Private Sorrow, A

by Reynolds, Maureen

  ‘I want to thank Maisie for helping me yesterday,’ said Vera. She explained the incident and Molly was pleased that one of her staff had made such a good impression, especially on her first job.

  Vera sat in Molly’s chair, quietly twisting the handle of her handbag. The office door opened and Jean arrived. She glanced at Molly and Vera but made straight for her desk just as the phone rang. Vera seemed ill at ease as Jean quietly dealt with the inquiry.

  ‘I wonder if you can come to see me later today at my house?’ She wrote down her address and Molly said she would come at one o’clock.

  ‘I have work to do this morning but I’ll see you then.’

  Vera made her way home. Her mind was so totally confused that she passed a couple of her neighbours without noticing them or hearing their greeting.

  Later, Molly made her way to the house. Maisie had put her in the picture when she had turned up for work but Molly had no idea what Vera wanted her to do. 96 Hilltown was more of a pend than a close and she passed a few buildings before coming to the last tenements, which faced a grassy area bordered by a wall. Vera lived on the top floor. There were three houses on the plattie and Vera’s had a colourful striped canvas curtain to protect the woodwork from the warm sun, but now it was pulled to one side. A window box filled with a few withered pansies was a reminder of the summer.

  Vera must have been looking out of her window because the door opened before Molly could knock. She was shown into a cosy kitchen, which had a brightly lit fire warming the room.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ said Vera, ushering her visitor into one of the chairs that flanked the fireplace. A kettle began whistling on the gas cooker but Molly declined a cup of tea. Vera moved swiftly over and switched the kettle off, leaving the room with a quiet hush.

  Suddenly she spoke, her words tumbling out as if she had to let the whole story out in case she forgot any of it. ‘My husband died in an accident in October 1930 and the next day my daughter Etta disappeared. I haven’t seen or heard from her since.’ Vera’s voice broke but she continued. ‘I would like you to take on this case and look for her.’

  Molly was taken aback. ‘Oh, I’m sorry Mrs Barton but I only take on secretarial and domestic work. Don’t you think you should get the police to try and trace her?’

  Vera shook her head. ‘They investigated Etta’s disappearance at the time but because she was sixteen they said she was an adult and had probably ran off with some boyfriend. They did question some of her friends but nothing came of it and they just dropped the case.’

  ‘But it was so long ago. I wouldn’t know where to begin,’ said Molly. ‘What made you come to me instead of the police?’

  ‘I saw your picture in the paper last year when you solved that mystery and I thought you could help me find Etta.’ She looked at Molly as she wiped away tears. ‘I’m not getting any younger and this is my last chance to find out what happened to my daughter.’ She went over to the sideboard and returned with a cardboard folder and a large photo frame, which she handed over to Molly. ‘This is our wedding photo taken in 1914. I was only seventeen and Dave was eighteen.’

  Molly looked at the photo, which showed a very young couple standing with their backs to a picturesque scene of snow-covered mountains. The bride was dressed in a simple shift dress with a huge fox fur around her shoulders and an even larger bouquet of flowers and trailing ivy, while the groom, who looked like a schoolboy, wore his army uniform with pride.

  ‘We only spent two weeks together before Dave was shipped off to France. He knew I was expecting a child but she was five years old when he finally came home. In 1915, I got word that he was missing presumed dead and it was a dreadful time in my life. I had no money but my family tried to help me out and I managed to get some part-time jobs. I also took in a lodger to help with the bills. Then, in 1919, Dave reappeared. He had been injured, he said, at the Battle of Loos and had been taken prisoner. He was then taken to a German military hospital before being sent to a prisoner-of-war camp.’ Vera opened the folder. It held a few newspaper cuttings and another photo. ‘This is the only photo I have of Dave and Etta. It was taken not long after he came home.’

  She handed the folder to Molly. The man in the photo looked much older than in the previous one, but then he had just experienced a dreadful war. Molly gazed with interest at Etta. A plain looking child with large ribbon bows in her hair. Both figures posed for the camera with serious expressions and Molly suddenly felt sad at the loss of Mrs Barton’s entire family.

  The cuttings were old and yellow with age. They nearly all told the same story …

  MAN DROWNS

  There has been a dreadful accident in Arbroath. Mr David Barton, a native of Dundee, was presumed drowned yesterday as he walked along the clifftop path. It is thought he took a bad turn and tumbled into the sea. No body has yet been found although the search continues.

  MAN’s BODY FOUND

  A man’s body has washed up on a beach near Stonehaven. It is Mr David Barton from Dundee who fell from the clifftop path in Arbroath a few weeks ago. Positive identification has taken place today.

  Molly noted the first date was 6 October 1930 and the second one 5 November. The next cutting dealt with Etta’s disappearance.

  YOUNG GIRL DISAPPEARS

  Miss Etta Barton (16), who lived with her parents at 96 Hilltown, has gone missing from home. She was last seen on Saturday, 4 October. Miss Barton’s father, David, was the victim of an accident in Arbroath when he slipped from the cliff path and fell into the sea. So far his body has not been recovered. It is hoped Miss Barton will get in touch with her mother and that they will soon be reunited.

  The date on this cutting was 7 October 1930. Molly placed the cuttings back in the folder and returned it to Vera. ‘It’s a very sad story but I can’t see how I can help.’

  Vera put the folder on her lap and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I’ve tried searching for her before but I must have one more try before I die. Please let me hire you for one month to see what a fresh pair of eyes can find out.’

  Molly was still not convinced she could shed any more light on this disappearance. ‘It all happened so long ago. Where can I find former friends of your daughter after all this time? Their memories will have faded by now and if the police had no luck then what do you think I can do?’

  Vera leaned forward in her chair. ‘Just try. For one month. After that, if you haven’t found anything out, then I will just have to forget it all.’

  Very much against her will, Molly said she would look into the case. For one month. ‘Do you have any names from those days that I can contact?’

  Vera went over to the sideboard again and brought out an old address book. ‘Some of Etta’s friends have kept in touch over the years. Sometimes with just a Christmas card but I’ve got a few of their addresses in here.’ She handed the book to Molly. ‘Can you copy the addresses and give me the book back?’

  Molly took the book and put it in her bag. ‘The cutting said that the last time Etta was seen was on the Saturday at work. Where was that?’

  Vera suddenly looked annoyed. ‘She had a great job in Marks & Spencer in the Murraygate. It was well paid and I thought she loved it. That’s why I could never understand why she just threw it all away and vanished.’

  ‘Did she take her clothes and money with her?’

  ‘She didn’t take all her clothes but she almost emptied her savings book account, which had about three pounds ten shillings in it. She only had five shillings left.’

  Molly was perplexed about Etta and the last sighting after work on the Saturday. ‘Didn’t you worry when she didn’t come home?’

  Vera shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m sorry but I should have said. I was in the infirmary, having had an operation on the Friday, 3 October.’ She stared into the fire. ‘It was a major bladder operation. I think it was called a Manchester Repair but I’ve no idea why it’s called that. The doctor didn’t tell me about Dave until the
following week and by then Etta had gone. It was a very stressful time for us all.’ She burst into tears. ‘That’s what made it so hard for me because I wasn’t there when Dave had his accident, nor was I there for Etta when she went away. I’ll always blame myself. Maybe if I had been at home they would both still be here.’

  There was something else bothering Molly. ‘After twenty-four years, it’s strange that Anita Armstrong recognised you right away.’

  ‘Gina Jankowski told me that Anita had been chatting to Maria about the other bridge players and Maria had said who I was and where I lived. Maria didn’t know about all this family history and Gina only knew part of the story.’ She gave a strangled laugh. ‘It’s not something I advertise about myself and, as you say, after all these years it’s ancient history. Now, of course, after my exhibition the other day, everyone will know.’

  ‘You said the police thought Etta had gone off with a boyfriend. Did she have a boyfriend? One that was serious enough to make her leave home, especially when you were ill in hospital?’

  Vera shook her head. ‘I never heard her speak of any boy but she did go dancing every Saturday night, so maybe she did have one.’ She started crying again. ‘I have to tell you that Etta was never very close to me after her father came home. They were almost joined at the hip those two and I always felt like an outsider.’

  A couple of things were niggling in Molly’s brain. ‘Why did the newspaper know that it was Mr Barton who fell from the path if his body wasn’t found until November? And didn’t you wonder why your husband and daughter never visited you after your operation?’

  Vera tried to wipe the tears away. Molly hated to have to interrogate her like his but she had to know the whole story. ‘Etta and Dave came to see me on the Wednesday evening, just before my operation, and Dave came to see me on Saturday afternoon during the visiting hour. Etta couldn’t manage, he said, because she was working. I can’t remember much about that visit because I was still sedated. The reason his identity was known so quickly was because the police found his jacket on the path and it had his wallet in the pocket. The police thought he had been carrying it but dropped it as he slipped and fell. It was lodged in a small bush at the edge of the path.’

  ‘Did anyone see the accident?’

  Vera said, ‘According to the police, there were no eye witnesses but some people thought they heard a scream.’

  Molly had noted all this down and she got up to leave. ‘Will you be all right, Mrs Barton? Is there a neighbour or friend who can come in to keep you company?’

  Vera shook her head sadly. ‘No, I’m fine, but do try and find Etta for me.’

  Molly felt so sorry for this sad, lonely woman who still had a vestige of beauty in spite of her traumatic life. As she made her way back to the office, she felt so angry with Etta. What kind of daughter would abandon her poor mother after all the tragedy and illness she had suffered? Molly thought about her own mother and couldn’t understand the reason behind the girl’s disappearance. Halfway down the Hilltown she stopped. Of course, it all made sense if Etta was also dead. Perhaps, overcome with grief about her father, she had decided to end it all. Yes, Molly thought, that could be the reason. But why was her body never found?

  6

  Edna couldn’t remember when she last felt so happy. She was back working three days a week at John Knox’s house. His first book had been a success and he was busy writing a second one. They sat in the cosy lounge with all its disorder but, strangely, he could always produce whatever he was looking for.

  ‘Another five minutes, Edna,’ he said. ‘It’s almost dinner time and I’ve put the soup on.’

  Edna nodded and gazed around the room. She loved this house, especially this room which overlooked the garden that was now a lot tidier since John employed a man for two afternoons a week. She smiled when she remembered her first visit last year. She had been afraid that the thorny bushes that edged the path would tear her treasured nylon stockings.

  John had stopped speaking and he was looking at her. Edna felt herself blush at the intensity of the stare. ‘I like it when you smile, Edna,’ he said.

  Edna became flustered. ‘Oh sorry, I was just thinking about something from our first meeting.’

  ‘I often think about that as well,’ he said. He stood up. ‘Time for something to eat.’

  As Edna tidied her notebook away, her emotions were all over the place. Often, before she went to sleep at night, she pondered what she would do if he did propose to her. He was twenty years older than her, which didn’t matter now, but what about the future? The good points were he adored her son Billy and Billy returned this adoration. Perhaps because his marriage had been childless, he liked having a boy about the house and Billy loved all the toys that John and his brother had kept since their childhood. Irene, Edna’s mother, also liked him – another feeling which was reciprocated – and as for herself, well she was sure she loved him. He was like a warm security blanket after all the trauma of last year.

  With her head in a whirl, she went into the kitchen where he had set the table. A strange feeling came over her as she sat down. We’re like an old married couple, she thought and smiled again. John had his back to her so thankfully he missed this. I just hope nothing comes along to burst my happiness balloon, she thought. It was three o’clock and the lamps were already lit because of the growing darkness outside.

  Edna normally finished at four and she was busy typing up her notes when the doorbell rang. John looked at her in surprise. ‘Who can this be? I’m not expecting anyone.’ For a brief moment Edna experienced a small flutter of fear. Please don’t let it be something wrong with Billy, she thought.

  While John went to the door, she glanced out of the window. Car lights were shining in the street and a man was busy lifting a few suitcases from its interior. It was a taxi. She was still standing by the window when she heard John’s raised voice. ‘For heaven’s sake, Sonia, you should have written or phoned me.’

  A pleasant female voice answered back. ‘I didn’t know my plans until a day or two ago, John.’

  The door opened and a tall elegant woman swept through in a cloud of expensive perfume. She was beautifully dressed and groomed with white upswept hair and a handsome face. She stopped dead when she saw Edna and turned to look at John, an expressive enquiry on her face. John said, ‘Edna, this is Sonia, my sister-in-law. Edna is my secretary. She’s doing all my notes and typing.’

  Sonia moved over to say hello. ‘How lovely to meet you, Edna.’

  John seemed flustered, which was so unlike him. ‘What’s brought you here, Sonia?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll tell you all about it later, John.’

  Oh yes, thought Edna, after I’ve gone.

  John came over. ‘I think we’ll call it a day, Edna. I’ll see you on Friday.’ He went to get his coat because he always walked her home during the dark nights.

  Edna held up her hand. ‘I’ll manage, John.’

  He made a protest but Sonia was sitting by the fire. Looking, as John said much later, like an elegant Rock of Gibraltar. Still, he saw her to the garden gate, which took some doing as they had to manouevre around four or five suitcases in the lobby.

  ‘I’m sorry about all this, Edna. I had no idea she was coming or what she wants. She’s Kathleen’s younger sister. She has a successful career in Edinburgh.’ He held her hand. ‘I’ll see you on Friday.’

  Edna walked swiftly away down Constitution Road. She had a worrying frown between her eyes and the terrible gut feeling that her happiness balloon was about to be pricked by an enormous drawing pin.

  After Edna left, John sat down facing Sonia. ‘Now what’s this all about?’

  Sonia looked hurt. ‘I thought I’d get a better reception than this, John, and not even a welcoming cup of tea.’

  John stood up and went into the kitchen with Sonia following behind.

  ‘It’s quite simple,’ she said. ‘I’ve sold my flat and gave up my job and I’ll be looking
for somewhere to stay in Dundee. I won’t be staying here for long.’

  ‘What made you sell up so suddenly? I thought you loved your work.’

  ‘Well, I don’t. I thought it was time to make a new start and as I’m the only family you have on Kathleen’s side, I thought I would like to be living near you.’

  Like Edna, John’s heart sank at this very unwelcome news but, as she said, she was family and he would have to put up with her until she found somewhere else to stay. Hopefully that wouldn’t be too long. He had lived on his own for some time now and he didn’t relish having a permanent lodger in the spare room. But it was just like Sonia to act like this. She had always been a wilful and headstrong person, even as a girl. He went upstairs as she drank her tea and made up the bed in the spare room with his emotions growing stronger by the minute. What was her game, he wondered. Well, judging by the amount of luggage she had, it looked as if he had lots of time to find out.

  7

  Molly decided to go and see Mrs Jankowski. She was annoyed with herself for taking on this hopeless job and she had tried hard to dissuade Vera from this course of action. After so many years, Etta, if she was still alive, had made no attempt to contact her mother, so it was a bit of a lost cause. Molly also hated having to charge the woman but she seemed quite happy to pay for a month’s work and Molly had to charge for her time. Like Maisie, Molly had to wait while Mrs Jankowski made her way slowly to the door with her sing-song voice calling out, ‘I come, I come.’

  When they were sitting in the living room, Molly explained her mission. ‘Mrs Barton says you know some of her story about her late husband and missing daughter.’

  Mrs Jankowski said, ‘Please, call me Gina.’ She gave a loud sigh and looked at Molly. ‘Yes, I know some of it. I first knew Vera in 1932 when I arrive here in Dundee with my husband Eric. We come over from Poland for my husband’s job and we start a bridge club in the evening. Vera likes playing bridge so we become good friends. When Eric dies in 1938 I am overcome with grief as it was an accident. Vera is good to me but all she said was that her husband had also died in an accident and that her daughter went missing at the same time. But that is all I know. I never mention it to anyone and Vera stopped speaking about it as well. But now you tell me that she wants you to find Etta.’ She shook her head and her fleshy cheeks wobbled. ‘It’s not good to – what is it you say – rake up the past.’