‘Naomi? She went to live in the country when they was burned out.’
‘You know her then?’ Harry treated the woman to his most charming smile. ‘D’you know where she is now?’
‘I know where she was,’ replied the woman, ‘but I don’t know if she’s still there.’
‘Well, perhaps you could tell me that, then even if she’s moved on maybe I could track her down.’
For a moment the woman eyed him suspiciously. ‘I’ve known Naomi Federman since we was children,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember she had a cousin in Australia. What’s your name, young man?’
‘Victor Merritt,’ answered Harry. ‘You probably never heard of my ma. Her family moved to Australia just after the war, the Great War that is. She’ll be thrilled when I tell her that Cousin Naomi is alive and well.’ He paused, hoping that the neighbour, whoever she was, would now supply the information he was looking for.
The woman studied him for a moment and then said, ‘She moved out to a village in Suffolk. Place called Feneton. Got a live-in job at the local pub, but as I said I ain’t seen her for years, so I don’t know if she’s still there.’
‘Well, that’s very helpful... Mrs?’
‘Newman, Shirley Newman.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Newman, you’ve been a great help. Shall I give your good wishes to Cousin Naomi if I catch up with her?’
‘You can, I s’pose,’ Shirley said, ‘if you find her.’
‘I didn’t know whether to tell him or not,’ Shirley said to her husband Derek when he got home later. ‘Him being a complete stranger. Only last time, when that girl Lisa came looking for them and I didn’t tell her where they was, that Naomi gave me a right mouthful!’
‘I’m sure you did the right thing,’ said Derek with a yawn. ‘Any tea on the go?’
Harry was delighted with the information Shirley had given him. As soon as he heard they’d gone to a village called Feneton, he remembered the name. Lisa had traced them there when she’d come back to London after the Blitz. Now he had something to go on; if he could find Naomi and Dan Federman, he could find Lisa. He’d follow it up as soon as he’d got all the other business sorted.
He caught a bus back to his hotel and got ready to go to the Crooked Billet in the hope of finding Freddie, the forger. When he reached the pub, he sat in a corner nursing his pint as he watched and listened to the comings and goings in the bar. Other people came in – a young couple took their drinks to another corner table and sat whispering together, an elderly man with a dog on a lead took a place by the fire, a bloke in overalls who bought a half of mild and propped himself up on the bar and chatted to the barmaid – but there was no sign of Freddie. Harry was beginning to think he would have to try the studio after all, when the door opened and Freddie slouched in. Harry recognised him at once. He was a thin man. Everything about him was thin: his pointed nose, his chin, his faded fair hair, his whole body. If you turned him sideways, Harry thought as he studied him standing at the bar, you wouldn’t be able to see him!
Harry had remembered that Freddie was skinny, but he hadn’t remembered him being little more than skin and bone, skeletal wrists and bony hands poking out from his sleeves and his head no more than a skull perched atop a scrawny neck.
He’s dying, Harry realised as he took in the man’s grey colour and protuberant eyes. Wonder if he’s up to the job? And who the hell am I going to get to do it if he ain’t? Who could I trust?
As these thoughts skittered through his mind, he knew he must find out for sure. Swallowing the last of his beer, he went up to the bar for a refill. He pushed his glass over to the barmaid and then, turning casually to Freddie who had already downed half his whisky, he said, ‘Get you another one of those, Freddie?’ Without waiting for a reply he said to the barmaid, ‘And the same again for my friend.’
Freddie look up, fear in his eyes. ‘Who’re you?’
‘Vic Merritt,’ replied Harry with a smile. ‘You did a bit of work for me and my dad, George, a few years back. Remember that, do you?’
‘Never heard of you,’ Freddie said, glancing anxiously over Harry’s shoulder as if to see if anyone were watching.
‘Let me buy you a drink, Freddie, and then we can go to my table over there,’ he nodded at the corner, ‘where we won’t be overheard, and I can remind you all about my dad, George.’
Harry hadn’t sounded menacing, but there was something in his expression that made Freddie decide it would probably be wise to do as he was asked. He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his whisky before picking up the refill and following Harry to his table.
‘Not looking too well, Freddie,’ Harry remarked as he sat down. He raised his glass and said, ‘Good health.’
Freddie took a mouthful of his drink and then put the glass down on the table.
‘What do you want?’ he asked wearily.
‘You do remember who I am... and who I work for?’
‘Never forget a job I done,’ Freddie said.
‘Good. Well, now that we understand each other, Freddie, I got another little job for you.’
‘I’m retired,’ Freddie replied flatly. ‘I don’t do that stuff no more.’
‘Retired?’ Harry sounded surprised. ‘Why’ve you retired, Freddie? You had a nice little business going.’
‘I’m retired because I’m ill,’ said Freddie.
‘Well, I must say you don’t look too special, Fred,’ Harry agreed cheerfully. ‘Still, I’m sure you can manage just one more job before you kick the bucket.’
‘No, told you, I’m retired. I don’t do that stuff no more.’
‘That’s bad news, Freddie. Really bad news. Thing is, you see, we got to get this job done and my dad, George, he wants you, and only you, to do it.’
‘He can’t have me,’ said Freddie, his eyes swivelling with fear. ‘He can’t have me no more. I don’t work freelance no more.’
Harry looked at him through narrowing eyes. ‘Who’s took you over, Fred? Shadbolt or Maxton?’
At the mention of the two names Freddie turned even paler and tears started in his eyes. ‘I can’t do it, Vic,’ he whispered. ‘’S more than my life’s worth.’
Harry looked at him in surprise. ‘Your life? Want to spend the last months of your life in gaol, do you?’ he asked. ‘Want the cops tipped off about you and your boyfriend, do you? Know what they do to nancy boys in prison, don’t you, Freddie? Be a pity if that happened to you simply because you couldn’t help out an old friend one more time. Think about it, Freddie, before you finally decide.’
Freddie gulped the rest of his whisky down in one huge swallow, his whole body rigid with fear.
‘I’ll get you another one of those, Freddie, while you think about it. You look as if you need it.’
When Harry returned from the bar he set another whisky down in front of the terrified Freddie. ‘Now, look here, Freddie, you don’t have to worry about Grey Maxton and Bull Shadbolt, I’m here to sort them out. Which was it, by the way?’
‘Shadbolt,’ whispered Freddie.
‘Forget about Shadbolt for now, Freddie. What you have to do is take this little job I got for you, and then you’ll have no trouble with any of us no more and you can go home to your friend Eric and die in peace. All right?’
Dumbly, Freddie nodded. He didn’t believe Vic could deal with big boys like Bull Shadbolt, but he had no choice. Whichever way he decided, he knew he was in the shit. Bull Shadbolt’s minder, Rat Ratcliffe, had been round and told him that from now on, Bull wanted both names of everyone Freddie did an ID job for, old name and new name. He also wanted 25 per cent of whatever Freddie was paid.
‘That way,’ Rat had explained, ‘you won’t be troubled by the rozzers, or anyone trying to muscle in on your business. You... and your friend,’ he gave a sly wink, ‘will be under Bull’s particular protection, see? Best thing all round, wouldn’t you say?’
Freddie wouldn’t say, no, but there was nothing he could do about it
if he wanted to protect Eric and himself. He did, very much; and now Vic’s threat was the more immediate.
‘What’s the job, then?’ he asked wearily.
‘It’s a very private one,’ Harry said, his eyes holding Freddie until the little man looked away. ‘I hope you understand that, Freddie, cos as you know, my dad George can be real mean if he thinks someone’s double-crossing him. Know what I mean?’
When Freddie didn’t answer, Harry said again, ‘Know what I mean?’
At last Freddie nodded.
‘Right,’ said Harry. ‘Here’s the deal. He needs new papers for his missus and daughter. OK? The works, like you did for him and me. Them papers, Freddie, was first class. He wants the same for his ladies.’
Freddie was about to speak but Harry raised his hand. ‘And he will pay you, Freddie. He will pay you a grand.’
Freddie’s eyes flew to Harry’s face. A thousand pounds was more than he could have dreamed of. Ever. He and Eric could disappear. They’d get out of London; could go to the seaside. With that much money they could live in comfort for what he knew and accepted were the last few months of his life. And when he died, Eric would not be left penniless. For a thousand pounds it was worth the risk, and with any luck at all, he could be up and gone before the Bull or the Rat knew he’d done one final job for Denny Dunc.
‘You’re on,’ he said. ‘But I want half up front.’
‘Don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, Fred,’ Harry told him. ‘Still, as you’ve always done good work for Denny, you can have a ton up front, but we need them papers yesterday, so get your arse in gear.’
A hundred pounds was less than he’d hoped, but even with that safely in his pocket he had a chance to make a break for it.
‘They’ll have to come round my studio, same as you did,’ Freddie said. ‘You know where, and they’d better come after dark. Bring them tomorrow, when the pubs is closed.’
‘You better make sure you’ve got everything ready, Freddie,’ Harry warned, ‘because they ain’t coming there twice.’
‘I will,’ promised Freddie, feeling happier than he’d felt since the Rat’s visit. ‘If there’s any problem, the outside light will be on. Make yourself scarce. If it’s off, you can bring them on in... with the money, Vic. You won’t forget that, will you?’
‘A hundred up front, the rest when you deliver the goods,’ Harry agreed. Then he got up and was about to leave when he turned back and, leaning across the table, spoke softly.
‘If Mick Derham comes sniffing around, he won’t be coming from me, right? Whatever he says, tell him nothing, Denny’s orders, or the deal’s off and you’re on your own. Capeesh?’
Then with a nod to the barmaid, he made for the door and walked out into the night. He’d been there too long for comfort, but he’d got the job agreed, and with the promise of enough cash to last him out, he was pretty sure he’d secured Freddie’s silence. He had a list of things to discuss with both Shadbolt and Maxton, and now Freddie was one of them. All he had to do now, was to deal with them. He set off back to his hotel, Hound drifting along behind him. It had been a long day for both of them.
7
When Harry returned to Marsh Avenue the next morning, it was Bella who opened the door to him, and he felt a stirring in his loins as he saw her again, her beautiful face and her luscious figure only partially concealed by the pink and orange wrap she was wearing.
‘Hallo, Harry,’ she said, her husky voice seemingly an invitation to some sort of intimacy. ‘You’re an early bird.’ She indicated her informal attire and then smiled. ‘We wasn’t expecting you so soon. You’d better come in. Ma’ll be down in a minute.’ She looked at him with innocent eyes and said, ‘Can I offer you anything?’ adding after a pause, ‘A cup of tea? Some breakfast?’
Harry grinned at her. ‘Nothing... at the moment.’
She led him into the sitting room and said, ‘Make yourself at home, Harry. I’ll just go and get dressed.’
Harry sat down and waited. Moments later Dora appeared. She looked a little flustered. ‘You’re very early, Harry. What’s up?’
‘I seen the bloke about your papers and I’ve persuaded him to get on with the job right away. Thing is, he needs photos for the passports an’ that. So I got to take you to his studio down the Isle of Dogs so’s he can take them. We’re going tonight, after the pubs shut.’
Dora shook her head. ‘No, we ain’t,’ she said firmly. ‘Me and Bella ain’t going anywhere near the Isle of Dogs at night. You get the bloke up here.’
Harry scratched his head. ‘Not sure he can do the necessary up here.’
‘He did it for Denny, he can do it for us.’
‘Did it for Denny?’ Harry sounded puzzled. ‘You mean he came to the house?’
‘No, not this house, Den couldn’t come back here once he was out, could he? No, he went to the safe house and done the pictures there.’
‘What safe house? The one we was in before we went to Australia?’
Dora shrugged. ‘Don’t know where it was, do I? Just know the bloke went to Denny and took his picture.’
‘An’ you want him to come here, do you? To this house?’
‘Safer all round,’ Dora insisted. ‘We’re safe enough in our own place.’
‘You being threatened?’ asked Harry.
‘Not directly, no. But we ain’t going to take no risks either. You just go and fetch him here, Harry boy.’
Harry thought for a moment; he had been trying to work out the best way to take Denny’s wife and daughter safely to Freddie’s studio and so far had not come up with anything. Now, he thought about what she’d said. If Freddie came to them under cover of darkness, he could do the job with no one the wiser.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll go down tonight as arranged and pick him up. Bring him back here. But it won’t be till late. We got a cabby on the firm?’
‘No, but Den’s car’s in the garage. You can take that.’
‘You’ve still got his car?’ Harry was incredulous.
‘Course we have,’ replied Dora. ‘How d’you think we get about?’
‘Drive yourself, do you?’
‘No, I can’t drive, but Mick takes us to where we want to go.’
‘Ah! Mick!’ said Harry thoughtfully. ‘You haven’t said anything to him, have you? About going to Sydney, an’ that?’
‘I wasn’t born yesterday, Harry! Course I haven’t. He come in yesterday, fishing about you and what you was doing here—’
‘An’ what did you tell him?’ interrupted Harry.
‘Nothing, Harry. I told him nothing. Just said you’d brought messages from Denny. He asked what messages and I said they was private ones, just for me and Bella.’
‘Who’s talking about me?’ demanded Bella as she came into the room. She was dressed now, her hair smooth and shining, her make-up perfect. She gave Harry a coy smile as she dropped into the chair next to his.
‘No one,’ said her mother. ‘I was just telling Harry that he could borrow your dad’s car.’
‘Ooh! Where’s he going?’ Bella beamed across at him. ‘Can I come with you?’
‘No,’ said Dora before Harry could answer, ‘he’s on an errand for me.’
Bella looked mutinous. ‘Where? Where’s he going?’
‘Never you mind,’ snapped her mother. ‘But he’ll be back later this evening to have a drink with us. Then he’ll tell you where he’s been.’
Harry’s mind had been whirring ever since Dora had mentioned the car. Use of a car was just what he needed; not just on Denny’s business, though it would be useful for that, but giving him the freedom to follow his own plans. He could drive to Feneton in Suffolk and try to find the Federmans; maybe find Lisa there, or at least ask them where she lived now. If they gave him her address he could go and see her.
‘Let’s have a look at the car then,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Got petrol in it, has it?’
‘Yes, Mick took the coup
ons and filled it up last time. We got more if you need them.’
‘What’ll Mick say when he sees the car is missing?’ he said as they went through the inner door to the garage.
‘You leave Mick to me,’ Dora said. ‘We’ll open the garage after it gets dark, so you can drive straight in when you get back tonight. Come in through the kitchen. That way no one won’t see who’s here.’
Harry left Marsh Avenue at the wheel of the smart black Rover that had been in the garage since before Denny had been sent down the last time. It had been used only when Dora needed to be driven somewhere, but it was polished and cared for and started first touch of the self-starter; the engine purring gently as he backed it out into the street. He watched as Bella closed the doors behind him, and then drove away, delighted to have his own set of wheels. He had business of his own to pursue.
Mrs Burton at Livingston House had indeed been right. Harry wasn’t going to give up any chance of finding Lisa, and now he had the time and the means, thanks to Shirley Newman and Dora Duncan, to follow the trail to Feneton.
He stopped outside a newsagent in the nearby parade of shops and bought himself a motoring map.
‘Ooh! Lucky you to have some petrol!’ said the girl who served him. ‘Wish I could go for a spin!’
Harry grinned at her and said, ‘Been saving them for a special occasion, haven’t I? Going to see my girl.’
‘Lucky girl,’ replied the assistant wistfully as she watched him go back out to the car.
He sat in the driver’s seat and studied the map. There it was, Feneton, just over the Suffolk border. It didn’t look very far; he should have plenty of time to get there and back.
*
It was well over an hour later that he drove into the village. He pulled up outside the Feneton Arms and went inside. The pub had just opened and the bar was empty. At the sound of the door a buxom woman came out of the kitchen and greeted him with a smile.
‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘What can I get you?’
Harry ordered a half of bitter and perched himself on a bar stool.
The Married Girls Page 8
