she died.’

Joe lowered his head for a few moments and when he looked up Connie saw tears in his eyes.

‘Why, Joe? Why wouldn’t me mum tell me about yer? Why did she shut me up every time I asked questions?’

The ticking of the clock sounded strangely loud as Connie Morgan and Joe Cooper sat facing each other. She was leaning forward in her chair, waiting for the answers she so desperately needed. He looked into her eyes, almost pleading with her as he sought awkwardly for the right words. He wondered if she would ever understand.

‘Yes, Connie. Yer me daughter,’ he told her. ‘I’ve watched yer grow up from a leggy little mite into a beautiful woman, an’ all those years I’ve ’ad ter love yer from a distance. I’ve seen yer suffer ’eartbreaks wivvout bein’ able ter ’old yer close an’ let yer spill yer tears over me an’ it tore me ’eart out, Connie.’

‘But why, Joe? Why?’

He sighed deeply. ‘Yer mum, Dennis an’ me grew up tergevver in this little backstreet. We was inseparable as kids an’, as we got older your mum grew ter love me – in a grown-up way I mean. I loved ’er, too, but Kate was impatient. It was’er way. I wasn’t ready ter settle down an’ she began ter play Dennis off against me. They started goin’ out tergevver an’ I can still remember ’ow upset I got. I know now that Kate was only tryin’ ter make me jealous, but I was too stupid ter see it at the time. I thought she’d lost ’er feelin’ fer me. Anyway, I met Sadie a few months later an’ we got married inside a year. Like I said, I wasn’t ready ter settle down, but I must o’ felt I was gettin’ me own back in a way.

‘Me marriage soon started ter go wrong. Sadie found out she couldn’t ’ave children an’ she took it bad. The followin’ year she caught polio. Yer mum an’ me seemed to be drawn back tergevver some’ow. We’d never stopped lovin’ each ovver, Con. We managed ter meet away from the street an’ nobody suspected anyfing, except Dennis. ’E knew all along that it was me Kate really wanted. There was a big bust-up at first, an’ me an’ Dennis ’ad a set-to, but we sorted our differences out an’ we got back ter bein’ friends again. When you come along fings were bad between me an’ Sadie. She suspected I was seein’ somebody else an’ she told me then she would never divorce me. Sadie’s a Catholic, yer see. Kate ’ad wanted us ter get married one day so I could be a proper farvver ter yer an’, when I told ’er Sadie wouldn’t give me a divorce, she got very moody. Fings were really strained between us and it all came ter the boil at the time of the factory outin’. Everybody was gettin’ sossled an’ me an’ yer mum ’ad a big row. She said then that me an’ ’er was finished. I got completely blotto an’ a lot o’ bad fings was said.

‘A few days later Kate said she wanted ter talk ter me. She’ad it all worked out. She said yer mus’ never know who yer farvver was. She didn’t want people ter point yer out in the street an’ make life bad fer yer. She was only finkin’ o’ you, Con. Kate made me swear on yer life that I’d never breathe a word about bein’ yer farvver. She made Dennis promise, too. Yer see, ’e was the only ovver person who knew I was yer farvver. I was there at the time. I remember Dennis gettin’ angry. ’E said it was wicked ter make ’im swear on a child’s life. What ’e said was ’e’d swear on ’is own life. It’s the fing that I can’t get over. I’ve bin sittin’ up all night dwellin’ on it. Dennis broke ’is promise an’ then killed ’imself a few minutes later. Jus’ finkin’ about it makes me go cold. I still can’t believe ’e’s dead.’

Connie had been listening intently, her eyes never leaving his face. Joe paused and she stared down into the empty grate, trying to take in everything he had said. When she looked back into Joe’s eyes she saw the deep, lonely pain that had haunted him for so long.

‘I fink I understand a bit better now, Joe,’ Connie said quietly. ‘I know me mum never stopped lovin’ yer.’

‘I’ve never stopped lovin’ ’er, Con,’ he said, his eyes filling with tears.

Connie looked down at her hands. The room was very quiet and in the silence between them the ticking of the clock seemed to echo.

Joe looked up at her. ‘Yer muvver was some woman, Connie,’ he said quietly. ‘I ’ope yer can understand why she made me swear not ter let on ter yer. It was the way she was. I couldn’t make ’er change ’er mind. In fact I went ter see ’er the day before she died. I asked ’er ter tell yer, or let me tell yer, but she was still determined you shouldn’t know. Kate said she’d ’ad ter bear the pain o’ me bein’ out o’ reach an’ she didn’t want yer ter go frew the same torment every time yer see me in the street. ’Er words were, “no farvver is better than ’alf a farvver”. That’s the way she was, Con.’

Connie was looking down at the locket she held in her hand, and Joe followed her eyes. ‘The day I went ter see Kate she said she wanted that locket ter be buried wiv ’er. I’m glad ’Elen Bartlett kept it. Maybe Kate ’ad whispered somefing in’er sister’s ear.’

Although the morning was warm Connie shivered. She stood up suddenly and looked down at Joe. ‘I feel as though I’m floatin’,’ she said, trying hard to smile. ‘It seems ’ard ter realise I won’t ’ave ter spend any more time finkin’ an’ wonderin’. Now I’m gonna ’ave ter get used ter callin’ yer “Dad”.’

He was on his feet and he held his arms out to her. She rushed forward and hugged him tightly, squeezing him to her. He could feel her body shuddering as she sobbed uncontrollably.

‘There, there. Let yer tears spill over me, darlin’,’ he said softly as he cuddled her. ‘It’s what dads are for.’

She laughed through her tears and took the handkerchief from his hand. When she had wiped her face Connie looked up into his eyes. ‘Let’s keep the secret, Dad – fer the time bein’,’ she said, her eyes shining.

Joe grinned happily. ‘Yeah. Just the two of us.’

She blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. ‘It’ll ’ave ter be three, Dad. I must tell Billy. I can’t keep it from ’im.’

Joe put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Is that the young lad who was wiv yer last night?’

Connie nodded. ‘We’re goin’ steady. I’m gonna marry ’im next year.’

‘Oh, ’e’s proposed, then?’

Connie laughed. ‘No. ’E doesn’t know yet.’

Joe shook his head, the grin spreading. ‘Jus’ like yer mum. The poor lad won’t ’ave a chance. Anyway luv, when you two do get married I ’ope yer gonna let me give yer away.’

She laughed happily. ‘Who else? After all, you are me dad.’

Bright summer sunlight shone in Connie’s eyes as she stepped into the street. Children were gathering around Tony Armeda’s ice-cream cart and along the turning Widow Pacey was whitening her front doorstep. Connie looked over to the ruined buildings and her mind went back to the first faltering steps she had taken on her first date. It seemed a lifetime away to her now. At last she knew the path that she had been following so fatefully. It had led her to her first love. It had led her to happiness, and then had cast her down to the depths of despair and degradation. But she knew that she had never really been alone. Someone had walked the path before her and from the shadows she had been led out into the light. Now she had been brought home again, to her father.

And there was Billy. She saw him now, coming towards her along the street and without hesitation she ran to him and threw her arms around him. She looked up into his dark, startled eyes and said, ‘I’ve so much ter tell yer, Billy.’