by Paul Kelly
“That is Stanley Street in London, is it madam?”
“Yes, of course it’s London.”
There was a few seconds’ silence before the sweet young voice came through again.
“The number will come through to you now, madam. Goodbye.”
Freya waited until she could hear a voice again where she took the number that was given to her on her phone pad.
“Hello, is that the Stanley Street clinic?”
“Yes, how can I help you?”
“Thank you. I want to speak to Nurse Banfield, please.”
Again there was a protracted silence before she got her answer.
“Nurse Banfield is not here at the moment. She is part-time agency staff. Would you like to leave a message for her?” Freya heard the message, but she was stumped as to what to do next. “Well, no ... It’s rather personal,” she said “ Could you let me have a number where I can reach her please?”
“I’m sorry, we are not allowed to give out the private telephone numbers of any of our staff and that includes agency staff as well.”
“Well could you tell me if Nurse Banfield was called out to an emergency case this morning, round about 8.30?”
There was more silence as Freya could hear pages being turned vigorously. It seemed the Receptionist was weary of enquiries . . .
“There is nothing on record here,” came the reply, “Why are you asking me this question?”
Freya grinned.
“Thanks, I don’t need to know any more,” she replied, knowing that she had got what she wanted, even if the Receptionist wouldn’t have told her the name of the person who received the treatment, if she had asked. It would be unlikely that there were two pregnant women who needed emergency treatment at that time of the morning anyway ...and by the same name as Jenny ... but what was a midwife doing in Jenny’s area so soon when she needed medical attention ... and where would she go next. Freya was sure there was some strange connection between this nurse and someone else who knew Jenny, but how could she prove it and how could she know that she wasn’t barking up a gum tree? After all it was a long shot, but the puzzle wouldn’t leave her mind and she decided she would go out on a limb to get the information she needed. Again, she knew it was a long shot, but well ... any port in a storm. She wracked her brains to think of the name of the pub where Jenny had to get the potato crisps, but her memory failed her and she walked around her lounge thumping her forehead with her fist, thinking that would surely wake her memory up. “Got it,” she gasped at last.
“Hello is that the Century?” she asked politely and was given the answer she wanted. “Could I speak to the bar maid who was on duty last Friday night. I can’t think of her name, but I’ve found an ear-ring in my pocket and I think it might be one of hers.”
The barman laughed.
“That’s Annabelle,” he said, “She’s part time and only works twice a week, Wednesdays and Fridays. It could well have been one of her ear-rings alright. She’s a right one she is for losing things ... and I don’t mean just her ear-rings.” The barman laughed even louder when he said that.
“Oh! could you tell me her name please?”
“What Annabelle? Cor, I don’t think I know her name. We call her Bella, but that’s all I know about her.”
“Oh! I did so want to post her ear-ring on to her as I am due in Manchester in the next few days and I wanted to send it to her before I leave London.”
“Well, I don’t know her address, but her boyfriend comes in regularly. You could ask him if you want, but then he’s not here at the moment, so ...or you could post the thing here if you like and we’ll give it to Bella ... Wait a minute, her name is here somewhere. Yes, here it is. Annabelle Banfield . . . Send it to her here and she’ll get it O.K. I’ll see to that.”
“Thanks, I’ll just do that,” said Freya, ”but just as a matter of interest, would Bella’s boyfriend be named Sammy?” she asked and the barman chuckled,
“You’re bloody psychic,“ he called out as Freya replaced her phone, but her mind was in a whirl. Annabelle or Bella Banfield had some connection with Sammy ... she felt absolutely sure of that now as the picture was beginning to take shape ...even if it was only a snog on a Wednesday or a Friday evening, but the fact that she had contact with Sammy at all, was enough for Freya ... and if she worked only as a part-time bar maid, could she not also be a qualified midwife?
She waited until the evening before she made her next call.
“O hello, could I speak to Sammy please?” she said softly, trying to change the tone of her voice, but the voice on the other end rasped her reply.
“And you can fuck off darlin’ . . . I know it was you who phoned him the other evening. I don’t forget a voice.”
Neither do I, thought Freya. . . but she kept her thoughts to herself as she continued talking.
“Could you just tell him that Bella has done what he wanted her to do,” she said and waited for the reply.
“I don’t know any fucking Bella and as I’ve said already, you can get the hell out of it. GOODBYE.”
Freya was quite happy to leave things like that. She knew that the person at Sammy’s flat, if indeed it was the person she suspected it to be, would surely tell him about her call. The ‘female’ staying at Sammy’s flat, if it wasn’t Bella, would want to know who this Bella was and how much competition she had with her.
Freya was sure of that and two days later, Jenny phoned her again.
“Freya, I’ve had Sammy on the phone,” she said,
“Oh yes, and what did he have to say?”
“Do you know someone by the name of Bella?” Jenny asked and Freya raised her eyebrows. The trick was working.
“Yes, I think I know who you mean, why?”
“Well Sammy told me to behave myself and not to phone his number again, but Freya, I haven’t phoned him in ages and I really don’t want to phone him again.”
“And what did he mean when he spoke about Bella?”
“I don’t really know Freya. He said something about Bella being an all rounder and that she would do anything he asked of her.”
“And did you know what he meant by that Jenny?”
“No, I didn’t. I don’t know any Bella and I couldn’t understand what he was talking about.”
“Yes, you do know Bella, Jenny. You met her in the Century pub that night when you went in there for Buggerlug’s crisps, remember?”
Jenny thought hard for a few moments.
“Freya ... Could that be the tart he was fondling?” she asked.
“Yes, the same ‘tart’ who attended you this morning when you needed medical attention, but she didn’t have her make-up on at that time of the morning and besides, she wouldn’t be able to use make up in her other job.”
“Other job? What do you mean, Freya.?”
“The famous Bella or rather the infamous Bella is an agency midwife who works part time at the Stanley Street clinic and my guess is that when she knew who YOU were, getting her information from her lover boy, Sammy, she put an end to your pains alright ... and everything else besides.”
“Freya do you mean ...?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. After all, you weren’t bleeding when she came to your flat, were you?”
Jenny was slow to answer, but when she did, she started to cry.
“Freya, you’re not telling me that she aborted my baby, are you?”
Well, you think about it Jenny. No bleeding, only pain and then the next thing, the little one was gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Freya could hardly keep her mind on her work at the cafe, for worrying about Jenny who was now resting, but she still didn’t know exactly who that ‘lady’ was who answered the telephone in Sammy Boyle’s flat every evening. Co
uld she be a lodger? Well that was anyone’s guess, but Freya had her own idea and she had resolved to satisfy her curiosity once and for all with one final sweep.
She looked around to see if there was anyone waiting to be served, but the cafe was very quiet as she went into the back room to use the telephone.
“Hello,” she said sweetly, “It’s that pest again who phones you regularly, remember?”
“FUCK OFF,” the ‘lady shouted down the phone before she banged it down, but Freya was determined as she rang the number again,
“FUCK OFF,” came the answer a second time, but before the phone could be put down on Freya, she swiftly got her message through.
“Did you tell lover boy about Bella, darling and what did he say to that?”
There was a long silence on the phone after that.
“Who the hell are you and what do you know about ‘lover boy?’”
Freya decided at this moment to take the bull by the horns. In for a penny; in for a pound, she thought.
“Now, now SARAH,” she said, making sure that she pronounced the name very clearly, “You don’t need to know my name, but if I were you, I’d take a look through ‘lover boy’s ‘ diary. You might find it interesting. Goodbye.”
When Freya put her phone down, she leapt for joy, thinking of Sammy Boyle’s face when the infamous Sarah set about him to find out the secrets of his life ... if she didn’t already know them. Freya didn’t care what Sarah thought about her or whether she recognized her voice on the telephone or not, but she hoped her identity would be secure if there were any more tricks Sarah could play on her ex-husband and his ‘concubines’ as she laughed her way back to the cafe tables to find several young men waiting to be served.
Mr. Haggerstone telephoned shortly afterwards to tell Freya that he wouldn’t be in to work for a few days as his son had been taken ill and was in hospital and Freya knew that would mean more than a few days as Mrs. Haggerstone, old Buggerlug’s wife had been bedridden for some years past and she knew all his time would be taken up looking after her, if his son wasn’t around. Mr. Haggerstone being away from the cafe didn’t present much of a problem for Freya as she was quite happy to do his shift together with her own, if necessary, but she was already standing in for Jenny who wouldn’t be in for at least a week. She went home that evening, wondering how she would manage the following day when the prospects were that she would have to run the cafe on her own, ALL DAY for goodness knows how long.
“Hello, is that you Cameron?”
“Yes Freya, I know your voice. Can I get daddy to speak to you? He is sitting reading at the moment,”
“No, don’t disturb him darling. Is he feeling better?”
“Yes, he’s a lot better today Freya and I think he would like to speak to you.”
Freya waited anxiously to hear the news and hoped that Robert was indeed better than he had been just a few days ago.
“Hello Freya, How are you?”
“Robert, it’s me who should be asking you that.”
Robert transferred the earpiece to his other ear.
“I’m a lot better today thank you. It’s just that sometimes I get relapses, but I’m used to that. Sometimes I don’t speak as well as I’d like to, or my hearing isn’t what it should be, but these are small things to put up with. I’m fine, really. Much better than some others I know who have M.S.”
“I’m so glad and I only phoned to say that I won’t be able to come to see Cameron ... or you, for the next few weeks as Jenny is off sick and so is my boss, so I have to run the cafe on my own for a while. I’m sorry about that, so I hope you won’t need anything in that time.”
There was a long silence until Robert spoke again.
“Does that mean you will have to work all day? Isn’t there someone else who could help you, especially as it is only for such a short time?”
“No, there’s no-one Robert. It’s not a specialized job anyway, so I don’t have to have any special training to serve coffee and biscuits, do I?” She laughed, but Robert sounded very concerned.
“How many hours are there in your shift, when there’s full staff at the cafe?” he asked and Freya told him it was only four or five.
“Well don’t worry about not coming to see us,” he said, “and do take care of yourself and don’t work too hard.”
“I’ll do that and thanks,” she said with a lump in her throat as she hated having to tell Robert that she wouldn’t be able to see him for some time, “Bye Robert and YOU take care, Bye.”
The following day when Freya arrived at the cafe to begin her day’s work,
at eight in the morning, she got a shock to see Robert and Cameron standing at the cafe door waiting for her to arrive.
“What are you doing here so early?” she asked, “I’ll have to get the kettles boiled and a hundred other things to do before I can serve you anything,” she added, but Cameron put his arms around her and smiled up into her face.
“Daddy and I are here to help you with your work,” the little boy chanted as if what he had to say was a song.
“But ... but I don’t understand. I can’t allow ...”
“Just open the place up.” said Robert, “I’ve brought Cameron along with me as I couldn’t leave him all alone at home. Well not all day anyway and I wanted to know how I could help with four or five hours to spare.”
Freya struggled with her keys as she opened the door.
“But Robert, I can’t let you do this. It’s not right,” she said,
“Why not?” asked Cameron and Freya looked from the little boy to his father, delighted to see them both, but still annoyed that they should think of helping her at her work in the cafe.
“You don’t know what to do and ...” she added quickly looking at her visitors.
“Well that’s why we are here, so that you can show us,” said Robert, “It doesn’t take a brain specialist to serve coffee and biscuits, does it?”
“But Robert. You are ...”
“I’m ILL, is that what you want to say? Well, I’m not ill. Not in the least. I have a ‘condition’ which only affects me from time to time and at the moment, I am fine, so let’s get to it.”
Freya spent the day happier than she had spent any other day for a very long time, with her two eager assistants. Robert stayed at the cafe until nearly two o’clock that first day and sent Cameron home by taxi around ten that morning.
“I can’t say how much I appreciate your help, Robert, “ Freya said shortly after Cameron had left them with a bag full of chocolate biscuits and I am sure Mr. Haggerstone will appreciate that too. I’ll see that you are paid the same rate as a regular assistant. You deserve it. You’ve worked as though you had done this kind of work all your life.”
Robert grinned happily and started to whistle.
“It’s good that I have something to occupy my mind when I’m not teaching and as you know, it’s the school holidays and apart from a few private pupils, I have lots of time on my hands, but Freya ...”
“Yes, Robert?”
“I won’t bring Cameron with me tomorrow, if that’s alright?. You see I didn’t know how long I would be staying today and if the time I have spent with you here is sufficient to help you out . . . then he will be able to stay at the flat until I get back again. I just didn’t want to leave him if I was away all day.”
“Robert, I don’t want you to spend any time here that might put Cameron in trouble or in any danger. You must realize that.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” replied Robert, but I just wanted to know the lay of the land and I can spend about four or five hours at the cafe if that helps ... well, until either Jenny or Mr. Haggerstone is able to come back.”
“Robert, that’s more than helpful. It’s not as if I’m rushed off my feet and it has been quieter
in the last few weeks actually and I don’t expect to be left on my own for very long, but please put Cameron first; that’s important.”
Robert sighed heavily as he lowered his head.
“I couldn’t do more than two weeks anyway. I have to be in court on the twenty-fourth,” he said and Freya stopped what she was doing immediately.
“Court?” she enquired, “What do you mean, Robert? Are you in some sort of trouble?”
He smiled sadly and threw his head back.
“It’s the divorce thing,” he replied, “Sarah is making waves about that and I don’t know how I stand.”
“But you told me that it was she who left YOU, Robert and went off with another man, so if that’s the case, you should be O.K. with any evidence that has to come up, surely?”
“Yes, she left me, but the court doesn’t moralize. It means only that our assets, if you can call it that, have to be split and as I say, I think she’s gonna fleece me for every penny I’ve got.”
Freya excused herself from the conversation as two ladies came into the cafe and she had to attend to them.
“I’ll be back in a few moments, Robert” she gasped, “Please don’t go ... Please wait just for a little while.”
She hurriedly attended to the two ladies who seemed to take ages to order a coffee and some cream cakes, before she could return to Robert.
“Surely the court will realize that none of this is your concern, Robert,” she gasped between heavy breaths and Robert told her to sit down and recollect herself. but she continued gasping and ignored his help. “You never wanted this divorce,” she went on, “Where the hell is British justice if what you say is true. How can anyone get away with doing what Sarah has done to you and be praised for doing it?”
Robert raised his eyebrows and smiled.
“But you have been through a divorce, just as I am doing,” he said, but Freya put her hand in the air.
“No, Robert. We parted amicably, even if we were never friends. You should have walked away from this business altogether and ignored that bastard.”
