Hot Pies on the Tram Car

by Sheila Newberry

  The big man flinched. ‘Lilli deprived me of my daughter, it’s hard to forgive her that.’

  ‘She must have had her reasons. You should have sat down together and talked about your problems. Things fester if you don’t.’ Manny surprised himself. I know that, he thought. All those years I wasted, thinking about what Buck did to me in the war. He got his just desserts many times over; I struck lucky, with Florence.

  ‘An address you say? Is it far from here?’ Sam demanded.

  ‘A few miles. You can’t go there tonight. We’ll work out the best way to go about it.’

  ‘Who gave you this information?’

  ‘A woman called Annie. The chap who brought you up here spoke to her first. She’s seen Lilli, it seems she’s not been harmed,’ he emphasized, guessing Sam’s fears.

  Stella came through with the tray, followed by Josefina. She said to Manny, ‘Look, I think we’ve stayed long enough for a first visit. Florence is back in her room, seeing to the baby. Leave her undisturbed for a while, eh?’

  ‘We’ll come again soon. I’ll make sure of that,’ Josefina added firmly. ‘ ’Bye, Manny.’

  ‘Pick your bag up,’ Manny said to Sam Bower. ‘I’ll take you upstairs and show you the flat. The bed needs making up. There’s a basin in the WC; cold water, but have a wash and brush up. Take your time. When you return, I’ll see if Florence feels like talking.’

  ‘I was wondering,’ Sam said tentatively, ‘if Lilli’s friend, Rose Marie, could tell me anything. Yvette talks a lot about her. She may know something that you don’t.’

  ‘Rose Marie left home recently. I’d rather you didn’t mention that to Florence.’

  ‘I gather you’ve family problems, too. I’m sorry to involve you with mine,’ Sam said.

  The baby, replete, dropped off to sleep. Florence kissed him, then lay him in the crib. She looked at herself in the long mirror. Still those hectic spots of colour in her cheeks. She took a few deep breaths, then sat down at the dressing table to tidy her hair. She wanted to dress, but felt too weary to make the effort, despite the bravado she had shown Stella earlier.

  Manny’s anxious face greeted her when she emerged from the bedroom.

  ‘What have you got lined up for supper?’ she asked. ‘We must ask Sam to join us. We can talk over the meal.’

  ‘I was going out for fish and chips, but—’

  ‘Well go now, before he returns. Three cod and chips, remember. I’ll lay the table.’

  ‘Florence . . .’ He gave up. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Just that then, I’ll do the rest.’

  Manny met Buck outside the shop. They fell into step.

  ‘Not going to the pub, are you?’ Buck asked. He was all dressed up.

  ‘No. Chip shop. Our visitor’s staying over. He tell you who he was?’

  ‘I heard him tell you. Let’s hope he deals with the problem. You shouldn’t have that on your plate right now. Florence doing well, and the baby?’

  ‘Thank you, yes. Well, cheerio, have one for me, as they say.’

  ‘Doc’s told me to stick to soda water, but I like the company.’

  *

  Buck sat nursing his glass of fizzy drink. The hoped-for company had not yet materialized. He’d come out rather early, he supposed. A newspaper had been left on his table. He opened it up for something to do. The touch on his shoulder startled him.

  ‘May I join you?’ Annie stood there, looking solemn.

  ‘Yes . . . How’d you know I was here?’

  ‘The shop was closed, you weren’t at home. Saturday night, so I worked it out.’

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t stay long. I might have been followed.’

  ‘I can deal with that, if necessary,’ Buck asserted forcefully. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Quite a lot. Mr Brown, as I call him, didn’t find what he was hoping for in Lilli’s stuff.’

  ‘Well, perhaps he’ll give up, then. Let her go.’

  ‘He said not. But I have a feeling he’s lying. He brought back a lot of papers, files, from his office and locked ’em in a trunk the other day; I don’t think he’s been back there since. The doorman at the apartments – he’s my uncle by marriage, he got me the maid’s job and a room in the staff quarters – told me privately that Mr Brown’s given notice; he’s leaving.’

  ‘Things been happening our end, too. Not that they tell me much. Lilli’s husband arrived this afternoon. He’s staying over the pie shop tonight. Working out what to do, I reckon.’ He added, ‘Who is this Mr Brown really, d’you know?’

  She shook her head. ‘He’s a bleeding’ mystery man. Wish I’d never met him!’

  ‘How did you?’

  ‘Not the way you’re guessing! I had a nose round his apartment when he first come there, and, well, I fancied an item or two, and when he found out it was me as did the nicking, he said he wouldn’t report me if I did a special job for him . . .’

  ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

  ‘Felt I could trust you.’ She stretched a hand across the table. He took it.

  ‘First time anyone ever said that to me,’ he said gruffly.

  The pub was filling up. He released her hand. ‘You’d best get back.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll call a cab. Quicker. I’ll be in touch when I can.’ Then she was gone.

  *

  Lilli was asleep in her chair. Philippe sighed as he moved stealthily around, packing his clothes into a large suitcase, personal items in a smaller one. He piled these on top of the trunk by the door. It was a pity, he thought, that he could not explain to Lilli why the time had come for him to leave; to apologize for drugging her glass of wine at dinner this evening. He would catch the boat-train tonight. Tomorrow, he’d travel across France and further still. A new identity, a fresh assignment with, hopefully, a more positive outcome. If he failed again, he knew what he could expect.

  The telephone call made to the cab station, he paused for a moment beside Lilli, looked down at her. It was fortunate his masters in the secret world of espionage were not aware that he had actually fallen in love with her. This was not the time for regrets.

  ‘Au revoir,’ he said softly to Lilli, as he opened the door to a discreet knock.

  The doorman had come to help with the luggage. A note passed hands. The man would keep his mouth firmly shut, likewise Annie. Who would believe Lilli?

  As one cab drew away, another arrived. Annie encountered her uncle in the foyer of the apartment block. He gave a brief nod. She instantly comprehended.

  ‘She still here?’ she asked breathlessly.

  He nodded again. Glanced around to make sure they were alone. ‘Glad he’s gone, eh?’

  ‘I’ll say!’

  ‘Take the lift,’ he told her.

  Upstairs, Lilli stirred, looked around her, uncomprehending at first. Then she struggled up, staggered toward the door. It was ajar. Philippe had left without locking it! She pulled at the handle, went outside, then stopped, swaying, gazing at the staircase opposite.

  The lift doors opened and Annie took in the situation immediately. She ran across the thick carpeting along the corridor and pushed Lilli back inside the room. She closed the door behind her. As Lilli opened her mouth to feebly protest, Annie panted, ‘I’ve got the key!’

  Lilli sat down abruptly, tears spilling down her face. ‘I had a chance . . .’

  ‘You still have! More than that. You’re free Lilli! Mr Brown has gone, for good. Look, I’m going to make you some strong, black coffee, ’cause I reckon he gave you something to dope you, before he went. He didn’t want you raising no alarm, like.’

  ‘You’ll help me, Annie, won’t you?’ Lilli’s voice was slurred. ‘You see, I don’t know where I am even, and I don’t want to stay here—’

  ‘You won’t have to. I’ll take you home. But not in this state, eh? I’ll pack your things while you drink as much of this as you can.’ Annie poured t
he first cup of coffee.

  She took the shabby suitcase which contained the items from Lilli’s flat, rolled the glass scent bottles in a silk nightdress apiece, tipped the contents of the lingerie drawer on top, but left the expensive clothes in the wardrobe. She thought, I can get rid of those later; she won’t want ’em. She made an exception of Lilli’s coat, hat and shoes, which she had been wearing the night she came here.

  Lilli was on her third cup of coffee. She looked less limp, Annie was pleased to see.

  ‘All right, that’ll do. Put your shoes on, and your coat and hat. It’s past nine, so it’ll have to be another cab, but I’m flat broke now.’ She made a face. ‘Unless you can help?’

  ‘My bag in the bedside cabinet, I’ve still got my wages in my purse . . .’

  ‘Right, ready? Hang on to me!’ Annie guided Lilli out. ‘Not the stairs, the lift.’

  The cab driver was the same one who’d brought Annie back nearly an hour before.

  ‘Where to?’ he asked. Her companion looked the worse for wear, he noted.

  ‘Where you got me from, Paradise Street. To the pie shop on the corner.’

  ‘Too late for an ’ot pie, I s’pose?’ he joked.

  ‘’Fraid so, but you’ll get a tip for your trouble,’ Annie replied.

  Buck was about to go up to the first-floor flat to tell them what had been said in the pub. He’d waited until he judged they would have finished their meal. Then he spotted the two women alighting from the cab. He hurried over to take the case from Annie. He could tell the younger woman needed the support of the other.

  ‘Oh,’ Annie said in a matter-of-fact way as she encouraged Lilli up the stairs. ‘I should’ve said before, Buck told me earlier, your husband’s here. He won’t have to break down Mr Brown’s door tomorrow, now.’

  Manny opened the door, and gazed incredulously at Lilli, flanked by the other two.

  He turned, yelled, ‘Florence, Sam, she’s back. Lilli’s back!’

  Then Florence was hugging Lilli and Lilli was crying, ‘You’ve had the baby, oh Florence!’ while Sam just stood there awkwardly, dumbstruck, it seemed.

  ‘We’ll go,’ Buck got in at last. ‘I reckon any explanations can wait until the morning.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Manny told him. ‘He’s right,’ he said to Florence. ‘Anyway, Sam’s got the right to know it all first.’

  ‘I just want to get back in my own bed . . .’ Lilli said faintly.

  Sam found his voice. ‘I’ll take you up to your flat. Is it all right for me to stay with you tonight? I can sleep in Yvette’s bed,’ he floundered.

  ‘I suppose so . . . Goodnight, it’s good to be home,’ Lilli told the others.

  A protesting wail came from the bedroom. ‘Here we go again,’ said weary Florence.

  ‘We’ll leave you now, too,’ Buck put in.

  He and Annie went down the stairs, as the other two made their slower progress up.

  They shivered a bit out in the night air in the street.

  ‘How are you going to get back?’ Buck asked Annie.

  ‘Well, I’ve done enough rushing about for today. You’ve got a bed I can use, haven’t you?’ she said daringly. ‘ ’Sides, they might want to hear my part of it, in the morning.’

  ‘I’ve only got one bed,’ Buck said. ‘I can manage in the chair.’

  ‘We’ll see about that. Ooh, you’ve got a cat, all ghostly and white at night!’

  ‘You don’t like cats?’

  ‘But I do. Will she let me pick her up, I wonder?’

  ‘She don’t allow that as a rule,’ he began. But Annie already had the cat in her arms.

  Took old Manny seven years before he got together with Florence, he thought, and I’ve only known Annie seven days!

  *

  Lilli undressed quickly in the bedroom. She put on the expensive nightdress which Philippe had bought her. It was too late to find out where her own clothes were. She suddenly felt wide awake, although she had a dull headache. Someone had made the bed up; despite the flock mattress, she felt comfortable, as she never had in Philippe’s luxury bedroom.

  She could hear the narrow bed next door creaking as Sam got in. He was a big man, she thought, he’s not going to sleep well on that. It might even collapse!

  Sam was obviously having difficulty in getting settled. Finally, she called his name.

  He stood there in the doorway, peering at her in the dark. ‘You want me?’

  ‘Get in the far side of this bed, Sam. I shan’t get to sleep with you groaning in there.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Look, we slept in the same bed for nearly seven years—’

  ‘And the last five of those you kept to your side, and I kept to mine,’ he stated.

  ‘You know why that was. Your mother—’

  ‘You can’t blame her for everything. It was her house.’

  ‘That was the problem.’

  ‘You refused to make up after we’d had words—’

  ‘She was listening in,’ Lilli said, as he pulled some of the covers off her side.

  ‘How could she help it? Thin walls, and you screaming in a foreign language.’

  ‘All you had to do, to shut me up, was to say sorry, put your arms around me and—’

  ‘Like this?’ he whispered, moving closer. He got a firm grip on her slippery silk-clad waist. Her resistance melted away. No more fighting, she thought. I’ve been such a fool. We both have. She raised her face for his kiss. Time to make up . . .

  ‘Like that,’ she agreed, much later.

  TWENTY-TWO

  ELMO was doing his best to keep his young assistant busy. The fact that he himself had to take off time for two funerals meant that Russ was in charge of the bookshop on both occasions.

  Old Jacob had succumbed soon after his collapse, which Elmo regarded as a blessing, for Jacob’s sake. There was a handful of mourners, including Jacob’s landlady. They had a good wake, provided by Elmo, and it was, as he said in a heartfelt address to those present, the final page in a life dedicated to literature.

  A few days later, he was summoned to Norfolk on the passing of his uncle. Most of the village turned out to celebrate a real character, one known to them all and respected for his endearing eccentricity as well as his great knowledge and love of books. Elmo was very touched when he learned there was to be a collection to raise money for a commemorative headstone in the churchyard. So much good port flowed after the ceremony, back at the pub, Elmo deemed it wise to ring Russ and say he had decided to stay that night and return the following day. He’d had the foresight to bring an overnight bag.

  The landlady of the White Hart showed him his room, with the remark, ‘This is the one your friends used when they came up here to see your uncle. Well, naturally, they paid for two rooms, but I guessed they had other ideas  . . . Maybe they’ve married since?’ she speculated.

  ‘Not yet,’ Elmo added firmly. ‘Well, I must bid you goodnight. It’s been a long day.’

  She had the last word. ‘Lovely young couple, made for each other . . .’

  Elmo thought, I really can’t stand by any longer and do nothing. Russ may not appreciate advice from one who is, after all, unqualified to give it, but I’ll do it, all the same.

  *

  Russ had been well occupied during Elmo’s absence. Piles of books on chairs had been sorted and slotted into the appropriate place. He needed to blot out the thoughts that it was now September, that it was over six weeks since Rose Marie had joined his sister at the theatre, but most of all that this coming Saturday was to have been their wedding day.

  He had heard nothing from Rose Marie since she had written to him from Stella’s. Sadie made her usual weekly telephone calls to their mother who had assured him that his sister was looking after Rose Marie, but that Russ must continue to be patient meanwhile.

  Elmo arrived at the bookshop not long before closing time. He gave an approving look at the tidy di
splay shelves and then went into the back room to put the kettle on.

  ‘Come and join me, boy: we need to talk. Leave the door open in case we have a last-minute browser.’ The tea was soon made and the biscuit tin opened. ‘Thank you, you’ve done well. You deserve a break now.’ Elmo dipped his ginger biscuit in his tea.

  ‘I’d rather keep busy, it takes my mind off things,’ Russ replied. ‘Did the funeral go off well? It was a fine day here.’

  ‘Yes, the sun shone, though the east wind blew, but the mood was light-hearted. We celebrated his life in the traditional manner. He was a good age, Russ, eighty-four. Retirement finished him, but then he didn’t call his books work any more than I do.’ He paused, drank deeply of his tea. Then, ‘The White Hart landlady remembered you and Rose Marie. Dropped a heavy hint that, ah, you’d had a bit of a, um, honeymoon night there . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry. That was taking advantage of your generosity.’

  ‘My dear boy, I am not criticizing you in any way. The landlady said you were made for each other. I heartily agree. Now, what do you propose to do about it?’

  ‘What can I do?’ Russ sounded defeated.

  ‘Now, I’m aware of the significance of tomorrow’s date. I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but it’s your Saturday off and I don’t like to think of you being utterly miserable at home. If she won’t come to you, you must go to her. If you haven’t resolved your differences by Monday, take the following week off. Don’t forget that was supposed to be your honeymoon.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ Russ began.

  ‘Then don’t. Just make sure you return with Rose Marie.’

  *

  The journey to the Midlands seemed never-ending to Russ. After spending a wakeful night going over and over what to say to Rose Marie, he was impatient to arrive at his destination.

  It was stuffy and malodorous in the carriage. Two of his fellow travellers were pipe smokers, who added to the fug. Wanting a breath of fresh air, despite the grunts of disapproval, he forced the window down and poked his head out. A blast of steam from the engine alerted him to his foolhardiness just as he received a painful smut in his right eye.

  He staggered back from the window, feeling desperately for his handkerchief in his coat pocket. One of the pipe smokers leapt to his feet, not to administer first aid, but to pointedly slam the window shut. A middle-aged woman in a corner seat next to the corridor was kinder.