“Duw, if those policemen could see us now!”
Laughing at the prospect of walking back through the town with about five items of soaking wet clothing between them, they dressed. There was only one pair of trousers. The twins looked at the soggy garment, then at each other, as if making a momentous decision.
“Come on now, chwarae teg, let’s be fair about this,” Vic said seriously. “It’s either this or tear them in half.” With a nod of acquiescence, Viv threw the solitary pair of trousers back into the sea, their house key with it.
It was four o’clock when they came in sight of Bread Street. “I just hope it isn’t Lillian who opens to door to us,” Viv whispered, glancing back into the street to see if they had been observed.
It was Ivor who let them in and he was crying.
“What’s the matter, boy? Now stop that noise at once. You don’t want to wake up the neighbours, do you?” Vic stood there wearing a vest that was far too short for dignity.
“I’m frightened. Cyril is going to hurt Marigold,” Ivor blubbered.
“What you talking about now,” Vic asked impatiently. “Pass us a couple of towels before we give someone a heart attack.”
“But I saw him.”
“Saw him where?” Viv asked, taking a towel from the rail over the fireplace and handing one to Vic.
“He was going into Marigold’s house. He’s going to hurt her. I know he’s got a gun see, and if he’s going into her house then he’ll use it won’t he?”
Hardly listening to their slow-witted brother, the twins pushed the kettle over the remnants of last night’s fire and coaxed it to a boil by adding a few sticks to the still red ashes.
“Man and wife they are, where else d’you expect him to go,” Vic said irritably.
“Tell me again,” Viv was always more patient with Ivor and understood the need for him to talk out his fears. “You saw Cyril going into Marigold’s house with a gun you say?”
“No.”
“What then?” With a towel around his waist, Vic poured the water from the kettle onto the tea leaves and stirred vigorously.
“I followed him home from the beach one day and I saw him take out a gun and he sat there, just nursing it like it was a baby. Now he’s gone into Marigold’s house and I’m sure he’ll hurt her.”
“A big gun, was it? He probably goes shooting rabbits down on the railway line like a lot of others.”
“Not a long one.” Ivor frowned as he concentrated on finding the right words. “A big, little one it was,” he said eventually, “about this big.” He separated his palms by about eight inches.
Suddenly serious, Vic put down the kettle and stared at Ivor. “When did you see the gun, Ivor? Try and think carefully, boy.”
“I don’t have to think careful. I know. It was just after our Fanny died.
They ran up to dress and when Sam came down to begin work, they told him what Ivor and said and of their suspicious. Remembering what Cyril had let slip to Sam about Gerry being responsible for Marigold’s baby, it began to add up.
They discussed it for while, then Sam went to begin the day’s work. When he could leave Dai to manage alone for an hour he went out intending to talk to the police. At the steps of the red-brick building not far from Bread Street he stopped and went to see Gilly instead.
“I feel certain in my bones that it was Cyril who killed your mam,” he said after telling her Ivor’s story. “He knew that Gerry was the father of Marigold’s baby, he admitted that to me one day in the park. If Ivor saw him with a gun—”
“Oh, Uncle Sam, can you believe anything Ivor says? He lives in a dream world most of the time.”
“But I think he’s telling the truth now.”
“Are you going to the police? If they question Cyril and he admits to having a gun, well, Marigold will lose him again, won’t she? And her expecting another baby, too.”
“But we have to report it. If he did kill someone, even if the victim wasn’t the intended one, he has to be punished, Gilly. We can’t just forget it, do nothing. It was your mam who died!”
“He’ll be punished for sure if you tell the police. Life imprisonment probably, as he killed her by mistake. Not hanging. At least our consciences would be spared that.” She touched Sam’s arm and looked at him pleadingly. “But, Uncle Sam, it’s Marigold who’ll suffer most and little Stella, and she’s completely innocent of it all.”
“Perhaps I’ll go and talk to Cyril first.”
“I think that sometimes revenge can be as wicked as the crime that sowed the seeds of it. After all, most crimes against another are committed in a moment of blind rage. The revenge is different, more evil really. It’s planned and thought about and relished, if you know what I mean.”
“I’d come to that conclusion myself, about Gerry Daniels. I know where he lives. He’s staying with his mother and old Megan Moxon, trying to get Maisie to take him back. He even had the nerve to ask me for a job. Yes, I could collar him tomorrow and probably have him charged with theft or fraud. But what’s the use? All we’d do is drag your mam’s name through the mud, make her a subject for more gossip and unkind humour. Humiliated we’d all be and for the purpose we’d be no better off. There’s no chance of him being able to pay back the money he stole. There’s no satisfaction in revenge like that, is there?” He smiled at Gilly. “We think alike on the subject of revenge where Gerry’s concerned, don’t we?”
“Yes, Uncle Sam. Granfer always said you were a kind man. But I can see that Cyril Richards is something different. He killed someone. My Mam. Can we forget that? Should we forget it? Could we talk to him and pretend we don’t know what he did? Besides, aren’t we bound by law to tell what we know?”
“If anything comes out, we could say we ignored the ramblings of Ivor, and people wouldn’t disbelieve us. As for facing him, I’d find it hard. But the hardest part would be to see Marigold on her own again and the baby having to grow up and share with Stella the knowledge that their father was a murderer.”
“Go and see him, Uncle Sam. Best you don’t decide ’til you’ve talked to him.”
* * *
Sam knocked on Cyril’s door and Cyril called for him to come in. They were eating their supper and Marigold stood up and fetched another plate.
“Won’t you join us, Sam? There’s plenty.”
“Cyril, I need to talk to you, in private,” Sam almost whispered the request and looked ill at ease.
“Whatever it is you can talk in front of Marigold, can’t you?” Cyril said. “If you’re in trouble, she’ll want to help as much as I do.”
“I’m not in trouble, Cyril.” The slight emphasis on the first word warned his friend and Cyril pushed aside his plate, reached for a jacket and followed Sam outside.
“Ivor followed you back to your room one night around the time Fanny was killed.” Sam went straight to the point. “He says you went to the beach and when you got home you sat nursing a gun. Is his story true, Cyril? Do you own a gun?”
Sam watched the man, hoping and praying that Ivor had been wrong, that Cyril would deny it and they’d end up laughing over yet another of Ivor’s fantasies.
Cyril seemed to shrink before his eyes as he nodded and said in a barely audible voice, “Yes, I brought one back from the front. I don’t know why. Some of the others bought them and there was some childish need to own one as well.”
“And my sister Fanny? You know something about her death?”
“It was Gerry I tried to kill. Honest to goodness, that man is indestructible! I’d watched the house for days, finding out the best time to catch him. Fanny was wearing a tallish hat and trousers. I’d never seen Fanny in trousers, Sam. It was a ghastly mistake.”
“But that’s no excuse, is it? Not really. You were intent on murder that night.”
Cyril nodded. “What will you do? I suppose I can’t ask you to wait, can I? Just until the baby’s born?”
“I don’t know what to do. Gilly and I both feel
that if we seek revenge on you it’s Marigold and Stella and the unborn baby who’ll suffer the worst. I’ll have to think about it, Cyril.” Sam walked away, leaving Cyril standing near his gate like an old and sick man.
* * *
When Lucy was finishing her shift at the bakery, she saw Gee briefly and decided to tell him about the invitation to join the family at Bread Street. It was a perfect solution and if they didn’t fit in it would at least give them time to find an alternative.
But Gee was edgy and refused to stop for the few moments she needed to explain the offer. “Not now, love, we’ll talk later, I’m just going out.” She wondered what was up with him. He was only going to the bank, something he did regularly. It couldn’t be the thought of carrying the money brought in by the roundsmen, he had never shown any concern before. Frowning, she watched as he set off, then the frown deepened as he turned the corner obviously going by a different route.
He had been acting strangely for several days and was spending a lot of time talking very intently to Arthur. Arthur, their friend, who, she remembered with sudden agitation, was an ex-convict. She had seen them walking around the streets on two occasions, discussing something with deep interest. He was different with her, too, telling her not to worry, that it was up to him to see they were all right, that one day soon they would find things working out for them. It was only what they deserved, he had insisted firmly.
There was something wrong. Her mind raced with possibilities. What could he be doing that they couldn’t discuss freely? A feeling of dread overwhelmed her and she clenched her fists until her finger nails dug into her palms. What was happening? He was in some danger, she knew it.
What she saw next brought on sick, trembling panic. Arthur was running towards the bomb-damaged area of the town, head bent, an urgency in his movements that was intensified as he lifted his sleeve and glanced at his watch. Arthur was helping Gee to rob the firm! It was fantastic, but she just knew it was true!
Without stopping to consider anything but his safety, she ran after Arthur, gaining on him once she had kicked off her shoes. She saved a few precious seconds by cutting through the grounds of a block of flats and scrambling over a fence. At the alleyway she saw Gee walking towards her, his head turning left and right nervously.
“Gee! Stop!” she called, and she saw him dart away from her and head to where Arthur was just coming into view. She saw the older man reach Gee and punch him several times before a heavier punch knocked him down. Then, as waves of faintness threatened to overwhelm her, she reached the spot when Gee was scrambling to his feet, the bank bag still in his hands.
“Lucy, what are you doing here?”
“I guessed. Gee, it’s all right. Sam and Lillian have offered us a place to live and a job with them. Oh, Gee. You stupid fool, you almost threw it all away.”
“What d’you mean?” He turned away from her as she attempted to wipe away the blood from his face. “I saw some bloke running towards me and gripped the bag so he couldn’t take it. That’s what happened. Now, come with me to the bank and let’s get rid of this cash before anyone else tries to have a go. I might not be so lucky another time.”
Lucy felt cold and sick but she stayed on her feet and helped him to rise and wipe the dust from his clothes. People gathered in the inexplicable way that people do when an incident happens. One moment the streets were empty the next they were thronged with curious onlookers. A policeman arrived before they reached the main road and demanded details of what happened from everyone there. The descriptions of his supposed assailant varied; old to young, tall to short and fair to dark. His heart thumping at the narrow escape he had, Gee thought it wise to add nothing and let the police sort it out.
They went home together in silence after Gee had been commended for his bravery and had his bruises attended to. Lucy waited sadly for his explanation. “Well?” she demanded, when she closed the door of their room behind them.
“I’m sorry, Lucy.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“I was so damned angry. We don’t ask for much, just a decent place to live and there seemed less and less hope of us getting it. I thought that by taking a few pounds from the firm no one would really suffer, insurance covers theft. I’d have had this bit of a bashing, but no one else would be harmed.”
“I blame myself,” Lucy whispered.
“How can you do that?”
“When I went to see Lillian and Sam last week they offered us a home and a job with the family firm. I didn’t tell you straight away, I didn’t know if we should accept. If I had this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know, just afraid it was too good to be true I suppose. Sam and the others don’t owe me anything. Then you think we should accept?”
“If you can trust me again.”
“You lied to me, Gee.”
“I once promised never to lie to you. But I did somethin’ without tellin’ you, a lie by default, like you keeping the offer of a job and a home from me, that was a sort of lie, too, love. Lillian’s my sister, remember.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It will never happen again, I promise. From now on I’ll be downright borin’ with the details I insist on you knowing.”
Lucy didn’t reply and as seconds ticked by he was alarmed. What if she didn’t trust him any more? How could he bear to lose her? Then he saw that she was smiling.
“Give me your hand,” she said and placing it on her stomach she asked, “there, can you feel him kicking? A new generation, let’s hope he has a better chance than we’ve had so far, eh, love?”
* * *
The continuing food rationing, the shortages of so many commodities and the endless search for tasty and economic meals seemed not to dull the enthusiasm of the holidaymaking public that year. The beaches did a roaring trade, the fairground was packed with day trippers and locals alike, regardless of the weather. One Sunday after lunch Paul called for Gilly and drove her to the beach where they joined the hundreds of others determined to have a good time.
They each rode on a dodgem car and every time they met amid the screaming throng, he asked, “Marry me?”
To which she laughingly said, “No!”
On the graceful Merry-go-round horses that rose and fell to music, he leaned over and asked, “Marry me?” She just smiled and shook her head.
She clung to him in the ghost train as faces leered at them and tentacles of a giant spider’s web touched their faces and skeletons rose out of coffins moaning their sad laments. Doors opened, to slam shut just as their car reached them making them swerve away at the last moment in lurching, heart-stopping fright. “Marry me,” he shouted above the screams.
“No!” she screamed back.
He found them a seat on the front of the scenic railway carriage. Then, as they reached the highest point and were about to swoop down the longest stretch to the unseen depths below, he began to climb over the back of the seat. “Marry me or you’re on your own!” he shouted.
“Yes, yes. Oh, Paul, you crazy fool! Get back before you’re killed.” His kiss was far more exciting than the ride, but they went on for a second time and Paul asked her again at the same spot as he didn’t believe it the first time.
They went first to Bread Street to tell Gilly’s family the news of their engagement, but when Bessie suggested a family party with Lucy and Gee attending and meeting all their friends, Gilly refused. She wouldn’t say why, not until Paul left to go and tell his parents of his plans. Then she explained.
“How can we have a party without inviting Auntie Shirley and Uncle Derek? And how can we invite them knowing what they did to us? No, it’s best we forget a party for the engagement and thoughts of a big posh wedding. We’ll get married in the registry office, with just the close family.”
When he reached home, Paul went straight to his mother. “Mam, Gilly has finally accepted me. We’re getting engaged in September a
nd hope to marry around Christmas. There’s a problem, though.”
“Your father and me. We’re the problem. You can’t invite your father knowing how he cheated the Jenkins and you know I won’t come without him. Is that your problem, love?”
“I’m sorry, but you can see how it is. I know you don’t want to believe it, but it’s true, about him making money from them and all that.”
“I know, Paul. I’ve always known, deep down, but it was more convenient to pretend not to. But don’t worry. I’ve had it out with your father and we’ve decided to sell the business.”
“What? But—”
“Well, he’s made enough money and with you not wanting to take the business on and the way things are between you and Gilly, we think it’s best. We can travel. We’re almost as bad as old man Jenkins, only leaving the town once. We thought we’d go abroad and see a bit of the world while your dad’s still young enough to enjoy it. The business is yours to do with as you like. Sell it or add it to Jenkins’, whatever.”
“I can’t take this in, Mam. I don’t know—”
“You’re our only son and we love you. What else do you need to know?”
* * *
The celebration of Gilly’s and Paul’s engagement was a huge affair. Shirley begged and borrowed so she could make them a cake. It had three layers and was iced by Lucy and Gee. The bottom layers were cardboard boxes but the top one was real. Covered with soya paste and iced with icing sugar decorated with roses, Gilly thought it was the most beautiful cake she had seen, even though the guests, served by her waitresses, had little more than a teaspoonful of cake each.
Gerry was invited, to his embarrassment, and it was only Maisie’s insistence that persuaded him to come. For the first hour he was like a cat on hot bricks, wondering when the accusations would begin, but as time passed and the family treated him as if nothing had happened, he began to relax. So much so that Maisie threatened to give him a black eye if he didn’t leave Gilly’s waitresses alone.
Family Pride Page 34
