The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  ‘Just passing through, are you?’ asked the barmaid.

  ‘Sort of,’ Harry said with a smile. ‘Trying to catch up with a relative of my mother’s.’ He’d decided to stick to the story he’d told Shirley Newman; it sounded sincere and it couldn’t be disproved, at least, not until he found the Federmans. ‘I heard she used to work here and I was hoping she might still be around.’

  ‘Work here? At the pub, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. A Mrs Shirley Newman said she moved here in the war.’ He retold the story he’d spun to Shirley. ‘Naomi Federman’s her name. Do you know her? I think her husband’s called Dan.’

  The barmaid’s face broke into a smile. ‘Of course I know them. They’ve just moved into a cottage on the edge of the village. Ivy Cottage, it’s called. You’ll find it out on the Ipswich road. First house after the church, you can’t miss it. How exciting to get a visit from someone all the way from Australia!’

  Harry finished his beer, stood up and said with a smile, ‘Thank you very much, Mrs...?’

  ‘Dow, Jenny Dow. I hope you find her, she’ll be so pleased to see you.’

  When Harry reached Ivy Cottage he parked the car and walked through a neatly kept garden to the front door. Through an open window he could hear music, a wireless playing and the sound of somebody singing. Harry raised the knocker and gave a couple of sharp taps. The singing stopped and moments later Naomi Federman appeared at the door, her hands covered in flour. She looked at Harry without recognition, but Harry knew her at once.

  ‘Mrs Federman?’ he asked with a smile.

  ‘Yes? Who are you?’

  ‘You won’t remember me, but my name’s Harry Black and I’m a friend of Lisa’s.’ He saw recognition of his name flash across her face and he held out his hand. ‘You and your husband were kind enough to offer me a bed one night during the war when I had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Naomi, instinctively wiping her floury hands on her apron before shaking the proffered hand. ‘Yes, I remember.’

  ‘The thing is,’ went on Harry, ‘I’ve been away, in Australia since the war, and I’ve lost track of Lisa. I wondered if you could tell me where she is.’

  Naomi gave him a hard look and then stood aside. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said.

  Harry followed her into the house and she led the way into the kitchen where there was a mouth-watering smell of baking. ‘I’m sorry to bring you in here,’ she said as she returned to rolling out pastry on the kitchen table, ‘but as you can see, I’m baking. I make pies for the pub and cakes for the café in the village. So sit down while I finish these and get them into the oven and then I’ll make a cup of tea and we can have a chat.’

  Harry sat down in the chair she indicated and watched as she lined and filled four pie dishes before sealing them with the another layer of pastry. It wasn’t long before they were safely in the oven and she’d put the kettle on.

  If Naomi were honest with herself, she hoped to keep him there until Dan got home. She didn’t know whether she ought to tell this Harry where Lisa was living; that she was married, that she had children. She remembered the look on Billy’s face when Dan had asked Lisa if she’d heard from Harry. She didn’t want to make things difficult for Lisa, which, she decided, they would be if Harry turned up in Wynsdown unexpectedly.

  ‘So, you’ve been in Australia,’ she said as she sat down opposite him and poured the tea. ‘How very exciting! Is it as big as they say, just miles and miles of empty country?’

  ‘It’s certainly a big country, but I haven’t been far outside Sydney. That’s a beautiful city, for sure. The harbour’s huge and you can go to lots of places by boat. There’s ferries going every which way.’

  ‘Bit different from London, I expect,’ Naomi said, ‘still recovering from the Blitz. You should see Kemble Street.’

  ‘I have,’ replied Harry. ‘I went there to find you.’

  ‘They’ve pulled down our house,’ Naomi said sadly. ‘Building a block of flats, they are. We went to have a look, but it weren’t the same; we haven’t been back since. Our life is up here now. Our son’s at the village school and Dan works at the RAF base.’

  ‘I met a woman there, Shirley Newman,’ Harry said. ‘It was her told me where to find you.’

  ‘Oh, Shirley,’ was all Naomi said.

  ‘She told me where you worked and then the woman at the pub told me where you live.’ Harry smiled at her and added, ‘Afraid I told a few porkies. Said you was my ma’s cousin.’

  ‘You what?’ Naomi stared at him.

  ‘Thing is, Mrs Federman, I’m trying to find Lisa. I hoped she might still be living with you. I went to that children’s home where she worked, but they wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone. The woman what’s running the place now said she’d never heard of her.’

  ‘I see,’ said Naomi.

  ‘So after that I told people I was looking for you, cos I knew you’d know where Lisa was. Is she here?’

  ‘No,’ replied Naomi. ‘She don’t live with us.’

  ‘So, can you tell me where she is?’ Harry was losing patience. ‘I just want to see her before I go back to Australia.’

  ‘You’re going back?’ Naomi tried not to sound hopeful. ‘Soon?’

  ‘Yes, very soon,’ Harry said. ‘Got some business to finish in London and then I’m going back down under.’

  At that moment the back door flew open and a boy of about eight burst into the kitchen.

  ‘Mum...’ he began and then stopped as he saw there was a stranger sitting at the table with his mother.

  ‘Nicky, say how d’you do to Mr Black,’ Naomi said, and turning to Harry said, ‘This is our son, Nicholas.’

  Nicky looked at the man with interest, saying, ‘How d’you do, Mr Black.’

  ‘He’s an old friend of Lisa’s come to say hallo.’

  ‘I knew her during the war,’ Harry told him.

  ‘Lisa isn’t here,’ Nicky said. ‘She lives miles away in Wynsdown. We went to Edie’s christening and it was ever such a long way. We went on the train and it took ages.’

  ‘That’s enough, Nicky,’ said Naomi firmly. ‘Wash your hands for dinner, it won’t be long.’ She stood up and said to Harry, ‘I’ll have to give Nicky his dinner, he has to be back in school in an hour.’

  Harry also got to his feet and said, ‘I won’t hold you up any more, Mrs Federman. I can see you’re busy. Just tell Lisa I was asking for her and that I send my love.’

  Naomi heaved a sigh of relief as she saw him get into his car and drive away. He was going back to Australia very soon. Nicky had let on where Lisa was now, but Harry hadn’t said he would visit her, he’d simply sent her his love, and that could get lost along the way.

  8

  Harry drove back to London and went to his hotel, parking the car in a side street. Tomorrow, he decided, he’d move somewhere else; better to keep moving.

  He ate a quick meal in the hotel restaurant and then set off for the Isle of Dogs, arriving at the Crooked Billet well before it closed. He wanted to make sure that Freddie wasn’t being followed. He parked the car outside in the street and watched the door of the public bar. At closing time Freddie emerged with another man, a much younger man, who Harry assumed was his friend Eric, and together they set off down the street towards Freddie’s studio. Harry stayed where he was for a few minutes but there was no sign of anyone taking an interest in the photographer and his friend, so he started the engine and drove round to the studio. He reached it at the same time as the two men, and pulled up outside, just as Freddie was opening the door. The man with him turned, his face a mask of fear as the car drew up behind them and another drove past. He touched Freddie’s arm and muttered something, causing Freddie to spin round. When he saw Harry getting out of the car, he pushed open the door and beckoned him inside, shutting the door quickly behind them.

  ‘What you come here in a motor for, Vic?’ he demanded. ‘Not exactly discreet, are yer?’


  ‘You expect me to bring ’em on the bus?’ snapped Harry. ‘Anyhow,’ he went on, ‘I come to fetch you. You got to come with me now, Freddie.’

  ‘You ain’t got the women with you?’

  ‘No. Dora won’t come here. She wants you to come to the house, now. So get your cameras and get in the car.’

  ‘What about the money?’ Freddie’s friend asked.

  ‘You Eric?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Yeah, what’s it to you?’

  ‘It’s what it’s to Fred what counts, mate,’ Harry said. ‘Now, get your stuff, Freddie, and get in the car. We want this done soon as, so let’s get on with it.’

  For a moment Harry thought Freddie was going to refuse and he took a step towards him. ‘You done it for Denny, now you’re going to do it for his missus, so get your arse in gear and get in the car.’

  Freddie still looked less than happy. ‘The money?’ he quavered. ‘You promised me a hundred up front.’

  ‘And you’ll get it,’ snapped Harry. ‘Dora’s got it, so the sooner you stop pissing about and get in the car, the sooner you’ll get the cash.’

  Eric, clearly afraid the deal was going to fall through, gave his friend a push. ‘Off you go, Fred, you’ll be all right.’

  Freddie sighed and picked up the things he needed, putting them all into a canvas bag, and followed Harry to the car. He turned before he got in and said to Eric, ‘You go home. Lock the door and don’t let nobody in till I get back.’ Then he got in and slumped on to the back seat, keeping his head down, afraid to be seen riding in Denny Dunc’s motor.

  When they reached Marsh Avenue it was almost midnight and the house was in darkness but the garage door was open as promised, and Harry drove straight in. He closed the door behind them before putting on the light and tapping on the inner, kitchen door. Bella let them in and led them into the sitting room where her mother was in her usual chair by the fire, her clothes smart, her hair done, her face made up, ready to be photographed. The windows were tightly curtained, showing no light. From the street outside the house was asleep.

  ‘This is Freddie,’ Harry said by way of introduction. ‘Get on with it, Fred.’

  Once Freddie had got his apparatus set up, it didn’t take very long to take the pictures of Dora and Bella that he needed. He took several of each of them so that there could be no question of having to do the job again. When he’d finished, Dora thanked him graciously.

  ‘Thank you for coming here, Mr Freddie. I’m sure all our documents will be perfect.’ She reached into her handbag and extracted a fistful of notes. ‘Here’s your advance. Can you tell us when the papers will be ready?’

  ‘You can have ’em Friday,’ he said. ‘Send Vic down for them Friday night... and don’t forget the rest of the money.’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Freddie, he’ll be there... and so will your money.’

  Freddie nodded and gathered his equipment back into its canvas bag. He looked across at Harry, who had watched the whole proceedings in silence, and said, ‘You gonna take me home, Vic, or what?’

  ‘I’ll drop you outside the Billet,’ Harry replied. ‘You can walk from there.’

  ‘Just let me check the street,’ Dora said, and heaving herself out of her armchair she went up to the landing window and looked out into the night. The street lay silent and empty, lit by pools of light from the street lamps; there was no sign of anyone.

  Hardly surprising, she thought, since it’s one o’clock in the morning. ‘All clear!’ she called down the stairs and Bella led them back through the kitchen.

  The two men got into the car and Freddie once again slumped onto the back seat, out of sight. Bella opened the garage door and Harry drove out into the street. As he reached the main road another car fell in behind him but branched off at the next traffic lights, causing him no alarm. The Hound, in the driving seat, realised where Harry was going and left him to it.

  When he dropped Freddie off near the Crooked Billet, Harry said, conversationally, ‘Don’t do a runner with that hundred quid, will you, Fred? You wouldn’t like it if I had to come looking for you.’

  ‘Not likely, is it?’ demanded Freddie with an unusual spurt of anger. ‘Not going to pass up nine hundred quid just to keep a miserable ton, am I?’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Harry acknowledged. ‘Soon as I got them papers, you’ll get your money and then you an’ Eric can do your vanishing trick.’

  As soon as he’d dropped Freddie off, Harry drove back to his hotel. Dora had told him to keep the car until he collected the new documents on Friday night. It was worth something, Denny’s car, and she’d been afraid that Mick might disappear with it.

  ‘If you’ve got it, Harry, Mick Derham won’t know where it is, so he can’t get his hands on it.’

  Harry parked the car in the side street and went into the hotel. The Hound went home to bed, ready for an early start in the morning.

  Harry had three days to kill. He considered taking the train to Somerset, in search of Lisa. He was determined to find her before he sailed again for Australia. He now knew that she was married, that she had a child called Edie, and he realised that there would be no way he could persuade her to leave them behind and come to Sydney with him, but he had a deep-seated need to see her once again. He remembered the name of the village, Wynsdown, that young Nicky Federman had mentioned. Surely if he reached there it wouldn’t be difficult to find her. Perhaps there’d be a village pub where he could stay for a couple of days while he searched for her. That being the case, he decided, it would be better to wait until he had collected the documents Dora and Bella needed, and perhaps even concluded the business he had to do on Denny Dunc’s behalf with Shadbolt and Maxton. There’d surely be a chance to visit this Wynsdown place and find her again, before he took ship for the other side of the world.

  The decision taken to wait, Harry decided it was time to move hotels. Followed by the faithful Hound, he left the Kingswood and set off to find another. He took the Tube to Marble Arch and walked down the Edgware Road searching for somewhere suitable. Nothing grand, he wasn’t planning to stay long, but, he decided, he wanted Denny’s noticeable car off the street. When he saw the Malvern Hotel, he realised that it suited his purposes perfectly. Standing in a side street, it was an undistinguished, narrow, four-storey building, with steps up to a glazed front door. More importantly, there was an alley at the side, leading to a small yard at the back where he could park the car out of sight. Harry secured a room on the first floor with a view out over the street, and satisfied with this change of address, he returned to the Kingswood, packed his bag and left. When he arrived at the Malvern, the Hound watched him drive the car into the yard and go into the hotel, before reporting that the mark had moved house.

  *

  Friday evening saw Harry once again driving Denny Dunc’s car to the Isle of Dogs. He was feeling satisfied with the way everything was going. Once he had the documents safely in his possession he could book passages for Dora and Bella to Sydney. He expected to travel with them, but he still had to confront Bull Shadbolt and Grey Maxton and put Denny’s proposition to them. As he drove he also gave thought to Mick Derham. He was almost certainly on the payroll of one or other, and should be dealt with accordingly, but Denny had been adamant.

  ‘Don’t start a turf war, Vic,’ he’d said. ‘That won’t do no good to nobody. You got to talk to Maxton and Shadbolt and sort things out sensible-like.’

  The studio was in darkness when Harry drove past, no lights inside or out. He continued on to the Crooked Billet. It was still open, its windows splashing yellow light out on to the rain-washed street. Harry parked the car in a nearby side road, and walking back to the pub, heard a shout of laughter as the door opened and two men came out. He watched them from the shadows as, unaware of him, they set off up the road, hurrying through the drizzle away from the pub, away from the studio.

  A damp Friday night at the Crooked Billet was always busy. The public bar was smoky and noisy. A group of men
stood round a dartboard at the back of the room, and there were shouts of encouragement as a tall man stepped forward to throw. Several people congregated at the bar, and two couples sat together at a table near the fire drinking beer and port and lemon. Harry paused at the door, looking round briefly to see Freddie, sitting in a corner by himself, an empty whisky glass in front of him, before approaching the bar and ordering himself a pint of bitter.

  When he saw Harry, Freddie’s eyes widened, but he made no move to acknowledge him. Harry seemed to ignore him, staying at the bar once his pint was drawn and listening in to the conversations about him, but with an alert eye on Freddie and the door. He had no real reason to distrust Freddie; the man wanted, needed, the money, and the papers he was providing were the bread and butter of his daily life. But he did distrust Mick Derham, and despite Dora’s assurance that Mick knew nothing of their plans to leave the country, Harry wasn’t so sure. He was anxious to collect the documents and get Denny’s ladies booked on to the next available ship going to Australia.

  Over the next half-hour, people came and went, but Harry saw nothing to cause him any disquiet. The Billet served a mixed area. From where he sat Harry could see through to the lounge bar, where a few well-dressed customers sat at tables or in the easy chairs grouped round the fire, chatting over their gin and tonics.

  When the landlord eventually called time, the customers from both bars wandered out into the street. As Freddie stood for a moment, turning up his collar against a misting rain, which continued to drizzle from the night sky, Harry moved up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Freddie jumped as if he’d received an electric shock.

  ‘Hallo, Freddie,’ Harry murmured. ‘Can I give you a lift home? You’ll get very wet walking.’ He took a firm hold of Freddie’s arm and led him, unprotesting, to the parked car.

  ‘What you come to the pub for?’ Freddie demanded once he was in the car. ‘I don’t want to be seen anywhere near you. Ain’t good for me ’ealth!’

  ‘Nothing’s good for your health, Freddie,’ Harry remarked genially. ‘But you do want the money I’ve got for you,’ he pointed out, ‘an’ I got to protect Denny’s interests, ain’t I? Come on, Fred, I’ll just come and pick up them papers, check ’em through and pay up. Bob’s yer uncle! We got what we want and you’re shot of us with a nice little earner in yer pocket!’