Dora reached the top of the stairs just as her mother burst out of Jennie’s room. Dora took one look at her, white-faced and trembling, and her heart sank.
‘Mum?’ she ventured.
Rose stared at her, her dark eyes glittering in her ashen face. Then she pushed past her and stormed upstairs to her own room, slamming the door behind her.
Dora climbed the stairs and dithered on the landing for a moment, looking from Jennie’s door to her mother’s, then made up her mind.
‘Mum?’ She pushed open the door cautiously. Rose was standing in front of the chest of drawers, pulling things out and flinging them on to the bed. ‘Mum, are you all right? Nanna said you’d talked to Jennie—’
‘Oh, I’ve talked to her, all right.’ Impatiently, Rose yanked out one of the heavy drawers and, struggling under its weight, tipped it out on to the bed.
Dora looked at the pile of clothes. They were Alf’s things, the clothes he’d left behind when he disappeared.
‘Mum, what are you doing?’ she asked faintly.
‘Something I should have done a long time ago.’ Rose swung round to look at her, a strange, half-mad grimace on her face. ‘Help me get this lot downstairs, will you?’
Dora obeyed, sweeping up an armful of clothes. Alf’s sickeningly familiar smell stopped her in her tracks. She paused for a moment, her head spinning, fighting the urge to retch.
By the time she got downstairs, her mother was out in the yard, pulling bits of wood from the pile behind the privy. Nanna leant on her broom by the back door, watching her. Even Little Alfie had stopped plucking weeds to stare.
‘What’s Mum doing?’ he piped up.
‘God knows, mate.’ Nanna sighed and shook her head. ‘But I do know it’s taken us weeks to collect that scrap wood.’
‘She’s building a bonfire,’ Dora realised. ‘Of Alf’s things.’
Nanna stared at her, then at Rose. ‘Is that right, Rosie? What’s happened?’
‘I’ll tell you what’s happened, shall I?’ Rose hauled a piece of rotted railway sleeper on to the heap. ‘I’ve come to my senses, that’s what. Finally realised what a mug I’ve been all these years.’ She straightened up, wiping her face. ‘Since he went I’ve been waiting for him to come home, worrying about him, thinking all kinds of terrible things had happened . . . The sleepless nights I’ve had, wondering what’s happened to my poor Alf!’
She looked up at them, her eyes glittering dangerously. There was a streak of dirt across her nose. ‘And do you know what? He wasn’t even worth worrying about. All these years we’ve been so-called happily married, he’s been lying to me.’
Dora glanced back at the house. ‘You believe Jennie’s story, then?’
‘Oh, I believe her, all right! Everything she told me was the God’s honest truth – unlike that worthless good-for-nothing I was married to!’
Dora and Nanna exchanged a worried look as Rose bent down and hauled the wood into place.
‘When I think of how much I trusted him,’ Rose went on, her chest heaving. ‘And all the time he was taking advantage of a young girl like that! I don’t even want to think about what else he might have been getting up to behind my back.’
‘Me neither.’ Dora suppressed a shudder.
‘Anyway, I’ve had enough,’ her mother went on, bending to pick up another piece of wood. ‘I’m finally getting rid of him, saying goodbye to that lying, conniving sod for ever. And good riddance to him!’ She tossed a broken chair leg defiantly on to the pile.
Nanna looked horrified. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘I’ve never been more serious in my life, believe me. I want rid of him, Mum. I don’t want to see anything of his in this house ever again.’
‘Oh, I’m not arguing with that, love,’ Nanna said. ‘But you can’t burn it.’ She looked at the pile of clothes Dora was holding in her arms. ‘The rag and bone man will give you a few bob for that lot.’
Dora glanced at her mother. Rose stood there, hands on her hips, her mouth set in a hard, determined line.
And then Dora saw the warmth slowly kindling in her dark eyes, followed by a reluctant smile. ‘Oh, Mum!’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Trust you!’
‘What?’ Nanna looked from one to the other, genuinely bewildered. ‘It’s only common sense, ain’t it? I mean, after all that rotten sod’s done to this family, we might as well get a fish supper out of him. He’s not worth wasting all that wood on either,’ she added grumpily.
Dora and her mother looked at each other. A moment later, the backyards of Griffin Street rang with their laughter.
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE OFFICES OF Burrows, Burrows & Edgerton smelt of old books and polished leather. Sister Wren felt most important as she sipped tea from a bone china cup, while the portraits of esteemed old lawyers in wing collars gazed down at her approvingly.
‘I understand you have some information for us, Miss Trott?’
It was Mr Edgerton himself, no less, who sat on the other side of the heavy mahogany desk. Sister Wren was gratified that it was a senior partner interviewing her, and not some lowly junior clerk. Clearly what she had to say was of greater importance than she’d imagined.
She paused, savouring the moment. She was enjoying the fact that the lawyer was paying her such attention, listening avidly to her every word. She could have told him what he wanted to know on the telephone, but it was so much more exciting to be here, to feel part of all the intrigue.
Because there was intrigue, she was certain of that. And Sister Wren wasn’t going to leave until she found out all the details.
‘Well, yes,’ she said, toying demurely with the fingertip of her glove. ‘But first I have a question for you. Why do you want to know about Violet Tanner?’
Mr Edgerton’s smile grew chilly. ‘I am afraid I am not at liberty to discuss it, Miss Trott,’ he said stiffly. ‘That is a confidential matter between my client and – the person in question.’
Sister Wren pursed her lips. She might have known he would make some difficulty. Solicitors were always so annoyingly discreet.
‘Then I am not at liberty to give you the information you need.’ She stood up. ‘I am sorry to have wasted your time.’
‘Wait.’ Mr Edgerton regarded her thoughtfully over steepled fingers. ‘Perhaps it would help overcome your – qualms – if you met my client?’ he suggested.
Sister Wren almost squeaked with excitement. ‘Indeed it would,’ she said eagerly, glancing at the door. ‘Is he here?’
‘She is due here shortly.’
A woman! Sister Wren was even more intrigued as Mr Edgerton went outside to speak to his secretary. Who would it be? she wondered. An estranged mother or sister? A wronged friend, perhaps?
All kinds of theories were still crossing her mind five minutes later when the door opened and Mr Edgerton ushered his client in.
She was in her fifties, tall, grey-haired and severe-looking. Sister Wren did her usual critical glance, noting the cut of her black coat, good quality but at least twenty years out of date, and the polished leather of her shoes. Under the veil of the hat, she could make out a long face, with a pinched mouth, hooked nose and pale, prominent eyes.
‘May I introduce my client, Mrs Sherman,’ said Mr Edgerton in a hushed, respectful voice, ushering her to a seat. ‘Mrs Sherman, this is Miss Trott. She has information about Violet.’
Sister Wren was instantly impressed, but Mrs Sherman barely acknowledged her as she arranged herself in her chair.
‘Well?’ she addressed Mr Edgerton bluntly. ‘Do you know where she is?’
The solicitor looked discomfited. ‘Mrs Sherman, I am afraid Miss Trott has some questions first.’
Mrs Sherman snapped round to look at Sister Wren for the first time. She felt her confidence wilting under the force of the pale, penetrating stare. But she forced herself to stay resolved. ‘You must understand, Violet is a friend of mine,’ she said with a simper. ‘I could not think of doing
anything that might put her at any risk.’
‘If she’s such a friend, I wonder why you would even come here in the first place?’ Mrs Sherman retorted. ‘Unless you thought there might be some financial reward in it for you?’
‘I – the thought never occurred to me!’ Sister Wren spluttered in outrage. ‘I merely wanted to satisfy myself that nothing untoward would happen to Violet—’
‘Really?’ Mrs Sherman’s mouth curled. ‘Your concern is touching. And completely misplaced, I’m afraid. Violet hardly merits anyone’s concern.’
‘Really? And why would you say that?’
‘Because I know her!’ Mrs Sherman shook with the vehemence of her reply. ‘I have had the misfortune of her acquaintance for some years, and I must tell you that she is quite the most heartless, dishonest and calculating woman I have ever met.’
She saw Sister Wren’s expression of dismay, and seemed to collect herself. ‘You must excuse me,’ she said quietly. ‘It is simply that I have seen the havoc that woman has wrought over the years, the cruelty she has shown to people close to her.’
Sister Wren frowned at her. ‘Who are you?’
Mrs Sherman met her gaze steadily. ‘I represent Victor Dangerfield. Violet’s husband.’
‘You mean, her deceased husband?’
‘Is that what she told you?’ Mrs Sherman smiled faintly. ‘Then I have to inform you, Mr Dangerfield is very much alive.’
A thrill ran through Sister Wren. This had been worth the bus fare from Bethnal Green after all. ‘She is still married then?’
Mrs Sherman nodded. ‘As far as he is concerned, certainly. He has never given up hope of her returning to him, despite the fact that she abandoned him five years ago, taking his only son with her.’ Her mouth firmed. ‘How that man could possibly go on loving her after the pain she has put him through, I simply do not know. But there you are. Such are the ways of the heart, I suppose.’
‘She told us all she was a widow,’ Sister Wren said.
‘You see how she deceives? All the poor man has ever done is love her, and this is how she treats him.’ The woman shook her head. ‘Even now, he only wants her to be happy. If she wishes to live apart from him, that is for her to decide. All he wants is to be allowed to see his son.’
She looked hard at Sister Wren, trapping her in the full force of her stare. ‘That’s why I’m appealing to you, for his sake,’ she said, her voice hoarse. ‘If you know where Violet is, you must tell me. For Oliver’s sake, if nothing else. A boy needs his father, don’t you think?’
Sister Wren looked into her pale, strange eyes. She couldn’t warm to Mrs Sherman, but she wasn’t surprised by anything she had said. Violet struck her as the selfish, unfeeling type. Hadn’t she tried to warn the other sisters, right from the start? But none of them had listened to her.
Well, they would listen to her now, she thought.
‘I don’t care what anyone says. She’s not going back to that house.’
Defiance flashed in Rose Doyle’s dark eyes as she hauled a sheet out of the dolly tub. Dora had been given another afternoon shift, so she’d gone to visit and help with the Monday morning wash.
‘Are you sure about this, Mum?’ Dora chewed her lip worriedly. As Nanna Winnie would say, it was a rum state of affairs. Who would ever have imagined that Rose Doyle would become so protective over the girl who had got pregnant by her own husband?
‘Sure as I’ve ever been about anything.’ Rose fed the sheet through the rollers of the mangle. ‘The poor kid’s terrified, and no wonder. No, I’ve made up my mind. She’s staying with us.’
Dora rested her weight against the handle of the mangle until it started to turn. ‘But after what happened with her and Alf . . .?’
‘I don’t blame Jennie for that,’ Rose dismissed. ‘How could I? She was just a kid. She didn’t even know he was married. No, she did nothing wrong, in my eyes. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that swine.’
Dora stared at her mother, lost in admiration. Rose Doyle’s big, forgiving heart never ceased to amaze her.
‘What does Jennie have to say about it?’ she asked, as she helped her mother haul the sheet clear of the mangle and over to the washing line.
‘She doesn’t want to go back, why would she? She’s happy here. She’s settled in nicely in the past week, and the kids all love her. She pays her way, too, so it’s not like we have an extra mouth to feed. It feels as if she’s part of the family already.’
Dora felt a slight stab of jealousy at the thought of Jennie Armstrong taking her place, being a big sister to Josie, Bea and Little Alfie, and helping Nanna Winnie around the house. But at the same time, she couldn’t resent her for it. The girl had had a hard enough life, growing up without a mum and with her brute of a father. She deserved a chance.
Besides, she’d brought a lot of happiness back to the Doyle family. It was as if finding out the ghastly truth about her husband had liberated Rose. Now she could see Alf for what he really was, she no longer pined for him. There was no longer a place set for him at the dinner table – in fact, his name was never even mentioned.
And with Peter working as a porter at the hospital, and Jennie bringing in an extra wage, the family was finally finding its feet financially as well.
‘What about the neighbours? I expect Lettie Pike will have something to say about it.’
‘Lettie Pike can go to hell.’
As if on cue, there was a rustling from next door’s yard. Rose winked at Dora.
‘Did you hear that, Lettie?’ she called out.
A moment later Lettie Pike appeared sheepishly from the privy. ‘I can’t help it if I had to go, could I?’ she said huffily. ‘I’ve got better things to do than listen to you, Rose Doyle!’
Rose watched her go back into her house and slam the back door. ‘She’s been in there for half an hour.’
‘Maybe I should offer her an enema?’ Dora suggested.
‘I’d like to see that!’
They were still laughing as they wrestled the wet sheet over the line to peg it in place. The March wind caught it, lifting it like a sail and flapping it wetly back in Dora’s face.
She spluttered, still laughing, and pushed it to one side – then let out a scream when she saw a man standing in front of her.
‘Sorry, did I give you a shock?’ Joe Armstrong grinned at her. He was dressed in his uniform, all polished shoes and shiny gilt buttons. His helmet was tucked under his arm.
‘Just a bit.’ Dora pushed her curls back off her face, suddenly conscious of what a mess she must look in her scruffy old wash-day clothes.
‘I just thought I’d call round to see how our Jennie was doing.’ He glanced at the house. ‘Although I suppose she must be at work?’
‘You suppose right.’ Rose came round from the other side of the sheet to confront him, her hands on her hips. Even Joe, towering policeman that he was, regarded her warily.
‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘She’s doing all right, thank you,’ Dora said. ‘Now the cuts have healed and the swellings have gone down.’
‘That’s a relief.’ Joe stared at the ground. ‘Sorry I haven’t been round more often this week, but I’ve been working overtime.’
‘That’s all right, son,’ Rose replied, her voice losing some of its sharpness. ‘But your sister’s not safe to be left with your brute of a father, and that’s a fact. That’s why I want her to stay here, with us.’
He looked at her and for a moment Dora was worried he was going to argue, but then she saw the hope that lit up his green eyes.
‘Really? You’d do that for Jen?’ he said.
‘We’d love to have her, we really would.’
He smiled. ‘It would be a weight off my mind if I knew she was safe.’
‘Then that’s settled.’ Rose beamed at him. ‘And I reckon I owe you an apology too, son,’ she added. ‘I know I haven’t been too welcoming in the past.’
‘That’s all right.’ Joe lo
oked sheepish. ‘You get used to not being welcome, in my job.’
‘I should think you do.’ Rose dried her hands on her apron. ‘Can I offer you a cup of tea, just to show there’s no hard feelings?’
‘Sorry, Missus, I can’t stop. I’d be for it if my sergeant caught me supping tea when I’m meant to be on the beat.’
‘Maybe next time then. You’ll have to call round and see your sister again.’
‘I will.’
He was staring at Dora as he said it. Rose looked from one to the other, then gave a funny little smile and said, ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it.’
Joe waited until the back door had closed behind her before he spoke to Dora. ‘As a matter of fact, it wasn’t just Jennie I came to see. I was hoping you’d be here.’
‘Why?’ She felt the colour drain from her face and knew she’d gone as white as the sheet she was pegging out. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve found Alf?’
‘What? No,’ he dismissed. ‘I’m still looking, but I don’t imagine he’ll turn up any day soon.’ Then, just as she was letting out a sigh of relief, he added, ‘No, I came to ask if you’d like these?’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of tickets. ‘The lads at the station and the local fire brigade are having a dance at the Town Hall on Saturday. As you can imagine, we could do with a few girls coming along, or we’ll end up tripping the light fantastic with each other. I wondered if a few of your nurse pals would like to come? And you, of course,’ he added, a blush spreading up from under the stiff collar of his tunic.
‘I’m sure they’d love to, if they can get the time off.’ Dora took the tickets from him. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks.’
There was an awkward pause. Dora glanced around, and saw her mum and Nanna Winnie with their noses pressed against the kitchen window. She glared at them, but they paid no attention.
The Nightingale Sisters Page 27
