by June Tate
Then slowly moving upstairs, they quietly opened a bedroom door. In the bed, the owners of the house were asleep as the brothers quietly opened drawers, removing any jewellery they saw before going back downstairs and out of the house, moving onto the next one, doing the same. After the third house, they found their bicycles and rode away.
Once back in their own home, they tipped out the contents of the sacks and studied their haul, eyes glittering with anticipation at the cash they would pocket from their ill-gotten gains.
‘We were bloody lucky that no one woke up,’ Arthur remarked.
‘Not at all. That’s why I picked tonight. The adults would have been so tired with all the preparations for the day ahead, they would have been exhausted. Merry Christmas!’ He held up a gold necklace and a string of pearls. ‘These will bring a decent price, with these rings.’ The diamonds from a couple of rings sparkled in the light.
‘With a bit of luck with so much going on today, no one will discover anything missing. Maybe it will even go unnoticed for longer. Nevertheless, I’ll take some of it and catch a train after Boxing Day up to London. I’ll call Charlie and arrange a meet. The sooner these are passed on the better. I’m going to get my head down for a few hours.’
‘Me too,’ said Arthur. ‘I’m bloody knackered!’
On Christmas morning, Tim woke and rushed downstairs to see what was in his stocking. Phoebe was up already, and the room was warm. She grinned at her brother.
‘Didn’t think it would be long before you were up.’ She handed him a stocking to open. ‘Here, you can open this now, but we’ll wait for Mum before we open the presents under the tree.’
He took it from her and started to take out the contents. There were sticks of barley sugar. A pair of gloves and a scarf, a pen knife and a toy car, plus an orange, an apple and a small bar of chocolate. The lad was thrilled.
Mary soon joined them and they sat down to breakfast. Phoebe had cooked bacon and eggs and had toasted some bread, which they ate with marmalade. It was a veritable feast. Normally their breakfast fare was simply a bowl of porridge and mug of tea. When they had finished, Phoebe replenished their mugs with fresh tea and then she went over to the tree.
‘This is for you, Mum.’ Phoebe handed Mary a package and watched her open it. Inside was a warm shawl in deep maroon. Mary was delighted and placed it around her shoulders, thanking her daughter profusely.
Phoebe then handed Tim a large parcel tied with ribbon. ‘This is yours.’
His eyes bright with anticipation, he tore at the wrapping and let out a cry of delight and surprise when he saw the warm jacket. ‘Oh, Phoebe, thank you, it’s lovely!’ He immediately put it on over his pyjamas, did up the buttons and buried his hands deep within the pockets.
‘This will keep me warm, it’s so thick.’ He flung his arms around her neck. ‘Thank you.’
She was delighted that it fitted him with enough room for him to grow a little. ‘Ben managed to get it for me,’ she told him.
Tim beamed. ‘I’ll thank him next time I see him,’ he said.
‘There’s this too,’ she said, pushing her way behind the tree to retrieve a large hoop that had been hidden from sight. ‘You’ll need to find a stick to help you bowl it along. I’ll probably find one in the market for you.’
Mary rose to her feet and retrieved a parcel, handing it to Phoebe. ‘This is for you.’
Inside was a hand-knitted woollen hat in bright red and a pair of warm mittens with a scarf to match.
‘Oh, Mum, whenever did you find the time to make all this?’
Laughing, Mary said, ‘While I waited for the laundry to dry!’ Then she gave a parcel to Tim.
Inside was a hand-knitted jumper in dark green. ‘That should keep you nice and warm, son.’
After clearing away, the three of them sat preparing the vegetables to go with the chicken. They peeled the potatoes, the carrots and the parsnips, cut off the outer leaves of the sprouts and Mary prepared a batter for a Yorkshire pudding. Then they put a Christmas pudding on to steam. Once that had been done, they all changed out of their nightclothes.
As Mary laid the table, she wished with all her heart that Edward, her late husband, could have been here to share their happiness. He’d been a good husband and father and she missed him still. He would have been so proud of his daughter and the way she’d taken over the stall, and of young Tim, who had such a lovely nature, but she knew that she was better off than many other widows and she was grateful for that.
After the Christmas dinner, the dishes were cleared away, and still wearing the party hats from the crackers, the two women settled down, one on the settee, the other in an armchair, and fell asleep. Tim was at the table playing with his new car. The house was at peace.
The day after Boxing Day, Percy Stanley was in a backstreet in the East End of London, tucked away in the back room of a shop, his stolen loot being appraised by another villain, Charlie Blackmore. Blackmore made his living from buying stolen goods and selling them on. His pawnbroker shop sold everything that had a price and was a front for his unscrupulous dealings. The police were aware of this, but he was a devious man and so far had stayed out of trouble. He and Percy were arguing about the prices he was offering.
‘You’re a fucking con man, Charlie! Do you think I’m bloody stupid or something? Those pearls are worth more than that, and that diamond ring!’
Charlie wasn’t bothered. He knew that Percy had to get rid of his stuff quickly and he knew that he was the only fence he trusted.
‘Take it or leave it, that’s my final offer.’ He sat back, smoking his cigar.
Percy walked up and down cursing loudly, but he knew he had no choice. ‘Another ten quid and you’ve got a deal.’
Charlie just raised an eyebrow and stared at him.
Eyes narrowed, Percy stared back at him and waited, but as Charlie didn’t say a word, Percy finally had to concede.
‘You’re a bloody robber. Every time I come to you, you take me for a ride.’
‘You could always try someone else, my friend.’ He smiled softly. Then, taking a wad of notes out of his pocket, he peeled off the amount he needed and handed it over.
Percy grabbed at it and put it in his inside pocket, muttering beneath his breath as he did so. ‘You’ll be wanting a pint of my blood next!’ he snapped, then he walked to the door and left.
Charlie Blackmore chuckled to himself. This gear he’d just bought was worth a nice little earner for him, and what’s more, he disliked Percy Stanley intensely and it gave him great pleasure to see him squirm. Any other punter he would have been prepared to offer a little more, but not Stanley. Let him crawl!
Percy sat on the train back to Southampton, still fuming. He knew he’d been cheated and that stuck in his craw. In his home town he was feared, but in that back room with that bloody shyster, he was nobody! That was hard to stomach. He’d have to find another outlet in the future. He scowled as someone getting off at the next station wished him a happy Christmas.
‘Stuff Christmas!’ he yelled back at the man and slumped back in his seat.
When he arrived in Southampton, he made for the nearest pub. Walking up to the bar he slammed some money down on the counter. ‘A large Scotch and don’t you dare mention Christmas, understand?’
The barmaid just looked at him, thinking what a miserable old bugger he was. ‘Suits me,’ she said and served him his drink. He took the glass and sat down, wracking his brains as to who else he could find to move the rest of his stuff in the future.
He eventually walked home without finding an answer. He’d have to make some discreet enquiries over the next few weeks. Not in Southampton, but he had a few contacts elsewhere. He’d get his head down, have a good sleep and decide tomorrow.
Chapter Four
The new year began and Christmas was long forgotten. The weather was not quite as cold on some days, which pleased the traders in the market, but they all longed for the spring. January and Feb
ruary were dull and dark months and there was always an air of depression around this time.
In Ireland there were troubles with the IRA and there was talk of more troops being sent over.
‘Everybody ’as enough trouble without those bastards killing people,’ Marj grumbled one morning. ‘Look about you! Everyone ’as a long face. It’s that time of the year and I ’ates it!’
‘Never mind, Marj, it won’t be long now. We’ll soon be able to take off a couple of layers of clothes. I’m sick of being bundled up, I have to say.’
‘Makes no difference to me, love. Ain’t nobody going to look at me, not at my age.’ She gave a wicked grin. ‘Mind you, I’ve ’ad me moments in the past.’
Phoebe looked at her friend with affection. ‘I bet you were a handful.’
Marj burst out laughing. ‘That’s a poor choice of words love.’
Ben wandered over. ‘It’s good to hear somebody laughing. It’s so quiet today and look at all the glum faces around you. Apart from you two lovely ladies, of course.’
‘Ooh, you with your silver tongue,’ Marj joshed. ‘Flattery gets you everything young man, so you take care. I might forget myself!’
He was laughing now. ‘You are a cheeky woman, but you know that. I don’t know what’s got into the older Stanley brother. He’s been like a bear with a sore head ever since we came back. I’ve even heard him snap at his customers. That’s not good for business. Any idea why?’
‘Perhaps Father Christmas forgot to call on him,’ Phoebe joked.
‘I doubt he ever did, if the truth was known.’ He walked back to his stall.
Ever since he’d been cheated by Charlie Blackmore in London, Percy had been unhappy with his lot. He’d tried to find someone else to buy his goods but without success. However, a few weeks later, he’d arranged to sell a few pieces of jewellery to a villain who was coming to see him from Bournemouth. He wasn’t too happy about this arrangement, as the two men had crossed swords a couple of years earlier, but wanting to get away from his contact in London, he thought he’d have a chat and see if he could do business with him. He was going to meet him at his lock-up later that night when the market would be empty.
Phoebe and her family had long finished their evening meal. Tim was fast asleep and her mother had gone to bed early. Raking the ashes, Phoebe made up the fire for the night, closing the damper down so the fire would only burn slowly, keeping the house warm for the morning. She made herself a cup of tea and went over the goods on her stall in her mind, making notes of the vegetables and fruit that would soon need replenishing. She’d meant to do it before closing but had a last-minute rush and hadn’t had time.
Ben had gone home by the time she was ready to put her stall away and she was the last in the market to leave. She suddenly sat up. She’d been in such a rush, she didn’t remember locking the door behind her! If it was left open all night, there was a strong possibility her goods would be stolen. Quickly putting on her boots and coat, she let herself out of the house quietly and rushed out.
The streets were quiet. The pubs were shut and houses were in darkness as she made her way. It was a bit eerie and although she was used to these streets and had lived around them all her life, as she walked, she felt uneasy. But when eventually she didn’t pass a soul, she gave herself a good talking to.
‘Pull yourself together, you stupid girl. There’s no one around, so relax for goodness’ sake!’ But soon after she entered the market, she was surprised to hear raised voices and she stopped to listen.
‘You thieving bastard! Think you can put one over on me, do you? Well, better men have tried and failed.’ She recognised the voice of Percy Stanley coming from inside his lock-up a few doors down. Then she heard another male voice, one she didn’t recognise, but whoever it was, was equally as angry.
‘Don’t give me that crap, Percy. I know you of old. Why come to me, anyway? Has old Blackmore given you your walking ticket, is that it?’
Percy was enraged. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’
The other man gave a harsh laugh. ‘Look at you! Pumped up with your own importance. You’re a nobody but you won’t admit it. You’re strictly small-time. I only came up out of curiosity to see what you had to sell.’
There was another angry exchange, the sound of things falling. The noise of a scrap. Cries of anger and pain. Phoebe was about to flee, but the two men tumbled out of the building exchanging blows. She moved back into the darkness but then just behind her she saw cardboard boxes piled high and rubbish to be cleared in the morning. She quickly hid behind it, crouching down, making herself as small as possible, but through a gap she could see what was going on.
The two men fought fiercely, swapping punches, swearing at each other until Percy, being the stronger of the two, had his opponent on the ground, holding him by his throat.
‘Small-time, am I?’ He squeezed even tighter. The other man was fighting for breath, trying to break free. Then with one almighty heave, he managed to push Percy away and scramble to his feet, but as he turned towards his opponent, Phoebe was horrified to see Percy Stanley take a knife from his pocket and plunge it into his chest. She covered her mouth to smother her gasp of horror as she saw the look of surprise on the victim’s face just before he sank to his knees and lay still.
She didn’t dare breathe.
Percy examined the body, then stood, just staring at his victim for what seemed an age, cursing quietly. Then, picking up the body, he carried it inside. To Phoebe, still in hiding, not daring to move, it seemed an eternity before anything happened. Then to her surprise, the trader walked out alone, locked the door and started to walk away in the opposite direction.
She suddenly had cramp in her leg and moved slightly. One of the boxes tumbled. Percy stopped and turned. Phoebe was paralysed with fear. Would he kill her too? But at that moment a cat leapt down from the roof above her and landed with a squawk. Percy walked on.
The girl was too scared to move until she was sure the trader was well out of sight, only then did she dare stand up – and was violently sick. Her legs were trembling and she staggered before regaining her balance. The only thought in her head was to get to the safety of her house and she hurried away in the opposite direction, her heart pounding until she had to stop for breath, before carrying on, her key ready in her hand.
At last she was home. Opening the door and locking it after herself, she slipped the bolt across for added safety, went into the kitchen for some water to drink, then cupped her hand beneath the still running water and splashed her face with it. She stood, clinging to the kitchen sink to try and gather her wits, before going back into the front room and collapsing in a chair.
She had just witnessed a murder! She could hardly believe it and went over every detail in her mind. That man must have been dead or Percy wouldn’t have locked up and left him. What would he do now? He couldn’t leave the body there to be seen when he opened up in the morning. Should she go to the police? What if she did and they went to the brothers’ lock-up and found it empty? The brothers would have it in for her and her family! No, she couldn’t put them in jeopardy. She’d keep quiet and see what happened in the morning, not tell anybody what she’d seen. After all, she alone was witness to what happened and Percy didn’t know she was there, so she’d be safe … wouldn’t she?
While Phoebe was trying to find a solution to her problem, Percy Stanley was doing the same. As he entered his house, his brother looked up, and seeing the blood on the front of Percy’s coat and shirt, leapt to his feet.
‘Jesus Christ! What happened to you, are you hurt?’
Percy pushed him aside as he took off his coat. ‘No, I’m not, but that bloody shyster, Frank Clarke from Bournemouth is!’
Arthur paled. ‘What have you done?’
‘I killed the bugger.’
‘You what? Are you bloody mad?’
Percy glared at his brother. ‘I didn’t mean to. We got into an argument, then it came to blows
and before I realised it, we were outside the lock-up. I had the bleeder on the ground by the throat, I was just going to teach him a lesson, but he threw me off, got to his feet and came at me, so I had no choice but to use my knife.’
Arthur was shocked. ‘Where is he now?’
‘In the lock-up, there was nowhere else to put him at the time.’
His brother was livid. ‘In the lock-up! That’ll be great when we open up in the morning, what will happen then? The police will be called, that’s what, and you’ll end up swinging from a bleedin’ rope!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! We’ve got to get rid of the body and clean up the blood tonight. That’s why I came home, I need you to help me, I can’t do it alone.’
‘How the hell can we hide a body? For Christ’s sake, Percy, it’s not a sack of potatoes!’
‘I’ve put him on the spare barrow in the lock-up. We’ll cover him with old sacks and wheel him to the churchyard and leave him there, then we’ll have to go back to the market and swill the ground inside and out to get rid of the blood.’
‘What if someone sees us wheeling the barrow?’
‘What, at this time of night? Everyone’s in bed, the streets are empty. I didn’t see anybody when I met Clarke. Come on, we don’t have time to waste. Get your coat.’
The two men hurried to the market, collected the body, covered it with sacks and headed for the cemetery. Arthur was looking around all the time in case anyone was about but, as predicted, the streets were empty and before long they reached the entrance to the graveyard of the church. Percy pushed the barrow well inside, then, in the middle of several gravestones, he stopped. Alongside the cemetery was an unkempt hedge with overhanging branches.
