by Mary Wood
‘Oh yes, there is. If he exists, then I can find out if Father has recognized him as his son. I can make Father word his will in such a way that I still inherit.’
This all sounded so cold and selfish to Flora, and yet she understood. ‘I’m sorry, Harold. If you are asking me to ask Father, then I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘No, but you could ask Pru.’
‘I know that Pru doesn’t know. I remember . . . Look, I’m sorry, I lied about not knowing that Daddy and Pru had an affair.’ She told him of the night their father had visited Pru, and how what their mother had said about Daddy’s mistress had hurt Pru. ‘She thought she was the first one – the only one – and she believed that Daddy loved her; Pru was devastated just to be one of a number. So, no, I’m sure she doesn’t know anything about this child that Mother talks of.’
‘I must find out. I must!’
‘Then you must ask Mother or Father. It is your only way. But given Father’s health, I would ask Mother. Tell her why you need to know – I think that will do the trick. Though I think she seems ready to tell you anyway.’
‘If she isn’t now, she will be by the time I’m finished.’
There it was again: that sinister side to this brother of hers. Flora shuddered. Something told her to be careful in her dealings with Harold. This made her feel sad, because not an hour ago she’d been full of joy at having rediscovered him.
By the time Flora left her parents’ home, her hope for her father was soaring. Dr Carmichael had attended him immediately, explaining that he was just going off-duty when the message arrived. ‘I remembered you, Flora, and had heard tales of you being out of contact behind enemy lines. I came as much out of relief for you as anything. So don’t let anyone read anything else into my haste. It doesn’t mean that I think your father is dying.’
She’d been flattered, but she hadn’t responded to the look Kenneth Carmichael had given her, although she had hung on his every word as he’d related Father’s statistics to her and had given his prognosis that a good recovery was, in his opinion, very possible. ‘His heartbeat is steady, and his pulse is strong, which doesn’t indicate that anything sinister is going on. I would say the kind of attack he had was brought on by shock. Now, that’s not to be taken lightly, and he will need nursing back to health, and medication.’
In no time, Father had engaged Kenneth to see him back to good health, and Flora felt she could relax. She had warned the doctor that he would come up against objections from her mother and her eldest brother, but Kenneth had shown that he was up to coping with them – by handling Harold firmly, and by putting Mother in the picture; he also pre-empted Mother by saying how pleased she must feel, to know that her beloved husband was going to be all right.
On the train back to Pru’s, Flora remembered the letter she had received. How could she have forgotten it? On taking it out of her bag and tearing it open, its contents got her heart soaring. Cyrus was coming to visit her:
I have two weeks’ leave, Flora. And I want to spend most of that with you. I know you will think me forward, but I can’t help myself. I have thought of nothing other than meeting you again and getting to know you. Well, to be honest, I’ve thought of nothing but you, since you came into my office.
Flora held the letter to her heart. Cyrus was coming next week!
Chapter Fourteen
To Pru, space wasn’t nothingness, for in the nothingness there was something – patterns. They formed as she stared, unblinking, at the figures lying on the floor.
She sensed, rather than saw, the movement of one of them and prayed it was Freddy. Stealing herself to focus, she felt relief flood through her as she saw that it was.
‘Ma? Ma?’
‘I’m here, son. You’re all reet, lad. Get yourself up. Hold on to the chair. I – I can’t help you, I’m too shaky.’
As Freddy rose, she saw him hesitate. His eyes fixed on the bulk that was Abe. ‘Is – is he dead, Ma? What happened?’
She told him what she’d done.
‘Oh, Ma . . . Ma.’
She knew Freddy must feel groggy, because he swayed, but she didn’t move to steady him. She couldn’t. She had to stay sitting or she would collapse. ‘Don’t worry, lad, we’ll sort it.’ Sort it! How am I ever to do that? ‘Have a check, will you? See if he’s breathing.’
The silence that followed held all her future years. Would there be any? Or would she hang for Abe’s murder?
‘No, I can’t feel him breathing. He – he . . . Oh, Ma, he’s dead!’
‘He tried to rape me, then he hit you, Freddy. It was self-defence. I – I didn’t mean to kill him, only stop him. Go for the doctor; go on, take five shillings out of me purse and tell the doctor he has to come at once.’
Before Pru registered anything further, she was being questioned by a doubting policeman. She couldn’t stop her tears. She cried for Freddy, and for Abe, and she cried for herself. The policeman took no notice. He’d been summoned by the doctor to attend a suspicious death, and now he thought he knew it all, without listening to her.
‘Look, Missus. You need to tell me the truth. Everyone knows that you were Abe’s woman, and now you’re trying to say he raped you? That’s like saying a husband rapes his wife. It don’t sound right.’
‘He hit my son. My son tried to stop him—’
‘Your son said he saw you bent over the table, and that he asked Abe to stop. Any son would say that, if they saw their mother in such a position.’
‘Aye, and any mother would protect their son – and that’s all I did. I hit Abe to stop him attacking my son.’
‘But your son can’t remember you hitting Abe, so he must have been unconscious, which would mean the threat to him had passed, and yet you still hit Abe with an instrument that was likely to kill him. That is cold-blooded murder. I’m arresting you, Prudence Hatton, for the murder of Abe Manning . . .’
Flora’s jubilation had her skipping along the road. She couldn’t wait to tell Aunt Pru about Cyrus, but as she rounded the corner she was surprised to see Pru’s house in darkness. Coming up to the door, she saw a note pinned to it. Under the light of the street lamp, she read: I’m at Aunt Rowena’s, Freddy.
A frown creased Flora’s brow. Why should Freddy be with Rowena? Had Pru been called away or something? Unable to think of a reason, but knowing that something was wrong, she ran around the corner to Aunt Pru’s old street and banged on Rowena’s door.
The news that met her saw Flora standing rigid with shock. ‘No! No, how . . . ? I mean . . . Oh, dear God!’
A sniffle gave her the realization that Freddy was near. Rowena called out to him, ‘Come through, me darlin’, come and see Flora.’
The door to the kitchen opened slowly. Freddy sidled through, looking afraid. His red face and swollen eyes spoke of his anguish. His bruised chin and cut lip shocked Flora.
‘Freddy, it’s all right. I’m here for you. We – we can sort this all out.’
‘How? Oh, Flors, how?’
She couldn’t have said how it happened, but Freddy was in her arms. Stroking his hair, she tried to soothe the sobs that racked his body. ‘We’ll find a way, I promise you, my darling brother, we will. I’ll find a good lawyer, and I’ll get Daddy to pay. I’ll make him – even if we have to blackmail him with exposure as your father.’
‘No, I can’t do that, Flors. He’s ill and, well, I—’
‘Not even for your mother? We can, and we will, Freddy. Listen to me. Aunt Pru needs all the help I can give her. It all looks bad for her, but we know she would never have done this if . . . well, if she wasn’t forced to.’
‘You think it’s my fault, and it is. I shouldn’t have interfered.’
‘I would think less of you if you hadn’t, and I’d have come home to find that Aunt Pru had been hurt by Abe and you had done nothing to help her.’
‘I – I liked Abe, Flors. He was all right most of the time. He was good to us, though I think he has hurt Ma before; she h
ad bruises sometimes, but this time I – I think it was me that made him angry. You see, once I realized what was going on, I lost my respect for him and couldn’t bear to be in the same room. I – I shouldn’t have treated him like that. It led to this, I’m sure of it. I heard him shout about me being disrespectful. I should have—’
‘Stop it, Freddy. This isn’t your fault. Everything you are saying is quite natural. I felt the same, when I realized. I lost respect for them both at times, but I was away most of the time at school and I coped with it. Then I began to understand more, as I got older. You shouldn’t expect anything of yourself, other than to have been repulsed by how Abe used your mother. Because he did.’
It came to Flora then how damaging Freddy’s view of everything was, for Aunt Pru’s case. He must have said things without realizing how harmful they would be.
‘Freddy, I will get that lawyer, I promise. Now, listen to me. Until you have spoken to him, you are not to speak to anyone – not even a policeman, if he asks you questions. You need help to sort out your thoughts. Abe’s actions were never kind. He did what he did so that he could have what he wanted from your ma. There’s proof of that in how he didn’t marry her, and give Pru her rightful status. Aunt Pru was vulnerable when Abe took advantage of her; she was poor, very poor. She couldn’t even feed you. Abe knew that and used it. Don’t like him. Don’t ever like anything about his memory. Try to think of everything from your mother’s point of view, and then you will be instrumental in helping her prove her innocence.’
‘Oh, Flors, I’ve already said things.’
‘They can be unsaid. You were in shock. We’ll save Aunt Pru.’ As she said this, Flora wasn’t sure it was the truth. The hopelessness of how everything sounded, when Rowena had told her what had happened, struck her once more and her own tears spilled over.
As sobs racked her body, Freddy implored her, ‘Don’t cry, Flors. I promise I will do all you told me to. You’ve helped me. And whatever it takes, we will save Ma. We will.’ And Flora was reminded of what had often happened behind enemy lines: that showing weakness helped those weaker than you to become strong.
‘I’m thinking, girl, that the pair of you could use a drop of me rum. Home-made it might be, but it finds the cold places that need tickling, and I think you both have those at this moment.’
‘Oh, Rowena! Maybe you’re right. I’ve had a funny “return-home” day. I’ve felt despair and happiness, and complete devastation, all in the space of a few hours.’
Taking the small glass, and not objecting to Freddy taking the one that was offered to him, Flora drank the treacly liquid in one gulp. Her own coughing and spluttering on doing so were nothing compared to Freddy’s, as he copied her in downing his drink in the same way. And this, despite everything, got them all laughing. It gave Flora the hope that Freddy did have the strength to get through this. She wondered how she would fare, but then she had the prospect of Cyrus coming to see her, and that would help her.
Pru woke from a fitful sleep. The stale air of the cell clawed at her, but now there was something different about it – alcohol? The cold steel of the handcuffs that bound her sent a chill through her body. God help me. God help me!
But no answer came to her prayer. The dank walls of the dark prison cell only echoed her despair.
The sound of drunken breathing came to her. Peering through the half-light, she saw a woman lying on the bench opposite. Her snorts told that she was asleep, but the moment Pru moved and the chain around her ankles clanged, the woman sat bolt upright. ‘What’s your game?’
‘Nowt, I haven’t got a game – I’m just getting meself comfortable.’
‘’Ere, I knows you. You’re Abe Manning’s woman, ain’t yer?’
‘I’m Pru Hatton, as runs a school for the poor kids.’
‘I knows that, but I also knows yer sleep with Abe Manning. Everyone knows it. What’re yer doing in here then?’
Pru didn’t answer. Inside she screamed against the way she was perceived, and against the vile things that had happened, and asked God: How could this day, which had started so wonderful with the return of Flora, end so horrifically? And then she begged of Him once more: Help me, help me . . .
‘Cat got yer tongue, then? Here, are yer crying? That’s not going to ’elp yer. Not in ’ere, it ain’t. Yer’ve to be strong, or the bastards ’ave the upper-hand.’
Pru knew the woman: a bag lady, who lived from one drink to the next, often stealing from the local shops, but for all that, not a bad sort. ‘I’ve done sommat terrible, Ivy, lass. I’ve killed Abe.’
‘What? Killed ’im? Good riddance. It were ’im as put me out of me ’ouse. I were only a few weeks behind on me rent. But if what you say is right, you’re in for it, girl. And to my mind, you shouldn’t be admitting it. In ’ere, you have to be crafty. Never admit anything. Now, tell me: how did this all come about?’
Somehow it was a relief to Pru to unburden herself.
‘That ain’t murder; it’s self-defence, and defence of your young son – and under provocation, too. I know these things. I’ve bedded in these cells with the best of them, thieves, murderers and prostitutes, and I’ve learned a thing or two. Now, have you told the bobbies that you did it?’
‘Naw, I haven’t said much at all. I’ve said I had to save me lad, that’s all, but they weren’t for believing me.’
‘That don’t matter. They have to have proof. You need someone to sort them bobbies out for you. You need a good lawyer, girl. But they cost money.’
A small grain of hope took root inside Pru. She had some money. It wasn’t much, but maybe she could borrow some more to put towards it. Her thoughts turned to Flora. Now that Abe was gone, the lass was the only person Pru knew who had money. Flora had an allowance that she hardly touched. And if she could, Flora would help her, Pru knew that. She had to – there was no one else she could turn to. Oh, aye, I’ve plenty as would stand by me and speak for me, I knaws that, but none of them could do owt to help me predicament. But then would speaking up for her even help? Didn’t it all look bad for her? Even Ivy identified her as the woman who slept with Abe Manning. How would that sound, in a court of law? It’s hopeless, hopeless . . . I’ll hang! Oh God, no! . . . Help me – please don’t let me hang!
Chapter Fifteen
‘I’m glad you came, Flora, Father’s been asking for you.’
‘How is he?’
Harold looked less than pleased as he told her that Father was making remarkable progress.
‘Is Mother in?’
‘She is, but you know how it is with her. She must have seen you coming up the path, and screamed out that she doesn’t want to see you. Sorry, old thing.’
‘If you are sorry, Harold, why have you got that smirk on your face?’
‘Don’t take it out on me. I’m not Father’s horrible reminder . . .’
Hitting out at him, Flora had to laugh.
‘I’d like to see Father alone – do you mind, Harold?’
‘Why? You’re not going to upset him, are you?’
Flora didn’t answer this, but skipped up the stairs and left Harold. When she looked back, he had an annoyed look on his face. For a moment she thought he would follow her, as his hand stretched out for the stair rail, but he dropped it by his side again and turned away.
Flora’s heart pounded. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door. I have to do this, for Aunt Pru’s sake.
The night before had been agony. Not allowed back into Aunt Pru’s house, she and Freddy had spent the night at Rowena’s. For all that had happened, it turned out to be a jolly evening, helped by another tot of rum each. But through it all, her soul had ached with worry for Pru.
First thing this morning she’d asked the family solicitor to recommend someone who dealt with criminal law. She’d lied and said that she wanted help for a nursing friend. It had worked, and Graham Taylor, of Taylor, Taylor & Brompkins, Solicitors, had recommended one Henry Chamberlain, whom he called a
n eminent lawyer with a high success rate in wrongly-accused cases.
It turned out that Henry Chamberlain’s office was in the same building as Graham Taylor’s. Flora had found Henry easy to talk to, and very interested in Pru’s case. Hope had filled her, until he’d told her how much he charged. ‘My fee is inclusive – it doesn’t fluctuate with how difficult the case proves to be. It also includes the fee of a private detective, if I need to engage one, as seems likely in this case.’ For all that, one hundred pounds was a fortune and was more than she could afford on her own.
‘Flora, I’m so happy to see you. Look at what you have done for me!’
Her father sat in a chair by the window; his skin had a normal tone, but bluish veins stood out here and there on his face, giving her a tinge of fear, though his eyes shone as he spoke. ‘I feel as fit as a fiddle – and that after just one day on the medication, and with the new nursing regime. Thank you, darling girl. Now come and sit down. I need to ask you something, before you tell me all about your adventures.’ What he asked surprised Flora, and yet paved the way for what she had to say. ‘The boy that Prudence had with her: is he mine?’
‘Oh, Daddy, he is, and I—’
‘What does Prudence want of me? I cannot recognize him publicly, or privately, as my son – that would kill your mother.’
On hearing him say this, Flora finally realized that her father was heartless. She’d always tried to keep faith that somehow she was mistaken about his character, and had tried to forgive him, whilst blaming her mother for everything. But now she knew. Feeling no pity for him, she told him what had happened to Pru. ‘I therefore need you to make out a cheque for me for one thousand pounds, so that I can see to paying for everything Aunt Pru needs, and for bail, if it is set, besides engaging a very good lawyer for her.’
