by Rosie Clarke
‘Thank you, Lizzie.’ Mrs Court dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I’m glad I came. Her father would sort him out, but I really believe he would kill him if he thought Beth was being ill-treated – and there are the twins to think of, too. Bernie might take it out on them if we meddled…’
‘No, we don’t want that,’ Lizzie said anxiously. ‘If I’m right, Beth may be in a lot of trouble and we have to be very careful we don’t make things worse.’ She hesitated, then, ‘I’ll see what she has to say later…’
*
Lizzie left work at half past three that afternoon. Jean had gone into the showroom to take her place and she couldn’t wait any longer because she needed to see Beth for herself.
She found the house, an old-fashioned Victorian villa in one of the better areas overlooking what would have been a nice green before the war but which now had marks where the wheels of heavy vehicles had run over it and one tree had been so badly damaged in a bombing raid that it was only a blackened stump There were spotless lace curtains at the bow windows of Bernie’s house and the doorstep had been freshly scrubbed, gleaming white in the July sunshine. There was no answer when Lizzie knocked, so she knocked again louder and went on doing so until the door was opened. Beth stared at her but didn’t smile in welcome or ask her in.
‘I wasn’t expecting you. I’ve just got Matt to sleep. He’s teething again and kept us awake last night. Bernie wasn’t too pleased about it.’
‘No, I don’t expect anyone would be if they couldn’t sleep,’ Lizzie said. ‘May I come in just for a few minutes please, Beth?’
‘I’m sorry, Lizzie. I can’t ask you in. Bernie wouldn’t like it – please go away. When I’m ready I’ll come and see you…’ She made to shut the door, but Lizzie moved to stick her foot in the way. ‘Lizzie, I can’t talk to you. Please – he’ll be home soon and if he sees you he’ll go mad again…’
‘Did he hurt you, Beth?’ Lizzie said, looking her straight in the eyes. Beth’s gaze fell, and even though she shook her head, Lizzie knew she was lying. ‘You mustn’t put up with it, love. Leave him and come to me. He doesn’t deserve you, Beth, and he shouldn’t hit you.’
‘He didn’t exactly hit me – he just pushed me against the door,’ Beth said and her head went up, eyes cold and proud. ‘All right, I’ll tell you. He’s a brute and I hate him, but I’m afraid of him, Lizzie. If I leave him he’ll come after me and he’ll hurt us all – me, the twins and you. He doesn’t like you at all, Lizzie. He doesn’t want me to see you… you mustn’t come here again.’
Beth pushed Lizzie out of the door and slammed it tight. Lizzie stared at it in frustration. She wanted to hammer on it and shout until Beth was forced to answer, but if she did that people would hear – and then Bernie would know too and Beth would suffer for it.
Lizzie walked away in distress. She must go to Mrs Court and tell her the truth, but there was little Beth’s mother could do to help her daughter. Beth’s father could give Bernie a good hiding, but Lizzie suspected Bernie might be a dangerous man and unless Mr Court killed him he would simply take his fury out on her – and on others. And the last thing any of them wanted was Beth’s father to be hung for murder.
‘Oh, Sebastian,’ Lizzie sighed. ‘I do wish you were here. She was sure that Sebastian would know what to do against a bully, but she had no idea how to contact him. He was busy with his work, whatever that was – and yet she knew if he were here he would help her.
She thought about the card he’d given her with a name – the mysterious Jack who Sebastian told Lizzie to go to if she were in trouble. She wasn’t sure that she could ask him for help in Beth’s case. The police would say it was a domestic affair and best left to husband and wife to sort out – but it couldn’t be right that a man could get away with hitting his wife.
The look in Beth’s eyes had cut Lizzie to the quick. She looked defeated, as if she’d given up hope – and that just wasn’t the Beth Lizzie knew. What had Bernie done to her?
*
Beth stood with her back to the door and let the tears roll unchecked down her cheeks. She felt so low that if it hadn’t been for the twins she might have killed herself. Bernie hadn’t kept his promise; he alternated between sweet words and gifts and blows to her face and body, but he’d stopped coming to her bed after Beth threw a bowl of cold water over him. She’d been driven too far when he once more raped her from behind in the manner she found so disgusting, and when he’d fallen asleep, snoring like a pig, she filled a bowl from the washstand and poured it over him in the bed.
Of course she’d paid for it. He’d hit her until she fell to the ground half-unconscious and then he’d knelt by her side and started to weep and blubber as if he were a child, begging her to forgive him. At least, she thought he’d been begging her, though a couple of times he’d called her Mother. The feeling had grown in Beth’s mind that her husband was either evil or not right in his head – and yet when anyone came to the house that he wanted her to be nice to he played the loving husband to perfection. It made her feel sick and she wanted to stand in the street and scream the truth, tell everyone what a bastard he was, but of course she didn’t – she had to think about the twins.
Bernie had a habit of picking them up, particularly Matt, and dangling him under the arms until Matt started to scream and then he shook him until he stopped. Afterwards he would put the child back in his cot and look at Beth and she knew what he was telling her – he could kill her children whenever it suited him.
She’d thought she was giving them a home and a father but she’d brought them into danger, and she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. Lizzie was still her friend and she wouldn’t give up on her, even though Beth had tried to keep her at arm’s length so that she wouldn’t guess what a bully Bernie had turned out to be – but had she the right to take the children and go home to Lizzie? Bernie would punish them all if she did… and Beth had heard him whispering with some of the men who came at night. She didn’t know why they came or what hold Bernie had over them, but most of them seemed scared of him – and one of the men had a scar on his face. Beth remembered something about a man with a scar on his face but couldn’t place it. The look that man had given Beth as he followed Bernie to his study had made her shake with fear. She had the feeling that he would kill her as easily as he might swat a fly and smile as he did it.
If Bernie wanted to harm her or her family, he wouldn’t even have to do it himself, because he had people who would oblige him for money. If her dead body turned up in the canal, he would play the broken-hearted husband to perfection.
She wiped a hand over her eyes and went to wash her face. She didn’t want Bernie to see she’d been crying. If he thought she was cowed, he would treat her worse than ever; it was only the way she’d stood up to him that had saved her from worse. He’d known that if she could throw cold water over him as he slept it could as easily be acid or a knife plunged into his neck, and because of that he slept in his own room with the door locked.
For a moment as she took out the carving knife and began to chop the rabbit for the stew that evening, she thought about using it to cut his throat as he lay sleeping… but the idea terrified her. Murder wasn’t the answer for Beth. She didn’t want to go to prison or hang, she wanted to live – and she would think of a way to turn the tables on him, because she knew Bernie had secrets.
If she could find something – something that the law might want to know… perhaps she could force him to let her go…
*
Bernie stood on the corner of the street and watched the woman walk away. He’d known it was only a matter of time before that nosy bitch came poking her oar into his business. She was just like his sodding mother! He’d noticed that bossy manner the first time he’d met her. Bernie had hated and feared his formidable mother in equal amounts. She tyrannized him until he was old enough and big enough to teach her a lesson, beating him with a cane, forcing him to go hungry if he’d wet his bed and
making him look a fool when he cried and begged for love. Once he was sure of his own strength, he’d turned on her like a cornered rat. She’d learned what it was like to be shut in a cold dark cellar with things crawling over her in the blackness, to be left until the hunger gnawed at your belly and your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth because you were so thirsty you thought you would die. Oh yes, she’d learned, his sainted mother, with her prim mouth and her black clothes, and she’d never recovered from the shock, dying of the resulting pneumonia that developed once he’d carried her back to her room after she’d fallen unconscious.
And that snooty bitch who wanted to take his wife away from him would learn too! Norm had promised to scare her, but she was made of sterner stuff. She’d got friends and they’d protected her and she was doing better than ever. Once Beth promised to marry him, he’d told Norm not to bother with the bitch anymore, but now she was round here making trouble for him – and he’d bet she’d been trying to get Beth to leave him. Well, he’d make sure she had too much to worry about to poke her snout in where it wasn’t needed in future.
He hesitated and then turned away. He’d been intending to get home early and take Beth out to the theatre or the flicks for a treat, because he knew he’d treated her badly. It wasn’t that he planned to hurt her, but she made him lose his temper – it was the defiant way she looked at him, as if warning him that she wasn’t broken yet. And throwing that water over him had made him see red.
What had made her do it? She must have known he would punish her – she knew the routine now. If she pleased him he gave her presents and if she didn’t – he took a present for himself. An unpleasant smile curled over his thick lips. Bernie knew he wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either – a lot of women would lick his arse if he gave them what he gave Beth, but she hated the things he wanted her to do. He’d thought she would learn after the first time, but she still looked at him in that defiant way, and he knew that although she was frightened of his brutality at times, she was still herself inside. It was as if she had armour round her inner being and he couldn’t touch her.
He wanted to go back and teach her a lesson, but then he remembered it was the other one he had to see to – if she were out of the way, Beth would have nowhere to run. Bernie had his wife’s parents eating out of his hand and he knew her father thought he was a decent bloke – which left only that snooty bitch. Yeah, if she was out of the way there would be nothing left for Beth but blind obedience and that was how he liked his women.
There were a few whores around who could’ve told Beth it was best to take everything he handed out and keep quiet, but she was different – strangely enough it was the difference, her pride, that had drawn him to her, but after all she was just another whore when it came down to it. A decent woman would never have given birth to twins out of wedlock and kept them with her the way Beth had – most girls who got caught had the kid adopted and tried to keep it a secret, but not Beth. She’d flaunted it, almost as if she were proud of being an unmarried mother.
Bernie wanted a son of his own; it was the only reason he’d married. One of these days Beth would give him one – and then he’d get rid of her other brats. A few more months and she wouldn’t dare to do anything but obey him… and in the meantime he’d tell Norm to have a little fun with the other one.
Norm loved his knife. He’d been itching to use it on that snooty bitch, but Bernie hadn’t wanted her dead then. Now he’d tell Norm he could do whatever he liked…
Chapter 14
Lizzie thought long and hard before she went to the address on the card Sebastian had given her. It was meant to be used for her protection but Beth was in trouble and Lizzie didn’t know who else to turn to for help. She chose to visit as she went into work the next morning, but her first attempt brought no answer. She looked at the card again and decided to come back on her way home that evening.
As she left the bus later that evening on her way back to the address, for the first time in weeks, Lizzie felt she was being watched. She glanced round once but saw nothing, and because there were several people in the street she wasn’t unduly worried, and yet just as the bus drew away she thought she glimpsed him in the shadows – the man in the overcoat and trilby hat.
A little shiver went through her. Why had it started up again? Lizzie was sure she hadn’t been followed for weeks – since just before Beth got married. It took a few minutes for the significance of that to sink in and at first she just refused to believe it. Bernie couldn’t have had anything to do with all that … the attacks on the shop, the broken window and the red paint – the threats. Why would he?
An explanation presented itself, but she dismissed it as being too fanciful. Surely Beth’s husband wasn’t the kind of man who would do something like that just because he thought Lizzie might encourage Beth to stand up for herself – and yet who would have suspected that he would hit Beth?
A horrid suspicion entered Lizzie’s mind. If Bernie was behind the attacks and they’d started again, he must have reason to believe that Beth was thinking of leaving him and running to Lizzie for help. For months Beth had told him she couldn’t marry because Lizzie needed her. Was that the reason he’d arranged to have her threatened and caused trouble for her at the workshops? Surely not, yet it fitted neatly enough, if you accepted that Bernie Wright – a seemingly meek-mannered man who worked hard for the war effort – was actually a mean and vindictive bully. A man moreover, who had access to violent criminals…
No, it wasn’t possible. Lizzie dismissed the idea as ridiculous, but then little things began to make sense. Bernie always seemed to have money to spend, far more than most men who worked in a factory, even as the manager. He always had petrol to run Beth wherever she wanted to go… and there was the strange look in his eyes when he’d stared at Lizzie on the day of the wedding.
It wasn’t much to make a case against him, but added to the bruise on Beth’s cheek and the change in her, Lizzie felt it meant something – and if she were being followed again, it was a good thing she’d decided to ask Sebastian’s friend for help.
She hurriedly walked to the house, knocking firmly this time. It was opened by a young woman dressed in slacks and a man’s sweater, her hair cut short and swept back behind her ears. She was wearing spectacles with thick rims but took them off to peer at Lizzie.
‘Yes?’
‘I was told I could find Jack here if I needed help.’
‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Lizzie and I was given this address by Sebastian.’
‘You’d better come in,’ the woman said and invited her into the hall. She led her through into the kitchen where something that smelled delicious was cooking. There was no sign of anyone else and Lizzie frowned as the woman invited her to tell her story.
‘Is Jack here? I would rather speak to him.’
‘I’m Jack,’ the woman said and laughed as she saw Lizzie’s face fall. ‘Don’t worry, there are others – we’re all Jack. It’s safer that way. You can tell me what’s wrong and leave it with me.’
‘What do you mean?’
Jack stirred her stewpot. ‘We’ll take care of things but you won’t see or hear from us – and you never come here again. This is an emergency address. I’ll give you a number to ring if you need us again – but I doubt you will.’
Lizzie felt coldness at her nape. Something about this woman unnerved her and she almost wished she hadn’t come, but Sebastian had told her to if she needed help and she was pretty certain she did.
It took a few minutes to tell her story, because Jack kept asking her to explain various details over and over again and she made notes on a pad in squiggles that Lizzie didn’t understand but thought must be some kind of code.
‘Is that it?’ Jack asked at last. Lizzie nodded. ‘OK, time to go – and remember don’t ever come here again. In fact, give me that card please.’
‘What if I need you?’
Jack wrote a telephone numbe
r on a scrap of paper and Lizzie tucked it into her coat pocket. ‘Thank you,’ she said and was shown to the door without another word. Jack – whoever she really was – didn’t have a lot to say and she wasn’t in the least comforting or friendly. Lizzie could only hope she really would be able to help her.
She left the house and saw a tram standing just down the street. Jumping on it, she discovered that she was shaking. Lizzie wasn’t sure why the encounter with Jack had upset her, but perhaps it was just the whole business – which seemed sordid and unpleasant.
It was comforting to enter her house and be greeted by warmth and the smell of baking. Hatty had fresh scones and her delicious fatless Victoria sponge on the side cooling, and there was the smell of a pie baking in the oven.
‘It’s rabbit pie again,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid it was all I could get – but I’m sure it will be delicious and I’ve got some fresh runner beans and jacket potatoes to go with it.’
‘How lovely,’ Lizzie said. ‘Did you have to queue for long to get them?’
‘As a matter of fact Mr Court brought them round earlier. He wanted to see you – about Beth, I understand…’
‘Ah yes, I see,’ Lizzie said. ‘Has Betty been good today?’
‘She always is,’ Hatty replied and smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever known such a contented baby, Lizzie. She took her first steps today. It only lasted a moment because she sat down again almost at once, but by the weekend she’ll manage a few more, I should think.’
‘It’s the one thing I regret about working,’ Lizzie felt a flicker of disappointment. ‘I am going to miss those first moments – but at least she is safe and happy with you and that’s what matters.’
‘She’ll be running around and talking before you know it,’ Hatty said and then gave her a long look. ‘You look tired, Lizzie?’
