The River Folk

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Is it, indeed. Well, it sounds a very silly routine to me, if you start accusing innocent folk, who just try to help. It’s obvious who’s done it, ain’t it?’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ the man said carefully. ‘We have to make our inquiries and you’d do better to assist us, Mrs Ruddick.’

  ‘I’m trying to,’ Bessie snapped again, ‘if you’ll let me get a word in edgeways to tell you.’

  Now the man listened whilst Bessie explained in detail all that had happened the previous night. When she fell silent he asked, ‘Had you heard such noises before last night?’

  Bessie’s mouth tightened. ‘Oh yes. From the day they moved in, we knew what he was, but I had a go at him . . .’ She was about to recount how she had threatened Sid Clark on his own doorstep, but she was fast becoming very wary of this policeman. She doubted that he would see her side of such a situation. He might even run her in for menacing the man, or something as daft.

  For once, Bessie held her tongue, but it was, even she realized, with great difficulty.

  ‘Do you know anything else about the family? You mentioned a girl?’

  ‘Yes, Mary Ann. She’s across at my neighbour’s house.’

  ‘Does she know what’s happened?’

  ‘I told her.’

  ‘And?’

  Bessie shrugged. ‘I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. She’s only thirteen.’

  ‘I shall have to have a chat with her, since she was in the house all night.’

  Bessie shuddered inwardly. What this dour man’s questioning would do to poor Mary Ann she dare not think.

  Eighteen

  ‘Now then, me little lass, you come and sit down in Mrs Ruddick’s kitchen with me and we’ll have a little chat, shall we? Perhaps this nice lady would make us a cup of tea. Should you like that, eh?’

  Bessie’s mouth dropped open. Inspector Chapman was like a different man. Mesmerized by the sudden change in him, she watched as he took hold of Mary Ann’s hand and led her across the yard, walking on her right hand side so that his tall, broad frame shielded her from even having to see her home.

  ‘Now,’ he said kindly, as they entered Bessie’s house. ‘You sit there. My word,’ he spread his large hands out towards the warmth as they sat down either side of the range. ‘This is a nice fire, isn’t it? Get yourself warm, love. Cold old day, isn’t it? And this little bit of trouble doesn’t help, does it?’

  Little bit of trouble, he called it. Well, that was one way of looking at it, Bessie supposed. Just about the worst that could happen to anyone had happened to Mary Ann and he was calling it ‘a little bit of trouble’.

  Bessie went into her scullery and set about making a cup of tea, but she kept her ears attuned to what was going on in her kitchen.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to ask a lot of questions, love, but you’re old enough to understand that we have to find out what’s happened, don’t we?’

  Bessie could not hear if Mary Ann answered, but she heard the man continue. ‘So, were you there last night? All night?’

  Again there was a pause and Bessie presumed Mary Ann was merely nodding or shaking her head in response.

  The big man’s voice was very gentle now as he asked, ‘And can you tell me what happened?’

  There was a long silence before Bessie, carrying a tray of cups through, heard Mary Ann say haltingly, ‘Me dad came home drunk. It was very late. Later than usual. Gone midnight.’

  ‘Does he get drunk very often?’

  Now Bessie was in the room setting the tray on the table and saw Mary Ann nod.

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘We’d gone to bed, me mam and me.’

  ‘And where did you sleep? In that little room at the top of the stairs?’

  Again, she nodded.

  ‘And your mam?’

  ‘In the big bedroom. With . . . with me dad.’

  ‘Yes?’ Gently Chapman encouraged her.

  ‘Well, he was banging about. Falling up the stairs, you know.’

  Now the man nodded, but Bessie noticed that he never took his gaze away from Mary Ann’s face. He was watching her intently.

  ‘Then I heard him get into bed. It creaks, their bed. And I heard her crying out, “No, no, please don’t.” Then I heard him making funny noises, sort of grunting and the bed was creaking and me mam was still crying.’

  Chapman and Bessie exchanged a look but neither said a word as the girl continued, recounting now things she didn’t perhaps fully understand, but the older man and woman understood only too well.

  ‘After a bit it went quiet and I thought he must have fallen asleep but then I heard him shouting at her. “Shut up, you silly bitch, I’ve every right.” ’ Mary Ann paused and wrinkled her forehead. ‘At least, I think that’s what he said. Then he said, “What sort of wife are you, eh?” And then he was swearing and . . . and hitting her. I heard the slaps and her crying out. Then . . . then it got worse. There was thumps and bangs and . . . and then I didn’t hear me mam no more.’

  She was sitting rigidly upright, twisting her hands together in her lap, her eyes wide in her pale face, as she was obliged to relive the nightmare.

  ‘And your father?’

  Bessie was very tempted to intervene to save Mary Ann any further anguish, but she knew the policeman was only doing his job and she had to admit that he was handling a very sensitive situation in the best way possible.

  ‘After it all went quiet, he went out.’

  ‘Did he come into your room? Did he say anything to you?’

  Mary Ann shook her head. ‘No, I had a chair lodged under the doorknob. I . . . I thought he might. Sometimes . . . sometimes he’s hit me an’ all. But I don’t think he even tried my door. I think he just rushed out. I heard him going down the stairs and then the back door slammed. A bit later, I went into me mam’s room but the bed was tipped up and she wasn’t there. I didn’t go downstairs because I was frightened he’d come back and catch me. I’d have been in for a belting if he had.’

  Bessie and Chapman exchanged another grim look.

  Now Mary Ann looked from one to the other. ‘Me mam was under the bed, wasn’t she?’

  Chapman nodded.

  ‘If . . . if I’d found her, could I . . . I mean . . .?’ Mary Ann’s voice broke and faltered.

  Catching her meaning, Chapman reached forward and patted her hand. ‘No, no, love. I’m sure you couldn’t have done anything by then to help her. You mustn’t think that.’

  Bessie was feeling her own stab of guilt. If she had gone round there when the noise had first started, maybe she could have prevented the catastrophe. Then she sighed. Unlike Mary Ann, Bessie was old enough and wise enough to know that whatever she had done, it had been a tragedy waiting to happen.

  All she could do now was to help Mary Ann.

  When Dan didn’t arrive home the next day, Bessie began to worry.

  The previous twenty-four hours had been, Bessie thought, probably the worst she had experienced in her whole life.

  The whole afternoon had been taken up with Inspector Chapman and his questions. Then he had asked a young constable to come into Bessie’s kitchen and write everything down, so that both Bessie and Mary Ann had to go through it all again.

  Poor Elsie’s body had been taken away and there would be a post mortem, Chapman told them, and an inquest. The house had been sealed up and no one – not even Mary Ann – would be allowed to enter it.

  ‘If the child needs anything,’ Chapman said to Bessie as he left, ‘get one of my men to get it for her. There’ll be someone here, certainly for the rest of today.’

  Bessie nodded. ‘Just her clothes. If they could just bring her clothes out. She’s only in her nightie.’

  ‘Right, I’ll see to that for you. Thank you, Mrs Ruddick, you’ve been most helpful.’ His voice became stern again. ‘But please make sure your son comes straight to the station and asks for me personally, will you?’

  ‘I will,’ Bessie replied
shortly, beginning to bristle indignantly again.

  When Bert and her other sons had arrived home that night, they had been shocked to hear the dreadful news, but Bessie was comforted by their presence. She no longer felt as if she were carrying the burden alone.

  ‘You couldn’t have done anything, my angel,’ Bert reassured her in the privacy of their bedroom in the early hours of the morning, when neither of them could sleep. ‘I doubt we could have got into the house anyway.’

  ‘We should have broken the door down and got in,’ Bessie said.

  ‘We know that now, Bessie love. But law-abiding citizens can’t go breaking folks’ doors down.’

  ‘We had good reason, Bert. We could hear what was going on.’

  Bert sighed. ‘I know how you feel, love. I feel the same, but I still don’t think there’s anything more we could have done.’

  Bessie could not answer him, for she knew that as long as she lived she would never entirely rid herself of the prickle of guilt she felt. If only . . .

  ‘They want to see Dan. He’s to go straight to the station when he gets home. I hope he won’t get into trouble with the police. That feller, Chapman, was mad he’d gone.’

  ‘Well, he would be,’ said Bert reasonably. ‘He’s only doing his job.’ He chuckled then. ‘Poor Dan. It was a rotten choice to have to make. Risk the wrath of your employer and maybe the sack or get on the wrong side of the law. Not an enviable choice.’

  Bessie snorted. ‘You’d think Jack Price would be a bit more understanding.’

  ‘He isn’t and he never will be. He’s a hard case, Bessie. And I should know ’cos I’ve worked for him on and off for twenty years.’

  ‘I like his lass, though. Susan. She seems a nice girl for our Dan.’

  ‘Mm,’ Bert said thoughtfully. ‘She is. I’ll grant you that. But I’m not so sure Dan isn’t stacking up a load of trouble for himself by getting involved with his employer’s daughter. That’s not going to be an easy situation.’

  ‘That’s the least of my worries at the moment, Bert,’ Bessie said wryly.

  ‘I know, love, I know.’ Bert had kissed her then and had added, ‘Now, let’s try and get some sleep because tomorrow’s not going to be a lot easier than today’s been. Let’s just hope that the police aren’t too hard on our Dan, eh?’

  But now, by late the following afternoon, Dan had still not appeared.

  ‘Shall we take a walk down to the river and see if we can see Dan’s ship?’ Bessie suggested.

  Mary Ann jumped up, a spark of interest brightening her eyes for the first time. ‘Ooh yes, let’s.’

  ‘Right, get ya coat, then.’

  They crossed the yard without even glancing at the house next door, walked down the alley and out on to River Road.

  ‘Now then, let me think,’ Bessie paused a moment. ‘Where’s he likely to be? Dixon’s Wharf today, I reckon. Let’s try there anyway, shall we? Come on, it’s this way.’

  The wharf was busy and Bessie and Mary Ann had to be careful not to get in the way of the men unloading the cargo from the ship moored there.

  ‘Is that Dan’s ship?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the Nerissa.’ Bessie squinted against the bright winter sun glinting on the ripples on the river. ‘But I don’t see Dan.’

  ‘He’ll have gone to the police station, won’t he?’

  ‘He might have, but I’d have thought he’d have come home first.’

  ‘Mrs Ruddick. Mrs Ruddick.’

  They both heard the voice calling Bessie’s name and turned to see Susan hurrying towards them.

  The young woman held a handkerchief to her face and was obviously very distressed. It was clear that she had been crying. Automatically, Bessie put out her arms to catch hold of her. ‘Why, lass, whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Ruddick. It’s Dan. He’s been arrested.’

  Nineteen

  ‘I want to see that feller, Chapman.’ Bessie faced the desk sergeant in what her neighbours would have called her ‘Battling Bessie’ mood. ‘And I want to see him now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, madam. Inspector Chapman is not available. Can I help you in any way?’

  ‘Then I want to see my son.’

  ‘Your son, madam?’

  ‘Dan Ruddick. You’ve got him here, haven’t you?’

  The man leafed through a large book in front of him. ‘I don’t believe so, madam. What makes you think he’s here?’

  ‘Susan,’ Bessie jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Susan and Mary Ann standing behind her, ‘says he’s been arrested.’ She turned towards Susan now. ‘That’s what you said, didn’t you?’

  ‘I . . . it’s what my father said.’

  ‘And when was this, miss?’

  ‘Well, I – er – don’t know when, exactly. I just presumed it was when they docked back here this morning.’

  ‘Docked, you say? Ah now, wait a moment. If you’ll just sit down over there . . .’ He turned away towards an open door leading into a room behind the reception area.

  ‘Oi, wait a minute . . .’ Bessie began, but Susan pulled at her arm and whispered, ‘I think he’s gone to ask someone. Let’s sit down and wait.’

  With ill grace, Bessie sat down on a wooden bench seat set against the wall. ‘I don’t know. What a carry on. As if our Dan has done anything wrong.’

  They waited for what seemed like an age, but, in fact, it was only a few minutes, before the sergeant returned.

  ‘Yes, I thought so,’ he began as if answering his own unvoiced question. ‘It seems our colleagues in Hull arrested two men yesterday in connection with an incident which has taken place in – er . . .’ He consulted a piece of paper he held in his hand. ‘Waterman’s Yard.’ He looked up. ‘Would that mean anything to you?’

  Bessie heaved herself up and lumbered towards the desk. ‘Yes,’ she replied shortly, only just managing to hold on to her temper. ‘It would.’

  ‘The inspector is at this moment travelling to Hull to bring back both prisoners.’

  ‘Prisoners? What on earth do you think you’re doing arresting my lad? You’ve no right. No right at all. All he did was to go to his work. All right, all right, I know mebbe he should have stayed and seen the policeman before he went, but he’d have missed the tide and probably got the sack.’ She glowered at the man behind the desk. ‘Not that that would have bothered any of you, I suppose. You probably don’t have any idea how important it is.’

  ‘I can’t tell you any more than that, Mrs – er . . .?’

  ‘Ruddick. Mrs Ruddick. I’m his mother.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Ruddick, I am sorry but I’m not at liberty to tell you any more than that.’

  Bessie’s frown deepened. ‘Oh, so you could then. I see. Like that, is it?’

  The sergeant said nothing. ‘If you call back later today, maybe I’ll have more information for you then.’

  Muttering, Bessie turned to go. ‘Come on,’ she said to Mary Ann and Susan. ‘We’re wasting our time here. We’re not going to get anything else out of him.’

  She had begun to move towards the door when she stopped suddenly and turned to face the man again. ‘Wait a minute. You said they’d arrested two?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Who’s the other one?’

  The sergeant pursed his lips and began, ‘I’m not at liberty . . .’ but Bessie finished his sentence for him.

  ‘. . . To tell you. Thanks, mester, for nothing.’

  Bessie’s anger carried her along the street and back towards the river.

  ‘Does your father know anything?’ she asked Susan.

  Susan walked quickly beside her whilst Mary Ann had to take little running steps to keep up with them. Despite her size, Bessie was remarkably nimble on her feet when she was seething with indignation.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Susan said worriedly. ‘He was awfully angry. I . . . I didn’t stay to ask him much.’

  ‘Right then,’ Bessie said. ‘I’ll see him.’
>
  ‘Do be careful, Mrs Ruddick,’ Susan said worriedly. ‘Please don’t make it any worse for Dan. Father’s very cross about it all.’

  But Bessie was too furious herself to listen to Susan’s warning. ‘Well, he’s no right to be. I’ll give him a piece of my mind.’

  As they approached the wharf they saw Susan’s father coming down the gangway from his ship.

  ‘Jack Price,’ Bessie bellowed, her voice echoing along the riverbank. ‘I want a word with you.’

  ‘Oh you do, do you?’ The man was glowering as they neared each other. ‘I could have lost a valuable contract through your son and his shenanigans. I’ve a good mind to sack him.’

  ‘It’s putting you and his job first that’s caused the trouble,’ Bessie snapped.

  Jack Price gave a wry laugh. ‘Oh no, it isn’t. That’s not even the half of it.’

  Bessie stared at him blankly.

  ‘He’s been arrested, Bessie, for aiding and abetting a wanted man to evade arrest.’

  ‘Eh?’ Bessie said and now her voice was a high-pitched squeak of disbelief.

  ‘Clark had stowed away on my ship.’ Jack’s tone was indignant. ‘And the police think that your Dan had something to do with it, being as how you’re neighbours and Clark is a drinking pal of your Bert’s.’

  Bessie spluttered with rage, hardly able to get the words out. ‘How can they . . . how dare they . . . you don’t think that?’

  When Jack did not answer, Bessie gasped, ‘Jack Price, you can’t think that of Dan. Not of my boy. We’ve known each other years, Jack. Why, we went to school together.’

  ‘When you were there, Bessie.’ Even amid his anger, Jack could smile at the memory of the time when school and Bessie had not seen much of one another. Living on her father’s ship had not been conducive to regular education. But Bessie was at this moment in no mood to be humoured, not even by being reminded of her own fond memories.

  Jack’s mouth hardened again. ‘I’m sorry, Bessie, but I’ve to think of my own business. You must see that.’ He turned towards his daughter, standing a little way behind Bessie. He pointed at her and said, ‘And you, my girl, are not to see Dan Ruddick until all this business is cleared up. I don’t want you involved. You hear me?’