by Weaver, Pam
She wore a warm coat as they left the house, and took an old shawl to put round her shoulders, if necessary. It could get cold down by the sea in the evenings. Ruby’s heart sank when she saw the crowds waiting outside. People were already standing four or five deep near the steps, and more were coming. They weren’t all Mosley supporters. Some had come with home-made placards of a very different nature: Mosley out; Say no to Hitler’s lapdog; and No to Fascism. Others were singing a parody, ‘Poor Old Mosley’s Got the Wind Up’, to the tune of ‘John Brown’s Body’. How on earth were they going to spot the murderer amongst this lot? The people with tickets to hear Mosley speak poured into the pavilion endlessly.
The meeting was billed for seven-thirty. Ruby managed to get to the top of the steps on one side, while Jim waited at the bottom on the other side. At seven-fifteen a cheer went up. A group of thickset Blackshirts walked up the steps and positioned themselves alongside it, and before long a tall man made his way to the doors. Ruby had never seen Mosley close up before; she’d only ever seen his poster. He wore a neatly trimmed moustache and had small, piercing brown eyes. At the top of the steps he turned and waved to the crowd. Colonel Blatchington hurried up the steps behind him and they all went inside.
The crowd jostled and re-formed itself. Some chanted slogans and others left, presumably for the public houses. Barnes cafe opposite was doing a roaring trade, as was the fish-and-chip shop further along the road.
Percy turned up, and Ruby came down the steps to meet him. ‘Seen her yet?’ he asked.
Ruby shook her head. ‘Jim’s waiting down there – maybe he has.’
‘He says not,’ said Percy. ‘I’m beginning to think this is a wild goose chase, Ruby. Perhaps we’ve all got carried along with the spirit of adventure. I can’t afford to keep taking time off work. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to risk losing it.’
Ruby nodded. ‘I think you might be right. If we hadn’t found that bullet in our bed, none of this would be happening.’
‘Shall we give up then?’
Ruby looked thoughtful. With all these big bodyguards about, nobody seemed to be in any danger anyway. Perhaps they should give up. Maybe she’d let her imagination run away with her. She was seeing Albert again tomorrow. Maybe he’d found Charlie Downs.
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Sis,’ said Percy. ‘You were only trying to help.’
Fuelled by meat pies and beer, the counter-demonstrators were drifting back. Before long Ruby, Jim and Percy would be wedged in and unable to get home.
‘Home?’ said Percy again.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’m dog-tired anyway.’
She had left her shawl at the top of the railings and turned back to fetch it. All at once the doors opened and two of the Blackshirts came out and stood on either side. The sound of a fanfare came from inside the building, and she heard the roar of the faithful. Their leader was leaving. The crowd, taken completely by surprise, surged forward in a dangerous wave. An egg landed on the steps near Ruby’s feet, and the angry shouts grew louder. More Blackshirts came out and formed a guard on the steps, as other leading lights of the movement came down them. These included William Joyce and Worthing’s only Fascist member of the Borough Council, Councillor Charles Bentinck Budd. As yet there was no sign of Mosley or Colonel Blatchington. Ruby blinked as she saw Mrs Fosdyke standing on the steps opposite. Ruby grabbed her shawl, but now she was wedged between the railings and the frenzied mob, and the press of people made it difficult to breathe. She shouted for them to stop pushing, but her voice was lost in the volume of noise all around her.
Somebody must have hit one of the bodyguards in the back, because he suddenly turned round and threw a punch into the crowd. The woman next to Ruby was hit full in the face. Ruby heard something crack – probably her nose being broken – as the woman fell against her arm with a scream. It seemed for a minute that there was blood everywhere. As she fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief, Ruby remonstrated with the Blackshirt, but he had already turned his back on the crowd and had linked arms with his colleagues on either side of him.
More people came out of the building and the crowd surged forward again. Mosley descended the steps, flanked by the two bodyguards, who lost no time at all in pushing and shoving people out of the way. Ruby saw women and children being as roughly handled as the men. She still had her arm around the injured woman, who had pressed her handkerchief against her nose. By now the poor thing was sobbing with pain. Ruby felt something strange moving by her leg and looked down. To her horror, she saw Winifred Moore on all fours. At first she thought she must have fallen over, but then she realized that Winnie was holding an umbrella, which she had surreptitiously poked between the legs of two of the bodyguards. At the same time Ruby heard a sinister, disembodied voice saying, ‘That’s right, Freddie, my love. He’s coming down the steps. Do it now!’
Ruby’s mind was struggling to understand what was unfolding. The colonel suddenly staggered, a sudden pain making him fall – Winnie had jabbed the umbrella into his right leg with considerable force. He tumbled against the men in front of him, veering sideways as he tried to grab the rail, and taking several others down with him. Mosley was way ahead and had escaped injury, but when the momentum finally stopped, there was what seemed like a pile of bodies at the bottom of the steps. Everybody was screaming and shouting, and the guards rushed down the steps after the colonel while, on the other side of the steps, Mrs Fosdyke simply watched.
While Ruby had been helping the injured woman beside her, a man had pushed his way towards them. ‘Lizzie, what happened?’ Ruby explained briefly. The couple thanked her, and the man led the way through the crowd to get her to a first-aid post. Once they’d gone, Ruby scanned the crowd for another sight of Winifred Moore. She eventually saw her further down the steps, holding onto the rail and looking rather shaken. Once again Ruby heard the same disembodied voice: ‘You’ve done it all, my darling. Well done. It’s over. Come to me, Freddie. I’m waiting.’
Freddie? That was the name Victor had called out, the moment before he died. Everyone had thought it was his brother, but now at last it dawned on Ruby: it must have been Winifred’s name, and ‘Freddie’ was a nickname.
Ruby spun round, searching for whoever was speaking. Where was Mrs Fosdyke? The strange voice must be hers. The crowd, more subdued now, was moving away from the steps, and the cafe across the road had become the centre of attention. Some local boys were throwing tomatoes at the windows, and then Ruby heard the sound of breaking glass. In the distance she saw Mrs Fosdyke crossing the road, probably aiming for the bus stop. Ruby frowned. So that strange voice didn’t come from her. Winifred Moore stumbled away in the opposite direction. Ruby heard Percy call her own name, but she was still scanning the crowd for that voice. All at once it was as if the rest of the people fell away, and she saw him. As their eyes met, she whispered out loud, ‘My God, Albert Longman!’
Then it all came flooding back. That day when they’d been at High Salvington, when he’d done such a brilliant job of amusing the children. Everybody had said how clever Albert was at throwing his voice. Hadn’t he made the children really believe that the furry mouse was in the wood-pile? And not only the children, but the adults too. She wondered what his connection with the firing squad could be, but there was no time for that now. Winnie was moving down the steps with a great sense of purpose, but where was she going? As she reached the bottom, she turned and Ruby felt the panic rising in her chest. She was heading for the pier. ‘Come to me, Freddie …’ the voice had said. Oh God … he wanted Winnie to kill herself, didn’t he? But why? Why? Calling her name, Ruby ran after her. By the time she’d turned the corner, Winifred was climbing over the locked gate leading to the half repaired pier with an agility that Ruby had never seen in a woman of her age.
‘Winnie – no! Come back.’
Ruby heard more footsteps, this time behind her. A cold fear enveloped her. Albert must have followed them. The pier w
as hardly the place to be wandering about in the dark. The decking had been replaced, and work was under way at the sea end on a new Southern Pavilion to mirror the one on Marine Parade, but the area was loosely fenced and a large quantity of building materials was stacked there, waiting for the work to begin.
A night-watchman had been sitting huddled in his hut on the concrete surround near the gate. Obviously, hearing the sound of running, he’d come out with a mug of tea in his hands and now spotted three people heading for the building site.
‘Oi,’ he shouted. ‘You can’t go down there.’
Ruby turned for a second to shout, ‘Get help. She’s going to jump.’
It was pitch-black at the end of the pier, but Ruby could still make out Winifred’s shape. She was leaning over the railings, looking at the sea crashing below. The pier wasn’t shaking or rocking, so Ruby knew the structure itself was sound, but there was several feet of surging water underneath and, if Winnie jumped, there was little anyone could do to save her. Ruby stopped a few yards behind her.
‘Winnie, wait,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to do this.’
She turned and looked at Ruby, as if seeing her for the first time. Her expression was one of bewilderment and she put her hand to her head. Behind them Albert’s footsteps slowed and stopped, and Ruby heard that same sinister voice again: ‘Freddie, I’m here in the water, waiting for you.’
Winifred turned back and stared down at the heaving, inky waters below.
The hairs on Ruby’s neck stood up and everything fell into place. ‘Stop it, you bloody blighter,’ she shouted at Albert, and turning back to Winnie she said, ‘Don’t listen to him, Winnie. That’s not your Victor. Victor is dead.’
‘Too late, Ruby,’ said Albert in his normal voice.
Winnie put one hand on the rail. ‘No!’ cried Ruby. ‘Listen to me. He’s a fake. It’s not real.’
Winnie hesitated, so Albert began again: ‘Come, my love …’
Ruby went back and hit him on the shoulder. ‘This isn’t funny. Stop it, stop it.’ He caught her wrists as she pounded his chest. ‘You rat,’ she hissed. ‘I confided in you!’
She was relieved to hear the night-watchman puffing towards them, the light from his torch spilling all around them.
Caught between the two of them – the one she wanted to save and the one who was scaring her half to death – Ruby’s mouth was dry and her heart was beating wildly. ‘How could you do this to another human being?’
Albert suddenly bent her wrist painfully. ‘It could have all been so different,’ he said menacingly next to her ear. ‘If you had loved me, Ruby, I would have stopped. None of this would have happened.’
Now she was furious. ‘Don’t you dare blame me,’ she said angrily. ‘You’re sick, Albert Longman. Whatever you did was your own choice. You manipulated that poor woman to murder three men. Whatever did she do to you to deserve that?’
Even in the gloom she saw Albert’s expression darken. ‘What did she do to me?’ he said, with venom in his voice. ‘She never had time for me. I’m her son, but she rejected me. All she ever wanted was him – Victor. So when he died, she got rid of me. What do you think of that, eh? My own mother.’
It was a shock to hear what he was saying, but Ruby was still very aware of the broken wretch who stood by the railings, waiting to end her own life. She tried to wrench her wrist away from Albert. ‘That’s no excuse,’ she said. ‘When your father died, she was most likely out of her mind with grief.’
‘You should have loved me, Ruby,’ he said. ‘All I wanted was you.’
His head came down and he tried to kiss her. She pushed him angrily away. ‘So much so that you even threatened my Jim!’ she cried. ‘You’re despicable, and I could never love a person like you, not in a million years.’
‘Come on, son,’ said the night-watchman, reaching out and grabbing Albert’s sleeve. ‘Get away from the edge. It’s not safe.’
With a roar of rage, Albert flung his arm back, sending the man sprawling. The watchman fell against a pile of scaffolding poles, which clanked together and then started to roll. As the man did his best to scramble out of the way, Albert was caught slightly off-balance, and Ruby was able to pull her wrist away and turn her attention to Winnie, who was still standing with one hand on the railings and the other on her head. Ruby grabbed Winnie’s arm to pull her away, as Albert, with his back to the poles, came towards them. In that moment Ruby could tell by his face that he intended to push them both over the edge. But as the night-watchman staggered to his feet, he set another pole on the move. It hit the back of Albert’s leg and he was propelled forward. Ruby and Winifred made a dive in the opposite direction, but the poles gathered velocity until Albert was pinned against the railings. The night-watchman tried to stop them, but still the poles kept coming. Finally, Albert let out an ear-piercing yell and disappeared over the edge. The weight of steel had made the ornamental mesh covering the railings give way, and they heard his body smash against one of the girders and splash into the water below. Several more poles followed him.
The night-watchman leaned over the rail helplessly. ‘Good God! He’s gone.’
Ruby had her arms around Winnie, who seemed disorientated and confused. They could hear more footsteps running along the pier. The night-watchman was beside himself. ‘Get away,’ he shouted, waving his torch. ‘This is council property. You shouldn’t be here. I shall lose my job. Some bloke has already gone over the edge.’
People reached out for Winifred and Ruby, and they all began to walk back along the boards. As they approached the middle of the pier Ruby heard her name being called. Thank God – it was Percy.
‘You’d better come quickly, Ruby,’ he said breathlessly, as he finally caught up with her. ‘When all that lot fell down the steps, your Jim was underneath.’
CHAPTER 43
The new Southern Pavilion was well worth waiting for. Ruby had enjoyed the razzamatazz of the official opening and now, alongside hundreds of others, she was taking her first stroll with her mother, Rachel and May.
They reached an ice-cream kiosk part of the way down.
‘Can I have an ice cream, Mummy? May asked.
Bea reached for her handbag, but Ruby put her hand on her mother’s arm. ‘No, Mum. Let me, this is my treat. We’ll get one in the tea room.’
They walked up the steps and into the beautiful art deco restaurant. It was busy and there was a hum of conversation as people sat chatting at the tables. At one side, behind an array of large potted ferns, there was a grand piano and a pianist played softly. Ruby looked around and spotted one table that was free. It was in a prime position, next to the bay window overlooking the place where the sea-anglers cast their rods. The ‘Reserved’ sign in the middle of the table beckoned. As she pulled out a chair and sat down, it was hard to believe that this was the same place where Albert Longman had gone to his watery grave less than a year ago. Despite her best intentions not to dwell on it, her thoughts went back to that dark night and all that had happened since.
Winifred Moore had been taken to hospital of course, but thankfully she had suffered no physical damage. The damage to her mind was a lot worse, however, and it seemed that she might never be fully well again. Because of her crimes, she had been placed in a secure unit and, although she wasn’t really sure she believed it, Ruby had been told that she would be well looked after. Winnie was utterly convinced that her dead husband had wanted her to dispatch the men who were responsible for his death.
‘No one knew my secret name,’ she would tell anyone who was willing to listen. ‘As soon as he called me “Freddie”, I knew it was him.’
No one knew her nickname, except a little boy who was eleven at the time of his father’s death. The police traced what had happened to Albert. He had been adopted (hence the different surname), but it hadn’t been a happy move. His new father was horribly strict, and this eventually fanned Albert’s hatred of his mother into flame.
When he fe
ll on the pavilion steps, Colonel Blatchington had suffered no more than a puncture wound on his leg where the umbrella went in, and a few bruises. Albert’s plan had been for him to fall the length of the concrete steps, which would have resulted in serious injury. Fortunately for the colonel, he had fallen on top of other people. He was a bit shaken up, but everyone agreed it could have been a lot worse. After the Worthing incident and the riotous behaviour that followed, Mosley and his cohorts were arrested. The case went as far as Lewes Assizes, where – after clever representation by slick London lawyers – it was eventually dismissed. It was all too much for the colonel, who retired soon afterwards.
As Ruby gazed out of the window, Rachel – now married to Percy and four months pregnant – slid into the chair opposite. The waitress arrived. ‘We’re all having afternoon tea,’ said Ruby. ‘I booked it. The name is Searle.’
‘Shall I bring it now?’
‘Give us five minutes, dear,’ said Bea. ‘There are a few more to come.’
The waitress turned to go.
‘When you come back,’ Ruby called after her, ‘can you bring an ice cream for the little girl?’
The waitress nodded and May beamed.
‘I’d better take you to the toilet,’ Bea told May.
‘I’m coming too,’ said Rachel.
Left on her own, Ruby took in the view from the window. Not only could she see the anglers, but if she turned her head slightly, the beautiful bow-window gave her a view of the coastline. The sea sparkled in the warm sunlight and people were bathing in the water. A Punch-and-Judy man had set up his booth on the beach, and children sat in front of it, patiently waiting for the show to start. She smiled to herself. How she loved this place, with the Dome cinema staring out to sea and, a little further along the coast, the magnificent Warnes Hotel, where she’d once worked.
Her thoughts drifted back to Albert Longman, and she recalled the shock and horror she’d felt when the police told her what they had found at Albert’s house. He’d kept a meticulous wall chart, chronicling the demise of each of his victims. It gradually came to light that Albert had used his mother for each of the killings, with the exception of Uncle Jack Harris, whose death really was a tragic accident, thus making Winnie just as much a victim as those she had killed. In her fragile state of mind, Winnie was better than a gun or a knife to him. Her devotion to her husband had made her putty in her son’s hands, and as soon as Albert spoke in that imitation voice, she became like an automaton and did whatever he wanted. It was only as Winnie patted her hair in the hotel corridor that day when Ruby had met Colonel Blatchington that she had put two and two together. As she went down in the lift, Ruby remembered the person she had thought was Percy, in the darkened street the day Nelson died. He or she was patting his or her head in exactly the same way. She also remembered that lone woman she’d seen at Nelson’s funeral and realized that that person wasn’t Mrs Fosdyke but Winifred Moore, the first time on her way to the boat to murder Nelson and the second time to enjoy their grief.
