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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
London, 1920. The three Bentley children are used to fending for themselves. Their widowed mother has been forced to take a night job at Grant's clothing factory, and sees them only at breakfast and on Sundays. But at nearly eighteen, and with a job as a housemaid to help make ends meet, Dora is well able to look after her younger siblings Tom and Lily. Then one morning their mother fails to appear for breakfast, and when Dora is told by the gatekeeper at Grant's factory that no one by the name of Harriet Bentley has ever worked there, the children grow worried. They know their mother loves them, and cannot believe she would deliberately deceive them. With the help of a neighbour, a former policeman who was badly injured during the War, Dora and her siblings start to investigate
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Seitenzahl: 455
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015
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Diamonds in the Dust
BERYL MATTHEWS
Contents
Chapter One
Kilburn, London, May 1920
‘Where’s Mum?’
‘I expect she’s had to stay late at the factory.’ Dora resisted the temptation to glance at the clock on the shelf. The last thing she must do is show she was worried; Lily was only six and very sensitive. She smiled at her little sister. ‘Eat your bread and jam.’
Lily’s green eyes fixed on Dora anxiously. ‘Mum’s always home for breakfast and to take me to school.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll take you today.’
‘What about after?’ Lily nibbled on a piece of bread.
‘Mum’ll be home by then, but if she’s too tired and can’t come for you, I’ll get off work early and collect you.’
‘You’d better let me do that.’ Tom didn’t look worried – he was very annoyed. ‘You’ll lose your job if you’re not careful. Mum knows she’s got to be back by breakfast to take care of Lily!’
Dora gave her brother a grateful look. At twelve years old he was turning into a strapping lad, and a sensible one. She disliked her job as a daily housemaid, but she didn’t want to get the sack. Jobs weren’t easy to come by. ‘Thanks Tom. I’ll go to the factory first and see what’s keeping Mum.’
‘It isn’t like her. She’s never missed breakfast with us before.’ Tom groaned when he saw Lily. She’d finished the bread and now had jam all over her face and hands. He got a damp cloth and began cleaning her up, making her laugh as he teased. ‘You’re supposed to spread the jam on the bread, not all over yourself.’
Dora watched her brother and sister fooling around. They all had fair hair like their mother, and green eyes like their father. But there the similarity ended. Tom was a strong character and so was she, but Lily was delicate, very sensitive, and they all felt protective towards her. Their mum would sometimes be a few minutes late, but she never missed being home in time to have breakfast with them. Although they didn’t see much of her because she worked all night and slept most of the day, she loved them and was working the night shift because the pay was better. Their dad had been killed in the war and things had been tough for a while. Mum had been determined that her children would have a decent life, and things had improved since she’d got this night job two years ago. They’d moved out of the slums and now rented a nice house, and they never went short of food. They were much better off than a lot of people, and that was all because their mum worked so hard for them. But where was she this morning? She had never been late before. Joining them for breakfast was one thing she had always said was important.
‘That’s better.’ Tom studied Lily carefully. ‘You’ll have to be careful the flies don’t stick to you.’
Lily giggled and grabbed her brother’s hand. ‘I might stick to you.’
He made a pretence of trying to free himself from her hand, making her dance around in delight. ‘It’s no good, Dora, I’m stuck to her. I’ll have to take her to school now.’
‘I guess you will, but you’ll have to get free by the time you get there, because you’ll look out of place in the little class.’ She joined in the teasing. Tom had successfully taken Lily’s mind off her worry about her mum, but she wasn’t fooled. Tom wouldn’t hesitate to tell their mother what he thought about her not being here this morning. It was the only time they saw her really. By six o’clock every evening she was gone again. Since their father had been killed, he considered himself to be the man of the house, and was not afraid to speak out if he thought something wasn’t right.
Still holding his sister’s hand, he leant towards Dora. ‘I’ll be outside the Barringtons’ at lunchtime to see what you’ve found out. This isn’t right. She must have been taken bad, or something.’
‘If that’s the case then someone should have let us know, not left us to worry like this. I’ll go to Grant’s factory now.’
Tom nodded, then turned his attention to Lily. ‘Come on you sticky thing, or we’ll be late.’
Lily turned and waved to Dora, showing no sign of her earlier distress as she gazed up at her adored big brother. As they saw very little of their mother it was left to Dora and Tom to look after Lily. Not that they minded – they both loved the little girl.
As soon as they’d left the house, Dora checked that she had enough in her purse for the bus ride, and ran up the road. She caught a bus straight away, and in fifteen minutes was standing outside the gates of Grant’s. Dora had never been inside the clothes factory, but knew it had a reputation for being a sweatshop. Whenever she’d mentioned to her mum that she ought to try and find a better job, she had just laughed and said it wasn’t too bad.
‘We ain’t got no jobs going,’ a man on the gate told her briskly.
‘I’m not after work. I’ve come about my mum. She works here on the night shift and hasn’t come home this morning.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘We ain’t got no night shift.’
‘Of course you have.’ If Dora hadn’t been so worried she would have laughed. Was the man daft? ‘She’s worked here for two years. Her name’s Harriet Bentley. Go and ask someone for me … please,’ she added.
He shrugged and ambled off, muttering, ‘Waste of time. We ain’t got no night shift.’
It seemed an age before he returned, and Dora was relieved to see another man with him – a man in a proper suit. Perhaps she’d get some sense out of him?
‘Now then, what’s this all about?’ he asked when he reached her.
‘I’m looking for my mum, Harriet Bentley. She works here on the night shift and hasn’t come home this morning.’
‘I told her we ain’t got no night shift, Mr Rogers, but she don’t believe me.’ The gatekeeper cast Dora an aggrieved glance.
Mr Rogers opened the large book he was carrying, scanning down the list of names. Then he closed it and shook his head. ‘No one by the name of Bentley works here, and Dave’s right, we don’t have a night shift.’
Dora was stunned, unable to take in what she was hearing. ‘But … but … Mum said she works here. I’m not simple, I know what I was told. She leaves home at six every evening and comes home in time for breakfast, except Sunday when she has the day off.’
‘I’m sorry, but she doesn’t work here, and never has done, according to our books.’
It felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under her. What was going on? Dora was confused – and she never got confused. Her mum always said she had a good clear head on her. She curled her fingers around the wrought iron gate to steady herself. There had been a mistake, that was all. Taking a deep breath, she asked, ‘Is there another factory near here that does have a night shift?’
‘Not that I know of.’ Mr Rogers tucked the book securely under his arm and said kindly, ‘Why don’t you go home? I expect your mum’s there by now.’
Bewildered as she was, Dora didn’t forget her manners. ‘Thank you for seeing me, sir.’
‘Sorry I couldn’t help.’
Dora stood there for a moment as he walked away, questions racing through her head. Why had her mum told her she worked here when she didn’t? And she was positive she had the right place. What should she do now? Go home like the man said? No, there was no point. Tom and Lily were at school. If Mum came home she would send word to the Barrington house, knowing Dora would be worried.
That thought galvanised her into motion, making her spin round and run for the bus stop, forcing her legs to move. She was late! Whatever was going on today, she mustn’t lose her job.
Dora burst into the kitchen and nearly sent the housekeeper flying. ‘I’m so … sorry …’ she gasped, bending over in an effort to draw air into her lungs.
‘You’re twenty minutes late.’ Mrs Marsden studied the clock for a moment and then glared sternly at Dora. ‘I hope you have a good reason for this tardiness?’
‘The bus didn’t come.’ It was the only excuse she could think of. Whatever had happened to their mum was their business, and no one else’s. She made a great show of still gasping for air. ‘I ran all the way.’
The housekeeper’s expression relaxed a little. ‘I can see you’ve made a great effort to be here on time, and you’re usually reliable, so I’ll overlook it this time. But make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘I will, Mrs Marsden. And thank you, Mrs Marsden.’
Dora was handed a list of her duties for the day and, breathing a quiet sigh of relief that she’d got away with being late, she wasted no time in getting down to her allotted tasks. It was a relief to be busy because she still couldn’t believe what the man at the factory had told her. Now she’d had time to think she was quite frightened. Their mum would never abandon them – she cared about them. But where was she?
Dora scrubbed and dusted with total concentration in an effort to push away the worry – but it was impossible. All the time she silently prayed that there was a simple explanation for all of this, and they would be laughing about it tonight. Yes, that was right, she assured herself, they would be finding it all a great joke tonight.
When it was time for her lunch break, she slipped out the back and found her brother waiting for her. He was pacing, a deep frown on his face.
‘I nipped home first, Dora, but she still isn’t there. What did you find out?’
She explained and watched her brother’s mouth drop open in disbelief.
‘You mean she’s been telling us lies all this time? Bloody hell, Dora, what’s going on? And where is she?’
‘Watch your language, Tom,’ Dora reprimanded sharply. ‘Swearing won’t help to solve this mystery.’
By way of an apology he grimaced and held up his hands. ‘You’re right. But what are we going to do? I thought it would be simple. All you had to do was go to the factory and they’d tell you where she was. We’ve got to find her. But where do we start?’
‘We’ll have to decide that tonight, and Lily will have to be told.’
Tom nodded agreement. ‘This is going to upset her, but she’s a bright kid, and it’ll be better if she knows what’s going on. I’ll collect her from school.’ Tom ran a hand through his hair. ‘Er … I’d better get something for our supper. You got any money, Dora?’
Keeping enough for her bus fare, Dora gave him the two shillings she had left in her purse. ‘I’ve got to get back to work now, Tom. I’ll see you tonight, and if Mum still isn’t home, we’ll decide what we’re going to do.’
He pocketed the coins. ‘I hope she’s all right.’
‘Me too.’ Dora lifted her head, a determined look in her eyes. ‘We’ll find her, Tom.’
‘Course we will. It’s all some daft mistake, I expect.’
The afternoon seemed never-ending, but eventually the day was over and Dora could head for home. She felt sick with worry. Every time a visitor came to the house she waited anxiously, hoping it was word from her mum. But it never was, and as the day dragged on, the knot in her stomach got tighter and tighter.
As she stepped through the door she was greeted with a scene so normal that it stopped her in her tracks. Tom was busy cooking the supper, and Lily was reading a book, following every word with her finger. She loved books, and Dora was sure she hadn’t been able to read as well when she’d been Lily’s age. She showed all the signs of being very bright.
Lily glanced up. ‘Mum hasn’t come home. Has she left us? Doesn’t she love us any more?’
When her sister’s bottom lip trembled, Dora was immediately by her side. ‘Of course she still loves us, sweetie.’
‘Then where is she?’
‘We don’t know, but we’ll find out, and we’ll need your help as well.’
Tom put the plates of sausages and mash on the table. ‘Eat up before it gets cold, then we’ll put our heads together and decide what we’re going to do.’ He smiled at Lily. ‘Don’t you worry. People don’t just disappear. We’ll soon have her back with us.’
Dora knew her brother was only saying this to comfort the little girl. They knew all too well that people did disappear for no apparent reason. And they’d already run up against a dead end with the discovery that their mum had never worked at Grant’s.
Lily stopped with a forkful of sausage halfway to her mouth, fear in her eyes. ‘You won’t leave me, will you?’
‘Not a chance!’ Tom pinched the piece of sausage off her fork and popped it into his mouth. ‘The three of us are in this together, and we’re going to look after each other.’
Happy with this reply, Lily cut another piece of sausage and ate it quickly before her brother could take it again. Then she smiled at both of them and began to eat with obvious enjoyment. She trusted her brother and sister, and if they said it was going to be all right, then it was going to be.
As soon as the meal was finished, Dora washed, Tom dried and Lily put the crocks away. Then they settled around the table again. There was silence as each one tried to come up with a way to find their mum.
After a while Dora shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do. I was sure it would just be a case of checking with the factory, but they say she’s never worked there. Where on earth do we start looking?’
‘We could try the hospitals,’ Tom suggested.
Dora nodded. ‘Tomorrow’s my half day off so I’ll visit the local ones.’
Lily was kneeling on the chair and leaning across the table, her little face serious. ‘We ought to tell the police. They’re good at finding people.’
‘Not yet.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Suppose Mum turns up soon and finds out we’ve made a fuss. She’ll be furious. You know how strict she is about people knowing our business, Lily, so we’d better keep this to ourselves for the time being. We don’t know what’s happened, but she might turn up at any minute.’
The little girl looked worried.
‘Tom’s right, sweetie, and someone might try to split us up if they know we’re on our own. I’m eighteen in a couple of weeks, and the local authorities will probably consider I’m old enough to take care of you and Tom. I don’t know much about it, of course, but let’s not risk it just yet.’
‘But you take care of us now.’ Lily was puzzled. ‘Mum isn’t here very much.’
‘I know, but the authorities might not like the idea of us living on our own.’
Lily huffed. ‘You take good care of us, and I’ll tell them.’
‘I’m sure that will help.’ Dora reached across and patted her sister’s hand. ‘But I think we’ll keep it quiet for the moment. There’s something very strange about Mum’s disappearance, and I’d like to find out for myself why she lied to us.’
Lily nodded.
‘I agree with you, Dora,’ Tom said. ‘But I don’t think we can do this on our own. We do need help, but who is there we can we ask? We haven’t got any other family that we know of.’
‘Mr Crawford used to be a copper.’
‘What, the man who lives two doors down?’ Tom frowned. ‘How do you know that? We’ve never spoken to him.’
Lily wriggled until she was nearly on the table. ‘June at school told me. He’s her uncle. He was a policeman before the war, but he got hurt in the fighting and they won’t take him back. He’d know what to do. June said he’s very nice, so I ’spect he’d keep quiet if we asked him to.’
‘Even so, Lily, I can’t imagine he’d want to help us …’
‘There’s no harm in going to see him, Dora. We haven’t got anyone else to turn to. He can only tell us to clear off. And we don’t have to tell him who we’re looking for until we know he will help us.’
‘You’re right, of course …’
Lily scrambled off her chair. ‘It’s still light so we can go now.’
‘He might not be in,’ Dora protested. She had grave doubts about this. They’d seen Mr Crawford around, but he’d never spoken to them. He seemed badly injured, and she didn’t believe he could be much help. But Lily was insistent.
‘He don’t go out much.’ Lily was already on her way.
Dora and Tom followed their determined little sister. She was the only one who had come up with an idea. Dora didn’t think it was a very good idea, but it was all they had at the moment.
Chapter Two
Stanley Crawford gazed out of the window, frustration gnawing away at him. He was twenty-eight, in the prime of life, and he felt as if he’d been thrown on the rubbish heap. A generation of young men had been slaughtered, and some of the maimed and mentally damaged were begging in the streets in a desperate effort to support themselves and their families. What had their sacrifices been for? What had that bloody war been for? Thank the Lord he didn’t have to resort to begging, though the police force wouldn’t have him back. That was what he really wanted to do, but he was desperate enough to take any job. The trouble was that as soon as he walked in on crutches, there suddenly weren’t any jobs. He’d dumped the damned things in the shed and was struggling to make do with a stick. It was hard going, but he was determined to get around like that.
He leant heavily on the stick and sighed. It was a beautiful May evening and he should go to the local pub for a pint, but it all seemed so aimless. What he needed was something to make him feel useful and occupy his mind. The doctors didn’t hold out much hope that he would ever gain full use of his leg again, but he wasn’t listening to them. He was going to walk properly, and then the police force would have to consider him. He knew he was going to have to fight as fiercely as he had in the trenches, but he had to succeed, or there would be only empty years ahead of him. In the meantime he mustn’t allow self-pity to overwhelm him. He was a lot better off than many of the men who’d fought in that terrible war. This house was his, left to him by his grandfather along with a small inheritance. It wasn’t much, but if he was careful he could manage quite well. The money wouldn’t last much more than another year or two, though, so he’d have to find employment soon.
He watched three youngsters walking along hand in hand and recognised them as the Bentley children. From the little he’d seen of them they were well behaved and always clean and tidy. A rare smile touched his mouth as he studied the youngest. She was going to be a real beauty when she grew up. The eldest girl wasn’t bad, either. She was quite pretty in a serious kind of way, with a strong sense of responsibility, he guessed. They did have a mother, he knew, because he had seen her a few times, but she never spoke, and didn’t appear to be around much.
The smile disappeared as they hesitated at his gate, had a hurried discussion, and then came up the path. What the …? He swore as he turned too quickly and nearly lost his balance. He was tempted not to answer the knock on his door, but curiosity got the better of him.
When he opened the door he glanced at the youngest and found himself mesmerised by a pair of bright green eyes.
‘I’m at school with June.’ Lily didn’t give anyone else a chance to speak. ‘She said you used to be a policeman. We need help.’
‘That was a long time ago.’
‘You’re clever. June said so.’
‘I can’t imagine how I could be of any help to you.’ He tapped the stick, wanting to get rid of them now. ‘As you can see, I can’t get around very well.’
Lily looked at the stick, and then up at his face. ‘You can tell us what to do. You don’t have to be able to walk to do that.’
‘Lily!’ The older girl scolded. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Crawford, we shouldn’t have bothered you.’
He could feel the concern coming from them as they turned away, and their crestfallen expressions at his response tugged at him. He must be mad, but what else did he have to do? ‘Wait! Why don’t you come in and tell me all about it?’
Lily rushed in without hesitation, pulling her brother and sister behind her, declaring, ‘There, I told you he was nice.’
He ushered them into the front room and waited as they all sat close together on the settee, clearly nervous. Then he eased himself into a chair. ‘First of all tell me your names.’
‘I’m Dora, this is Tom and Lily, my brother and sister.’
He nodded. ‘What’s the problem, and how do you think I can help you?’
‘We need to find someone and we don’t know how to do it.’ He leant forward, intrigued. Dora had said someone, not something. ‘Do you know where they live?’
Tom nodded. ‘They’re not there.’
‘If they’ve got a job you could check with their employers.’
‘We’ve done that, sir,’ Tom said. ‘We was told they worked at Grant’s on the night shift, but they haven’t got a night shift, and they told Dora that sh … this person’s never worked there.’
He sat bolt upright as a picture came into his head of their mother leaving the house every evening around six o’clock. ‘Are you talking about your mother?’
‘Blimey, sir, you soon worked that one out.’ Tom was impressed.
Lily’s face had drained of all colour at the mention of her mother. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone, Mr Crawford. Dora said that people might not like us being on our own, but she takes good care of us, always has.’
For a moment he was speechless. Then it began to dawn on him the predicament these youngsters now found themselves in. He didn’t know how old Dora was, but her suitability for caring for her siblings might well be questioned.
‘Please!’ Lily had scrambled off the settee and was now standing in front of him, her eyes pleading. ‘I don’t want no one to take me away. Dora’s eighteen soon. We’ll be all right then.’
‘I promise not to mention it. Whatever you tell me is between us only.’ He smiled reassuringly at Lily, noting that Dora was older than he had first thought. ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll sort this out.’
A little colour seeped back into Lily’s face, and she returned to her seat.
Stan could feel his mind beginning to work, just like the old days. It was odd that the children believed their mother worked nights when she clearly didn’t. He was intrigued – no, more than that, he was excited by the mystery. ‘Let’s deal with the practical things first. Are you renting the house you live in?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, then don’t tell the landlord your mother isn’t there. Dora, can you afford to pay the rent, and who usually gives him the money?’
‘I have a little put by. It’ll last for a couple of weeks, and I’ve got a job. I usually pay the rent collector when he calls.’
‘Good, then he won’t be suspicious if he doesn’t see your mother. Now you’d better tell me the whole story. Don’t leave anything out even if it seems trivial to you. I need every detail.’
As he listened to Dora explain about their missing mother, Stan felt the back of his neck begin to tingle. He didn’t like what he was hearing. This woman obviously thought a lot of her children, and they of her. She would not have walked out on them without a word. The lie about the kind of work she was doing was worrying. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He hoped he was wrong, but his instinct was telling him that something bad had happened here.
By the end of the story he knew that he was going to help them. To get involved in an investigation like this was just what he needed to put the life back in him. But more than that, he wanted to do what he could for these children. They were showing great courage, and he admired them for that. However, before he began the search he felt honour-bound to suggest the obvious, although he already knew they didn’t want to do this. ‘You should report your mother’s disappearance to the police.’
‘We know that.’ Tom was immediately on his feet, agitated. ‘But it’s only been one day and we don’t want anyone sticking their noses in our business just yet. If that’s the only suggestion you’ve got then we’ll find someone else to help us!’
Ah, the boy had a quick temper, Stan noted, but it was also clear that all three of them were intelligent. They must be frightened and confused, but they hadn’t panicked.
Tom held out his hand to Lily. ‘Come on, we’re wasting our time here.’
Stan pulled himself out of the chair, and even leaning on the stick, he towered over Tom. ‘No you’re not. I’ll do what I can for you. I’ve still got friends at the local station. They know I’m desperate to get back so they won’t think it odd if I drop in to see them from time to time, eager to hear about cases they’re working on. Whatever’s happening in this area goes through them. But if she doesn’t turn up in two or three days, the police will have to be told.’
‘You won’t say anything about our mum for the moment, will you?’ Dora looked worried at his insistence that the disappearance be reported soon.
‘I won’t break my promise to you. I’ll listen, and if anything seems odd, I’ll investigate it on my own. They’ll never know I’m only interested in one person.’ ‘We’ll help,’ Dora suggested, eyeing the stick he was leaning on. ‘You don’t find it easy getting around.’
‘I’ll manage.’ He grimaced. ‘The exercise will do me good, but I’ll ask if I need you to do things for me now and again.’
‘I was going to the hospitals tomorrow. It’s my half day off.’
‘You leave that to me. I want the three of you to act as normal, and don’t do anything to draw attention to the fact that your mother isn’t there.’ He turned to Lily, who was examining the dog’s head on his stick. ‘Now, young lady, if your mother does come home, I want you to rush round here and let me know at once. Can you do that?’
‘Yes, sir.’ She rested the stick back against his chair again and gave a wan smile. ‘That’s pretty.’
‘It was my father’s.’ He glanced at the boy and saw that he had now calmed down. ‘Rest assured, I’ll do everything I can for you. And I can be trusted, Tom.’
Tom nodded. ‘Sorry I lost my temper, sir. We don’t understand why Mum hasn’t come home, or why she told us lies about where she worked. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘It’s a mystery, I agree. Have you been through your mother’s things?’
‘Oh, no.’ Dora was horrified. ‘We never touch Mum’s room.’
‘You’ll have to now, Dora.’ Stan spoke gently. ‘There might be papers, or something there to tell where she went every night. And I’ll need a photograph of your mother, if you’ve got one.’
‘Yes, of course, we’ll let you have that in the morning, and anything else we find.’ Dora got to her feet. ‘It’s your bedtime, Lily. Thank Mr Crawford for seeing us and listening to our troubles.’
‘Thank you.’ Lily held on to her sister’s hand and gazed up at him. ‘It was my idea to come to you. We haven’t got anyone else, you see.’
‘I’m glad you did.’ Much to Stan’s surprise he meant it. There was a bubble of excitement and anticipation running through him, and he hadn’t felt anything like that for a long time. ‘You sleep well, and you never know, she might be home in the morning. But if she isn’t, we’ll find out what’s happened to her.’
At the door, Tom whispered, ‘It doesn’t look good, does it? No way would Mum leave us unless she was …’
Stan placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder to stop him finishing the sentence. ‘Let’s not jump to any conclusions. It’s too early yet.’
‘No, you’re quite right, sir. Hope we can find her soon, though.’
‘We’ll do our best. And the name’s Stan.’
Tom gave him a grateful smile, and then hurried to catch up with his sisters.
The first job was to get Lily to bed. It had been a long and worrying day for all of them, and the little girl was almost asleep before they’d tucked her in. She was even too tired to listen to a bit of the story Dora read to her every night at bedtime.
Tom and Dora hesitated outside their mother’s bedroom.
‘We’ve got to do it, Dora,’ Tom urged. ‘I know Mum always made her room off limits to us, but this is different. We have to see if there’s anything here that will help Stan get the search going.’
‘Stan?’
‘He told me to call him that,’ Tom told her proudly. ‘Nice bloke. Shame he got messed up in the war.’
Dora silently agreed. Stan Crawford was an impressive man. He looked to be over six feet, even leaning on the stick for support, hair as dark as night and the clear blue eyes a startling contrast. A shiver rippled through her when she remembered how he had studied her – all of them – and she’d felt as if he could read every thought in her head. It was silly, of course, but the intensity of his bright eyes gave the impression that nothing was hidden from him. He would be handsome if his face wasn’t grey and lined with pain. So many were still suffering because of the war, and it always upset her when she saw them. So many young lives had been ended or ruined with crippling injuries.
Tom opened their mother’s bedroom door. ‘Come on, Dora, let’s see if we can find anything.’
The room was clean and tidy, as was the whole house. Their mother had always made them put everything away when they’d finished with it. That’s what drawers and cupboards are for, she had told them. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a bed, wardrobe and dressing table.
‘This won’t take long. You start with the wardrobe, Tom, and I’ll go through the dressing table.’
Fifteen minutes later Dora closed the last drawer. ‘There’s nothing here. How are you doing?’
‘Only clothes and shoes inside.’ He dragged a chair up to the wardrobe and climbed on it, running his hands over the top. ‘Nothing here either.’
Frowning in puzzlement Dora scanned the room. ‘That’s strange. I would have expected to find photos, letters and things like that. There’s nothing personal here except make-up and clothes, and we know there’s nothing in the front room. I always assumed she kept papers and things in here.’
Tom peered under the bed and then pulled himself up to sit on the edge. ‘There isn’t even any dust under there. If there’s anything here, then she’s hidden it well.’
Dora didn’t like the idea of their mother hiding things from them, but after today that was something they would have to accept. ‘We haven’t looked behind the wardrobe. Help me pull it out, Tom.’
After struggling with the heavy piece of furniture they found nothing, and the same with the dressing table.
‘That’s it then.’ Dora was despondent. ‘There’s nowhere else to look. What are you doing, Tom?’
He was tugging the covers off the bed and dropping them on the floor. ‘If I wanted to hide something, this is where I’d put it.’
Dora was very uneasy about this, and reluctant to admit that there were things their mother had kept from them.
Tom saw the expression on her face. ‘Come on, Dora, Mum’s been lying to us about her job. What else has she kept from us? Give me a hand with this mattress.’
They pulled the huge feather mattress off the bed, and gazed at what they had uncovered. At the foot of the bed was a small parcel, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Dora felt tears of disappointment prick her eyes and murmured, ‘What have you been hiding from us, Mum?’
They sat on the floor and opened it. It contained a small notebook, a batch of letters tied up with ribbon and a black velvet box.
Tom was turning the pages of the notebook and shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense. It’s all numbers.’
‘Well, it’s Mum’s writing.’ Dora examined it carefully, but Tom was right. Each page had a series of numbers grouped together. ‘We’ll give this to Mr Crawford in the morning. He might be able to make some sense of it.’
Dora ran her fingers through the bundle of letters, and then put them down.
‘Shouldn’t we read them?’ Tom asked.
‘They’re personal letters, Tom. Probably from Dad over the years. I wouldn’t feel easy about reading them.’
‘Suppose not. Wow! Look at this.’ Tom had opened the velvet box and held out a sparkly necklace. ‘Cor, it looks like diamonds.’
Dora took it from him and held it up to the light. ‘It’s only glass, Tom. Where would Mum get diamonds? It’s just a keepsake with happy memories, I expect.’
He pulled a face. ‘You’re right. The likes of us don’t have diamonds. It must have meant a lot to her though, or else she wouldn’t have hidden it. Perhaps it was a present from Dad when they were courting.’
‘Must have been. Isn’t there anything else?’
‘Don’t think so.’ He shook the brown paper packet and something fell out. ‘Hold on a minute, what’s this?’
Dora knew as soon as she saw it. ‘Money. How much is there, Tom?’
He counted it. ‘Five pounds! What the bloody hell is she hiding that for?’
‘I’ve told you about swearing, Tom. Now cut it out!’
‘This business is enough to make a saint swear.’
She silently agreed with him, but wasn’t going to admit it. ‘Let’s put everything back except the book. We might need the money later on, but I’ll use my savings first.’
‘Er … I still think we ought to read the letters.’
‘Certainly not, Tom! They’re private.’
It didn’t take them long to put the room back as it had been, and after a cup of cocoa, they got ready for bed, exhausted and troubled.
‘I’m really glad Mr Crawford has agreed to help us because I’m completely confused.’
‘If Mum turns up tomorrow she’ll have a lot of explaining to do.’
‘I don’t think she’s coming back, Tom,’ Dora said quietly.
‘Nor me. She’s gone, Dora, but where?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea, but I’m sick with worry that something dreadful has happened. We’ll have to hope Mr Crawford can find her.’
Chapter Three
He’d been awake most of the night, but that wasn’t unusual. It was damned difficult to sleep with the pain. The doctors had wanted to amputate his leg, but he’d yelled at them until they’d agreed to patch it up. Pain was the price he was prepared to pay for keeping his leg. Though some nights when it was particularly bad he did wonder if he’d made the right decision.
After finishing his breakfast, Stan sat at the kitchen table, tucked the photograph of Mrs Bentley in his pocket, then opened the little book Tom had brought him before going to school. He turned the pages, frowning. Whatever information the book held, it had been put in such a way that only Mrs Bentley could understand it. It might just be a diary, but he doubted it. She had gone to a lot of trouble to keep whatever was in it a secret. But he couldn’t understand why she would want to keep a collection of numbers a secret. Unless they were a code? He would have to give it some thought later. It was intriguing.
‘Oh, you’ve had your breakfast.’
He started at the sound of his sister’s voice. Irritated, he said, ‘Don’t you ever knock, Winnie?’
Ignoring his scowl, she sat down. ‘Had a bad night, did you?’
‘Just like all the others.’
She reached across the table and grasped his hand. ‘I wish you’d come and live with Reg and me. You know June would love to have her favourite uncle living with us. We don’t like you being here on your own. What if you fall down or something?’
‘We’ve been over this a dozen times.’ He softened his tone, knowing his sister’s concern. ‘I’m not going to be a burden to you. I’ve got to keep my independence. It’s important to me.’
Winnie sighed. ‘I know it is, but that doesn’t stop me worrying about you. I’m sure it was the worry that took Mum and Dad so close to each other.’
Stan looked up sharply. ‘They were both already sick when I came home. Are you trying to make me feel guilty?’
‘No, of course not! I didn’t mean it like that. It was the war that took them to an early grave. Losing their eldest son was terrible, and then seeing you return so badly injured was more than they could stand. They were heartbroken, Stan.’
‘I know it. But what happened to me was beyond my control, Win. And I always did my best to stay cheerful around them. You’ve got to stop fretting over me. I won’t give up my independence. I’m coping all right, and I’ve done away with the crutches at last. I only need a stick now.’
She nodded, knowing when to give in. Then she noticed the book. ‘What’s that?’
Slipping the book into his pocket, away from her prying eyes, he smiled. ‘Some friends have asked me to see if I can work something out for them.’
‘And you’re not going to tell me?’
‘No, I promised.’ He sat back, his expression animated for a change. ‘If I make a success of this I might be able to go into business solving people’s problems.’
‘A private detective you mean? You’re joking!’ When a deep rumbling chuckle came from him, the sound tugged at her heart. ‘Oh Stan, I haven’t heard you do that since you came back.’
‘Told you I’m fine, didn’t I? Now, off you go. I’ve got a lot to do today. I’ll probably pop into the station and see Reg this morning.’
Winnie laughed. ‘And give him some advice on his case load, I expect.’
‘Why not? I was a good copper, Win, and I’ve still got all my mental faculties.’
She leant over and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll get you some shopping today. Your larder’s nearly bare.’
‘Thanks.’
As soon as his sister had gone, Stan had another look at the book. He didn’t know what kind of an education Mrs Bentley had had, but if she’d worked out a code, then it was bound to be something simple. All he had to do was put his mind to the puzzle, but that would have to wait for tonight. The first thing he had to decide was how he was going to get around. Buses would mean a lot of walking to and from the stops, and getting on and off was still difficult for him. But there was an answer, if he could manage it.
He stood up and went out to the shed. His old bicycle was filthy dirty after years of not being used. A quick check showed it only needed a wipe down and a bit of oil on the chain. He could tie his stick to the crossbar, and he would have transport for the day. He was well aware that it wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d agreed to help the children, and he couldn’t do that by staying in the house all day. He had become lethargic of late, hating the pain and effort it took for him to move around. This was just what he needed to shake him out of his gloom. He must never give up; never stop believing that his condition would improve, no matter what the doctors said.
Half an hour later he was ready. Having long legs he was able to slide the bike underneath him, but after lifting his left leg to place it on the pedal, he felt that riding was going to be damned near impossible. However, if he was going to have any kind of normal life, it was essential that he got used to doing the impossible. Since the end of the war he’d been turned down for one job after another, and he had almost given up hope, but his determination had returned since the visit from the Bentley children.
He pushed off with his good leg and placed it on the pedal, pressing down cautiously. The surge of pain that shot through him was indescribable, making beads of sweat form on his brow. But he was moving. The police station was only about a mile away. He could make it!
‘What the blazes do you think you’re doing, Stan?’ Reg Tanner, his brother-in-law, stormed up to him as he walked into the station.
‘Coming to see you, why?’
‘Don’t look so blasted innocent. You came on a bike! I saw you arrive.’
‘So?’
‘You can’t ride with that leg.’
‘Really?’ Stan made a show of looking puzzled. ‘Who says?’
‘The doctors – everyone.’ Reg studied his wife’s brother with more than a hint of respect. ‘And where are your crutches?’
Stan smiled. ‘They wouldn’t fit on the crossbar.’
Reg lifted his hands in resignation, knowing there was little point in pursuing the subject. When Stan made up his mind about something, then nothing on earth would shake him out of it. ‘Come on, you’re just in time for a cuppa.’
‘Good.’ Stan walked ahead of Reg into the main room, the smile fixed on his face. There was no way he would allow the pain to show. He was getting expert at hiding it.
‘Hello, Stan. Come to solve our cases for us?’
He gazed around the room at the men he knew so well, and his heart ached, longing to be one of them again. ‘From the look of it I’d say you need help. You’re never going to catch criminals by sitting around here wasting your time.’
He accepted a mug of tea and drank it gratefully. ‘So, what’s been happening over the last couple of days?’
‘The usual,’ Sergeant Baker told him. ‘Burglary, domestics, and a kid went missing, but we soon found him. The little devil was only three, but he was in the park. He told us he’d been chasing a dog and he wasn’t sure where his house was, but he’d have found it all right.’
He smiled at the sergeant’s wry expression. ‘Confident little devil then. Sounds like that family will have to keep him on a chain. Any other missing persons, or unidentified patients in hospital?’
‘Nothing’s come through here.’ The sergeant shook his head.
Stan listened to the men talking for a while, until they began to leave to walk their beats.
‘Can I stay for a while, Sergeant?’ he asked. ‘I won’t get in the way, but being stuck at home all day is driving me mad.’
‘Course you can, Stan. No luck with a job, then?’
‘No, not a chance.’ Stan grimaced in disgust. ‘One look at the crutches and I’m on my way out the door.’
‘Wish we could offer you something, but you know we can’t.’
‘One day you’ll be able to. I’m off the crutches and riding a bike again.’
‘Good. You come and see us when you can run down the street.’
‘I’ll do that. You keep a job open for me because it won’t be long now before I’m agile enough to catch the crooks.’ Stan knew that his talk was all bravado, but he wouldn’t give up hope. If hope died that would be the end for him. He’d seen it in the eyes of too many ex-soldiers, and he wasn’t going to allow that to happen to him.
The morning passed quickly. He talked to the policemen as they came into the station, listening to their reports. But there wasn’t anything remotely connected with Mrs Bentley. He had lunch with Reg in the cafe across the road, and then made his way back home.
The ride back was even more of an ordeal, and by the time he arrived home he was drenched in sweat and exhausted. He dragged himself upstairs, stretched out on the bed and slept.
Stan woke so suddenly he nearly tumbled off the bed. He was searching his pockets before he was fully awake, grunting in satisfaction when he located Mrs Bentley’s notebook. A possible answer to the puzzle had come to him while he’d been drifting between sleep and waking. He was eager to see if it could be that simple.
Pulling himself upright until he was leaning against the headboard, he opened the book at the first page. The highest figures were in the twenties, and there were twenty-six letters in the alphabet – each number represented a letter. It was so obvious he was disgusted with himself for not seeing it at once.
With a stub of pencil rescued from the depths of another pocket, he set to work. It didn’t take him long to discover that he’d been right, and he chewed the end of the pencil as he studied the result. There were only three groups of numbers on the first page – one a surname, and the other two Christian names. Under each Christian name was a place in London – all upmarket areas. Stan was disappointed. He had been hoping for more information than this. It didn’t tell him a damned thing! Perhaps he’d have more luck with the rest of the book?
He was about to tackle the next page when there was a knock on the front door. Using both banisters on the narrow staircase as support, he swung himself expertly down. Dora was on the doorstep and he didn’t miss the startled look as she took in his dishevelled appearance.
‘Erm … am I disturbing you, Mr Crawford? Only I wondered if you had any news.’
‘No, nothing yet.’ He reached out for the walking stick he kept near the door and moved aside. ‘Please come in. Go through to the kitchen. I’ve been resting and I could do with a cup of tea.’
Giving him a hesitant smile, Dora walked along the passage to the kitchen. This house was exactly the same as hers, so she knew where to go.
After Stan’s morning exertions, his leg had stiffened up and it took him longer to reach the kitchen. When he arrived, Dora already had the kettle on to boil and cups on the table.
‘Thanks.’ Stan eased himself onto a chair, and looked up to find her studying him carefully.
‘I’m not sure we should have brought our troubles to you. Have you been overdoing it, Mr Crawford?’
‘I rode my bike for the first time today and my leg’s sore, that’s all. I’ll soon get used to riding again.’ He spoke with confidence, but his leg was telling him a different story. From the expression on Dora’s face it was clear that she didn’t believe him.
Having made the tea, she poured a cup for both of them, and then sat at the opposite end of the well-scrubbed kitchen table. ‘You must take the bus, Mr Crawford, and tell me how much you spend on our behalf.’
‘That won’t be necessary—’
‘But it is!’ She opened her purse and took out two shillings, pushing the money towards him. ‘You take that for a start.’
‘I don’t want your money, Dora!’ He placed the coins back in her hand. ‘Look, I’m glad to have something to do. No one will employ a cripple.’
‘You’re not a cripple!’ she exclaimed. ‘And you mustn’t think of yourself like that. You’ve got a bad leg, that’s all, and you got that fighting for this country. Where’s the gratitude? That’s what I want to know. A whole generation of young men slaughtered, and many of those who did come home are injured or damaged in their minds. It’s disgraceful that there’s no work for them. What was it all for, Mr Crawford?’
The transformation from polite, timid girl to fiery woman was extraordinary. Stan couldn’t take his eyes off her. He knew she worked as a housemaid, but from the way she expressed herself she’d had a decent education. He hadn’t taken a great deal of notice of her before, but now he did. Dora Bentley was pretty with her cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. There was hidden fire there, and he was impressed.
She coloured even more under his scrutiny, glancing down at her clenched hands, then back at him. ‘I do beg your pardon, Mr Crawford, but I get so mad when I see what’s going on.’
‘I know how you feel.’ He grimaced. ‘Whatever happened to a land fit for heroes, eh?’
Dora gave him a nervous glance, relaxing when she saw he was smiling. ‘We should have put all the politicians in the trenches and see how they liked it. They might understand better and do more to help.’
‘They might, but I doubt it, Dora. The war’s been over for a while now, and some people have short memories.’
‘That doesn’t make it right though, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ He changed the subject. ‘Tell me, where did you go to school?’
‘Only the local school where we lived in Limehouse, but Mum gave me lessons as well. She’s very clever and always reading books.’ She chewed her bottom lip in agitation. ‘Where’s she gone, Mr Crawford?’
‘As I told you, I haven’t been able to find out much today. I went to visit my brother-in-law at the police station …’ When Dora looked at him in alarm, he said, ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. Nothing connected with your mother has been reported, and the hospitals haven’t any patients they don’t have details for. But I have found the key to deciphering your mother’s notebook. Is there any tea left in the pot before I tell you what I’ve found?’
Dora poured him another cup and sat forward eagerly.
‘The book’s still upstairs, but I’ve only worked on the first page and can remember that. The first name in the book is Duval, then Andrew, Park Lane, and then Charlie, Hampstead. Do these mean anything to you?’
‘I don’t ever remember hearing them before. We haven’t any family. Mum and Dad never talked about their past … except …’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, Dad once said he’d been orphaned at sixteen and didn’t have any relatives that he knew of. He always joked saying that Mum married beneath her when she took up with him.’ Dora’s eyes swam with tears as she looked at Stan, her expression anguished. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she? She’d never leave us like this.’
‘We don’t know that,’ he said gently. But she was only voicing his fears. ‘Tell me about your mother.’
‘Well,’ Dora sat up straight and ran a hand over her eyes to clear away the moisture. ‘She’s always laughing and singing. She’s got a good voice and Dad always said she should have been on the stage. We lived in Limehouse before coming here. It was a dump, and Mum was determined to get us out of there. She worked two jobs, in a laundry and evening waitress, until she’d saved enough for us to move here. Dad was a good carpenter, but he didn’t earn much. They were happy together, and he said he understood her need to live in a better place. Mum had had a good education and we’d spend every Sunday afternoon doing lessons she’d worked out for us. Mum was heartbroken when Dad was killed, and that’s when she started working at night – so we thought – to make sure we had a good standard of living.’
