The Girl from Kingsland Market

by June Tate

  Percy pushed the barrow over to the hedge. ‘Here, give me a hand to lift him off. We’ll leave him here behind the branches where he can’t be seen. With a bit of luck, no one will find him for ages.’

  Arthur removed the sacks and grabbed the corpse by the shoulders, but as he looked down at the face, he shuddered as he saw the open eyes vacantly staring at him. He felt the bile rise in his stomach and swallowed quickly. They lay the body down, hiding it as best they could, then hurried away, back to the market.

  With the use of a hosepipe and a lot of vigorous brushing with a stiff broom and some sand to soak up the blood, they obliterated any signs of the fight and the struggle that had ensued inside and out of the lock-up and returned home, exhausted.

  Arthur slumped into a chair and lit a cigarette. ‘I want to know what on earth made you two fight? After all, the bloke was only coming up here to look at some jewellery.’

  Percy glowered. ‘He called me a nobody. Said I was small-time!’

  His brother looked at him in astonishment. ‘You killed him for that? What’s the matter with you? For that you could end up with a death sentence and I could go to prison for years for helping you. All because of your bloody pride!’

  ‘Nobody calls me small-time and gets away with it!’

  Arthur, incensed by the triviality that had led to such a serious conclusion, was seething. ‘Well, you’re no crime lord, are you? Let’s face it we are small-time, that’s why we have to deal with the likes of Blackmore, unlike the big London villains. You’ve put my life on the line for nothing!’

  Percy grabbed him by his shirt and put his face close to his brother, eyes blazing. ‘Are you looking for trouble too?’

  ‘What are you going to do, knife me as well? How would you explain that … brother?’

  Percy pushed him in the chest, then let go. ‘Just watch your mouth, that’s all.’

  Arthur gave a soft smile. ‘You are the one who needs to be careful. You need me and don’t you forget it!’ He got to his feet, pushed past his brother and went upstairs to bed.

  Chapter Five

  Phoebe climbed out of bed and dressed. She’d hardly slept during the night, unable to get the horrendous vision of the scene in the market out of her head. She was terrified of seeing Percy Stanley, knowing what he’d done, and realised she would have to try and behave normally. To do otherwise could raise his suspicions and that would be disastrous. She wondered what would happen when they opened their lock-up where the body had been hidden, but to her surprise, when they opened the door, there was only their stall inside.

  In the market, the traders were setting out their stalls and Ben looked across at Phoebe. She was very quiet, hardly saying a word. This was unusual − she usually wished him a good morning and chatted away to Marj, but not today. She looked very pale and he wondered if she was unwell. When his stall was ready, he wandered over to her.

  ‘Morning, Phoebe. Are you all right?’

  She turned quickly and answered with a startled look. ‘Yes, I’m fine, why do you ask?’

  ‘You’re very quiet and you’re not your usual cheery self, I wondered if perhaps you were unwell, that’s all.’

  He noted the look of relief as she smiled at him. ‘I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. You all right?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Oh, best go, I have a customer.’

  But as the day wore on, he watched her. Something was bothering her. She was full of nervous energy, dressing her stall, then changing it. She was on the go all the time, which was so unlike her. Normally, once the stall was set up, she relaxed between customers, sometimes making a list of stock that was running short, but today she couldn’t keep still.

  Phoebe was unaware of Ben’s scrutiny, she just wanted to keep busy, make the day pass quickly. She hadn’t looked across at the Stanley brothers’ stall, unwilling to look at the man she’d seen murder another in cold blood. She picked up a basket of apples to replenish those she’d sold when a voice came from behind her.

  ‘Mind your backs!’

  Recognising Percy’s voice, she dropped the lot. Percy walked on, pushing a wheelbarrow, but Ben came rushing over to help her. ‘You’ll have to check these aren’t bruised, but I think you’ve got away with it,’ he said scrutinising those he retrieved. He noticed Phoebe’s hands were trembling as she took them from him, but he didn’t comment.

  She thanked him. ‘The man made me jump, I didn’t realise he was there,’ she explained.

  Marj sauntered over. ‘You all right, love, only you’re like a scalded cat this morning?’

  Phoebe managed to smile at her friend. ‘Didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. It’s put me out of sorts.’

  In the afternoon a couple of constables walked through the market, stopping at various stalls, chatting to the traders as was their habit. Phoebe froze as they stopped for a chat, stuffing her hands into her coat pocket to stop them from trembling.

  ‘Afternoon, Miss Phoebe. Everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, but if you could find a few more customers I’d be better!’

  ‘Wish I could, love, not many about today.’ They moved off.

  Arthur Stanley saw the policemen and sidled up to his brother. ‘Be very careful what you say, you hear? One wrong word could put us in the shit, so watch it!’

  As the men headed towards them, Percy took a deep breath and started unpacking a few articles and putting them on the stall, keeping his gaze on the wrappings.

  The policemen picked up one or two pieces and examined them before putting them back. Percy ignored them.

  ‘Lost your tongue, Stanley? You’ve usually got a mouthful of abuse when we call,’ remarked one.

  Arthur held his breath as his brother looked up and glared at the constable.

  ‘I’m fussy who I talk to and you are not worth me wasting my time.’

  The constable snapped back at him. ‘My sentiments too, but sometimes in our line of duty, we have no choice, which is why I have to speak to the likes of you. Keep out of trouble or I’ll have you – that’s all I’ve got to say.’

  The brothers watched the two men walk away with great relief. Arthur took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow, then lit a cigarette and drew heavily on the nicotine to calm his nerves.

  Ben stood behind his stall deep in thought. Something was going on here today, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Phoebe was on pins, the Stanley brothers were edgy. What on earth did one thing have to do with the other? As far as he could see, neither had any connection. Phoebe never had anything to do with the two men – quite the opposite, she kept well away from them. From Percy, in particular, yet today, when he’d taken her by surprise, she seemed scared. He stood trying to make sense of it all.

  At the end of what seemed a very long day, Phoebe packed up her stall. She couldn’t wait to leave the market. Her nerves were frayed and she knew she’d have to pull herself together in the days to come or she’d be a nervous wreck. Ben offered to help her, but she smiled and said she was fine, there wasn’t a heavy load to push and she could manage.

  He didn’t argue, just watched her. Never before had Phoebe been in such a rush to leave, he noted. Normally she took her time, made doubly sure that the canvas cover on poles was not damaging the fruit as she lay it on top of her stall, but not tonight. She was in too much of a hurry to leave. He was concerned. He liked the girl and hoped that, after all, it was a lack of sleep that had made her unlike herself today. But he didn’t really believe that and that worried him even more.

  As he started packing up his stall, he watched the Stanley brothers. Percy wore his usual belligerent expression, but Arthur was muttering to him and the older brother turned and snapped back at him. They continued exchanging angry words as they walked to their lock-up.

  Ben put his stall away, then walked back into the now empty market and wandered over to the door of the Stanleys’ place. He tried the door but it was firmly locked. He turne
d but stopped and looked at the ground. It felt different beneath his shoes. He lifted his foot and peered at the soles. Running his finger along one of them, he gazed at the sediment on his finger, rubbing it. It felt like sand. How strange. Kneeling down, he studied the ground. There was nothing untoward to see. It was scrupulously clean. But as he studied it more carefully, he realised that only outside the lock-up and the ground leading to it was that clean. He shrugged. Maybe they’d spilt something and had cleaned up after. He stood up and walked away.

  Phoebe took a deep breath before entering her house. She must behave naturally or her mother would immediately notice any change in her. She opened the door and stepped inside.

  ‘Hello, Mum. God, I could kill a hot cup of tea.’ She walked over to her brother. ‘Have a good day at school, Tim?’

  He grimaced. ‘We had mental arithmetic today. I hate it.’

  ‘But you’re good with figures. Look how you manage giving change on a Saturday in the market!’

  ‘It’s the teacher I don’t like. It’s that Miss Giles. She’s such a misery.’

  ‘Ah well, you can’t like everybody in this world.’ She removed her coat and sat to drink the cup of tea her mother handed her.

  ‘Like you don’t like that Percy Stanley,’ Tim said, just as she took a sip.

  Phoebe spluttered her tea all down her dress at the mention of the name.

  ‘Phoebe!’ yelled her mother, who rushed over with a tea cloth to wipe her dry.

  ‘Sorry, Mum. It’s hotter than I thought,’ she said quickly as way of an excuse.

  Three weeks had passed and everything had settled down. Phoebe was once again her normal self, having pushed her bad memories into the back of her mind during the day, at least, and struggling with a feeling of guilt at keeping quiet about what she’d witnessed. The two brothers had relaxed as each week passed and no news of a body being found had surfaced.

  There had been brighter days, although still cold, and the sight of the sun cheered everyone except Ben, who was becoming restless. He had been sent to keep an eye on the brothers, but days passed and the reasons for him being at the market were diminishing. Before long he’d be moved. He stood looking about him. He couldn’t honestly say he’d enjoyed his stint as a trader, but looking across at Phoebe he smiled. The time here hadn’t been entirely wasted and he’d miss seeing her every day. He couldn’t let that happen, he decided, and walked over to her when she didn’t have a customer.

  ‘Would you like to save me from myself, dear lady?’

  She looked at him with a puzzled expression. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Oh, Phoebe, I’m so fed up with the winter and I have a fit of the blues. If you would allow me to take you out to dinner, it would save me. What do you say?’

  She laughed quietly. ‘I wondered what on earth you were on about.’

  ‘Say you’ll come out with me, it would give me so much pleasure. How about later this evening?’

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘Are you busy? Don’t say you are. My mother always said, “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today.” So I’m being a good son following her advice.’

  Seeing his smiling face, she thought it’s just what she needed at this moment. ‘All right, young man, we can’t disappoint your mother. What time?’

  He was delighted. ‘How about seven o’clock? If you tell me where you live, I’ll call for you.’

  She wrote the address on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

  He took it, read it, put it in his pocket and walked away whistling.

  Marj sidled over and with a nudge in Phoebe’s ribs she said quietly, ‘Oh my Lord! I wondered when ’e would get round to it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Taking you out, of course! Didn’t notice ’im ’elping anyone else in the market when it was time to go ’ome. Only you!’

  ‘Oh Marj! You’re an incurable romantic. It’s only dinner.’

  ‘No, love, it’s only the beginning and don’t you go and mess it up! ’E’s the perfect man for you, mark my words!’ She walked away, humming quietly, ‘If You Were the Only Girl in the World.’

  When Phoebe told her mother she was going out to dinner with Ben, Mary was delighted. Tim had often spoken to her about the new trader for whom he bought fish and chips each Saturday, and this evening she’d get to meet him. While her daughter was changing, she brushed her hair, tidied herself and the living room, hoping to create a good impression for all their sakes. They may not have much money, but she still had standards.

  Phoebe was looking forward to her evening. Over the few months that she and Ben had worked together, he’d been a good friend, helping her put her stall away at night, chatting to her at odd times during the day, and she found him easy to talk to. Not that she knew very much about him, really. Perhaps this evening she’d get to know him better.

  A few minutes before seven o’clock there was a knock on the door. Tim rushed to open it and invited Ben inside. He was carrying a bunch of flowers, which he handed to Mary after he was introduced to her.

  ‘These are for you, Mrs Collins.’

  She was delighted and surprised. ‘Thank you. It’s been a very long time since a man has given me flowers.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure. How are you, Tim?’

  The boy beamed at him. ‘Fine, thanks. I’ll see you on Saturday, as usual.’

  Ben turned to Phoebe. ‘You look very nice, if I may say so. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ She kissed her mother and patted Tim on the head. ‘Don’t forget your homework!’

  ‘It’s nearly finished,’ he protested.

  As they got to the door, Ben looked at Mary. ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Collins. I hope I see you again sometime.’

  ‘You are always welcome,’ she replied with a smile.

  Once outside, Phoebe tucked her arm through Ben’s. ‘That was lovely of you to give my mother flowers.’

  ‘Not at all. I’m delighted she was so pleased. Now let’s get a tram and head for the restaurant. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

  ‘You’re always starving, it seems to me,’ she teased.

  ‘Well, I’m a growing lad!’

  Phoebe laughed. Ben was just over six feet tall. ‘Good Lord, if you grow much more, I’ll need a pair of steps to be able to talk to you!’

  ‘No need − for you, I’ll bend down. Ah, here’s the tram.’

  They alighted in Above Bar Street where Ben took her to a small but elegant restaurant that had recently opened. Phoebe had heard good reports about it and was thrilled to realise they were to eat there.

  The waiter took her coat and they settled to choose from the menu. The choice of dishes was somewhat overwhelming and seeing her dismay, Ben asked, ‘Would you like me to order for you?’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice, thank you.’

  ‘Is there anything you don’t like to eat, like fish? If so, you had better tell me now.’

  ‘No, I love all food, so carry on.’ She sat back and looked around the room. It was nicely decorated in soft colours. There were only one or two tables occupied and Phoebe suspected that it was still early for some to dine. But after a full day’s work, she was hungry – like her escort, who had just handed the menu back to the waiter. Soon, the waiter returned with a bottle of white wine.

  Ben tasted a little the waiter poured into his glass and nodded to him to continue. Phoebe watched Ben with interest. It was obvious to her that he was used to the service in a restaurant and was familiar with a wine list. Now she was even more curious to learn about him.

  Chapter Six

  They started with a small portion of smoked salmon, served on a bed of mixed salad, with a twist of lemon on top. Phoebe didn’t know when she’d seen anything more appetising. This was followed by roast lamb and a selection of vegetables with roast potatoes.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Ben said, ‘but I do miss my Sunday roast. We always had it at home.’

&n
bsp; ‘Where is home?’ Phoebe waited, hoping to glean more of her companion’s background.

  ‘Gloucester, in the Cotswolds, a beautiful part of the country. Have you ever been there?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve never had the opportunity to leave Southampton. I took over the stall when Dad died in the war, so I was tied, really.’

  He gazed across the table at her. How sad, he thought. This lovely girl, whose future had been mapped out for her. Now she was head of the family and working hard to maintain a living wage to keep them. He was filled with admiration for her.

  ‘It’s tough for one so young, to have the responsibilities that you have, but you’re doing a good job. Your father would be proud of you.’

  Phoebe fought to control the emotions building inside her. She’d so loved her father. They had worked together in the market since she was fifteen and she missed him more than she ever told her family, knowing that they too still felt their loss in their own way. Tim, maybe less so. He’d only been six when his father had left for the front and for a child that young, as the years pass, the memory fades. Now four years on since he’d seen his father, he spoke of him less often.

  Answering Ben, she said, ‘I’d like to think so. It’s my mother I feel so sorry for, left a widow, like so many others. What about your father, Ben? Did he have to go to war as well?’

  ‘He did, but he was one of the lucky ones, he came home. He doesn’t talk about it, though, and so I never question him. I assume he wants to forget those dreadful days.’ He paused. ‘I think we should forget them too! We’re here to enjoy ourselves.’

  ‘I am enjoying myself,’ she said. ‘It’s been a very long time since I’ve been out to dinner and to such a lovely place. What do you do in the evenings after the market?’