The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  Harry had been collecting Denny’s share of the dues over the four months since Dora and Bella had left, converting it into precious stones. The money from the sale of Dora’s house had been saved the same way, so that when the summons came, as now it had, Harry was able to carry Denny’s wealth, and his own, in one small leather pouch, which he wore strapped to his chest.

  During those months, despite the ‘agreement’ which had been reached, the uneasy truce he and Dora had negotiated with the two gangland bosses, it had not been easy to keep Bull Shadbolt and Grey Maxton, particularly, at bay. Harry knew he was lucky to be on his way out of London before everything exploded. He knew that they would carve up Denny’s territory the moment they realised he had gone; Bull had already made inroads, and Harry guessed that Stan and the Shaws had been on his payroll for some time, keeping their eyes on him to make sure he was sticking to the deal they’d thrashed out between them until Bull was ready to move. Harry didn’t mind that, better to know who the spies were. He was less sure who was already working for Grey Maxton and once the cable had come, been opened, read and immediately burned, he had been extremely careful to follow his usual pattern in the twenty-four hours before he was able to leave. He trusted neither Maxton nor Shadbolt and he wanted no hint of his imminent departure to reach their ears. He intended to be in the air and on his way to Sydney long before either of them realised he’d left. That way there could be no ambush to relieve him of the accumulated money. Denny and Dora would get their due and Harry would become a very wealthy man. He was well aware that the Hound might once more be on his tail so he’d been vigilant, but had seen no sign. Harry had slipped through their fingers.

  As he hopped his way around the world over the next few days, he became more accustomed to flying, but each time he landed it was with great relief that he felt his feet on solid ground. Now the plane was finally circling above Sydney, Harry looked down through thin wisps of cloud to the city spread out below him. He felt his spirits lift a little as he saw the wide waters of the harbour glinting in the early sunlight, and the arching bridge that spanned its narrow neck. Sydney had been his home for nearly four years. He’d enjoyed its vibrant pace of life, its go-ahead outlook, and he was happy to return after the months he’d spent in the drab, post-war city London had become. He was coming home.

  When he walked out of the airport an hour or so later it was to find Bella waiting for him. She ran to him, flinging her arms around him, and the undisguised delight on her face brought an unexpected grin to his own.

  ‘How’s your dad?’ he asked, when he’d returned her kiss and was able to pull free.

  ‘Hanging on,’ she said. ‘But he’s not at home any more. I’ve come to take you to the hospital. He wants to see you.’ She had a car waiting and they were soon speeding in towards the city centre. As she drove, confidently easing her way through the busy streets, Bella told him about their life here in Sydney.

  ‘We like it here,’ she told him. ‘I shan’t mind staying, not going back to London if we can’t when Dad dies.’

  ‘Well, you certainly can’t do that!’ said Harry firmly. And nor, he acknowledged privately to himself, could he.

  When they reached the hospital, Bella led him through miles of corridors to a room in a private wing. She opened the door and then stood aside for Harry to go in. He stepped past her and found himself in a private room that smelled of disinfectant and sickness, where Denny lay in bed, Dora at his side. Harry was shaken at the sight of his erstwhile boss and mentor. He lay, grey-faced, little more than skin and bone, hooked up to a drip suspended on a stand beside the bed. The only part of him Harry would have recognised were the fierce dark eyes that still blazed above hollowed cheeks. As Harry came into the room, they were turned his way and Denny’s face cracked into a rictus smile.

  ‘Harry boy,’ he croaked. ‘You made it. Good to see you.’ His voice was the rasp of sandpaper. ‘Got my money, have you?’

  Harry had, and handing over the leather bag from which he’d removed only a few choice stones, he was rewarded with a nod.

  ‘Good,’ wheezed Denny. ‘I ain’t got long, Harry, so it’s up to you to look after my girls. All right?’ He glanced at his wife sitting silently by his bed and went on, ‘Dora don’t want no more funny business, so you got to help her set something up, legit, know what I mean? Something legal to give her an income. You gonna do that, Harry?’

  ‘Yeah, Denny, I’ll do that,’ said Harry.

  ‘Good,’ sighed Denny and closed his eyes. ‘Tired,’ he murmured. ‘So tired.’

  Bella, at a nod from her mother, laid a finger to her lips and taking Harry by the hand, led him from the room. As he reached the door he took one look back. Denny was asleep, his breath rasping in his throat, while Dora sat at his bedside, holding his hand.

  Harry never saw him again. Within two weeks, Denny was dead and buried.

  ‘He only hung on to be sure you got here with our money,’ Dora said when she broke the news. She gave a faint smile. ‘I’m not stupid, Harry, I know you’ll have kept some of it for yourself.’ She held up a hand to stem his protest. ‘That’s all right, only to be expected in the circumstances, but from now on everything’s going to be legit, just like Denny said. OK?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Harry assured her. ‘Clean sheet. Nothing to take any of us back to England now, is there?’

  ‘I’m talking about out here, Harry,’ Dora said. ‘Denny’s had business out here, but I don’t know what it was and I don’t want no more to do with it. We got enough cash to set us up and we ain’t going to be involved in any of that no more. Bella’s not going to live as I have, looking over her shoulder, always waiting for that knock on the door.’ She fixed him with an eagle eye. ‘I know she’s fallen for you... you know she’s fallen for you, but I warn you now, Harry Black, you involve her in any dodgy business, and I promise you, you’ll live to regret it.’

  Finding Bella waiting at the airport, greeting him in the way she had, had indeed told Harry that she’d fallen for him. He had felt a jolt of pleasure as she kissed him, and since then he had taken every opportunity to be with her. He knew Dora didn’t approve, but if Harry kept his word to Denny and ‘looked after’ his girls with everything above board and legitimate, what could Dora complain of?

  Even so, it was Bella who made the running and when Harry finally took her as his own after the death of her father, he’d been surprised at the depth of feeling she aroused in him. Not just good in bed, though she had certainly proved to be that, but the way she smiled at him, the sight of her slim figure coming towards him, made his heart beat a little faster. When they stood at Denny’s graveside, Harry had been holding her hand, but at the sight of her tears he slipped an arm round her, wanting to comfort her, feeling suddenly protective. It was an entirely alien feeling, but one that was strong and powerful. He had never felt like this, even with Lisa, whom he’d protected, on and off, since she was a child. Now Lisa was beyond his reach, twelve thousand miles away, she’d retreated to the back of his mind as she had before, only surfacing on the odd occasion as a gentle spectre, no longer in the forefront of his life. He’d received her letter in reply to his, saying goodbye, and he’d come to accept that she would never be part of his future. She was happily married to Billy and she had two children. She would never desert any of them. His future was now at the other end of the world with a beautiful woman who thought the light of day shone from him. To his own surprise Harry was beginning to feel the same and he didn’t want to lose her. Dora watched the relationship grow and blossom and realised that she could do nothing about it, but she was determined that her daughter’s life should be entirely different from her own. She’d loved Denny, had wanted to marry him, but the lost years when they were apart haunted her. If she could protect Bella from that, then perhaps those years would not have been in vain.

  On the day they buried Denny Dunc in the cemetery in Sydney, Charlotte’s letter, addressed to Harry Black, arrived at the
Jolly Sailor in Shoemaker Lane. It was passed to Stan Busby who glanced at the postmark before ripping it open and reading the contents. When he’d read it he tore it across and tossed it into the bin.

  ‘What’s that all about, boss?’ asked Alf Shaw.

  ‘Some floozy of Harry’s, writing to tell him she’s up the spout,’ said Stan. ‘Like he gives a damn!’

  ‘Not much he can do about her anyway,’ Alf said. ‘He’s hardly gonna come rushing back from Oz, or wherever he’s gone, is he?’

  ‘Not if he values his life,’ said Stan, getting to his feet. ‘Come on, I got a meet with Bull. Maxton’s fast becoming a nuisance what’s got to be sorted.’

  30

  Charlotte’s pregnancy came as a shock to everyone. Apart from Felix, that day in the churchyard, she had told nobody until the doctor was able to confirm, some weeks later, that she was indeed carrying twins. Her parents-in-law were amazed and delighted. Margaret, very emotional at the thought that Billy would live on in two more children, fussed round her, offering to look after Johnny and Edie more often, insisting she must put her feet up.

  ‘You’ll need plenty of rest,’ she said, ‘and we’ll be there to help whenever you need us.’

  Jane could hardly believe it when she heard. Trust Charlotte to make herself the centre of attention in the Shepherd family again. Still, once she’d got over the shock, she, too, was pleased to think Billy had left a little more of himself behind and she looked forward to the babies being born.

  Once the news was out, it was round the village in a flash. Felix, good as his word, seemed as surprised as anyone when Daphne told him what she’d heard from Nancy Bright in the post office.

  ‘Imagine having four children under five!’ she said with a shudder. ‘Three of them not yet two.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Felix, ‘she’ll have her work cut out, but,’ he took Daphne’s hand and gave it a squeeze saying, ‘but it would be nice to have one baby, don’t you think?’

  Daphne didn’t. She had been taking all the precautions she knew to ensure she didn’t fall pregnant, but there was no way she was going to admit that to Felix. She had no intention of tying herself to a child, but she smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, Felix, I’m sure it’ll happen in time.’

  Ever since she’d come to Wynsdown, Daphne had kept up the payments her mother had demanded, but as the months passed she came to resent more and more the five-pound postal orders she had to buy. She needed that money for herself. When it came to the June payment she decided to risk missing a month. She could always plead poverty and say she’d make it up another time if her mother wrote and complained.

  It was a mistake. One evening, the week after Ethel should have received the postal order, the phone rang. Felix was in his office and picked up the receiver before Daphne had a chance to get to the phone in the hall.

  ‘Wynsdown 318?’ It was the tinny voice of the operator. ‘Hold the line, please, I have a call for you.’ There was a click and a clunk and then a woman’s voice said, ‘Is that Mr Bellinger?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘This is Ethel Higgins, Daphne’s mother.’

  ‘Mrs Higgins,’ cried Felix in surprise. ‘Let me call Daphne.’

  ‘No, don’t do that, I only got three minutes. Just give her a message for me.’

  ‘Of course, but she’s here, now if you’d rather—’

  Ethel Higgins cut him off. ‘No, a message’ll do fine. Tell her, if she misses again I’ll keep my promise. And if she don’t make up the difference the same thing’ll happen. You got that?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ replied Felix. ‘If she misses again you’ll keep your promise and if she doesn’t make up the difference the same thing will happen.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Ethel said firmly. ‘You tell her. She’ll know.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to speak to her yourself? She’s just—’ But even as he spoke the pips interrupted and the call was cut off.

  Felix went to find Daphne at once. ‘That was your mother on the phone,’ he said.

  ‘Mum?’ Anxiety flashed across her face. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Felix reassured her. ‘There’s nothing wrong. She only had three minutes, so she just gave me a message for you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Daphne was wary. ‘And what was that then?’

  Felix repeated the message. ‘She said you’d know what it was all about.’

  Daphne forced herself to smile. ‘Yes, yes. That’s all right.’

  ‘Well if you understand it, that’s fine. Sounded pretty odd to me.’

  ‘It’s a little surprise we’ve been planning for Dad,’ Daphne improvised quickly. ‘It’s fine, really.’

  Felix shrugged. ‘Good. Well as long as you’ve got the message.’ And with that he went back into the office.

  I’ve got the message all right, Daphne thought, cursing her mother’s persistence. But she also knew that she’d been thrown a lifeline. Mum wasn’t going to tell Felix this time, at least not if she sent the June money straight away. But she’d better not miss again. The trouble was she’d already spent half of June’s allowance on a new summer frock.

  Next morning, when Felix had ridden out on Archie to the further end of the farm, Daphne went into the office and opened the drawer to his desk. Inside was the petty cash tin. There was a handful of coins, a couple of ten-bob notes and three-pound notes. She dared not take any of the pounds, he’d certainly notice if one of those went missing, but she removed some of the silver and one of the ten-shilling notes and slipped them into her pocket. If he made any remark about missing money she’d ask him, innocently, if he kept the drawer locked. When he admitted he didn’t, she’d say it was very trusting of him not to, when they had people like Mavis Gurney having the run of the house.

  She took the money, one pound five shillings and sixpence in all, and scraping the rest from the housekeeping, bought her postal order and sent it off.

  Felix never mentioned that he’d found money was missing from his petty cash and Daphne kept that in her mind for another time. If he was stupid enough to leave both desk drawer and cash box unlocked, it was his fault that occasionally money disappeared. Simply asking for trouble.

  *

  Charlotte’s twins were born, nearly three weeks early, on the morning of Friday 7 July. She had gone into labour the evening before and Johnny and Edie had been sent to stay with their grandparents. Charlotte had hoped to have the babies in her own home, but Henry Masters had insisted that she go to the hospital in Weston-super-Mare.

  ‘I’m not expecting any,’ he said, ‘but if there should be complications because it’s twins, you’re far better off in the maternity ward.’

  John and Margaret agreed with him, as did Caroline and so, bowing to their combined pressure, Charlotte had allowed Caroline to drive her into Weston when it was clear that the babies were about to put in an appearance.

  Margaret and John had helped prepare a nursery for the new arrivals. Edie was still sleeping in the cot but it had been moved in to share a room with Johnny.

  Charlotte had arrived at the hospital on Thursday evening and the first baby had been born at five o’clock the next morning, a boy. A red-faced baby with a tuft of dark hair standing up on his head who screamed his disapproval of the world into which he’d just been expelled. His twin followed soon after, also red-faced and dark-haired, but somehow less angry about his arrival than his brother. Before Charlotte dropped into an exhausted sleep, she held her two sons together in her arms, resting her cheeks against their soft baby hair. They were small, but they were perfect. Tears filled her eyes as she held them close, knowing they would have to grow up without their father and that she must try to be both mother and father to them. The ache for Billy was still acute, but with his babies in her arms, she found she could face the future with resolution.

  ‘Hallo, my darlings,’ she whispered. ‘Your daddy would be so proud of you!’

  When Margaret and Joh
n came to visit her later in the day, they stared in awe at the two sleeping bundles in their cots.

  ‘What are you going to call them?’ Margaret asked. Despite probing by Jane, Charlotte had refused to discuss names and Margaret had been wondering if one of the babies were a boy, whether Charlotte would name him for his father. Now there were two boys, so which should carry his name?

  ‘David William,’ Charlotte said, leaning over to touch the face of her sleeping son, ‘We’ll call him Davy.’ She turned to the other side of the bed, to the other crib, ‘And Daniel William, we’ll call him Danny.’

  ‘Davy and Danny, that’s perfect,’ murmured Margaret.

  Charlotte and the babies stayed in the maternity ward for two weeks, allowing time for Charlotte to recover from the birth and for the twins to put on weight before they came home. Margaret brought Johnny and Edie in to see their new brothers. Charlotte hugged them to her. She’d missed them dreadfully and she wanted them to know that two new brothers didn’t mean they would be pushed aside.

  ‘They’re very little,’ Johnny pointed out, peering into first one crib and then the other.

  ‘You were, too, when you were first born,’ Charlotte told him with a smile, ‘but they’ll grow.’

  ‘And then they can play football with me.’

  ‘When they’re big enough I’m sure they’ll love that.’

  Johnny looked back at them again. ‘Why did you have two?’ he asked.

  ‘They were both growing in my tummy,’ Charlotte replied.