Private Sorrow, A

by Reynolds, Maureen

  She led Molly into the living room. All the pictures were off the walls. The ornaments were huddled on the table and a large tin of polish sat on the sideboard next to a duster. When they were seated with their tea, Molly said, ‘Do you remember anyone called Ruby who used to visit the Bartons?’

  Anita frowned in concentration. ‘I don’t think so. There used to be an old woman called Ruby who lived in the close but she was a bit wandered, I think. She used to go out to the grocer’s shop in her nightdress with a woollen hat on her head. When the shop owner asked her why she hadn’t got dressed, Ruby would say that she was dressed and she would point to her hat. “I’m wearing my hat,” she would say. Poor old soul but she was the only Ruby I knew.’ Anita put her cup and saucer down on the table, where it competed for space with the ornaments. ‘Is this Ruby woman important?’

  Molly sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Anita. It was just a name in Vera Barton’s address book.’

  ‘Can you not ask her about Ruby?’

  ‘She doesn’t want to say who it is and I can’t force her.’ Molly said truthfully.

  ‘I wonder if it’s a relative or someone Vera doesn’t like …’ Anita stopped. ‘I’ve suddenly remembered a woman, but her name wasn’t Ruby, it was Robina. She was Vera’s sister.’

  Molly almost choked on her tea. ‘Her sister? But Vera said she had no family.’

  Anita laughed. ‘I don’t think she would want everyone to know about Robina. It was early one Monday morning. My husband had left for work very early because he was stocktaking and I had run out for the paper. When I came back in the close, there was this strange looking woman standing at my door. At first, I thought she was a nun because she was dressed all in black but when I got closer, I saw it was a black coat and long skirt with a black headscarf over her hair. I remember she had a very fierce looking face. I asked her if I could help her and she said she was looking for her sister, Mrs Barton. Well, I showed her the way but then I never saw her again.’

  Molly was grateful that, once again, Anita’s sharp observation and memory had uncovered a crucial new piece of the puzzle. ‘Then later,’ Anita continued, ‘when I met Dave, I asked him if his visitor had found the house and he just grunted.’

  ‘Did any of the neighbours, like Mrs Pert, ever say anything about Vera’s sister?’ Molly asked.

  She gave this some thought. ‘No, but I got the impression then that the sister had been away somewhere because she didn’t know where Vera and Dave were staying.’

  Molly wanted to know more about Robina. ‘Did Vera ever mention her to you after that? Maybe to say thank you for showing her the way to their house?’

  Anita shook her head. ‘No, she didn’t, and I haven’t thought about that incident until now. Not until you mentioned the name Ruby.’

  ‘This happened about a year before Dave’s accident and Etta’s disappearance?’ asked Molly.

  Anita nodded. ‘Yes. It was a wee while before we moved to the west coast, so it must have been in the summer of 1929.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Why didn’t Vera tell you about her? I mean, she did ask you to try and find her daughter. Why be so secretive about her own sister?’

  That was something Molly was going to find out when she met up with Vera later. She thanked Anita. ‘You’ve been a great help with your memories. It’s a pity you had left the close before all this happened, as I’m sure you would have seen or heard something.’

  Once again, Anita looked pleased. She picked up one of the ornaments and gazed at it. ‘I suppose I’d better put these all back and get on with my housework.’

  Molly decided to go and see Vera to find out what she had to say about Robina and the post office savings book. She was getting used to going through this close now and she wondered what the neighbours were thinking. Perhaps they weren’t interested in observing who came and went and maybe they liked to keep their lives private. Not like years ago, when Mrs Pert and Anita had been so good in knowing a bit of what went on. However, it was a pity Mrs Pert hadn’t seen Etta leave with a young man or a suitcase.

  As it turned out, it was a wasted journey, as Vera wasn’t in. Had she gone to play bridge at Mrs Jankowski’s house? Molly walked towards the office and made a plan to return later tonight.

  31

  Vera hadn’t gone to play bridge. When Molly was climbing her stairs to question her about her sister, Vera was hurrying into the town. She didn’t normally go near the city centre, except on the rare occasion when she needed something out of one of the department stores like G.L. Wilson or Smith Brothers. She tried to walk as fast as she could. Her hip was still a bit sore but excitement made her hurry past pedestrians who were thronging the Murraygate.

  She had the letter in her pocket and she couldn’t believe the good news she had received by the post this morning. Her destination was the DPM tearoom in Reform Street. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost eleven o’clock – the time the writer had said to meet. There was a crowd standing on the kerb at H. Samuel’s clock, waiting for the traffic to pass before crossing to the Overgate. Vera couldn’t understand why the town was so busy on a weekday but as she hadn’t shopped here for a while, maybe it was always like this.

  She joined the crowd at the kerb, impatient to cross over. She was looking up the street to see if there was a break in the traffic so she could hurry across when she felt a huge fist at her back. Someone had pushed her and she landed on the road. As if from a distance, she heard the screams from the onlookers as an oncoming bus tried to screech to a halt. She could feel the heat from the engine and smell the fuel as she lay terrified on the tarmac but the bus managed to stop inches from her.

  The bus driver jumped out, his face white with apprehension and fear while a few of the pedestrians also hurried over and helped pick her up. Vera was so shocked that she could barely stand and the pain in her hip had intensified. The passengers in the bus were all agog and looking with stretched necks out from the windows. The driver said, ‘Are you all right, missus?’

  By now, Vera was horribly embarrassed and said she was fine thank you. The driver got back into his cab and drove like he was going over eggshells while his passengers, now sensing the drama was over, gave Vera one last look and settled back in their seats. Vera was almost in tears. Her coat and skirt were streaked with dirt and one of her stockings had a huge ladder in it. An elderly woman who had witnessed the near accident came over and took her arm. ‘Let me take you for a cup of tea, my dear. You’re in shock and need to sit down.’

  Vera then remembered her appointment. She was dismayed to see it was now ten past eleven. ‘I’ve got to get to the DPM tearoom across the road to meet someone.’

  ‘I’m going there as well, so let me help you.’

  Vera didn’t want anyone with her but it would have been impolite to turn the old woman down, so she let herself be led away towards the tearoom. As she walked, she tried to brush the dust from her coat.

  When they reached their destination, the tearoom was almost full with customers and it looked like there were no empty seats left. A waitress appeared and she found them two seats in a corner of the room. The woman ordered tea and scones for the two of them and she said, ‘Do you see your friend?’

  Vera was vexed by the crowd of customers and she shook her head. What she didn’t tell her was that she had no idea if the writer of the letter was a man or a woman but he or she said they knew Vera and they would come and speak to her. After scanning the crowd anxiously for half an hour, Vera knew her contact wasn’t coming. Or else they had left when she didn’t show up at eleven. The woman had introduced herself as Bella. ‘Now tell me, my dear, why you almost got killed trying to cross in front of all those buses?’

  Vera almost told a lie but somehow Bella’s gentle gaze made her tell the truth and she said, ‘Someone pushed me.’

  Bella looked shocked. ‘Pushed you? But why?’

  That was something Vera was asking herself. This was the second accid
ent and it had all started with the enquiries into her daughter. She wasn’t going to burden the old lady with all that drama but she said quite simply. ‘I’m trying to trace my daughter who disappeared in 1930 and I got this letter that said the writer knew something about the disappearance and to meet here.’ Vera put her hand in her pocket but the letter was gone. Frantically, she searched every pocket but the letter wasn’t there. ‘I’ve lost the letter. It must have fallen out when I landed in the road. I must go back and look for it.’

  She jumped up as Bella quietly paid the bill. ‘Let me help you.’

  They made their way to the junction, this time waiting patiently until the traffic had passed, but there was no sign of the letter on the road or on the pavement. ‘Maybe the wind has blown it further along the road,’ said Vera, but in spite of searching all the length of Reform Street and both sides of the pavements, there was no sign of it.

  Vera felt like crying but she knew that wouldn’t help, so she said she wanted to go home. ‘Thank you for helping me, Bella, but I’ll manage to get home now.’

  ‘I live in Victoria Road so let’s walk together.’

  Vera would have liked to be alone but again, she didn’t want to be rude in the face of Bella’s kindness. When they reached Molly’s agency, Vera decided to go in and see Molly. ‘I’ve a friend who works here. I’ll go in and see if she’s around.’

  Bella put her hand on Vera’s arm. ‘Please watch out for yourself, Vera. Someone tried to kill or injure you today and if it hadn’t been for the skill of the driver and the good, strong brakes on the Corporation bus, they would have succeeded. I don’t want to alarm you, my dear, but do take care.’

  Vera knew this but she said she would be careful and she watched as Bella made her way up the Wellgate steps towards Victoria Road.

  Molly was in the office and was surprised to see her. She noticed the laddered stocking on the usually immaculate woman and had a spasm of fear. Vera seemed on the verge of collapse. Molly and Jean helped her up the stairs to the flat where Jean put the kettle on to make a hot drink. Vera began to tremble and tears rolled down her cheeks. Downstairs, the phone was ringing and Jean hurried back into the office to answer it. Molly was almost frightened to ask her what was wrong, as it was clear Vera was in a state of shock. ‘Tell me what’s happened, Vera.’ Molly tried to keep her tone soothing.

  ‘I … I got a letter this morning …’ She broke off, unable to continue.

  ‘Who sent the letter?’

  Vera wiped her eyes. ‘I … got a letter this morning. It said to go to the DPM restaurant in Reform Street to meet the writer of the letter. I went but they weren’t there.’

  Molly had to try and calm her down. ‘Show me the letter, please.’

  Vera let out a loud sobbing wail that brought Jean hurrying up the stairs but Molly told her everything was fine. Vera began to shake uncontrollably. ‘I almost got killed by a bus. Someone pushed me and I was almost killed.’

  By now Molly was really alarmed. She hurried to the cupboard and found the half-full bottle of brandy that she had bought for the housewarming party. She poured a large measure into a glass and placed it in Vera’s hand. ‘Drink this, it’ll help to calm you down,’ she said, hoping it would.

  Vera’s teeth chattered against the side of the glass but slowly she relaxed.

  ‘Are you able to speak now?’

  Vera nodded. ‘I went into the town this morning. I was to meet this person at eleven o’clock.’ For a moment, she shuddered before she told of her near escape with the bus and how the person didn’t come when she got to the café.

  ‘Have you got the letter with you?’

  ‘No. I had it in my pocket but when I went to look for it, it was gone. Bella and I searched the entire street but it wasn’t there.’

  By now Molly was confused. ‘Who is this Bella?’

  ‘An old woman who helped me to the café and she walked with me as far as here when she left to go home to Victoria Road.’

  Molly took hold of Vera’s hands. They were icy cold. ‘Tell me what the letter said.’

  Vera sat up and frowned, as if trying to remember the contents. ‘It was written with a pencil. It said: “Dear Mrs Barton, It’s come to my knowledge that you are looking for your daughter Etta. Meet me this morning in the DPM Restaurant in Reform Street at 11 a.m. as I have some important news regarding your daughter. A well-wisher.”’

  ‘Have you any idea who could have written this letter?’

  Vera shook her head. ‘No. That was what I was hoping to find out.’

  Although she sounded calm, Molly was very worried about this new turn in the case. This second attempt confirmed that someone was trying to seriously harm Vera and she felt it was time for some action. ‘Vera, listen to me, you have to go to the police about these accidents. They will find out who is behind them and you’ll be safe because they will look after you.’

  ‘No, I can’t. I don’t want to involve them. If you find out what happened to Etta, then I’ll drop the case.’

  ‘You hired me for a month, Vera, and there’re only a few more days to go. I haven’t had any success in finding where Etta went to on the day your husband was killed, never mind finding out where she is now.’

  Vera looked down at her glass, surprised to see it was empty. She had never drunk a full glass of alcohol in her life and here she was, slurping down brandy.

  Molly didn’t want to tell Vera about the break-in with her car but she had to get her home, quickly and discreetly. ‘My car’s at the garage and I have to pick it up. Wait here and I’ll take you home when I get back. If you don’t want to stay here you can go down and sit with Jean. I’ll be about half an hour. Have you any food in your house? I’ll make you some dinner when we get you home.’

  Vera was now sounding tired. ‘Yes, I’ve got eggs, bread and some spiced ham.’

  ‘Well, I’ll cook something when I get back.’

  After Molly left, Vera settled down on the studio couch and fell fast asleep.

  Molly hurried along to the garage in Dock Street, hoping the lock had been repaired. She was very worried. Marigold had warned her about lifting stones and how all sorts of horrible things would be uncovered. She wondered who this letter writer could be. It must be connected to the people she had questioned. Someone knew about her investigations. Who was hiding something?

  Molly loved reading detective stories and if she had a true investigator’s mind like Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot or her favourite American private eye, Philip Marlowe, she would have known she was being watched, but she was a secretary and she was oblivious to her stalker. Thankfully, the garage had repaired the car and after settling the large bill, she set off for the agency.

  Getting Vera home took some time because Molly didn’t want to wake her and it was after three o’clock when they finally reached the Hilltown. Vera looked ill. Her face was pinched and grey and as she threw away her new stockings, she gave a huge sigh. Molly made scrambled eggs and toast for them both and although she ate hers with relish, Vera barely ate more than a few mouthfuls. ‘I can stay here with you for a few days if you like, Vera.’

  Vera tried to smile and failed. ‘No, it’s all right. I’m a big girl.’

  Yes, thought Molly, a big girl that almost got run over by a huge bus. She wanted to ask Vera about her sister and the savings book but was unsure if the woman could stand more questioning. Still, it had to be done at some point and there was no time like the present. ‘Vera, did you ever find out anything more about Etta’s saving’s book?’

  Vera’s eyes looked dazed, as if tiredness was her only hope of salvation after the trauma of the day. ‘Etta’s post office book?’ She made it sound like this was the first she had heard of it.

  ‘Yes, did you ever find out if any of the money was taken out in some other post office? Maybe it would show where she went to.’

  Vera lay back in the chair and closed her eyes. When she spoke, her words sounded dreamy. ‘The polic
e investigated it. Apparently Etta had been withdrawing money for a few weeks before she left and there was hardly any money left in the account. I think it was five shillings but she never withdrew that. The police said it looked like she had been planning to go away all along.’

  Molly was slightly put out that Vera hadn’t given her this information earlier but it did confirm what she had been thinking – it looked like it was a determined getaway. ‘Do you still see your sister Robina?’

  Vera sprang up, the tiredness was gone and her body stiff with indignation. ‘Robina? Who told you about her?’

  Molly wasn’t going to divulge Anita’s name. ‘It came up in my investigation.’

  Vera now looked even more frightened than before. ‘It wasn’t Robina who pushed me.’

  Molly was surprised. She hadn’t considered this but why was Vera so sure? ‘Do you think she’s capable of doing this to her sister?’

  Vera sat down again, all the fight slowly leaving her rigid body. ‘Robina and I haven’t seen each other since before Dave died. She was a strange child and she grew up with a strong religious sense of right and wrong. Dave and I weren’t married when I was expecting Etta but we were by the time she was born. Robina started ranting to my mother and father about sin and hell, and the damnation of the soul. One day, she attacked me with an old cricket bat and my parents banned her from the house. She was away at training college at the time and she never came back home. Not until one morning, when she came to see us. I was mortified to see how much Etta resembled her and then she started ranting on and on about her religious beliefs and how we should go to confession for our sins. Etta was quite taken with her aunt but Dave put her out of the house and we never saw her again. Sadly, Etta became fixated on this idea of punishing those she thought were sinful and I could have killed Robina for coming that day.’