‘I thought I heard—’
Joe interrupted his nephew swiftly. ‘I heard nothing, lad.’
Billy seemed flummoxed. ‘Perhaps it were a rat in the river.’
‘Aye, perhaps it were. There’re some bloody big rats around here.’
Billy looked confused, then seemed to brighten. ‘Uncle Joe,’ he said, ‘what’ll happen if me dad doesn’t come back? What’ll they think happened to him?’
‘They’ll put two and two together, lad. There’ll be plenty of witnesses from the Rag to say he was drunk. They’ll realise he went to the closet, slipped on the ice and ended up in the river. It’s a pity he didn’t buy a bag of coal instead of burning the fencing. Especially with nobody hearing owt.’
Billy’s sense of elation suddenly changed to anxiety. ‘What’ll me mam do for money, though?’
‘Well seeing as she’s never been used to having any off yer dad, I can’t see her being much worse off. Yer Aunt Alice and me’ll help out until you can leave school. It won’t be long, and if you’re man enough to protect yer mother I reckon you’re man enough to tackle a man’s job.’
‘Do yer think I’d get one? A decent job, I mean?’
‘I’m sure you would. I’m not personnel officer for nought, yer know. Yer dad’d have been sacked long ago if it hadn’t been for me.’ Joe rose stiffly to his feet. ‘Well, I don’t know about you but my bum’s gone numb. We’d best be getting home. The women’ll be wondering what’s become of us.’
‘Uncle Joe, just in case it really was a rat I heard, can I sleep at your house tonight? Just in case.’
Joe forced a laugh for his nephew’s sake. ‘It were a rat all right, Billy. A bloody great big one that couldn’t swim at that. And with the river being at its highest at this time of the year, nobody would have had a cat in hell’s chance of getting him out in the darkness. So don’t start letting yer conscience prick. Yer can sleep at our house just the same, then first thing tomorrow we’ll set about getting a fence put up. I mean, we don’t want anyone slipping and ending up in the river, do we?’
‘Eeh, Uncle Joe, I don’t know what we’d do without you and me Aunt Alice.’
‘And God, lad, never forget God. He works in the most mysterious ways, according to yer Aunt Alice. Do yer know, lad, it isn’t often I agree with her but after tonight I must admit she’s probably right. Come on. What we need is a drop of brandy to warm us up.’
‘No thanks, Uncle Joe. I’ve made up my mind, there’s going to be no more drinking in our family.’
‘Aye, lad, you’ve got some sense. A cup of summat hot’ll do us a lot more good. Besides, it’ll not start yer Aunt Alice off nagging either. Still, she’s a good woman, Billy.’
‘I know, Uncle Joe, and you’re a good man.’
It was not quite light when the first morning worshippers on their way to the Catholic church sighted the body of Walter Wray. It had been swept half a mile down the river before becoming wedged amongst the branches of low-hanging trees on the bank. It was a grotesque sight, icicles having formed on the hair and shoulders, and both the man and his wife were in shock when they reported the find. The young constable needed no identification of the body. Walter Wray was a well-known character around Cottenly and had been dumped in a cell on numerous occasions for disorderly behaviour. After the body had been taken to the mortuary, he and the sergeant made their way to Wire Mill Place.
‘If there is one part of my job I hate it’s this,’ Sergeant Reynolds admitted as they prepared themselves to break the news to Walter Wray’s wife. Though neither of the men mentioned the fact, they both knew that on this occasion the news would not be met with the usual hysteria, but they fixed an appropriate expression on their faces nevertheless as they knocked on the door, helmets in hand. Before they had time to knock again the Place was crowded with neighbours, some on the pretext of visiting lavatories, others sweeping the yard for the first time in months – any excuse to get an eyeful of what was going on. Only Mrs Armitage was genuinely alarmed and hurried across to Ruth’s. Receiving no response, Sergeant Reynolds tried the door and made his way inside. ‘Looks like they’re still in bed,’ he said as they made their way across the kitchen. ‘He obviously went across the yard, slipped on the ice and ended up in the river, hence the unlocked door.’
Winnie Armitage followed the two men into the house. ‘What’s he done now?’ she enquired. ‘Beat the lass up again, has he? The rotten swine.’
The young constable silenced the woman by asking, ‘Does she usually stay in bed this late?’
‘Who, Ruth Wray? You must be joking. She’d have had the baby fed, the others ready for Sunday school and the nappies on the boil by now.’
The sergeant went to the bottom of the stairs and was just about to call her name when he noticed the bloodstains on the bare wooden stairs. ‘What do yer make of this, lad?’ he asked the young constable. ‘It seems it isn’t an open and shut case after all.’ He turned to Winnie. ‘Did you happen to hear or see anything unusual last night?’
‘Unusual! Nowt short of murder’d be unusual in this house, and it’d have been done long ago if the bugger’d belonged to me. But no, for owt I know he were out all day. Apart from the little lad falling in the river I don’t know as owt unusual happened.’ Winnie frowned. ‘But she was afraid of Walter finding out and belting the bairn.’
‘Thank you. Do you know where Mrs Wray might be at the moment?’
‘Well! She could be at either of her sisters’, or her parents’ … but no, it would take a lot for her to worry them. A thoughtful lass is Ruth Wray. One of the best, and with a bugger like him to deal with. If it had been me I’d have swung for him long since.’
‘Yes, so you keep telling us. Will you keep an eye on the house, Mrs er …’
‘Armitage.’
‘Only wherever they’ve gone, the door has been left unlocked.’
‘Well it would be. She’d have no call to lock it seeing as the lass has nowt worth pinching.’
Sergeant Reynolds led the way out and closed the door behind them. ‘Ask the nosy parkers if they heard anything. It doesn’t look like they’d miss much.’
The woman next door to Ruth was not only filthy and covered in bug bites but also a little bit slow on the uptake. Nevertheless she made no bones about the fact that Walter Wray had beaten his wife and youngest son and the other son had threatened to kill him. ‘The walls are very thin, you see,’ she said, ‘so we can’t ’elp overhearing.’
‘What time would that be, madam?’
‘About closing time. Aye, that’s when it was – ’e walked ’ome wi’ my Herbert. It were just after.’
‘Thank you.’ The sergeant turned to his colleague. ‘See what time he left the Rag, and what condition he was in, though I think we can guess.’
He would have guessed wrong on this occasion. Both the landlord and his wife swore Walter Wray had not entered the pub all day until almost closing time, and although he had downed three pints, one after the other, three pints were nothing compared to his normal intake and he wasn’t as drunk as the night before. ‘Of course, he could have been drinking somewhere else during the day, but it’s my guess he had been with a woman. He often went down town and frequented the pick-up places. Your lot should be closing them places down, that’s what I say.’
‘That would be easier said than done,’ the constable pointed out. ‘While ever there are men willing to pay for their services, there will always be women willing to oblige.’
‘I’d like to know where the blood came from,’ Sergeant Reynolds said. ‘I think another look at the corpse wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘It could belong to the wife, sir, or child.’
‘It could. But if it didn’t somebody knows where it did come from, by what the woman next door heard.’
‘She looks less than a full shilling to me, sir.’
‘Aye, too gormless to make things up. Come on, lad, we’ve work to do. Why is it always Sunday when somet
hing like this happens?’
‘Murders don’t happen very often in Cottenly, sir. In fact I can’t ever remember another one.’
‘Who mentioned murder? The evidence shows that Walter Wray slipped on the ice whilst visiting the lavatory and fell into the river. But not quite so likely now that we know he wasn’t in a drunken condition. First we must find Mrs Wray.’
‘And her son, sir.’
‘Aye, and her son.’
Joe, Joseph and Billy were just leaving the house when the police arrived at Green Villa.
‘What is it, sergeant?’ Joe looked concerned.
The sergeant knew and respected Joe Jackson. ‘I think you’d better come back inside, Mr Jackson. We’re looking for Mrs Ruth Wray. Does she happen to be here?’
‘She is. And I’m afraid she will remain here for the time being. She was beaten by her husband last night, along with her son, and came to us for protection. I think it’s him you should be looking for.’
‘We’ve found him.’ The sergeant glanced at Billy. ‘Is this your son, Mr Jackson?’
‘No, this one’s my lad. This is Billy Wray, my nephew.’
Ruth and Alice were pottering in the kitchen with the twins, unable to concentrate on the normal household duties. Their faces paled at the appearance of the constabulary.
‘Mrs Wray, will you be seated, please? I’m afraid I have to tell you your husband Walter Wray has been found dead.’
Ruth’s hands covered her face and she gasped at the news. ‘Oh, God, what’s happened?’
‘We have reason to believe he may have slipped on the ice outside the lavatory and fallen in the river. After the recent bad weather you will realise how fast the water is flowing and unless he was an extremely strong swimmer he would find it impossible to escape the deluge.’
‘He couldn’t swim,’ Ruth stammered. ‘He beat our Frankie only yesterday for falling in. Oh, God, it could have been my bairn who drowned.’ Ruth burst into tears, not for the loss of her husband but at the thought of Frankie drowning.
‘I got the wood to put a fence up but he burnt it. If he’d let me put it up he wouldn’t have drowned,’ Billy said bitterly.
‘When did you last see your father, Billy?’ the sergeant asked. Billy paled but Joe nodded for him to speak out. ‘Last night about half past ten. He had just hit me mam and our Frankie. Look at me mam’s neck. Show him, Mam.’ Billy looked close to tears.
‘It’s all right, Billy. We need to ask you a few questions, that’s all.’ Sergeant Reynolds would have given anything to spare the young lad having to relive the ordeal, but duty had to be done. ‘What happened then?’
‘He … he went to bed. He was shouting that he would kill us all.’
‘I was frightened. I didn’t want to be killed,’ Sadie said.
‘I’m sure you didn’t, sweetheart.’ The young constable lifted Sadie up into his arms and her large, solemn, brown eyes gazed into his.
Frankie spoke up. ‘I wanted him to be killed. We wished he was dead, didn’t we, Sadie?’
‘Yes.’ Sadie was still gazing at the constable, unsure whether she liked him or not. Then she decided he was certainly better than her dad.
‘So you didn’t see him after he went to bed? And you, Mrs Wray, did you go to bed?’
‘No. I dressed the children and got out of the house as quickly as we could. We stayed here last night.’
‘Is he really dead? Really, really dead?’ Frankie asked.
‘Yes, son, I’m afraid so.’
‘What do I do now?’ Ruth looked bewilderedly from one to the other.
‘We’ll let you know when you can arrange the funeral, love. After the post-mortem, of course. I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news. If there’s anything I can do …’
‘No, thank you, sergeant. I’ll see to things and let his parents and sister know. Oh, Joe, his poor mother and father! I must go to them at once.’ Ruth knew there was no love lost between the old couple and the son who had treated them so badly, but he was their only son after all.
‘I’ll come with you, lass,’ Joe said.
‘And I’ll go let our mam and dad know.’ Alice knew what her mother’s reaction would be: one of immense relief. She was ashamed that she should be feeling a similar emotion herself. And her a good Christian woman at that.
Sergeant Reynolds broke into their varied thoughts by clearing his throat. ‘And you, lad,’ he said to Billy, ‘you’ll have to come with us, son. Just a few questions, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.’ He hoped he was speaking the truth, for the lad’s sake, as well as his mother’s.
Joe placed a reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be alarmed, lad. I’ll be with yer as soon as I’ve taken yer mother to yer grandma’s.’
Billy nodded, close to tears. ‘I’ll be all right,’ he said, then followed the two policemen out of the door.
* * *
Old Mother thought her young friend had forsaken her. All day Sunday she waited for Olive, but the girl never came. It was Monday morning before she turned up in a tearful state, and Old Mother found it impossible to console her.
‘It’s our Billy,’ she managed to explain. ‘He’s been taken to the police station. Uncle Walter’s dead and Auntie Ruth can’t stop crying. Me mam says she’ll be having a breakdown, what with the new baby only just born, and our Billy arrested.’
Old Mother rallied as best she could and made a pot of camomile tea. ‘Get this down yer and take a deep breath, count to seven and breathe out again. There, that’s the way.’
Olive found herself calming down and gradually the story was told.
‘And you say young Billy stabbed his father with a knife?’
‘Yes, in the arm. With the knife Uncle Joe bought him for Christmas. He bought our Harry one exactly the same.’
‘And are you saying he killed the drunken brute?’
‘I don’t know. Auntie Ruth’s all confused. I think they’ve found some blood and want to know where it came from. Even though he was found drowned in the river.’
‘What’s he done with the knife?’ Old Mother needed to know all the details as a plan formed in her mind. She knew now why she had come back from the brink of death. She prayed her strength would not desert her until she had carried her plan through.
‘Uncle Joe’s got rid of it. He’s warned our Billy to keep quiet about its existence. Because he didn’t hurt him all that much. It was a super … super something, but I’ve forgot.’
‘Aye, I know, lass, a superficial wound, and you say he fell in the river?’
‘Yes, and Uncle Joe says if they know our Billy took the knife to him, they might think he pushed him in the river.’
‘Aye, maybe they would. Can you get hold of Harry’s knife?’
‘I think so. It’ll be in his drawer. But he’s got nothing to do with it.’
‘Go get it and hurry, and don’t tell a soul.’
Olive ran all the way home. She would do anything to save Billy. Although he was younger, he was her hero. Not only did he protect her from some of the girls from the posh houses, who sometimes bullied her, but he knew where many of the rare herbs grew in the wood towards Warrentickle and would gather them for her when he went with his barrow for firewood.
When she came back with the knife Grandma Burlington had written a note and sunk back into her bed. She looked ever so poorly, Olive thought. ‘Take this to the police station and tell the one in charge – Mr Reynolds, I think it’ll be – to come at once.’
Olive hurried away, her heart racing wildly, hoping she wouldn’t see anyone she knew from the umbrella mill. She was supposed to be ill; in fact she had been feeling too ill to go to work in the morning. Fortunately she met no one of importance.
‘What’s this all about?’ Sergeant Reynolds looked flummoxed as he read the note.
‘I don’t know, but she says it’s urgent.’
‘Well, we’d better see what she wants, I suppose. Let’s be on our way
.’
The young constable was left in charge, much to his relief. He was always a bit dubious about Mother Buttercup.
‘Well, Miss Burlington?’ The sergeant had almost addressed her as Mother Buttercup. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I expect you’ll have to arrest me,’ Old Mother answered, ‘but I’m not saying I’m sorry cause I’m not.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I ought to have done it years since if you axe me.’
‘Done what?’ The sergeant perched on the bed and thought how ill the poor old dear looked.
‘Stabbed him. That filthy beast, that Walter Wray.’ She motioned for Olive to leave them, not wanting the young girl to hear the rest.
Sergeant Reynolds almost laughed but thought better of it. ‘You stabbed Walter Wray! How?’
‘With me knife. The one I use for cutting me herbs.’
‘Where is it, the knife?’
‘Over there, in me drawer. And I’ll not tell yer why I did it so don’t axe me.’ She knew he would.
The sergeant went to the drawer in the table and found the knife, surprised to see that it was of the type said to have been used for the crime. ‘But we need to know why, Mother Buttercup.’ She didn’t pick him up as he let the name slip out, as she had on so many other occasions.
‘I can’t talk about it. It’s too disgusting if you axe me.’
‘You can to me. I won’t be disgusted, I promise. Just tell me what happened from the beginning.’
‘He came looking for Ruth, thought she’d come to me, but she hadn’t. When she wasn’t here he said if he couldn’t have her he’d have me. I axed him to go but he came closer, and all’t time he was undoing his trousers.’ Sergeant Reynolds found his mouth dropping open as he listened. ‘And then he exposed himself, the filthy devil.’
‘Exposed himself? To a woman of your age. I can’t believe that.’
‘Believe it or not it’s true. Great ugly thing he had. Besides, I can prove it.’
‘Prove it! How?’
Old Mother beckoned him closer and hoped her memory wasn’t playing tricks as she remembered the night she had mentioned Ruth Wray’s beauty spot. ‘Right on the end of it he’s got a big, brown mole. Well, either that or it was a beetle. Me eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.’
The Stanford Lasses Page 13
