Margaret shrugged. “So, what are you going to do now?”
“You mean with the body?”
“No, I meant what are you wearing to the party tonight - of course I meant with the… him.”
“I’m not sure you really want to know. Perhaps best if you don’t.” Solange smiled sympathetically at Margaret. “I do understand that this has all been a bit of a shock, my dear. I don’t want to afford you any further risk or complication.”
“No, I, well, I think. Let me start over.” Margaret took a deep breath. “You’ve already exposed yourself to great risk over this and it serves me well, and so if I can help with the… er… you know, the next bits, I can do that. I’m willing.”
“My dear girl, it’s far too risky. If caught, we’d both swing for it. No, I can’t put you through that.”
“But it might be easier with two of us. How can it not be?”
“I’ll not hear of it.”
“I’m not going to take no for an answer! And that’s final!” Margaret stood up to her full height and being slightly taller than Solange, she was able to easily look down at her, eyes blazing.
Solange looked at her for a long minute before relenting. “If you insist then you need to be here at 2 am sharp and wear black - all black, not a dress, pants. And a hat.”
That settled between them both, Margaret made her way to the club and did her rehearsals, snatching a rest before her show that evening. Finishing soon after midnight, she quickly crossed the street to her rooms to change then made her way back to Solange’s, arriving there with 20 minutes to spare.
She waited in the doorway of the shop-front, quietly, expecting that Solange would at any minute open up to let her in, expecting to find her there. She sat and thought about it, and realized that tonight, she would be Gregory’s accomplice, not Solange’s.
Waiting for what felt like a very long time, and unable to clearly see the hands of her watch in the dark, she finally decided to make her way around the store to the back entry, unsure of the way, but guessing and hoping she had the right entry from the alley a little way along the street. Being unsure of exactly which door it was, she decided against knocking on any of them and went back to the front of the shop. ‘Where was she, er, no he?’ she wondered, and settled in to wait.
She was shaken awake a little while later by a police officer, bending down and inquiring politely: “Are you alright there, lad?”
It became clear to see that ‘this lad’ was in fact a middle-aged woman dressed in dark men’s clothing and the officer apologized immediately and stood up. Margaret stood up too, and he asked her what she was doing there?
“Nothing, I mean, I was out, and became separated from my, um, family, and found it was easier to curl up here and wait till morning, than wander around in the dark.” Her words sounded particularly lame, even to her own ears, and Margaret was therefore not surprised at all when he looked at her closely and asked her name. “Judith… Judith Rogers.”
“And your address, Mrs Rogers?”
Not knowing Sydney well enough to bluff her way around that one, Margaret had no choice but to offer up her real address and to agree to being walked home. That took nearly two hours, as there were no trams or cabs around at that time, and when she finally did get home, the officer was kind enough to simply let her use her own key and say goodnight. Predawn was just starting to lighten the sky as she fell exhausted onto her bed and slept until nearly 10 am.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Nathaniel’s day was going well. He’d made it to Wellington with good timing, and he still delighted in the increasingly easy options offered by Qantas in their new fleet of Boeing 707s. The time on-board made it easy for him to catch up on some notes and planning, and with the new proposed venture to move the company Head Office to Auckland, and start edging his father into retirement, he was excited about the possibilities in front of him. Having the chance to finally convince Margaret to marry him and maybe even consider more children also weighed on his mind - if only he could have done this years ago. He often wondered how life may have turned out for him had he taken a firm stand against his parents’ wishes that he marry Anthea.
Arriving at his office above the warehouse in Wellington, he was delighted to see that his father was in fact still there. It was already after 6 pm and he had hoped to simply pick up some files before going home, but this was a rare chance to sit and talk with his father, without anyone else around. With his mother safely away in Sydney too, he had high hopes his father would be in a relaxed happy mood to hear what he had to say.
“Dad, good to see you. What an unexpected surprise? Working late?” Nathaniel entered his father’s office and walked over to shake the older man’s hand. John half rose out of his chair to extend his own hand to his son, then sank back into his chair, pausing to light a cigar and offer one to his son. The two men puffed for a few moments each, enjoying the taste and aroma of the Cuban Golds, before finally the old man coughed and inquired after the health of his business affairs in Sydney, his wife, and his son, in that order. Satisfied with the brief confirmation that all were well enough, he picked up a piece of paper and started to read it.
“Dad, I am glad you’re here. I’d like to ask you something.”
John looked at Nathaniel over the page he was reading, eyebrows raised.
“I’d like to ask you about your plans for retirement”, the younger man ventured carefully.
“What the blazes would I want to do that for?”
“Well, we have a responsibility for several hundred employees now and our business is growing sustainably; Sydney is looking to turn a profit this quarter, and we’ve got a lot riding on some potential expansion into maybe Melbourne next year or the year after. “Hrumph”, was the older Cook’s reply as he split his attention between the papers and his son. “I believe we need to be clear about our plans going forward, and ensure that we’re ready for the modernization of our company in the 1960s. It’s 1957 in a few weeks, and that means we’re only three years away from a whole new decade. Our remaining here in Wellington as a base when we’re starting to look more and more towards Australia, namely Sydney and Melbourne, is not something I see as being a long-term objective, and I’d like to start making plans for relocating our Head Offices to Auckland from next year.”
John finally put the papers down, taking a long time to uncap a Parker Pen and sign it, before glaring at his son across the desk. “Oh, so that’s your game, eh?”
Nathaniel just looked back at his father and thought about how much he seemed to have aged in recent times. Maybe he’d just never really noticed before. After all, he’d always just been ‘Dad’ and he’d not really thought it mattered to notice the increasing age of his parents. With a start he realized he himself was 40 in a few months; much older than his grandfather had been when he’d died, leaving the general store to his own son, now aged nearly 70 and hopefully nearly ready to let go of the reigns a little more. John had always made it clear he expected Nathaniel would become a major part of the business he’d built up, but they rarely talked about future plans and what that might mean to either of them. He got up and went to the sideboard and poured some Glenfiddich into two crystal tumblers, while thinking about what his son had just proposed.
He handed one to Nathaniel and remained standing, half leaning against his desk with one buttock resting there, legs spread in front of him. “You’re nearly 40. I suppose that’s as good a time as any for a man to want to take more control over his destiny? I myself was barely out of my teens when I was running this place, so never really thought much about what to do next year, it was always more a matter of what to do right now!” He held his glass out towards Nathaniel inviting the clinking of them but declining to offer an actual toast. “I sure have enjoyed it all though, it’s been a helluva journey.”
“So, what do you think about retiring sometime and enjoying what you’ve created? Maybe take Mum on a cruise or something?”
&n
bsp; “Good lord man, do you wish to see me in an early grave? A cruise with your mother is something I might consider long after we’re both in hell. Until then, I’ll keep on the right side of God and keep my distance from her on a regular basis.” He coughed to cover up a weak laugh at his own joke. “Don’t get me wrong, your mother is a good woman, but she’s even better for me when she’s not bossing me around all the time.”
Nathaniel smiled and drank his whiskey.
John continued. “You’ve clearly been giving this a lot of thought. I don’t mind saying Sydney would not have happened if you hadn’t driven the idea and made it a reality. So, I know the company is in good hands with you. Yes, I can see some merit in the idea of changing a few things around in time. But, my boy,” John waved his glass at him, one finger outstretched to stress his point, “I’m not ready to be put out to pasture yet.”
“I’m not suggesting that you are, but by the time we get to 1960, I’d like to have a few things sorted well enough so that you can pick and choose what you do and how much you do around here. Would you be willing to consider that?”
“I’m willing to have a good think about it, how does that sound?” He put his glass down on the desk and held out his hand towards Nathaniel. “I’m also willing to make a promise about that intention, and seal it with a handshake. Will that satisfy you for now?”
Nathaniel extended his hand and they shook, having reached some level of agreement on the matter. Better than Nathaniel might have expected in fact.
“Come on Son, let’s not be wasting any more of this night than we need to on bloody work matters. I’ll take you to my Club for dinner.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Gregory had felt bad for only a few minutes lying to Margaret about being able to help get rid of Thomas Morris’s body that night. It really was too risky and he was best to do it alone. He wondered how she might be towards him, or Solange, later, but decided it was less important to have to apologize for that than to be forced into apologizing for getting caught and the inevitable consequences of that.
She may have been right, he conceded in his own mind, that two people were easier than one in many ways for such an undertaking. But also, the risks doubled. So, he set out at 1 am for the docks, along the waterfront towards the building of the new Sydney Opera House. He intended to simply leave Morris’s body near the site, and hope that he’d be treated as nothing more than one of many vagrants hanging around the city. He’d gone through the man’s pockets, finding nothing of interest there, but removing anything that might possibly identify him in any way, rolled him back up in the gabardine, and walked quietly through the night with the body slung over his shoulder. He knew it was a time of night when he was unlikely to meet anyone else, and simply hoped that he’d be lucky again, but if mistaken for anything at all, maybe someone just carrying his drunken mate or wife home from a night out.
Setting out, he kept to the shadows as much as possible and avoided any areas where there may be stragglers from a night out. Being a Wednesday, the chances of any weekend revelers were very low and he managed to make it almost to the waterfront before anyone crossed his path. Two older homeless vagrants spotted him across the street and called out. “Hey, got any bacccy?”
“No mate, sorry. Don’t smoke!” he replied.
“What you got there?” asked the other.
“Just taking home me missus from her sisters. You know how these women get outta hand with th’mum’s funeral.” He shifted his bundle slightly, and patted the area of Thomas’ rear, “There, there lovey. Nearly home now.” He faked a murmur from the body. “Don’t you be throwing up down my back now, dear!”
He kept walking calmly onwards, ignoring the ‘good luck mate’ calls from the two men, and minutes later was standing near one of many building sites near the base of the harbor bridge. He set his load down and glanced about before unwrapping the body and removing the black fabric, rolling that up to take with him. Morris’ battered body was arranged in such a way as to hopefully look like he’d died where he fell and perhaps as a result of a fight. With a quick last look about, Gregory made his way off in the opposite direction from whence he’d come. A long circuitous route through the city to where he’d left the second bag brought him to be opening the metal lidded box, only to quickly see there was nothing left in it. Damn! he thought to himself. That bastard must have found it after all. Deciding instead to leave the rolled-up fabric in the box and push it back under the debris, he quickly left and made his way home, in time to see the sun rising from his bedroom window before collapsing into bed.
A short while later, several tradies arriving at work for the day discovered Thomas Morris’s body and called the local police. As it happened, later that day, someone else found his belongings pushed into a cavity near the bridge and knowing a body was reported earlier that day, also handed them over to the police who started an investigation.
As luck would have it, not only had Gregory somehow managed to dump the man’s body in the same general area as he’d been sleeping for the last couple of nights, but the belongings found later revealed an old photograph of the woman that Constable George Williams thought he’d escorted home the night before.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
By Sunday morning, Margaret was exhausted by her extraordinary week, and from a busy few nights at the club, as the festive season started to gather early momentum. But she woke up and stretched, eager to see Maureen and Lewis that afternoon, as arranged the previous week.
The morning passed quickly and while she was unaware of the Christmas parade happening in the city that afternoon, she managed to still make her way to the park for the scheduled 2 pm meeting with Nanny Leo and her children. Walking through the park, with a basket of fruit, some lemonade and a couple of gifts for them all, she hummed quietly to herself, thinking about the many strange events of the past few months. So caught up in her mind was she, that she failed to notice there were two women over near the swings with her offspring, and was already within sight of them all when Lewis screeched out - “Maammmaaa!” And came hurtling toward her. Maureen hesitated, but soon followed, and as both children fell upon her, it slowly dawned on Margaret that one of the women standing watching the scene was in fact Mrs Sybil Cook.
Her blood froze in her veins, and she stood up, holding each of her children’s hands firmly, and tried to settle the ten voices in her head all vying for attention. Maureen, with an awareness beyond her years, shushed Lewis before it was strictly necessary, and he in turn stopped squirming in his excitement at seeing their mother.
Margaret was aware that she must approach the two women and, not wanting to leave the basket behind or let go of either small hand, bent and asked Maureen if she’d be able to pick it up. The small group of three then slowly moved towards the waiting Grandmother and Nanny - each in their own way wishing they could simply run together and not stop until they reached the sanctuary of their home back in Auckland.
The silence extended between Sybil and Margaret, each daring the other to speak first. Finally, they were standing with less than two feet between them, and Nanny made a gesture to Maureen to come to her with her brother, but Margaret was terrified of letting go of them and held fast. The children needed no encouragement to stand fast beside their mother either, and a stony awkward silence felt like a pending rainstorm around them.
Finally, Sybil broke the moment. “I might have guessed, but seriously didn’t think you were so stupid as to test me.” She looked at both of the young faces looking back at her in fear. “I presume that your father knows of this?” Maureen nodded very slightly, torn between being truthful as was her way when confronted and knowing that her daddy might be in awful trouble from his own mother. Her childish maturity was conflicted greatly between doing what was right and doing what she wanted. Her first loyalty was to her mother, but she was also aware that the older woman held great power over all of them.
Margaret drew herself up to her full height
and with a move of her head, felt her back strengthen as she faced her nemesis. “Did you really think I’d stay away? You broke our agreement by not sharing my letters. I need my children to be with me. We are a family, despite what you think of us.”
“Maureen, take your brother and go with Nanny.” Sybil was sharp in her instruction but both children were stuck fast to their mother’s side and Sybil’s tone only served to cement the glue binding them all together. “Now!” she barked at them. Margaret’s hands firmed and she held onto the small paws clutched in hers.
Sensing she might have lost any ground thus far gained, Sybil looked hard at Margaret. You know you risk losing them permanently now, for the reasons laid out to you before. I will not let you raise my only grandson in sin. Especially with a bastard for a sister, by his whore of a mother.
“I’ll have to take my chances with that risk. But you won’t have a chance to get your dirty hands on them either. Margaret turned and pulled the two children tight into her as she led them away back in the direction from where she’d come only a few minutes earlier.
“My son will not go against me, you’ll see.” Sybil called after their retreating backs.
As soon as they were out of sight, Margaret stopped at a park bench and sat down with Maureen and Lewis on either side of her and, holding back her tears, asked if they were both all right, giving them the choice to return to their grandmother if that was what they really wanted to do. Both emphatically voiced their reluctance to do so, and she hugged them closely to her.
“You know, we have some things to work out before we can go home, I’m afraid. And I’m not sure how to reach your father.” She looked down at her beautiful babies and sighed. “But I’m sure we’ll figure this out quickly.”
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