Florence had the letter clutched in her hand. She looked at the writing on the front.
‘This is addressed to Mrs Lilli Bower. We must show this to her first. Josefina seems convinced that it was Yvette’s father who took her away.’
‘She’ll be at the cinema by now, won’t she? Telephone there and ask her to come home immediately,’ Mrs Snelgrove suggested. ‘Remember, I witnessed what happened, and I’ll say what I saw, of course. Look, I have to get back to work now, but I’ll tell Manny something’s come up, eh?’
‘Thank you, you’ve been very good, Mrs Snelgrove. I’ll take your advice . . .’
While Florence was busy talking first to the cinema manager, and then to a frantic Lilli, Josefina went to her room. Florence hadn’t said she must go to school, and she didn’t want to, because she would be late for class. On an impulse she took the French doll from its resting place on the chest of drawers, and tucked it up in her bed.
She said aloud, ‘Don’t worry, Clarice. If Yvette doesn’t come back, I’ll look after you . . .’
*
‘It’s him, all right.’ Lilli’s hands shook as she read the few lines on the notepaper.
I am taking Yvette home, where she belongs. You may write to her, if you wish, but you must be careful in what you say. Sam.
‘Oh, Florence, can you forgive me for deceiving you?’ she appealed.
‘I’m sure you had good reason,’ Florence said evenly. She looked at Josefina. The child still looked dazed from the shock. ‘Play in your room, I should, dearie. Don’t upset yourself. It seems you were right. It was Yvette’s father. She won’t come to any harm.’
‘He loves her, I know that, Florence. I didn’t fit in with his family. It was a shock, I can tell you when I met them. His mother didn’t approve of me. Rather like my own maman.’
‘Lilli, I don’t think this is the time for confessions. The important thing is, what can we do about this?’
‘If my husband is determined to keep his daughter, then he will. I can’t afford to engage a solicitor, and the police would say Yvette was not taken against her will. You see, she loves her father, just as she loves me.’
‘Do you think he has done this to force your hand; to get you to return to him?’
Lilli shook her head. ‘No! I was told—Oh dear, this is another thing I have not confided to you, Florence!’
‘My dear, you are entitled to your private life, though I hope you think of me as a friend.’
‘Of course I do! The day you were taken ill, do you remember that a person called here, asking for me?’
‘A man, wasn’t it? Someone you know?’
‘I have met him, briefly on several occasions. I would not say I know him.’ Lilli rummaged in her bag. ‘He gave me this. He tells me, he cares about my welfare. He warned me that my husband wanted Yvette back, but not me – I am not forgiven.’
Florence studied the business card. ‘Do you think this Mr Solon told your husband where you are?’
‘That is what I must find out. I have the rest of the day off. I will call on him shortly!’
TWELVE
PICCADILLY Circus, and the famous fountain with the figure of Eros, but Lilli gave it no more than a glance. The only thoughts of love she had today, were for her daughter. She was in Piccadilly, that busy thoroughfare, but she was lost. Belatedly, she realized that she should have telephoned Philippe Solon first, because the address on the card was too vague.
Then she heard his voice from behind her. She spun round.
‘Mrs Bower – Lilli – I was on my way to see you when I spotted you standing here. I am very sorry for what has happened.’
‘You already know, then? Or did you arrange the abduction?’ she accused him.
‘Look, we cannot talk here, it is too noisy. Allow me to escort you to Green Park where we can discuss this.’
‘There is no need for discussion. I just want my daughter returned to me!’
He took her arm. ‘There is a police officer, see, over there? Don’t pull away, or he might apprehend me, and how would that help?’
‘If you are guilty, it is what you deserve!’ However, she allowed him to walk with her. They did not speak again until they reached the park and found an unoccupied bench.
‘Now, what do you know?’ she demanded. They sat well apart, but she turned to face him, so she could observe if he was telling the truth or not. She hadn’t really taken in his image before. Just the olive complexion, dark hair and eyes. Now she realized that he was not as old as she had calculated, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties, and that he was regarding her with obvious sympathy.
He gazed back at her, at her pale face, the haunted look in her red-rimmed eyes; the beret she had pulled on carelessly at an unflattering angle to cover her fine, flyaway hair.
‘What do I know?’ he repeated. ‘In the beginning, I was obliged to reveal your circumstances, the place where you and your daughter were living and where you worked. I regret that my recommendations regarding you were ignored, as was my decision to drop the case. The person whose name I cannot divulge calculated that if your husband was given this information he would act exactly the way he did, and remove your daughter from you. I swear I knew nothing of this, until I received a telephone call a short while ago, advising me to contact you and to elicit certain facts from yourself.’
‘I – I don’t understand. What does this person want from me?’
‘I was told you would know.’
‘But I don’t! You must believe me!’
‘My dear Lilli’ – he used her first name again – ‘I do believe you. It appears to me that the deceit you practised was against your husband. I can understand that. As I told you before, I want to help you, to protect you, if I can.’
‘Who are you?’ Lilli asked.
‘I am who it says on the card. Philippe Solon, private investigator. What I was before, during the war especially, need not concern you. I am your friend, Lilli. I support your cause.’
‘You would help me to get Yvette back?’
‘It will not be easy. Your husband is angry, he needs time to think things over. I see both sides of this. Yvette will be well cared for by her father, don’t you think?’ She nodded reluctantly. He added, ‘Come, shall I take you home now?’
Lilli rose. She managed a tremulous smile. ‘Yes, please.’ This time she slipped her arm in his voluntarily, but when he realized she was shaking, he disengaged himself and supported her with his arm firmly around her shoulders, as they walked along.
When they arrived at Florence’s door, it opened immediately. Lilli said simply, ‘This is Mr Solon, you met him briefly once. Florence, he wants to help me.’
‘Thank goodness you are back!’ Florence exclaimed. ‘Yvette is on the phone!’
Lilli dashed to pick up the instrument. ‘Yvette, where are you? Are you all right?’
‘Don’t worry, Maman. We stopped at the post office to ring you; we are just around the corner from Granny’s! I will write to you tomorrow and tell you all about it. I have to go now. I love you, Maman!’ Then Lilli heard the receiver replaced on its rest.
‘Good news?’ the tall man asked.
‘Yvette is about to go to her grandmother’s house. She – she said I am not to worry.’
‘That is good. I shall go now, but I will be in touch. Please think about what I said.’
‘I will, but, it’s a mystery to me . . .’
After he had gone, Florence said briskly, ‘We’ll have hot pies and tea. I’ll give Manny a call. None of us have had lunch, after all. Now, please be cheerful for poor Josefina, she’s still very upset. This Mr Solon comes from the same place as you, doesn’t he?’
‘I believe he does,’ Lilli said softly.
*
Florence was determined life must get back to normal, as far as possible, for Josefina’s sake. She encouraged Lilli to return to work the following morning, and, later, she took her niece to
school, knowing that explanations were due.
As she had anticipated, Mrs Snelgrove was waiting for her outside the greengrocer’s.
‘Any news?’ she enquired anxiously.
‘Yes, we know that Yvette is safe, thank goodness; as Josefina told us, she went off with her father. Lilli spoke to her on the telephone yesterday afternoon. She asked me to thank you for your concern and help.’
‘He shouldn’t have gone about it the way he did,’ Mrs Snelgrove said forthrightly.
‘No, of course he shouldn’t, and Lilli will have to deal with that, but in the meantime please excuse me, I must talk to Miss Darch if I can, before school begins . . .’
‘You don’t know when the child will be back, then?’ Mrs Snelgrove called after them.
Florence answered, ‘Not yet. Thank you again,’ as they hurried off.
As they approached the school gates, Florence saw the local bobby standing there.
‘I was hoping to have a word with you, Miss Flinders,’ he greeted her.
‘You’ve heard what happened yesterday, then?’
‘Yes. Nothing was reported officially.’
‘No. I’ll explain . . . Josefina, run along now, and tell Miss Darch I’m here, please.’ She bit her lip. There were children going past and mothers casting covert glances.
The policeman suggested, ‘Shall we talk with the headmistress in her study?’
Florence agreed that would be more private. She thought, oh dear, I should have told Lilli to do the explaining. I’m not the one responsible for Yvette, after all . . .
It was some time before she was able to rejoin Manny at the pie shop. He pulled out a chair from behind the counter for her to sit on.
‘Other people’s children,’ he said, because he’d been waiting anxiously to hear how she’d got on at the school. ‘You shouldn’t have all this worry, Florence. It’s not fair.’
‘It can’t be helped.’ She managed a smile. ‘I care about them as if they were my own, you see. I had to reveal more than I think Lilli would have wanted me to, but I hope I made it clear that Yvette is all right. Oh dear, we don’t want any more upsets before the wedding, do we? Look, I must tidy up the flat. See you at lunchtime if you get a spare moment!’
Lilli worked extra hard to catch up on the jobs she had left undone the previous day. When she emerged from the cinema, she was exhausted; she had neglected to comb her hair and apply fresh lipstick, as she usually did before leaving, and there were dark shadows under her eyes due to lack of sleep the previous night. She was also aware that her hands still reeked of bleach after scrubbing out the cloakrooms.
She wasn’t really surprised to see Philippe Solon. ‘I came to see how you are,’ he said. ‘You have time to spare for the tea shop, I hope?’
‘I have nothing to hurry back for now.’ Her voice betrayed her hurt. ‘I need black coffee, not tea, with plenty of sugar, and a toasted teacake—’
‘You haven’t eaten since yesterday?’ he asked, obviously concerned.
‘No. I feel, ah, hollow, inside. I need something hot and buttery.’
They sat at the same table as on the last occasion, Lilli toying with her teacake but drinking the coffee in grateful gulps.
Philippe, as he asked her to address him, signalled to the waitress to bring the coffee-pot.
Lilli removed the beret, ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I look terrible.’
‘You are an attractive young woman,’ he contradicted her.
Their cups refilled, they drank their coffee and contemplated in silence for a while. Then he reached across the table and lifted her left hand.
‘Your wedding ring, you have removed it,’ he observed.
‘I feel betrayed, by a man I once loved . . . It was a symbolic gesture, I suppose.’
‘Did you ever consider how he might feel, not knowing why, or where you had gone?’
‘He knew why. I was desperate to get away; I had no idea where, at the time.’
‘You should settle things, arrange a divorce.’
‘It’s not so easy. I don’t earn much, part-time. I have nothing to spare for legal matters.’ She suddenly realized he was still holding her hand, and she withdrew it from his clasp.
‘I have an idea. You could work for me, in my office. I would pay you well.’
‘I have not trained as a secretary . . .’
‘I deal with my own correspondence, that is not a problem. You could take notes; answer the telephone, I presume; deal with callers when I am out; keep my diary. What do you say?’
She looked ruefully at her hands, reddened from her morning’s labours, with more than one broken nail.
She said, with a sigh, ‘My hands still smell of bleach; how I hate that! Mr Solon – Philippe – perhaps I am being rash, but I accept your offer! I will have to work the week out at the Golden Domes, though, that’s only fair.’
Later, as she continued her walk home, alone, she thought, I can catch the tram with Rose Marie in the mornings, and perhaps meet her after work sometimes, when she is not seeing Russ. I will feel safer with a companion I know.
*
Rose Marie had been invited to stay in Norwood for the weekend. It was her eighteenth birthday on the Sunday, but Florence had been good about it, and just asked that she bring Russ back for a special tea that day, saying, ‘You ought not to disappoint Josefina.’
Rose Marie had omitted to tell her sister that Mrs Short would not be there. She was spending a few days with Sadie and was going to her latest show. Rose Marie wasn’t sure whether Russ’s mother knew of her son’s plans for the period of her absence.
Russ was on duty at the bookshop that Saturday morning, so Rose Marie arranged to meet him when he finished work. They planned to eat a modest lunch out and then to go shopping for her birthday present, before they went on to Russ’s house.
He was in an ebullient mood, anticipating what was to come later. Rose Marie, on the other hand, was now experiencing niggling doubts. She wanted so much to repeat the events of the night they’d spent in Norfolk, but she was aware that one lie would lead to another. What about her previous firm resolve not to make the same mistakes as Stella? Yet, she argued with herself, the culmination of their passion had been inevitable.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Russ said, as they waited for their tomato soup and rolls, in Lyons.
‘Russ, I’m so sorry, but I can’t go through with it!’
‘Through with what?’
‘You know. Letting Florence think your mother invited me to stay overnight! Did she even agree to our arrangement?’
He was honest with her. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t ask that question, Rose Marie.’
‘Well, now you don’t need to answer it, eh?’
‘Look, I’m disappointed. However, I’ll respect your decision. So long as we spend the day together, and go shopping for that special birthday present . . .’
‘Of course we will! But you mustn’t be extravagant, Russ.’
‘Wait and see. Mr Turbot-Watts kindly gave me a bonus this week in return for all my hard work! I suspect my mention of your birthday, several times, was the real reason.’
‘He takes a fatherly interest in you,’ Rose Marie told him.
‘Like his uncle, he’s a confirmed bachelor. But he seems to approve of me!’
They spent the afternoon looking in shop windows. They laughed a lot, and sighed a little over things they couldn’t afford. Rose Marie was aware that she was being led in a certain direction, but she was taken by surprise when they halted by a small jewellers’.
‘Come on,’ he urged her, ‘let’s go inside.’
‘But Russ, look at the prices! You can’t afford those!’
‘You’ll see. My sister recommended this place. They also sell second-hand jewellery at sensible prices. That chap, see, the one with the moustache, is expecting us.’
The assistant beckoned them to follow him to a corner cabinet. He withdrew a
tray full of sparkling rings and placed it on a small table. ‘Take a seat. Allow me to measure the young lady’s finger before selecting any rings. Has madam any preference, say a silver ring set with garnets? Something more modern? Or is it your wish for diamonds?’
‘I’m not sure . . .’ Rose Marie said.
‘Take your time considering these, while I attend to another customer.’
Rose Marie seemed dazzled by the display before her. After a long pause, she asked Russ quietly, ‘Are we looking for an engagement ring? You haven’t even asked me to marry you yet, or spoken to Florence – or your mother, I presume.’
‘I just assumed you felt the same way,’ he said in an injured tone.
‘You know I do! But I’m not walking out of here with a ring on my finger. You must ask Florence’s permission tomorrow. Even if she agrees, it will be a long engagement!’
‘You continually surprise me, Rose Marie,’ Russ told her ruefully.
‘Never take me for granted,’ she said firmly. Then, she turned her attention to the tray. A slender gold band with a blue sapphire and tiny diamonds was the first ring she tried on.
The assistant congratulated them on a good choice. The ring dated back to the late Victorian era, he told them. It fitted as if it had been made for Madam. A little worn, perhaps . . .
‘I don’t mind that.’ Rose Marie meant it. She’d tell Russ privately later that she fancied the ring had been much loved, like the woman who once wore it.
Seven guineas didn’t break the bank. Russ was relieved at that!
*
Florence found herself on her own on Saturday evening. She’d encouraged Manny to meet up with his friends at the pub, saying she’d invite Lilli to join her, as she might want to talk. However, Lilli was busy sewing a fresh collar and cuffs to a dress she had bought at the second-hand clothes shop, which she hoped would be suitable for her new job.
After supper, when Josefina was asleep, Florence decided to have a bath and hair-wash that evening, rather than the next morning, to pass time. She was undressed ready for bed, wrapped around with her favourite kimono, drying her hair by the stove, when Manny called out, ‘Anyone at home?’
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