He didn’t interrupt her but, when she came to the point where the woman asked about the stock, Helen’s voice wavered. ‘I told her… it was in the basement… so it’s my fault really and now Mr Fenner says he’s ruined.’
‘Helen, you can’t blame yourself for that. You couldn’t have known she wasn’t a genuine customer.’
‘But that’s just it,’ said Helen. ‘I thought there was something odd about her.’
‘In what way?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Can you describe her?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Helen and she gave a detailed description of her clothes, her hair and make-up. ‘She had a beauty spot, here.’ She touched her cheekbone. ‘And she was from Oldham.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I grew up next door to a woman from Oldham and she sounded just like her.’
‘Well, that’s certainly something to go on. If she’s got form, I mean, if she’s been in trouble with the police before, we might be able to find her. I’ll contact Oldham police – maybe you could have a look at their photographic records. Would you do that?’
‘I’d do anything to get the garments back.’
He looked pleased. ‘Good, you’ve been very helpful, Helen. I’ll be in touch if I need you.’ He shook her hand. ‘Now, I’d better speak to the owner before I take a look at—’
At that moment the office door flew open and in came Mr Fenner, followed by Pearl. ‘This is all your fault!’ He poked a finger at Helen. ‘Letting a thief in here and showing them everything worth stealing.’
‘Excuse me, sir. This young woman has actually given us information that might help track down the thieves.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Detective Constable Kershaw, I’m here to investigate the robbery.’ He pointed to the door. ‘Perhaps we could go to your office. I have a few questions to ask you.’
Mr Fenner glared at Helen and marched back to his office. DC Kershaw followed him, but not before he gave Helen a wink.
Chapter 9
The Ford Prefect pulled up outside the entrance of a grimy stone building and DC Kershaw turned off the engine. ‘Well, this is it, Oldham police station. Are you still all right to do this?’
Helen felt a rush of nerves, but she was determined to help catch the thieves. ‘Yes, I can do it, DC Kershaw.’
‘Why don’t you call me Ken, it’s less of a mouthful.’
They signed in at the desk and waited for a detective to come and collect them. Helen studied a colourful poster showing fields and cows with a farmer telling a Land Girl, ‘We could do with thousands more like you.’ It looked like a good way to get through a war; out in the fresh air and away from the bombings.
The detective arrived, an older man in a tweed suit with a pipe clamped between his teeth; behind him was a policewoman. ‘I’m DC Bert Holt,’ he said, ‘and this is Police Woman Parker.’ He looked Helen in the eye and said sharply, ‘Did you get a good look at the woman?’
‘Yes, sir, I think I would recognise her again.’
He nodded. ‘Right, you go along with Parker. She’ll stay with you while you look at the photographs.’ He turned to DC Kershaw. ‘I’ve a few wanted posters upstairs of black-market villains that we think are rustling sheep up on the moors and selling the meat in Manchester. Do you want to take a look at them?’
The policewoman led Helen down a badly lit corridor and into a small windowless room where there were two chairs and a table with what looked like ledgers stacked on it. She gave Helen a piece of paper and a pencil and said, ‘Take your time and study each photograph. They’re all numbered so you can jot down the ones you think might be the woman, then you can go back and look at them again before you decide.’
An hour passed and Helen had looked through four ledgers, but there was no one who looked anything like the woman who came into the showroom. She had such high hopes that she’d find her, but now it seemed like looking for a needle in a haystack. She rubbed her eyes and reached for another ledger. ‘I’m beginning to think we won’t find her,’ she said.
WPC Parker smiled. ‘I know it’s not easy. What would you say to a brew and a break – come back to it fresh?’
They drank their tea and Helen asked Parker how she came to be a policewoman. ‘My dad was in the police, my granddad too. It was all I ever wanted to do, but it was really hard to get into. There aren’t many of us even now and, with the war on, there’s been so much more for us to do.’
‘Is it dangerous?’ Helen asked.
Parker shrugged her shoulders. ‘It can be. I’ve been kicked and thumped a few times and being sworn at is par for the course, but policewomen mostly deal with women and children.’
‘Why, are lots of women and children criminals?’
‘Some are, like the woman you’re looking for, but more often than not they’re the victims of crime or neglect and at the mercy of drunken or violent men. Then there’s the people who’ve been bombed out of their homes with nothing more than what they stood up in. Evacuees coming and going, maybe falling in with a bad crowd, and then there are the women on the streets…’ She smiled. ‘I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to know all that.’
‘It sounds terrible,’ said Helen. ‘I had no idea things like that went on. Do you not get upset by it all?’
‘Yes, sometimes, but you just have to deal with it and there are good moments as well. It’s just a pity that more women don’t join. Then there’s the Women’s Auxiliary Police Corps. Have you heard of them?’
Helen shook her head.
‘It was set up at the start of the war to support the service. They don’t have the powers that policewomen have so they do a lot of non-criminal work in the force, especially helping women and their families. I was out on patrol with a WAPC, that’s what we call them, on Saturday night when we found a girl not much more than eight or nine years old, standing outside a public house. Turns out the father’s inside and he’s got her begging for the money to buy his drink.’
‘What did you do?’
‘We went into the pub and told him we were taking the girl home. He wasn’t best pleased, but I warned him if he did that again he’d be charged with neglect. Anything could have happened to her. The mother was at home with three little ones. They looked half-starved and it was freezing in the house. I warned her too, but I doubt she could do anything about the husband. I went to the local church, the vicar’s very good, and he said he’d visit with some home comforts and he’d keep an eye on them.’
Helen had seen children begging before and sometimes she’d toss them a penny or two, but she had never given much thought about the child’s life beyond the corner or doorway where they begged. Growing up, she’d always had enough to eat, clean clothes, a cosy fire, and she felt very uncomfortable thinking about that little girl outside the pub.
Into the fifth ledger and she hadn’t got far when she stopped, leaned forward, and looked closely at the photograph. And there she was, the woman she had spoken to in the showroom, right down to the beauty spot on her cheek. ‘I’ve found her!’ she shouted.
Everything happened quickly after that. The woman’s name was Thelma Evans and DC Holt had had dealings with her and her brothers before. ‘Petty thieves mostly,’ he said. ‘I would’ve thought stealing posh clothes would be out of their league.’ He turned to Helen. ‘Now, miss, that’s the easy bit over. Our next step would be to organise an identity parade and bring her in to see if you’re quite so certain it’s her when you come face to face with her.’
‘An identity parade?’
Ken explained. ‘We’ll line up similar-looking women and she’ll be there too, of course. If you’re sure you see her in the line, just touch her shoulder.’
‘And that’s it? You’ll arrest her?’
‘It depends whether we find other evidence linking her to the clothes. If we do, you might be needed to give evidence if there’s a trial.’
Helen didn’
t hesitate. ‘I’ll do anything to get the clothes back.’
‘Right,’ said DC Holt. ‘Let’s bring her in and get her in the line. Parker, you round up the women to stand alongside her.’
‘Yes, sir, I’ll nip over to the town hall and ask for volunteers.’
While the Oldham constabulary went about their business, Ken suggested to Helen that they should go and have something to eat. He’d noticed a UCP shop just down the street from the station. ‘If I’m not mistaken there’ll be a café in there.’
Helen had oxtail soup with a slice of bread while Ken tucked into a plate of tripe with vinegar and onions. ‘Nearly as good as my missus makes.’
‘Do you think there’s any chance they’ll get the stock back?’
‘Well, you seeing the woman in the showroom was a good lead and we acted quickly. Now we know who she is and where she lives, her house will be searched when they pick her up and maybe the stolen goods might be there.’
‘I’ll be sacked if we don’t get them back.’
‘Maybe not. When I spoke to Mr Fenner in his office, I told him that you are a credible witness and the best chance he’s got to get his stock back.’
‘I doubt Mr Fenner will think that.’
‘It’s not your fault, Helen. It’s the thieves who are to blame, so don’t worry about that now, just focus on the identity parade. Are you worried about it?’
‘I’m a bit nervous. What if she says something to me or denies being anywhere near the showroom?’
‘Ignore her. There’ll be police officers in the room to deal with her, so don’t worry.’ He smiled. ‘Tell you what, do you fancy some rice pudding before you face the thief?’
Back at the station DC Holt explained that a box full of new clothes, bearing the Fenner labels, had been found in the loft of the woman’s house. ‘Nowhere near what was stolen. She said someone left them on her doorstep, but we think she kept them back for herself. So now we need to find her brothers to get the rest of their haul, before they pass it on to some black-market spiv. In the meantime, if you can identify her that’ll be enough to charge her.’
Helen was so disappointed. The stock could be anywhere by now, leaving Mr Fenner ruined and everyone out of a job. Ken touched her arm. ‘Are you up to this?’
Of course she was. She wouldn’t let them get away with it. ‘Yes, I am, let’s do it.’
Helen followed DC Holt into the room to stand in front of the women lined up and WPC Parker joined them. She was pleased to see that Ken had slipped into the room to stand at the back. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the women lined up – she had already spotted the thief.
DC Holt explained the procedure then asked her to walk the length of the line to see if there was anyone she recognised. ‘Take your time,’ he said.
She walked slowly, looking into each face. The woman was towards the end of the line and Helen felt herself shaking as she approached her. She stopped and looked her straight in the face: the pencilled eyebrows; upturned nose; high cheekbones; the beauty spot. The woman stared right back, a look of contempt on her face. On to the end of the line, and Helen turned around, walked straight to the woman and stood in front of her again. There was no doubt. She touched the woman’s shoulder.
What happened next was a blur – a scream in her face, a smack on the side of her head then someone hurrying her away, but not before she caught sight of the woman on the floor pinned down by Ken.
Parker had taken her into a room across the way. ‘Are you hurt, Helen?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m fine, don’t worry. She just caught me off guard.’
‘Caught us all off guard. I’ve not seen a woman do that before. But now she’s on a common assault charge as well.’
Ken rushed in. ‘Are you all right, Helen? I’m sorry that happened.’
‘Don’t make a fuss,’ she told him. ‘We’ve got her now – let’s hope the brothers are next.’
It was almost four o’clock when Helen had finished her full statement and signed the declaration that she had recognised Thelma Evans as the woman who had come to Fenner’s showroom prior to the theft. She and Ken said goodbye to DC Holt and WPC Parker and were about to leave for Manchester when two rough-looking characters were brought into the station under arrest.
‘Well, if it isn’t Bill and Alfie Evans,’ said DC Holt. ‘Come to join your sister, have you?’ He turned to one of the constables. ‘Where did you find them?’
‘In a lock-up behind Tommyfield Market; one of the traders tipped us off, and that’s not all. There wasn’t just these two, there was someone else – a dead ringer for one of those spivs on your wanted posters. He was sitting in a van, engine running, while the Evans brothers were loading it up. He ran off as soon as he saw us. We’ll go back to the market with the poster, see if we can’t track him down.’
‘And the stolen goods?’
‘Can’t be sure it’s all of it, but there’s a lot of boxes.’
Helen gasped. ‘You’ve got our stock back? I can’t believe it!’ She turned to Ken. ‘Can we take them with us? Mr Fenner will be so pleased.’
‘That might be difficult, right now,’ said Ken. ‘There’s paperwork to be done and they’ll have to establish who they belong to.’
‘But they’ve got Fenner’s labels on them.’
‘I know that, but there are procedures. You will get them back, Helen, but not today.’
On the journey back to Manchester they talked about the events of the day. ‘It was really good how they had all those photos of criminals,’ said Helen, ‘and when I recognised the woman, all they had to do was go to her house.’
‘Whoa!’ said Ken. ‘We got lucky today – normally it takes much longer and sometimes we never catch them at all.’
‘But isn’t it great when you find the person who committed the crime? You’ve stopped them in their tracks and ordinary people are safer and less likely to have their property stolen.’
Ken looked at her and smiled. ‘Yes, when you put it like that, it is great.’
Helen smiled back. ‘Thanks for everything you’ve done.’
‘It’s just my job,’ he said.
‘But it’s a hard job, isn’t it? You must be very brave.’
‘I wouldn’t say that. Most of the time you can avoid getting into difficult situations.’
‘But you didn’t hesitate when that woman attacked me.’
‘No, I didn’t. It’s my job to protect people. Anyway, what about you? You didn’t panic when she lashed out at you.’
‘I didn’t have the time to panic before Parker grabbed me and got me out.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Fire away.’
‘What made you join the police?’
He laughed. ‘I needed a job and I’m very tall.’
‘No really, tell me.’
He took a deep breath and released it. ‘I think it began with wanting to be part of something important. Maybe “important” isn’t the right word. I wanted to make a difference. I served my time as a motor mechanic, but every day was the same. I’d go to work, fiddle about with engines, get covered in grease and go to the pub. I wanted…’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, maybe I needed every day to be different and challenging.’
‘And you wanted to help people?’
‘It might sound strange, but that came later. There was so much to take in at first, but after a while I began to see how important the job was; it felt good to lock up villains and to be a part of keeping the streets safe.’
‘I was talking to WPC Parker and she was telling me about the Women’s Auxiliary Police Corps. Do you know about it?’
‘I do. There are a few knocking about, mostly in Bootle Street at Headquarters.’
‘I was thinking I might like to do something like that.’
Ken gave her a sideways look. ‘But you’ve got a job in the showroom.’
‘I’m only filling in, covering for a girl who was inju
red in the bombing at Christmas. She’ll be back soon. I’ve been thinking about my Jim too. I asked him once about being a fireman and he said, “At the end of every day you can hold your head up – it might have been a terrible day, but you know you’ve tried to help people and that’s the best feeling in the world.”’
‘He was right. The emergency services deal with difficult problems, but sometimes we get to solve them.’
‘I just wonder if I would be strong enough or brave enough.’
‘I’ll not lie to you, Helen, dealing with tragedy and violence isn’t easy and I have to say that, before today, I would have described you as a gentle character. But today I saw a different side to you. You hardly flinched when the woman attacked you. You held your nerve and that takes some courage. Is that enough? I’m not sure. Why don’t you call into Bootle Street nick; they’ll tell you more about it.’
‘I might just do that.’
Ken dropped her off outside Fenner’s showroom. She raced up the stairs and burst through the door. ‘They’ve caught the thieves!’ she shouted, but there was Mr Fenner with a face like thunder standing over Pearl who hastily wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
He whipped round. ‘What did you say?’
‘I identified the woman and the police arrested her and her two brothers.’
‘Have they indeed? So, the stock has been recovered?’ He looked over her shoulder as if he expected it to be sitting in the showroom.
‘No, Mr Fenner, it’s in Oldham police station. They have to keep it as evidence until—’
He threw his hands in the air. ‘God save me from idiots!’
Pearl spoke up. ‘Please don’t shout at Helen, Mr Fenner; after all, she was the one who gave the description of the woman to the police. If it wasn’t for her, the stock would be long gone.’
‘Are you forgetting it’s her fault the thieves knew exactly where to find it in the first place? In fact, it makes me wonder if this whole affair isn’t an inside job.’
Pearl opened her mouth to protest, but Helen beat her to it. She looked him in the eye and spoke calmly. ‘That’s not fair. I was the only person left in the showroom that afternoon and, when a client came in, I did exactly what Pearl or yourself would have done; I showed her the garments and answered her questions. I had no way of knowing what she was up to and you wouldn’t have either.’ For a moment she thought he was going to explode, but she didn’t blink. He turned to Pearl and stabbed a finger at her. ‘I want that stock back by the end of the week or heads will roll!’ and without another glance at Helen he marched out of the office.
The Girl from the Corner Shop Page 8
