On Mother Brown's Doorstep (30 page)

‘I’ve made a few friends lately.’

‘Well, I’m glad to ’ear it,’ she said, and let him go up to his room. She wondered if there was any money in that cupboard. He got a decent wage and he’d collected from an insurance company when his wife fell out of that train and went to her death, poor woman. Queenie felt she wouldn’t mind a bit of a loan that would pay for her and Stan to have a week in Margate.

Scotland Yard men were in dogged pursuance of the conviction that the man they were after had been known to the murdered girl and the two still missing. For the two still missing, they had the gravest concern, and at the moment were conducting exhaustive enquiries in and around the respective areas in which the three girls had lived.

Good Friday being a holiday, Susie had a word with Sammy at four o’clock on Thursday afternoon. First, might she leave now to go to certain shops before they closed?

‘You might, Miss Brown, except—’

‘Thank you, Sammy.’ Second, might she point out that when they next met it would be at the altar?’

‘What altar?’

‘Yes, I hope I remember which one too. Sammy, I just want to say thanks for everything, for givin’ me a chance and believin’ in me when I had my first job on your market stall, and for – oh, you know.’

‘What, Susie?’

‘For lovin’ me and askin’ me. I like it, don’t you, Sammy?’

‘Marryin’ each other?’ said Sammy.

‘Yes, it’s such a nice idea,’ smiled Susie, ‘and don’t forget to promise to love, honour and obey.’

‘Me? Me do what?’

‘Yes, it’ll be best that way,’ said Susie. ‘I’ll speak to the vicar.’

‘You Susie—’

‘There’s a good boy. See you Saturday, love.’ Susie kissed him and departed, leaving Sammy floored. She looked in on Boots.

‘Going?’ said Boots, seeing she had her hat on.

‘Yes, to do some quick shoppin’,’ said Susie. ‘Boots, thanks ever so.’

‘What for?’

‘For bein’ on my side all the time.’

‘Orders from above,’ said Boots. ‘Years ago.’

‘Your mum?’

‘Yes. Make sure, she said, that your disreputable brother Sammy puts a ring on Susie’s finger now she’s growing ladylike.’

‘I bet you said that, not your mum.’

‘Same thing. Good luck, Susie.’

‘Em’ly’s all right?’

‘Fine.’

‘It’s rotten about her anaemia. Oh, I’ve got to fly. ‘Bye, Boots.’

Not until ten past five did Sammy remember something he’d forgotten. He wasn’t surprised his brains were failing him. The wedding was only two fateful days away. He opened the top drawer of his desk. It contained four small packages wrapped in white decorative paper. One bore Susie’s name, and the others were for the three bridesmaids, Sally, Rosie and Annabelle. He took out the packets for Susie and Sally, and called Ronnie in. Ronnie arrived briskly at his desk.

‘Got your bike, Ronnie?’

‘You bet, sir.’

‘Good,’ said Sammy. Ronnie could deliver to Susie and Sally, and Boots would take care of the packets for Rosie and Annabelle. He himself would be working late. Well, it was Good Friday tomorrow, the wedding on Saturday and then the honeymoon. ‘I recollect, Ronnie, that you did me a favour last week. You can do me another. Same house. Kindly hand in these packets, and make sure you don’t
lose
either of ’em. You’ve heard about bein’ buried alive, have you?’

‘That I have, Mister Sammy, and I don’t fancy havin’ it ’appen to me,’ said Ronnie.

‘Well, it will if these don’t get safely delivered. Buzz off in immediate fashion and then go home.’

‘Right, sir,’ said Ronnie. He looked at the names on the packets, and a little grin showed. Off he went, riding his bike at speed along the Walworth Road.

It was Freddy who came to the door this time.

‘Hello,’ said Ronnie, ‘how’s your father?’

‘I’d ask ’im,’ said Freddy, ‘only ’e ain’t ’ome from work yet.’

‘Might I see Miss Sally Brown?’

Freddy turned and shouted.

‘Sally, there’s a bloke wants to see yer!’

Sally came to the door and Freddy left them to it.

‘I know you,’ she said.

‘Am I addressin’ Miss Sally Brown?’ asked Ronnie.

‘Don’t start that again,’ said Sally, ‘or I’ll call me mum to ’elp you put a sock in it.’

‘Would you like me to come in an’ meet her?’ asked Ronnie.

‘You can meet ’er at the weddin’, if you’re really comin’,’ said Sally, ‘and you can ’ave a dance with ’er.’ She saw the two small packets in his hand. Presents had been arriving at intervals. ‘You sure you should’ve asked for me? I mean, are those for Susie? She’s not in yet.’

‘It says Miss Sally Brown on this packet, and I’m deliverin’ it with the compliments of Mr Sammy Adams.’

‘Honest? It’s for me?’

‘He asked me to safeguard it with me life or I’d get buried alive.’

‘Well, I believe that,’ said Sally. She took the packet
and
saw her name on it. ‘You sure ’e hasn’t made a mistake?’

‘Workin’ as I do with Mr Sammy Adams, I can tell you he doesn’t go in for makin’ mistakes,’ said Ronnie.

‘Well, thanks for bringing this,’ said Sally. He gave her the packet for Susie. ‘An’ for this one as well.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ said Ronnie, ‘a pleasure, yer know.’

‘I don’t want to keep you,’ said Sally.

‘All right, I’ll buzz off now, shall I?’

‘Yes, we’re sort of busy,’ said Sally, wondering what Sammy had sent her, but willing to wait a bit before opening it.

‘Yes, you’ve got the weddin’,’ said Ronnie, ‘so I won’t come in.’

‘No, all right,’ said Sally.

‘So long, then.’

‘So long,’ said Sally.

‘See you at the weddin’,’ said Ronnie.

‘You’ll see my dad as well, so don’t try to get off with me.’

‘Why not?’

‘’E’ll bash your face in,’ said Sally.

‘I still like you,’ grinned Ronnie, and went off whistling again.

Sally opened her packet and disclosed het bridesmaid’s present, a lovely chased silver bracelet. With it was a note from Sammy.

‘
To Sally, my new sister. Lots of love, Sally love. Sammy
.’

Susie’s bridal present was a gold bracelet, suitably engraved. Susie, on receipt of it, wondered if she could ask the lovely man to give Sally a job in one of the firm’s shops.

Annie was preparing for battle. Not of a noisy kind or of
the
kind where blood would flow. Nor of the kind that would spoil the wedding celebrations. The battlefield would be a quiet corner in the Institute. Will wouldn’t finish up actually wounded, but he might have a headache as well as an earache. She’d let him know she wasn’t going to be kissed like he’d kissed her and then be expected to listen to him more or less saying that the most she could look forward to was a picture postcard from somewhere in India. Just you wait, Will Brown.

Will was preparing to enjoy the wedding as much as he could, without having any idea of what was going to hit him. Aside from that, Dr McManus had asked him this morning if Annie used scent. Scent? Yes, you could be allergic to scent. That could have brought on your attack after you left her on Sunday night. I don’t think Annie uses scent, said Will, but Susie does. Not every scent need affect you, said Dr McManus. I’m a case for the dustbin if any scent at all affects me, said Will.

The evening being sunny, Boots and Emily took a walk. Tim and Rosie went with them, except that Rosie took Tim by the hand and made him walk with her in advance of their parents.

‘What you doing this for?’ asked Tim.

‘So that Mum and Dad can have lovey-dovey Easter talk,’ said Rosie.

‘What, about choc’late Easter eggs?’ asked Tim hopefully.

‘Crikey, what a clever boy,’ said Rosie, ‘fancy guessing right.’ She was sure, however, that Boots was going to talk to Emily about her being too thin.

Emily was saying, ‘Boots, I’m goin’ to see Dr McManus. Dr Thompson said I could if I want, he said a second opinion might help.’

‘Good idea,’ said Boots.

‘I don’t want to end up as a collection of walkin’ bones,’ said Emily.

‘You’d rattle,’ said Boots lightly. It was one way of bringing a smile to her face, making little jokes. She didn’t like anyone being a wet blanket about her condition. Wet blankets had never been a great favourite with Emily.

She was smiling as she said, ‘Stop tryin’ to make me laugh, I might come apart.’

‘Not you, Em, you’ll always soldier on.’

‘Bless yer,’ said Emily. ‘Look at our Rosie, she’s always so nice with Tim. Aren’t we lucky, all of us havin’ each other? Is Polly Simms goin’ to write to you?’

‘Hello, where did that question come from?’ asked Boots.

‘From all me suspicions that she’s only gone to darkest Africa so’s she can play hard to get,’ said Emily.

‘Silly girl,’ said Boots.

‘Who, me?’

‘Yes, you,’ said Boots, and put an arm around her waist.

Rosie, glancing back, smiled.

‘There, I told you,’ she said to Tim, who was trying out a hop, skip and jump way of getting along. ‘They’re having lovey-dovey.’

‘I like choc’late Easter eggs better,’ said four-year-old Tim.

THERE WAS NO
day off on Good Friday for some workers, including Henry Brannigan. And of all the cursed luck, he trod on a line on his way to work. Coming out of a baker’s shop, where he’d bought a couple of hot cross buns to eat with his can of mid-morning tea, he stepped aside for two women. If things hadn’t changed a bit for him, he’d have stood his ground or barged his way between them. But his companionship with Madge had been making him act like a gent. He’d been stepping aside, although always with an eye for the lines. This time he did it without taking heed. He actually had a careless moment. Immediately, he knew a line was under the sole of his boot. He knew it. He looked down. Curse it, there it was, his right boot on a line. He had to start watching out for bad luck from then on.

The works manager arrived on the site at twenty to twelve. He spent ten minutes inspecting progress, then demoted the foreman on the spot. He cast his eyes around, then spoke.

‘Brannigan, come here.’

This is it, thought Henry Brannigan, the bleeding bad luck’s caught up with me already, and I’m going to lose a well-paid job. And that means giving Madge the push from the flat.

‘What’s the trouble, guv?’ he asked.

‘The gang’s not pulling its weight, that’s the trouble, Brannigan,’ said the works manager. ‘Your bloody foreman’s useless.’

‘Maybe he is,’ said Henry Brannigan, ‘but I ain’t.’

‘I grant that. How’d you get on with the rest of the men?’

‘I don’t spend time socializin’ with any of ’em, I’ve got me work to do.’

‘Right. You’re the foreman at ten more bob a week. But you’ll be out on your neck if you don’t get the right amount of work out of them. That clear?’

‘That’s clear, guv.’ Henry Brannigan gave no indication of how astounded he was.

‘Right. Inform your gang and get ’em working. That includes Duffy, who’s just lost the foreman’s job.’

Henry Brannigan got the men working and the ex-foreman too, the while wondering if fateful bad luck was going to come chasing after good luck. Bad luck could arrive in the form of a pickaxe being accidentally dropped on his head by one of the men.

Madge spent the day helping at the orphanage with her friend, taking with her six pounds of bull’s-eyes, which she had made up into little packets of five sweets each. She was allowed to give them out to the girls and boys, and was able to talk to the nine-year-old girl, Lucy Peters, who had taken her fancy. Lucy was pathetically eager to have a family adopt her. It did happen from time to time, one child or another being given a home, and they were nearly always the younger children.

‘Where’s that scatty girl got to?’ grumbled Freddy, and went out to the gate to have another look for her. Will had taken Sally and Susie for a tram ride all the way to Purley, to help calm the nerves of tomorrow’s bride and bridesmaid. But we’ve got things to do, Susie had said. No, you haven’t, said Will, everything’s organized, and the pair of
you
are only trying to find something that isn’t. So at two o’clock, the three of them left, by which time young Cassie was late. She’d said she’d come round at a quarter to two and go to Ruskin Park again on his bike. She’d bring Tabby, she said. You won’t, said Freddy. Cassie said perhaps his mum would mind him again then. Mum and Dad’s going for a walk, said Freddy. Oh, I’ll bring his piece of string, said Cassie, and they can take him with them. Freddy ordered her to leave the daft cat at home. Oh, all right, I’ll see, said Cassie.

It was now a quarter to three, and Freddy was by himself, his mum and dad out on their walk. So he rode round to Cassie’s house in Blackwood Street, although he knew he might miss her if she was on her way, because she could wander dreamily in all directions before arriving in Caulfield Place.

There was no answer. Mr Ford had taken Annie, Nellie and Charlie for a bus ride to Hyde Park, the day being warm and fine, the April breeze quite balmy. Freddy started to ride around the back streets in a search for his wandering mate. He rode everywhere he could think of, stopping once or twice to ask kids if they’d seen Cassie Ford. Who’s she? He described her. No, we ain’t seen her. He kept going back home during his tour of the streets, but there was no Cassie, and his parents were still out. They were actually in the house of neighbours in Browning Street, having been invited in for a cup of tea and a bit of a chat.

By half-past four, Freddy was frankly a worried lad. Cassie wasn’t so daft as to lose herself. He rode again to Blackwood Street, but she wasn’t at home, nor was anyone else. He asked a girl if she’d seen Cassie Ford.

‘Yes, I seen ’er come out of ’er house ages ago,’ said the girl.

‘
D
’yer know what time it was?’ asked Freddy.

‘Well, I might if I ’ad a watch, but I ain’t. It was just ages ago.’

That really worried Freddy. Again he searched around, and again he went back home. Nobody was there. So he rode to Rodney Road police station and told the desk sergeant all about Cassie and how she was missing.