Lizzie's War

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘What have you been doing, Bernie?’

  ‘Nothing. Keep your mouth shut and you won’t come to harm.’ He glared at her. ‘You can go to Oliver’s funeral if you want – I might come myself if I get the chance.’

  Beth didn’t answer, just inclined her head. She felt surprised and relieved as he left her and went downstairs, hearing the door shut behind him. She tried to make sense of what she’d heard… had Bernie really been paying someone to commit murder? And what could she do about it if he was?

  Chapter 20

  Lizzie woke with a start. She felt cold as she struggled out of the dream that had held her. For a moment she’d thought it was the old dream, but then she realized that it hadn’t been the nightmare that had haunted her for years. Her dream had been of Sebastian and he was in danger.

  ‘Sebastian… where are you?’ Lizzie spoke his name aloud. She felt uneasy and anxious, because the dream had been so very real, and yet she couldn’t recall the details.

  Glancing at the clock on her bedside, she saw that it was six o’clock in the morning. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, because she would only toss and turn and think about Sebastian. She’d had a dream but it didn’t mean anything, and yet Lizzie couldn’t shake off the idea that something bad had happened.

  It was the day of Bert Oliver’s funeral. Lizzie threw back the covers and pulled on her dressing robe. She would go down and make herself a cup of tea; it would be a busy day…

  She filled the kettle and set the table for breakfast. Lizzie wished that Beth was still living with her, because she needed to talk and Hatty would only think she was being fanciful. Beth might have understood but her housekeeper was kind, helpful and down to earth and would tell Lizzie it was just a bad dream. Perhaps it was, but Lizzie couldn’t help feeling that sense of unease – as if something bad had happened.

  ‘Please don’t let anything happen to Sebastian,’ she whispered. ‘Please let him come home to me.’

  Lizzie felt as if she wanted to cry but she blinked back the stupid tears. It was just that so much had been going on – things that worried and distressed her – and she needed Sebastian to come back to her. It was such a desperate need at that moment that she hardly knew how to contain her fear and emotion. The war had robbed her of one husband; it mustn’t happen again. Yes, she had her daughter and she was doing the work she’d dreamed of, designing beautiful hats. Her money worries were a thing of the past, because with the two showrooms she would have a large and varied business – but what Lizzie had realized lately was that none of it meant anything without love.

  ‘Oh, Sebastian,’ she said, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Please come back to me, my darling. I can’t do it without you…’

  It was Sebastian who had encouraged her to trust her talent; he’d had so much faith in her and he’d helped her as often as he could. Now she was gaining a reputation for quality and style and he would be proud of her… but she needed him to be here to share her success.

  ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ Hatty asked sympathetically as she came in wearing her comfortable dressing robe. ‘I checked on Betty and she’s sleeping soundly – unlike her mother.’

  ‘It’s a big day,’ Lizzie said, making the funeral her excuse. ‘I just hope I haven’t forgotten anything – or anyone.’

  ‘I’m sure you haven’t,’ Hatty reassured her. ‘As you’ve made a pot of tea, why don’t we share it – and then you should go back to bed for an hour or so? No point in tiring yourself out before it starts…’

  *

  Beth came to the house nice and early so she could accompany them to the church. Lizzie was surprised but pleased to see her and she sat on Lizzie’s left side and Aunt Miriam’s niece took the seat next to Beth. Lizzie remembered the young woman from her wedding and Harry’s funeral and sent her a sad smile. Aunt Miriam was crying silently, but Lizzie had no tears to cry for the man who had once been her boss. Lizzie felt regret and sorrow, but mainly for the woman sitting beside her. Miriam Oliver was going to find things difficult without her husband. Lizzie squeezed her hand, reassuring her, because whatever happened she was going to help take care of her daughter’s great-aunt.

  After the service they all went back to Miriam’s house. It had two large reception rooms and they were crowded with mourners, most of whom were her husband’s business friends – some of them former customers of Lizzie’s, also Aunt Miriam’s niece, her fiancé and other relations. One or two of them looked at her oddly at first, but when they saw the way his widow clung to her they seemed to accept it and came over to speak to Lizzie.

  ‘I hear Oliver left his workshop to you,’ one man said, looking curious. ‘I thought he’d cut off all relations with you after Harry died.’

  ‘He did for a while,’ Lizzie said. ‘But he wanted me to look after things for Aunt Miriam – and of course Betty is his great-niece.’

  ‘Ah well, yes, I see,’ he said. ‘I heard you had some stylish hats for the spring, Mrs Winters – perhaps I’ll call in and have a look one day.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll manage to fit an order in for you if you do,’ Lizzie replied. ‘I expect to be very busy this autumn and winter…’

  He nodded and moved on to talk to Aunt Miriam, glancing Lizzie’s way several times and listening intently to what Bert’s widow had to say. Lizzie was talking to Beth but still conscious she was being discussed. Aunt Miriam came over to her soon after he left.

  ‘Mr Knight was asking all sorts of questions, Lizzie. He seemed to think it odd that Bertie had left the workshops to you, but I told him I couldn’t manage them and if they’d been left to me I should have begged you to look after them for me.’

  ‘They will be good for all of us,’ Lizzie said. ‘I meant what I said, Miriam – whatever the will states, I’m giving you a share of the profits.’

  ‘Well, the solicitor has just arrived so we’ll hear what he has to say very shortly, but I’m sure I’m right, because Bertie told me that last day when he seemed better.’

  Lizzie nodded, because if Harry’s uncle had left her with the responsibility it was going to be hard work, but she would have helped his widow anyway, and perhaps he’d known that… and admitted to himself that he hadn’t treated Lizzie fairly.

  They gathered in the smaller parlour after the guests had gone; the will was very brief and clear. Apart from leaving a small bequest and the house to his wife, he’d bequeathed everything to Lizzie, with the proviso that she paid the monthly allowance that his wife was accustomed to receiving for her expenses and all the bills on the house, just as Aunt Miriam had said.

  ‘As you will see when you come to the accounts, the business isn’t doing as well as it was before the war, despite the Government contracts – however, there is still a reasonable profit and perhaps you can improve that, Mrs Winters,’ the lawyer said, rounding up.

  ‘I should like to double the amount Aunt Miriam is paid,’ Lizzie said, ‘and that is the only way I will accept the bequest.’

  The lawyer beamed at her. ‘Well said, Mrs Winters… I am certain the business will stand the increase.’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie, I don’t need it,’ Aunt Miriam murmured and dabbed at her eyes. ‘But since you insist – I shall give my niece a hundred pounds when she gets married. I am sure Bert would have done so had I asked.’

  ‘Of course you must give her whatever you want, and if you need more from the business you have only to ask.’

  ‘Then all I need to do is to give you this letter from Mr Oliver, Mrs Winters.’

  The solicitor wound up the last few items and took his leave.

  Later, at her workshops, Ed congratulated her on her new status, confiding that he thought they could double Oliver’s profits if Lizzie brought her magic touch to bear.

  ‘I always thought the business could do better and Oliver let things go recently,’ he said. ‘It will need some hard work to get it back on track, but we can do it, Lizzie.’

  ‘Yes, together,’ she agreed
. ‘I want to give you a quarter share of the profits from Oliver’s, Ed. Once we’ve paid Aunt Miriam, naturally. You’ll retain your share in Lizzie Larch as well, but I’ll be trusting you to manage the workshops here for us, Ed.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Ed said gruffly. ‘I’ve already got my wage – and my share of Lizzie Larch Hats…’

  ‘But I want you to have this as well. I could never have managed without you. I’m going to look for another cutter, and he will help you out here. Once we find him, he can do the Government work and you can continue to cut some of my shapes – in the meantime I’ll be doing most of the cutting and Tilly will trim the Lizzie Larch hats. I shall want more staff in the future, but we’ll take it slowly for a start,’ Lizzie said. ‘If things go well for Beth, I want her to come back to work for me… for herself really, because I want to give her a quarter share of the profits from the workshops here too.’

  ‘You’re a generous woman, Lizzie.’

  ‘I’ve been lucky and I have good friends,’ Lizzie said. ‘I don’t intend to give Beth her share just yet, because the way things stand at the moment Bernie would take it away from her. I’ll put her share of the profits away, and one day, if and when she needs it…’

  ‘Very sensible,’ Ed agreed. ‘If Bernie Wright got his hands on her shares, he’d make your life a misery.’

  ‘There will be nothing in writing yet,’ Lizzie said. ‘Beth needs to leave him, but it isn’t easy for her…’

  ‘She came to the funeral but Bernie didn’t…I thought he might come to show respect.’

  ‘I doubt he had the guts to look me in the face,’ Lizzie said. ‘Beth suspects he’s up to some sort of mischief, Ed. She didn’t know more, but she was sure he was planning something evil…’

  ‘I just hope she’s careful, because I wouldn’t put anything past that man after what I’ve been told…’ he lowered his voice. ‘He’s a bad apple, Lizzie, and no mistake…’

  *

  Lizzie opened the letter from Harry’s uncle when she was alone. The first page dealt with various business items, but on the second a paragraph caught her eye.

  I thought you should know that Bernie Wright has a grudge against you, Lizzie. He’s told me a lot of tales about you and like a fool I believed them – but I realized recently it’s to do with the deal he wanted me to sign just before you married Harry. He wanted me to sell him the workshops and I thought I might; business was just turning over and I was getting a bit tired so I said yes, but then you came along and I saw that everything could be better, so I refused his offer.

  He didn’t like it and we fell out. I thought no more about it, but I learned a few weeks ago that back then there was a plan to clear the area and my property was the key to a big deal going through. Wright had a lot of money involved and when I said no it all ground to a halt. It sounds stupid, but he might have held a grudge over that old deal, so be careful of him – and don’t sell to him whatever he offers…

  I’m not sure how true this is, Lizzie, but I’ve heard that Bernie’s mother used to shut him in the cellar when he was a lad, and I know he hated her. When she died he got drunk and told me he was glad, and he called her an old bitch, and a lot of other names. I’m not sure what kind of a man does that, but I think you should stay clear of him… and forgive me if you can for trying to spoil your business. I was angry and hurt, but I would never have harmed you physically… I always believed in you, Lizzie, and I know you’ll succeed. I only wish I’d treated you better – and Harry’s daughter… forgive me.

  Lizzie stared at the letter in disbelief. She’d wondered why Beth’s husband should hate her so much, thinking that his jealousy would surely not drive him to try and harm her, but now she saw that so much more was involved. Bernie’s plans for the area had been thwarted because of her, and then Beth had moved in with her and turned Bernie down, because Lizzie needed her. He must have been feeding on his hatred of her all this time – but what sort of a man would want to hurt a woman he didn’t even know, even if she had got in his way?

  A very vindictive one. The sort who could insult his dead mother and inflict pain on a young woman he’d professed to love! It all made a horrible kind of sense that a man like that might be capable of anything…

  Beth wasn’t safe in that house. The sooner she made up her mind to leave, the better…

  *

  Beth looked around the house she’d been brought to as a bride. She’d done her best to improve it, but it would always be dull and dark – a mausoleum to the past in her opinion, with its photographs from Victorian days onwards, all of the women in Bernie’s family and one of a Victorian man with a white beard wearing a dark suit.

  She wouldn’t be sorry to leave when the time came. Beth had so wanted to tell Lizzie what she’d overheard her husband telling that man in his study. She hadn’t been able to at the funeral, and it wouldn’t have done much good if she had; she’d already decided that Lizzie couldn’t help – and telling her father was a big step. She knew that he would demand that she leave Bernie and come home immediately. In her heart it was just what she wanted but she feared what her father might do next.

  He would surely go to the police and tell them the whole story. Yet perhaps he might doubt that she’d heard properly and the police would probably say it was circumstantial evidence unless she gave them the notebooks and the money. Beth wasn’t too sure what they proved, but the police might have more idea. Perhaps they even suspected Bernie’s nefarious dealings but just lacked the proof.

  She just needed the courage to go to her father and tell him all she knew. Beth believed Bernie meant to have Lizzie murdered. She had to stop him, but once she left this house she couldn’t return – and supposing her father didn’t believe her? Surely he would?

  Beth glanced at the clock. It was too late to go this evening, because Bernie would be home at any minute now…

  *

  Beth was just thinking that if she didn’t take Bernie’s supper out of the oven soon it would be ruined. It was well past the time he normally got home and she’d begun to wonder what was wrong, because although he sometimes went out after supper and didn’t always come back until the next day, he never missed his meal in the evening.

  She bent to look in the oven and decided to take the pie out, because it was already looking a bit too brown and she thought it would be dry and horrible if she left it any longer. She removed the dish from the shelf and placed it on the pine table and then moved the greens off the heat. If Bernie didn’t come soon he would be getting bread and cheese for his supper…

  Hearing the front doorbell ring, Beth hurried to answer it. Surely Bernie hadn’t forgotten his key? She opened the door and stared as she saw her father and mother standing there looking anxious.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked and stepped back, allowing them to come into the hall.

  ‘We’ve just heard there’s a fire at the factory,’ her father said. ‘I’ve been told there was a small explosion and it happened where they store the nitro-glycerine. It set off a chain reaction and then the whole building went up in flames. They’ve got several fire engines out there now…’

  ‘Some people have been taken to the hospital,’ Beth’s mother said. ‘As soon as your father heard the news we came round – I’ll look after the twins, love. You’ll want to find out more, and if Bernie’s been hurt you’ll need to get to the hospital. Your father will take you.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Beth said, because it was expected of her and how could she tell her father that she didn’t care about Bernie, would be relieved it he didn’t come home for a while?

  ‘We’ll go to the police station near the factory,’ her father said as she took a coat from the hall stand. ‘They will have some idea of where the casualties have been taken – and then we’ll see…’

  ‘Yes, Dad, thank you,’ Beth said. She felt emotional because her parents had come to her at once. ‘I’m glad you came round. I was just beginning to wond
er where he was…’

  Her father looked at her oddly. He must wonder at her calm manner, but how could she explain now that she’d been on the verge of leaving Bernie? It would be wrong at such a time, and Beth felt concern for the others who had been caught up in the accident at the factory. She’d known girls in the office when she worked there, and been friendly with those who worked at their benches handling dangerous materials day after day; the chemicals turned their skin yellow and they all knew there was a risk of explosion and fire, and yet they stuck to their duty, because the country was at war and needed them. Beth prayed that those brave girls had escaped harm.

  *

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Wright,’ the hospital matron said when they finally arrived at the ward they’d been directed to. ‘Your husband was alive when he was brought in, but his injuries were such that he died before we could help him.’

  Beth gasped, feeling a shaft of guilt strike her. She’d thought more than once that she wanted to be free of Bernie’s tyranny, but this was too horrible.

  ‘What about the others? I understand there were three young women caught in the blast?’

  ‘Yes, they’ve all been brought here to us and we have them in intensive care. It seems your husband pushed them out of the fire in front of him and went back in to the affected area to search for others that might have been trapped by the flames… people are calling him a hero for getting the women out…’

  ‘Oh…’ Beth wanted to laugh wildly. Her husband a hero! If only they knew the truth!

  ‘It was fortunate that the day shift had mostly left. Your husband was one of the last to leave, and no one knows why he was in that part of the factory – but he undoubtedly saved lives by his swift actions.’

  ‘Do you want to see him, Beth?’ her father asked.