by Tania Crosse
‘Thanks, Belinda.’
‘Can you remember the way?’
‘Yes, I should think so,’ Hillie grimaced, and set off through the eleven-acre site she knew like the back of her hand.
God, what a place it was, she thought grimly as she set off towards the sawmill to find Stan first. The original founders and subsequent management had always been benevolent, but the factory itself seemed even more depressing than ever. Hillie thanked her lucky stars she wasn’t working there anymore, so perhaps there was a silver lining to Jimmy’s change of employment, after all.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
A hand dug cruelly into Hillie’s shoulder and she was spun round to meet Harold’s menacingly glinting eyes. And then his expression altered to a gloating sneer. ‘Or have you changed your mind and want your old job back now that useless husband of yours has lost his?’
Hillie had to knot her lips fiercely to stop her fury bursting out, and her own eyes flashed like cold steel. ‘As it happens, no,’ she all but spat back, ‘though it’s doubtless what you’d like to see. Old Sal died this afternoon, so I’ve come to fetch Mr Parker.’
‘Oh.’ Harold’s face fell as the cause for his glee was whisked from beneath his feet. But not to be defeated, he went on with a malevolent curl of his lip. ‘And there’s me thinking you was maybe hankering after the old place. But…’ He leant forward, grasping her arm this time, and poking his nose so close to her face, she could see the saliva oozing from the corners of his mouth. ‘You’ll be back here, mark my words.’
Hillie angrily pulled away. ‘It’s being so nasty that keeps you going, isn’t it?’ she grated, turning her back and storming off.
But somehow Harold’s words kept echoing in her brain.
*
The hearse had gleamed crisply in the clear, frosty morning. So much less depressing than the wretched drizzle on the day Nell had been buried, Hillie thought. It was sad, of course, that Old Sal had passed on. And poor Eva was quite devastated, even if it was going to make life so much easier for her. But Sal had recently turned eighty-nine and had been senile for so many years. She’d had a good life, so you couldn’t complain.
But the old lady’s funeral had reopened the wound of Nell’s death just as it was beginning to heal. The agony of grief came swirling back into Hillie’s soul. Oh, how different life might have been for them all if their mum had still been alive. Hillie would still have been working at Price’s, and with her wages coming in, Jimmy might not have felt the need to work for Jackson and lost his job at the factory as a result. Above all, Luke and the girls would still have had their loving mother at home.
And when it came down to it, all their troubles had been Harold’s fault. He hadn’t even bothered to get a couple of hours off work to go to Sal’s funeral, Hillie scoffed bitterly. But at least her resentment towards him helped take the edge off the sadness that swelled in her throat.
‘You did Old Sal proud, Eva,’ she said to the poor woman whose eyes were still bloodshot from crying at the funeral. ‘You sit down and let me help with the drinks and things.’
‘Thanks, Hillie,’ Eva said, gratefully easing her well-padded figure onto a chair. ‘It wasn’t us. We could only’ve afforded the cart. It was Kit forked out for it. Thought the world of his gran, he did.’
Hillie lifted her chin slightly. Now why didn’t that surprise her? Kit had always been so fond of Old Sal.
She squeezed through all the people squashed into the back room of Number Eight, helping Stan, Gert and Kit serve tea and biscuits to everyone. Unlike when Nell had died and the many who’d gone to the service had found excuses not to enter Harold Hardwick’s house, almost the whole street seemed to want to cram into the Parker home. They were like sardines in a tin. Hillie noticed Jessica talking to Eva, evidently having defied her parents’ ban on her visiting Gert’s house. She’d be celebrating her twenty-first birthday in a few days’ time. Hillie wondered if she’d found the courage yet to tell them about Patrick. But now wasn’t the time to ask.
‘I gather it was you who paid for the hearse,’ she said to Kit as she joined him in the scullery waiting for the kettle to boil on the gas stove to make yet another pot of tea. ‘That was good of you.’
Kit gave a wistful shrug. ‘I was very close to Gran. I suppose it was being the eldest, I spent more time with her while Mum was looking after the little ones. She had a wicked sense of humour before her mind started going.’
The way he looked at Hillie made her stomach melt, the memories creating a closeness between them. ‘Yes, I can remember that. But it was good of you anyway.’
‘It was the least I could do for her. Mum and Dad couldn’t afford it, and well, I’ve got a good job now. Oh, hello, Jimmy,’ he said flatly, nodding briefly as Jimmy came up beside them.
Hillie’s body stilled as a spark of electricity seemed to sizzle through her. Her husband, and the man she was finding increasingly attractive and certainly respected more, standing one on either side of her. Was it her imagination, or was there a tension between them?
‘It’s going well, then? As a senior clerk?’ she asked, the only thing she could think of to steer the conversation in a sensible direction – as much for her own sake as anything else, for she’d successfully hidden her feelings from both of them as far as she was aware.
‘Yes, I love it,’ Kit told her, as if her question had lifted him from his sorrow. ‘The whole operation’s so complex with all the goods trains that come through the station. It’s utterly fascinating. And we’re being extra vigilant at the moment. There’ve been a lot of armed raids throughout London over the past year. Mainly on jewellers’ shops, but other things as well. Delivery lorries and so forth. Really organised stuff, so we don’t want any of our trains to be held up.’
‘Gosh, d’you really think that’s likely?’
‘Well, I’d love to stay and chat,’ Jimmy broke in a little hastily. ‘But I came over to say I need to go.’
‘It was good of you to come.’
‘Just wanted to show me respects, even though I scarcely knew the old dear. See you later, Hillie, love,’ Jimmy concluded, kissing her on the cheek.
Hillie nodded, but didn’t even turn her head to watch Jimmy leave. She didn’t want him to see the contempt on her face. Old dear, indeed! Old Sal had been a dear, but not in the sense Jimmy meant, she was sure.
‘Ah, kettle’s boiled,’ she announced, smiling up at Kit instead.
*
‘Is this what you’re looking for? I found them quite by chance. They must’ve fallen out of your pocket.’
Hillie had been sitting quietly on the sofa pretending to read, but out of the corner of her eye, she’d been watching Jimmy searching high and low for something. He’d been looking in the pockets of his coat and jacket hanging on the pegs by the door, and riffling as surreptitiously as he could through every drawer in the bedroom and then in the kitchenette. When Hillie saw the panic growing on his face, she finally held up the little package she’d found that had obviously slipped down between the cushions of the settee.
Relief broke out in Jimmy’s eyes and he reached out for the brown paper packet, but Hillie snatched it away.
‘No,’ she said defiantly, her heart racing. ‘Not till you tell me what’s going on. I’ve looked inside. They look like pieces of glass or clear stone or something. But they’re not, are they? I’d hazard a guess they’re uncut diamonds.’
She watched as Jimmy’s face twisted, and then turned thunderous.
‘You shouldn’t have been looking, Hill—’
But anger, exasperation, fear steamed inside her and she interrupted him with, ‘Tell me the truth for once, Jimmy! You said you weren’t doing anything illegal, but explain to me how this isn’t. These are stolen, aren’t they?’
Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a dangerous, implacable glare. She could almost see the cogs of his brain turning as he tried to concoct some lie. But when he finally spoke, s
he felt he was telling something near the truth.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘But these ain’t stolen. They belong to Mr Jackson, honest they do. But they ain’t as good as they look. They’re flawed. Only… Let’s sit down and I’ll explain.’
‘I think you better had!’
Jimmy spread his hands as he perched on the sofa next to her. ‘Mr Jackson takes in perfect – or near perfect – diamonds from dealers. He has them cut and mounted by the cutters and gold- and silversmiths he employs in his factory. Then he returns them to the dealers, and charges for his services. All completely above board.’
‘So… why all the secrecy?’ Hillie demanded, still suspicious. ‘And what are you doing with these flawed ones, then? You say they belong to Jackson himself? I don’t understand.’
‘Ah, now, here’s the clever bit.’ Jimmy puffed up his chest almost proudly. ‘But you mustn’t breathe a word of this to no one, or I’ll be sunk. Mr Jackson buys a certain amount of uncut diamonds, but flawed, not good ones, on the open market, so all totally legit. Then I take them to a secret location – often in the night so no one’ll see – where we have a couple of master cutters. They’re both so brilliant, they can virtually disguise any flaw by the way they cut them. Not many cutters are that skilled. They’re so good that once the stones are mounted, you wouldn’t know. Not even the dealers.’
‘And… they’re swapped. So Jackson gives back the mounted flawed ones to the dealers, who think they’re getting the original ones back, that would obviously be worth more?’
‘Exactly. The master cutters match them in size, clarity and colour – I think I’ve got that right – so without unmounting them which they’re never gonna do, it’s almost impossible to tell the difference. And even then, it’d be virtually impossible to prove it wasn’t the same original stone. And then Mr Jackson sells them ones to some other dealer he knows in Amsterdam for a fat profit, and nobody’s any the wiser. Even the setters in the factory don’t realise where the stones come from. They just work with what they’re given. So the whole business appears legit. All I do is act as courier. I didn’t find out for ages what it was all about, and only then, quite by chance. It’s not the only thing Mr Jackson deals in, of course. But you see how fool proof it is, so you ain’t got nothing to worry about.’
‘But how can you possibly claim it’s all legal?’ Hillie fumed, shaking at the thought of what Jimmy was involved in. ‘It’s stealing!’
‘No, it ain’t. The dealers don’t lose no money over it. Nobody does.’
‘So why doesn’t Jackson just use these master cutters to get the best out of the flawed ones, and never mind the swapping and cheating? Then it all be legal.’
Jimmy shrugged. ‘Easy. ’Cos he wouldn’t make nearly as much money. And nobody gets hurt.’
Hillie ran her hand frantically through her hair. ‘And are you sure that’s all this Jackson fellow has his fingers in?’
‘Well, there’s the bit of illegal gambling, but it don’t seem like nobody’s forced into that. And he owns property and makes sure people pay their rents, but that’s all.’
But by the evasive look on his face, Hillie wasn’t convinced he was telling her the entire truth. But she wouldn’t know how – and was a bit too scared – to try and find out anything about Jackson herself. So she cried in desperation, ‘Oh, Jimmy, you’ve got to find a way out of this. What if it all gets discovered, and you’re implicated? No. Find yourself a proper job before it’s too late. Does Jackson know you know?’
Jimmy wagged his head awkwardly. ‘He didn’t at first, but he does now.’
‘Well, you just keep quiet about it all. And after Christmas, find another job, no matter what it is. Sweeping roads if you have to. And I’ll try and think of a way I can go back to work as well. How does that sound?’
Jimmy worked his lips, but to Hillie’s relief, he nodded slowly. ‘Mr Jackson ain’t gonna like it, but I want to make my girl happy. I promise I’ll go down the Labour first thing in the New Year. But you’ve got to keep your side of the bargain, too.’
‘Yes. Yes, I will. Somehow. And then, Jimmy, maybe we can start building up the trust between us again. Be a proper husband and wife again.’
‘Cor, I’d like that more than anything, Hill. But now, I need to go. Mr Jackson’d murder us if he thought I’d lost them stones. So, will you give them to us?’
Reluctantly, Hillie held the package out to him. She didn’t like this one little bit. But now she knew the truth, maybe – just maybe – they could put things to rights again.
But a dreadful doubt persisted at the back of her mind. She liked the sound of this Jackson chap even less than before. And as for her sisters and how she was going to care for them as well as going back to work at Price’s, at that precise moment, she had no idea!
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hillie wasn’t, however, going to let worrying about Jimmy spoil her Christmas plans for her family, and managed to put it all to the back of her mind. As the previous year, she wanted to make the most of it for Luke and the girls. While Jimmy was still putting money in her pocket, she’d buy little presents and a tree, though she felt ripped by guilt that it was his work for the criminal Mr Jackson that was paying for it. For criminal she was convinced he was. But Jimmy had promised her it would all be over in just a few days, but whether or not he meant it this time, she couldn’t be sure.
‘Glad to see you haven’t got that wastrel of a husband with you,’ Harold sneered as she arrived on Christmas morning. ‘Not that I’d’ve let him in.’
‘And you think he’d have wanted to come?’ Hillie snapped back.
But just then, Frances and Daisy rushed into her arms. ‘Look what Father Christmas put in our stockings!’ they cried, both showing her the tiny bracelets made of plastic beads on elastic they wore.
‘Oh, yes, aren’t they grown-up?’ Hillie smiled, feigning surprise as she came into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Happy Christmas!’ she called to everyone else, and there were hugs all round. ‘Oh, Joan, you’ve prepared all the vegetables. Thank you!’
‘Trixie helped,’ Joan beamed. ‘Our Christmas present to you. Seeing as we don’t get pocket money to buy you anything,’ she added under her breath.
‘Well, let’s get the joint in the oven, and then we can open our other presents,’ Hillie beamed. ‘Oh, and doesn’t the tree look pretty?’ she declared as the light coming through the window caught on the shiny tinsel she’d splashed out on this year as well as the tree itself.
A little while later, they were all sitting round the table. The little ones’ eyes were shining with expectation, while Joan and Luke were more subdued. But Hillie had either bought or made them all reasonable gifts, and they exchanged those she’d got for them to give to each other – even for their father. Harold produced packages for each of his five children, too, although noticeably there was nothing for Hillie. Not that she’d got him anything either. But having worked at Price’s for a few months, for the first time in his life, Luke had been able to purchase small items of his own to give to his family, and Hillie saw the pride in his face as he handed them out. Not that Harold let him keep much of his wages, she knew!
The time passed reasonably amicably, and to Hillie’s relief, Harold was in a good mood, actually playing with his children. It made Hillie think back to what her mum had said, that he’d never harm any of his own. At least Nell had been right in that, and when Hillie eventually left – among protests from her younger siblings – after she had washed up and cleared away after the dinner, she felt all would be well for the remainder of the day.
‘Thanks, Hill,’ Luke said, coming to the door with her. ‘I think Christmas has been OK ’cos of you.’
‘Yes, I hope so,’ she smiled back a little wistfully. ‘Thank you for the present, and enjoy the rest of the day.’
‘Yeah, think we will. Thanks for your present, too. And enjoy the rest of your day, as well.’
‘Thanks, Luke. Take care of you
rself.’
She covered the few yards to the Parkers’ house, knowing she’d be in time to hear the king’s speech on their radio, only the third royal Christmas broadcast ever. She wasn’t sure, however, if she felt relieved to be going to Number Eight or not. Jimmy was going to be waiting for her there, too, and she hoped, prayed, he would keep his promise. And then her heart lifted because she knew Kit would be there, too.
*
‘No.’
Jimmy could feel his guts twisting as he screwed up enough courage to continue, ‘No, I’m sorry, Mr Jackson. Cheating on dealers, illegal gambling, a bit of theft and even squeezing exorbitant rents out of tenants is one thing, but armed robbery’s another. That guard what got shot last time could’ve died. No, I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘But I’m not gonna be involved no more.’
Sweat was oozing through Jimmy’s palms as his eyes warily followed Jackson who was walking up and down. The silence was palpable, the air quivering with tension. Jimmy gulped as Jackson finally turned to him.
‘You’re only the lookout, for God’s sake,’ the fellow grated, his eyes steely.
Jimmy thought that at any second, he was going to see his own heart break out of his chest, it was crashing so hard against his ribs. ‘Even so,’ he managed to answer. ‘Someone could get killed, and I ain’t gonna be part of that.’
Jackson suddenly stopped his pacing and put his mouth right up to Jimmy’s ear. ‘You already are a part of it. It’s taken months to plan this. I didn’t give you that money to get your wife a vase for nothing. It was so you could suss out the lie of the land for your part in this. I know we’ve got someone on the inside, but we need you as well.’
But Jimmy stood his ground. ‘No. No, you don’t. You’ve got enough other people working for you. Get someone else to do it. And you can have your blooming vase back if you want.’
Jackson gave a bitter laugh. ‘You think I care about that?’ Then he motioned to the ‘heavy’ standing behind him. An instant later, Jimmy gasped in agony as his arm was being wrenched up his back.
