Chapter Nine
The Barrington house was in chaos, and Dora could understand why the family had already left for Scotland. They were quite happy to let their staff deal with the moving. Quite a lot of the furniture was already on its way to Scotland, and more was going out the door. All thought of separate duties had been abandoned and Dora was helping with anything. The turmoil mirrored her own, and she was glad to be kept busy. This was her last day here, and also her birthday. At breakfast this morning, Lily and Tom had given her cards they had made themselves, and she’d had a job to speak. It was touching that they had bothered, considering the frightening situation they were in. The fact that it was her eighteenth birthday had only heightened the feeling of desolation and worry for the future that was taking a firm grip on her. The police didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, and fear of what might have happened to their mother was tearing her apart.
Cook caught Dora’s arm as she hurried past. ‘Stop, my girl. Take a break. You look done in.’
A cup was put in her hand and she drank the tea gratefully. ‘Thanks, Cook.’
‘Sad day for you. But don’t you look so worried. You’re a good girl and a hard worker. You’ll soon find another position.’
‘I hope so.’ Dora finished the drink, put the cup in the sink and forced a smile. ‘I’m going to miss you all. And I’ll miss your plum duff.’
Cook was clearly pleased with the compliment. ‘Go on with you. I bet your mum’s is just as good.’
Dora shook her head. She hadn’t said anything about the disappearance. ‘No one cooks like you. Just wait till you get to Scotland. I bet you’ll be able to teach them a thing or two about good food.’
‘Humph!’ Cook scowled. ‘I don’t want to leave London, but I’m too old to start with another household.’
‘I expect you’ll soon get used to it, and they say the scenery is beautiful.’ All Dora heard as she hurried back to work was another ‘Humph!’
At the end of an exhausting day it was hard saying goodbye, but in a way she was glad when it was all over and she was on her way home. The mistress had been kind and added another two and sixpence to her wages in recognition of her hard work over the last two years. Dora had got the job a month after they’d moved to the house in Kilburn. The work had been hard and the hours long, even working on a Sunday when the mistress had visitors staying, which was often. Then she had been elevated from housemaid to serving upstairs. It hadn’t left much time for herself, but Dora had been content; hard work had never worried her.
Now all the security in their lives had gone with the disappearance of their mother and the loss of her job. She was so tired, struggling all the time to stay in control, but it was a week now, and each day became harder. If it hadn’t been for Lily and Tom, she was sure she would have crumbled under the strain.
What a terrible birthday, she thought, as she walked in the house.
Lily rushed up to her. ‘You’re late! Hurry up and put on a pretty dress.’
‘What for?’ she asked.
‘We’re going out.’
‘Oh, sweetie, I’m too tired. I don’t think—’
‘Don’t argue, Dora,’ Tom told her firmly. ‘Once you’re washed and changed, you’ll feel better.’
‘Dora, you must come, mustn’t she, Tom?’
Lily was beginning to look worried, so Dora knew she would have to go along with their plans. Whatever they were …
In thirty minutes she was ready and wearing her Sunday best dress. It was dark red and suited her colouring perfectly.
‘Wear Mum’s necklace,’ Lily urged. ‘She’d like that.’
‘I’ll get it.’ Before Dora could object, Tom had raced up the stairs. After much thumping about, he returned with the necklace dangling from his fingers.
Dora had to admit it did look nice with the dress, and well, it was her eighteenth birthday, so why not wear it?
Lily clapped her hands. ‘That’s pretty. Come on, let’s go. We mustn’t be late!’
They hustled her out of the house, but instead of heading for the bus stop as Dora had expected, they turned the other way.
‘Where are we going?’
Lily giggled as Tom held open Stan’s gate. ‘We’re there!’
The front door was already open, and when they walked into the front room, she stopped in amazement. Winnie, Reg, June and Stan were there. On the table by the window was an iced cake with a single candle already alight. There were also sandwiches and other tempting-looking things to eat. Overwhelmed by such kindness, it was hard to keep her emotions in check, but it would only upset everyone if she broke down.
‘Here’s the birthday girl!’ Winnie handed her a parcel. ‘Open that first, and then you must blow out the candle.’
Dora’s hand shook as she looked at the gift in her hands, and she was so relieved they hadn’t wished her a happy birthday. But she was beginning to see that these people were not that insensitive.
‘Open your present,’ Lily said, excitement in her voice. ‘See what you’ve got.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Dora forced herself into action, managing a smile. ‘This is such a surprise.’
The parcel contained a brightly coloured scarf from Winnie and Reg, a pair of leather gloves from Stan, and a pretty handkerchief from June.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak, and then the words only came out in a whisper. ‘They’re all beautiful. I don’t know what to say. Thank you seems so inadequate.’
‘Thank you will do.’ Stan stepped forward and smiled in encouragement. ‘Now you must blow out your candle and cut the cake.’
‘You’ve got to make a wish,’ June told her. ‘But you mustn’t tell us what it is.’
Dora smiled at the little girl, so like her Lily. ‘Do you think it would be all right if I made two wishes?’
‘’Spect it will be.’ June glanced at her mother. ‘Will it be?’
‘Of course it will. You make as many wishes as you like.’
Taking a deep breath, Dora blew out the candle, then closed her eyes and wished silently. Wherever you are, Mum, I want you to be safe and come home to us soon. And make the doctors be able to do something for Stan, so he can live without so much pain.
Opening her eyes again, she picked up the knife and cut the cake.
They all cheered, and then settled down to enjoy the food Winnie had so generously provided.
While they were eating and talking, Winnie was staring at Dora in a curious way. ‘That’s a lovely necklace.’
‘It’s Mum’s, but Lily insisted I wear it tonight. It’s only a piece of cheap jewellery, but she thinks it’s pretty.’
‘She’s right, and it suits you.’ Winnie smiled then. ‘I’d better make another pot of tea.’
No one tried to pretend that this was a time for a lively party, but Dora was grateful for the kindness of Stan’s family. The subject of their mum’s disappearance was not mentioned, and for a short time they could try to pretend that their life was normal. Lily and Tom hadn’t looked this relaxed since their mum had failed to come home. As she gazed round the room, it felt as if they had found another family. It was at that moment it struck her how isolated their lives had been. As far as she knew, they had no other relatives, and their mother had not been one to make friends. They had lived in this street for two years and yet they didn’t know anyone. All they had ever done was smile and nod at neighbours. Why had she never thought that was strange before?
Dora glanced at Lily and saw her yawn. The time was eight thirty by the clock on the mantelpiece. They’d been here for over two hours. ‘My goodness!’ she exclaimed, standing up. ‘Where has the time gone? It’s your bedtime, Lily.’
After saying thank you, they left, with Lily carrying the remains of the cake.
Winnie sat beside her brother and spoke quietly. ‘Stan, that poor girl is close to breaking. She’s making a valiant effort to hide it, but the signs are there, and it won’t take much to tip her o
ver the edge. Keep an eye on her and call me if she needs help.’
‘I’ll do that, Win, but I believe she’ll cope with this disaster because she needs to for the sake of her brother and sister.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Winnie looked doubtful, but changed the subject. ‘That necklace Dora was wearing didn’t look like cheap jewellery to me.’
‘I agree.’ Stan told his sister about his visit to the jeweller’s. ‘They only had my rough drawing to go by, and although they thought it looked like one of their designs, they couldn’t say more than that without examining the original. There were bits of jewellery on Mrs Bentley’s dressing table but none of it was worth anything. It’s unlikely that someone of modest means like Dora’s mother would have anything of great value.’
‘I suppose so.’ Winnie stood up. ‘Come on, June, time you were in bed as well. You coming, Reg?’
‘No, I’ll stay for a while.’
‘All right, but don’t the two of you spend half the night talking, will you?’
Once they were on their own, Stan produced a bottle of whisky, and they settled down with a glass and a cigarette each.
Reg sipped his drink and gazed into space. ‘I don’t understand why we haven’t found any trace of her. I know people do just disappear and are never heard of again, but this is a mother of three children. They care a great deal about her, so she must have been a good mother. Why haven’t we been able to find her, Stan? There isn’t a whisper about her anywhere. It’s almost as if she didn’t exist.’
‘The whole damned business is odd.’ Stan stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray balanced on the arm of his chair. ‘I think I’ll go to that factory in the morning. There must be a reason she told her children she worked there.’
‘Hmm.’ Reg eyed Stan with suspicion. ‘You’re not to pretend you’re a police officer again. If you do I’ll have to arrest you.’
Stan grinned. ‘Can I tell them I’m making enquiries for the police?’
‘As long as you make it clear you’re not in the force.’
Stan picked up his stick and waved it at his brother-in-law. ‘Do you think they’d believe me if I did?’
‘You got away with it before, and that time you were on crutches.’ Reg frowned. ‘I never did ask you how you got round that.’
‘Told them I tripped over chasing a thief.’
Reg couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’ve got a nerve, Stan, but it’s good to see you more like your old self.’
‘It’s good to feel useful again.’ Stan hauled himself to his feet. ‘I’ll get you another drink while you tell me about your plans for tomorrow.’
While the men talked over the case late into the night, Dora was in bed, her face pushed into the pillow to muffle her sobs. This was the first time she had allowed her grief to come to the surface, but today had just been too much.
Chapter Ten
During the night Stan had been reading through the notebook again in case there was something he had missed. But no matter how many times he studied it, nothing new struck him. It was just a series of names, repeated at intervals. The only name to appear once was the first entry. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the notebook, and yet Mrs Bentley had bothered to hide it, so it must be important.
Eager to get going, he was up as soon as the birds began to sing. He was waiting outside the factory gates when they opened, but stayed back until all the workers had gone in. Then he followed them.
‘’Ere!’ The gatekeeper stopped him. ‘I ain’t seen you before. You don’t work here.’
‘I’ve come to see the manager. Tell him I’m here please.’
‘Expecting you, is he?’
‘No, but this is a police matter. He’ll see me. My name’s Crawford.’
‘Ah, that’s different. You’d better come with me.’ The man set off at quite a pace, but when he noticed that Stan couldn’t keep up with him, he slowed. ‘How’d you get that?’ he asked, pointing to his leg.
‘Some bugger dropped a shell right beside me.’
‘Bloody war. My sister lost her eldest. Broke her heart. Good boy he was. What a bloody waste!’ The gatekeeper’s surly manner had disappeared, and he even smiled at Stan as he held open the door for him. ‘Wait here, mate. I’ll tell Mr Grant you wants to see him.’
Stan knew there was always the chance that he would be sent on his way when the manager found out it wasn’t a police officer wanting information. He had to be careful not to get Reg into trouble, so he was going to have to be honest this time. He’d got away with impersonating a police officer once – twice would be pushing his luck!
The door opened and an elderly man came out. After shaking hands with Stan, he asked, ‘How can I help you, Constable?’
‘I’m making enquiries about a missing person, sir, by the name of Bentley.’
‘’Ere.’ The gatekeeper was hovering. ‘A young girl was asking about her. A week ago it was. You remember, Mr Grant, I told you about it?’
‘Ah, yes, and we couldn’t help, I believe.’
‘That’s right, sir.’
Stan shifted to ease the weight on his leg, making the stick take more of his burden.
The manager noticed. ‘Come into my office and sit down. Dave, have some tea sent in.’
‘Right away, sir.’
Stan took this chance to set the record straight. ‘Before we go any further, sir, I must explain that I’m not a police officer. I was before the war, but injury has stopped me joining the force again. However, the local station lets me help out now and again.’
‘I understand.’ Mr Grant nodded in sympathy. ‘Tell me what this is all about.’
Stan explained, keeping it brief.
Mr Grant sat back and frowned. ‘It’s true we don’t have a night shift now, but we used to. We stopped it a couple of months after the end of the war when the demand for buttons eased off. We had to supply the forces during the war.’
The tea had arrived, and Stan took the cup offered to him. ‘Then it’s possible that Mrs Bentley could have worked here for a while. Do you still have a record of your employees at that time?’
‘Of course. Would you like to see it?’
‘If I may, sir.’
Mr Grant stood up and removed a large book from the shelf behind his desk, handing it to Stan. ‘The employees are listed in alphabetical order.’
First Stan checked the names under B. Finding nothing, he started again at the top in case the name was listed out of order. He gave a sharp intake of breath, his finger resting on one name.
‘Have you found her?’ Mr Grant asked.
‘Not Bentley.’ Stan pointed to the name that had caught his attention. ‘Do you know anyone who worked here at the same time as this person?’
‘Duval? Our foreman, Jim, worked on nights. Let’s go and see if he remembers her.’
The factory was noisy so Mr Grant beckoned Jim over and they moved to a slightly quieter corner. He showed him the name in the book. ‘Do you remember her?’
‘Not off hand. It was some time ago. Do you know her Christian name?’
‘Harriet.’ Stan could hardly contain his excitement as he removed the photo from his pocket. ‘This is her.’
The foreman studied it for a few moments, then handed it back. ‘She looks familiar, but I can’t say for certain that the woman in the photo worked here. We employed a large workforce then – all women. Once the war ended most of them packed it in and went back to their families. I honestly can’t help you. Sorry.’
Stan knew the photo he had wasn’t very clear, but that surname cropping up again was too much of a coincidence to be ignored. He continued pressing the foreman. ‘Do you know who might remember her?’
Jim shook his head, looking uncomfortable.
As luck would have it, at that moment Mr Grant moved away to talk to someone else. Stan took the opportunity to probe. Jim obviously had something to say but didn’t want to be overheard. ‘You sure about t
hat?’
‘Well, Mr Grant’s son, Roger, was very friendly with some of the women – if you know what I mean.’ Jim cast his boss an anxious glance. ‘Don’t say anything. It was only gossip.’
‘I’ll keep it to myself. Thanks Jim, you’ve been a big help.’
‘Can I ask why you want to know about her?’
‘She’s disappeared.’
Their conversation was cut short when Mr Grant returned to them. ‘Has Jim been able to help you, Mr Crawford?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Stan held out his hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Grant, and allowing me to talk to Jim.’
‘Least we could do. I hope you find this woman soon.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ With that Stan left, eager to see Reg.
As soon as he walked into the station, Reg came towards him. ‘From the expression on your face, I’d guess you’ve found out something.’
Stan stopped to get his breath after the rush to get there, ignoring the throbbing in his leg. ‘We might be looking for the wrong woman!’
‘What?’ Reg pushed him onto a chair and perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘Explain that strange remark, Stan.’
‘There’s a possibility she’s using another name.’
There was a stunned silence before Reg spoke. ‘Why the hell would she do that? Are you sure?’
‘No, not sure, but I think it’s worth looking into.’ Stan removed the notebook and photo from his pocket. ‘The factory did have a night shift during the war. There’s a name on the list of employees that’s in Mrs Bentley’s book. The foreman thought the woman in the photo was familiar but he couldn’t be sure it was the same one. But he did hint that if anyone remembered her it would be the son, Roger Grant. He was evidently friendly with the women.’
‘Hmm.’ Reg folded his arms. ‘That’s a bit flimsy, Stan. Did you see this Roger Grant?’
‘No, I thought I’d better leave that to you. But it’s more than we’ve had up to now. Let’s at least check the reports again for the other name. We were only looking for Bentley the first time and could easily have missed it.’
Diamonds in the Dust Page 8
