Lover (38 page)

‘I don't believe it.'

‘Well, they must have some evidence, or—'

‘I'm telling you, Ted didn't do it! There's another one out there doing the killing, and this lot—' she jerked her head towards the police station, ‘—want him to get on with it and see us all off. That'd save them a heap of trouble, wouldn't it?'

‘Come off it, Eileen, they're only doing their job.'

‘No they bloody well aren't! If they were, they'd have caught the bastard, wouldn't they?'

‘Well, there's not a lot we can do, is there? Come on. I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink.'

We went across to the Swiss on Old Compton Street and had a couple of Gin and Its, but it didn't help. Eileen was grumbling on about the police, and I knew she was as scared about going out as I was, only we'd got to the point where it wasn't worth talking about it. Seeing it like that, in black and white
, suffocated and slashed
, made me feel really sick. I sat and thought about it for a while, and then I said, ‘Well, as I see it, there's only one thing we can do.'

‘What's that?'

‘I suppose we ought to have done it before, but…'

‘
What
?'

‘Find Lucy. Talk to her.'

‘The girl who helped you? How can we?'

‘Well, there's this warden I know, and I think he might help us if I ask him right. I know it's not like the police, but he might be able to find out where the canteen came from. It's got to be better than us asking, hasn't it? Then, if we find her, we can ask her how come she's got Lily's card. I mean, it might be something or nothing, but at least we'd know, wouldn't we?'

‘I suppose. It's got to be better than nothing. This warden, when will you see him?'

‘He usually comes round the shelters, so I'll have a word then. But right now, I'd better get off home and do myself up.'

‘You're never going out, Rene?'

‘No choice.'

It wasn't too lively, which was a blessing, because another big raid would have just about finished me. As it was, I don't know how I got through it, but by midnight I'd managed to make six pounds. I saw one regular that I took back. He always wants a little scene where he pretends I've caught him stealing and goes down on his knees and begs my forgiveness. In some ways it's money for old rope, because you don't have to take your clothes off and you can charge the full amount for it, but it does mean you have to do the play-acting, getting angry and the rest of it, so you've got to put your mind to it, and it took far longer than it should have done because I was all over the place.

By the time I knocked off and went to collect my things for the shelter, I was too exhausted to think about Harry, or Lucy, or Dora, or anything, except sleep. I tottered round to Soho Square, found a place to sit, and that was the end of that until the All-Clear went at six thirty.

It was lovely to take off my clothes and slip into bed, and as I drifted back to sleep, I remembered how nice and cosy it was, lying there with Tommy's little arm round me, being able to stroke his hair… I slept until eleven, when Harry knocked on the door. I was a bit embarrassed at being all untidy, but Harry didn't seem to mind, just said he'd wait on the landing while I got dressed.

When I opened the door, he said, ‘Good. Now then, let's start again, shall we?' and he took me in his arms and gave me a kiss. It was just as nice as the first time, especially when he stroked my hair and said, ‘You don't know how glad I was to see you in that shelter, Rene. I really thought…well, I thought…that was it.'

I laughed and said, ‘You don't need to worry about me, I'm as tough as old boots.'

‘Well, it's lovely to see you anyway. Let's do that again, shall we?'

So we had another kiss, and when we came apart he said, ‘I'm getting very fond of you, you stubborn old thing.'

‘Less of the old, if you don't mind. I'm very fond of you, too.' I took his hand and led him over to the armchair. ‘Now then, you sit down here while I make us a pot of tea, and then there's something I've got to tell you.'

When I brought the tray through, Harry said, ‘They gave me your note at the post, but before you say anything—if you won't take my money, at least let me give you these.' And he held up a packet of Players.

‘Harry! You are a dear. I was getting desperate. But you can't give me all these; what are you going to do?'

He waved a finger at me and shook his head.

‘You've got a contact, haven't you?'

‘Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies. Perks of the job, you might say.'

‘Fair enough. I won't pry. But you've got to have one, at least.' I lit two and passed one over, and then I got stuck into the story about Lucy and the handkerchief and Lily's cigarette card in the blue case and getting the bum's rush from the copper at Tottenham Court Road.

Harry thought for a moment and said, ‘I spoke to that girl—the one who helped you. Lucy, her name was, I remember that, but… Armstrong? No, that's not right. It'll come to me in a minute.'

‘I wondered if you'd be able to find out where she came from. Which centre, I mean.'

‘I don't see why not. I can ask, anyway. But it's all a bit complicated—nobody knows what anyone else is doing, most of the time… Armitage. That's it! Lucy Armitage.'

‘It sounds right.'

‘I'm sure it is. I've met her before, you know. In Soho. She was meeting her young man. RAF, if I remember rightly.'

‘Yes, he was. I've seen her too, Harry, in the shelter at Soho Square. Only the once, but he was there with her.'

Harry said, ‘Supposing I do find her, what are you going to do, Rene? I agree it couldn't be her doing this, but if whoever gave her this thing is…who you think he is…it could be dangerous. It could even be him, you know. The boyfriend.'

‘That's why I need to talk to her. She could be in danger too, couldn't she?'

‘Well, not necessarily. He might only be interested in…in…'

‘Tarts? Then what's he doing with her?'

‘I don't know, but…yes, that's what I meant.' Harry looked embarrassed. ‘Rene, I'm sorry. It's just that there are some queer people out there, and I'm worried about your safety, that's all. Come here.' He held out his arms.

‘I warn you, I'm not as light as I look.'

‘I don't mind. Come on.' He tapped his knee and I went over and sat on it and we had a cuddle.

‘I'll be fine, Harry.'

‘Well…' he stroked my face with the back of his hand. ‘If you only want to talk to her, I suppose it's all right. It's possible that Lily might have dropped it, or something, and she just picked it up off the street.'

‘I expect that's what happened, Harry, but I've got to find out, because if it isn't—'

‘If it isn't, you will be careful, won't you? I mean, you won't do anything without telling me first?'

‘I promise.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes.' I leaned over and kissed him on the lips. ‘A real promise. Signed, sealed, and delivered.'

‘Good. I'll see what I can do, then. If I find, out, what do you want to do next?'

‘I could write her a note. Just saying I'd like to return the handkerchief and thank her properly. I won't mention the cigarette card. I thought I could ask her to come round here. I don't know. Normally, I'd never…not a girl like that, and she might think it isn't respectable, but I've got to do
something
, Harry, and she seemed…for one thing, she came crawling down all that way with that tablet for me, when she didn't have a clue who I was and she could easily have been killed.'

Harry looked a bit doubtful, but in the end he said, ‘I suppose it's worth a try. But if I do manage to find the centre, I think I ought to take the note. The volunteers aren't there all the time, and it might be a day or two. Besides…'

‘Besides what?'

‘Well, it'd look better, wouldn't it? My being a warden. More official.'

‘Yes. Yes, you're right. And you're a darling. I'll write it now, shall I?'

‘In a minute.' He gave me another kiss, and we cuddled for a bit. I must say, Harry's the perfect gentleman, he didn't try to do anything else. I was sitting there enjoying it, when I suddenly realised how easy I could really fall for him, if I let myself, but I can't let him get any funny ideas about trying to ‘rescue' me, because it wouldn't work.

In the end, I said, ‘Come on, let me up, I've got to get this letter written, and then I'd better get round to Dora, so I can get that handkerchief back and give it a good wash.'

Harry laughed and said, ‘There's romance for you,' but he let me get on with it, then he pocketed the letter and we had a nice farewell on the landing before he went back to the post and I went round to Mrs Lord's.

Dora was very quiet. I said hello, but she didn't seem to notice I was there. It would have been better if she'd cried or done something, but she didn't, just sat there. I sat down next to her and held her hand for a while, and then she said, ‘They've told me that Joe's at the mortuary. They've said they'll tell me when I can have him back.'

I could imagine why it might take time—what that other warden had said about Mr Mitten being like a jigsaw puzzle, it would be the same with Joe: some poor person having to put enough bits together to make a complete body. I said, ‘I suppose they've got a lot to do, but I'm sure you'll get him back soon.' Just so long as she doesn't want to see him, I thought.

She gave me back Lucy's handkerchief, and I gave her some bits I'd bought the day before—chocolate for Tommy, and a tin of cocoa and a few other things. She didn't thank me, just sat there turning them over and over in her hands. Mrs Lord came out onto the landing with me afterwards, and said, ‘I'm that worried about her. She won't eat, just keeps going back to the…you know…' she jerked her thumb in the direction of where Dora's flat had been. ‘She keeps talking about money, too, saying Joe had a pile of it hidden in the flat and she's got to find it. Look at this.' They've got this sink on the landing that they share with the others, and she pulled a basket out from underneath it, full of broken china and scraps of material and whatnot. ‘She brings it back. It's all rubbish, but she won't let me throw it away. I keep telling her there's no money there, but she seems to think it's valuable. She keeps coming out to check it's where she left it.'

‘Oh, dear. I suppose it's the shock. How's Tommy?'

‘Out playing. He seems fine, but you never know with kiddies, do you?'

‘No. But I'm ever so grateful, Mrs Lord, you looking after them like this.'

She shrugged and said, ‘Well, you do what you can…'

‘You are good. I've left a few bits and pieces with Dora, and I'll be back round tomorrow—if you don't mind, that is.'

‘'Course not, dear. You're very welcome.'

It was queer how I felt after that. Thinking of Joe in the mortuary made me angry, the idea that human beings can do that to each other, but then Mrs Lord being so kind made me think there is good in the world, after all. But I suppose wars bring out the best as well as the worst in people, don't they?

What with worrying over Dora, and fretting about whether Harry'd be able to find Lucy Armitage, I'd got myself into quite a state, so this afternoon I thought I'd go to the pictures to see if I could take my mind off it all. There was a comedy at the Tivoli, with Arthur Askey, and I thought that might cheer me up a bit, but the minute I got inside the actual cinema, and it was dark and all I could see was the beam from the usherette's torch, I just froze. It was like being buried all over again. I kept telling myself, just go in and sit down, you'll be fine, but I couldn't. No matter what I did, I couldn't make myself walk into the dark.

In the end I went home and gave Lucy's handkerchief a good old boil up on the stove, then I got dressed up for work. Just as I was going out, I remembered Lily's little blue felt envelope was in my pocket, and put it on the mantelpiece for safekeeping. Harry told me he'll come round the shelter tonight and tell me how he'd got on with tracking Lucy down, so all I can do now is wait.

F
inally completed my letter to Tom and posted it on Wednesday, although heaven knows when it'll reach him—letters take such ages, now. Told him all about Mrs Dorn's baby—well, most of it—and about the mobile canteen and the ‘incident'. Such a nondescript word for a matter of life or death, isn't it? Hope it didn't sound too much like boasting, because I know it's nothing, really, when you compare it to what the RAF do every day. However, I shouldn't like Tom to think I'm doing nothing while he's risking his life.

I arrived home from the office yesterday—only half an hour's delay, hallelujah!—and Minnie handed me a letter. She looked very reproachful, and I saw why when I turned it over: it was from Tom! Tried to be nonchalant, asking what was for dinner and whether she'd done all the blackouts, but fear I didn't succeed too well; it must have been blindingly obvious that I couldn't wait to read it. I tore upstairs the minute I could, flung myself down on my bed and ripped it open. It's dated Monday— five days ago!

It was short and very sweet. Old-fashioned. He hoped it wasn't a liberty, but he likes me very much and wants to see me again. He's got some leave coming up, a forty-eight hour pass, and he wants to meet me in London
this evening
—it only just reached me in time! At the bottom he put,
You needn't write back if this suits, because I may not get the letter in time
. I had to stuff my knuckles into my mouth not to shout out loud from sheer happiness.