‘Thank you,’ Lottie said.
‘That other policewoman…’
‘WPC Taylor?’
‘Yes.’ The sister’s voice softened. ‘She was here past midnight, just sitting, being there and talking to the mother. I’m sure it helped.’
‘I’m sure it did.’ Lottie smiled to herself. She knew full well that Cathy had a soft side; she just rarely allowed herself to show it.
Standing in Mrs Maitland’s office, Cathy’s face showed the long night. Deep smudges under her eyes, her skin pale.
‘So Miss Moorcroft is likely to survive?’
‘The doctors are hopeful, ma’am,’ Cathy said.
‘Right, then I want the pair of you following up on this. Ignore the patrol today. Find out who did this so we can arrest them have them up in court.’ Mrs Maitland’s voice was cold and deliberate. ‘Any questions?’
‘No, ma’am.’
If Hannah had died the detectives would have taken over the case quickly enough. Alive, she was just another minor problem. But it was theirs. They were going to find out who’d nearly killed her.
‘Armstrong, I want to talk to you before you go.’
She waited until the door had clicked shut.
‘Sergeant McMillan had high praise for what you did yesterday.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
‘He and Inspector Carter want you available in case they need you again.’
She could feel the flush on her face and the pulse beating fast in her neck. It wasn’t all over. They felt she still had something to offer.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ It came out as a croak. Lottie cleared her throat and repeated, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘The inspector suggested that you telephone to the desk sergeant every hour. If there are any instructions for you, he’ll pass them on. Is that clear?’ Lottie nodded. ‘Then dismissed.’
‘You must be over the moon,’ Cathy said as they marched over the bridge and into Holbeck. ‘You’re a popular girl.’
‘Let’s see if they need me first,’ Lottie warned. ‘Anyway, we’ve got more important things right now. Did Hannah’s mother tell you anything?’
‘Didn’t know a thing about the abortion until her daughter came home and started feeling poorly. That’s what she claims, anyway.’
‘Do you believe her?’
‘Yes,’ Cathy said with a sigh. ‘We talked for a long time. She was telling the truth.’
‘What about Hannah’s friends?’
‘I’ve got their names. It was too late to start last night.’
‘I heard. I rang the infirmary this morning.’
‘Oh.’ She began to blush, then grinned. ‘Hush. You did the same with Jos.’
‘We need to talk to the local midwife. No one thinks she did it but she might have some ideas. Start there and move on to the friends?’
‘You’re the brains.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Lottie laughed. ‘You’ll scare me.’
Mrs Brady knew nothing. She’d heard; everyone in the area knew, and mouthed a silent prayer when she heard Hannah was likely to survive. She was in her sixties, and wore a dress that reached her ankles; she had powerful forearms and long, delicate fingers.
‘I brought her into the world. Her sisters, too, and their cousins. But I’ve no idea who could have done that. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, it’s not right.’
‘Who might?’
‘If I knew, I’d tell you.’
Two of Hannah’s friends were at work, the pair of them at Hunslet Mill. Luckier than many round here, Lottie thought. The pubs were full of men from the time they opened, but they nursed their drinks like treasure, making them last, knowing to the last farthing how much they had to spend.
A third friend, Frances Grogan, was at home. No job to go to. She sat at the table in the kitchen.
She knew. It was obvious from the way she shifted on her chair and kept turning away, not looking them in the eye.
‘Do you know what happened when Hannah went for her abortion?’ Cathy asked. She was sitting across the table, watching Frances move a tea mug over the oilcloth. Lottie stood in the doorway, behind the girl, listening carefully. Not that there’d been anything worthwhile to hear. ‘Well?’ Cathy said.
‘No.’
‘Frances… please, look at me.’ The girl raised her head slowly. ‘Your friend almost died. Do you understand that?’ A hesitation and a nod. ‘It could still happen. And it’ll be a long time before she’s well again.’
‘I went to the infirmary last night,’ said Frances. ‘They wouldn’t let me in to see her. They said she already had two visitors.’
‘I was there with her mother. Tell me, had she tried other things before the abortion?’
‘Pennyroyal. She came over when me mam were out. Made some tea from it then drank it until she was sick but it didn’t shift anything. And raspberry leaf. Even tried falling down the stairs. Didn’t do no good.’
‘You know who she went to, don’t you?’
A long pause before Frances nodded. ‘Miss Jackson. Over in Hunslet. I asked, me cousin told me.’
‘Where in Hunslet?’
‘Primrose Lane. She… me cousin said she were good. She promised me.’ The girl began to cry, shoulders shaking. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to Hannah. I don’t want her to die. She’s the best friend I’ve got.’
‘I’m sure Miss Jackson only wanted to help.’ Lottie watched Cathy. Her face was gentle and open, her voice soothing. She was good at this, with a kindness that seemed to start deep inside her. ‘What’s her house number on Primrose Lane?’
‘It’s a blue door. That’s how everybody knows it. ‘
They’d find it quickly enough. It made sense that the girls would look for someone who wasn’t too local. Word spread. Gossip. Hannah had already been humiliated once, by a young man. She didn’t need more elsewhere.
A few more minutes, long enough for Cathy to assure the girl that she wasn’t in trouble, but still scare her enough to keep her on the straight and narrow.
The women across the street had all gone behind their front doors. Everything was quiet. No little children playing on the cobbles. Only the boom and grind of the factories in the distance and the smell of soot on the air.
At the corner shop Lottie used the telephone to call the station. No, the sergeant told her, amusement in his voice, CID hadn’t been asking for her.
‘We can probably find a tram to take us over to Hunslet,’ said Lottie.
‘Let’s just walk.’
Lottie glanced at her. Cathy was always in a rush to do everything. ‘If you want.’
‘I got a letter in the post this morning,’ Cathy said after a short while.
‘Who from? Jimmy?’ Lottie asked. As soon as she said the words she knew it was a stupid question. Who else would be likely to write to her?
Cathy nodded. ‘He says this is his last voyage. He’s handed in his papers. No more merchant marine. He thinks it’s time we settled down properly and started a family.’
‘That’s wonderful.’ She stopped herself. ‘Why didn’t you say something before?’
‘He said someone’s been telling his brother things about me.’
‘What things?’
‘Running around and seeing other men.’ Her face crumpled for a moment. ‘God, what am I going to do?’
‘It’s all innocent. That’s what you told me.’
‘It is,’ Cathy insisted. ‘Just some company. None of… you know. But how am I going to make him believe that?’
‘When’s he due back?’
‘Tomorrow.’
Lottie glanced at Cathy and found her dabbing away tears. ‘I thought this was what you wanted.’
‘I know. I do.’ She sounded lost.
‘You’ll really have to leave the men high and dry now.’
‘Don’t, please,’ Cathy begged. ‘It was just flirting. Fun.’
‘I know,’ Lottie told her. ‘Honestly, I do.’
‘Last time he was home he was talking about having children.’ Cathy was silent for a while. ‘I got a copy of that book.’
‘What book?’
Cathy lowered her voice. ‘Married Love.’
It wasn’t as if she needed to keep it secret. Most of the women Lottie knew owned a copy or had borrowed one. It must have sold in the thousands and thousands. Millions maybe.
‘What about it?’
‘Well, I want to keep this job for a little while. And seeing what happened to Hannah… I want to make sure me and Jimmy are careful before we start a family, that’s all.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘If he still wants me.’
Birth control, contraception. Those were the things Marie Stopes’s book discussed. The things women needed to know, but so many didn’t. It told them to enjoy their marriages but that they didn’t have to spend their lives churning out babies, and how to make sure it didn’t happen. Lottie had thumbed through a copy. Not that it mattered to her, not with Geoff’s injuries, but it was sound advice.
‘He wants you. Why would he come back otherwise? He loves you.’
What else could she say? Cathy was bright. And after a while in this job, not much was likely to embarrass her. She had Jimmy wrapped around her little finger; she’d said so often. He couldn’t do enough to please her. But by the sound of it she was going to need all her wiles.
‘I hope so.’
Time to change the subject, she decided. Get her thinking about something else for a little while.
‘You did well with Frances.’
‘Did I?’ Cathy’s face brightened; she looked relieved at the fresh topic. ‘I felt sorry for her. You could see how scared she was.’
‘We’ll see what this Miss Jackson has to say for herself.’
It wouldn’t be easy. Unless she admitted it, or Hannah gave evidence, they had no proof. CID wasn’t likely to investigate something like this. That set her thinking about Jos again. Then Irene Walker, out there somewhere and maybe still alive. She took a deep breath.
‘Once you’re used to it you’ll like having Jimmy around all the time,’ Lottie said.
‘Will I?’ Cathy sounded doubtful. ‘He might believe his brother and kick me out.’
‘He won’t. Trust me.’
‘I never.’
The blue door stood open behind her. Miss Jackson faced them down, arms folded and face set. She didn’t care if the neighbours heard. She seemed to want it. Already one or two had gathered to watch.
‘Miss Jackson…’ Cathy said.
‘You accuse me again and I’ll have you for slander.’ There was a glint of fury in the woman’s eyes.
‘We’re asking you a question.’ Lottie needed to keep the peace before things turned nasty. ‘Nothing more than that.’
‘And I’ve given you my answer.’
‘You have to understand. We were told, we have to check.’
‘Aye, and who told you? Probably some flibbertigibbet.’ Her voice was loud enough to carry across the street.
‘Why don’t we talk about this inside?’ Without a crowd, the woman might calm down.
‘We’ll say what we have to say out here.’ The woman squared her thin shoulders like a boxer. ‘I’ve nowt to be ashamed of. Not like you two.’
‘You’ve never met Hannah Moorcroft?’ Cathy asked, ignoring the comment. ‘Never heard of her?’
‘Not until you mentioned her. And if I see her, I’ll box her ears for her, accusing me like that.’
‘You’ll have a hard job. She’s in hospital with septicaemia.’
It shut the woman up.
‘Are you saying I’m responsible?’ she asked after a moment.
‘We’re asking,’ Cathy insisted.
‘You talk to anyone round here. They’ll tell you I’ve been delivering babies for donkey’s years. I bring them into the world, I don’t kill them, and I won’t have anyone saying otherwise.’
Lottie tapped Cathy on the elbow. There was no point in asking any more. Miss Jackson would deny everything, and they’d end up looking like fools.
‘We won’t take any more of your time,’ Cathy told the woman.
‘I should hope not. Shouldn’t have been here in the first place, harassing innocent people.’ As they started to walk away she raised her voice. ‘You know they said I’m a killer? Coming here to accuse me. No proof.’
It was a relief to turn the corner. The voice faded to nothing. Cathy’s face looked grim when Lottie glanced at her, face brick-red with embarrassment.
‘We’re going to have to wait until Hannah can talk.’
‘I know,’ she said through clenched teeth.
‘It was worth a try,’ Lottie said. ‘She might have felt guilty and admitted everything. Still,’ she added with a smile, ‘if she’s responsible, it’ll be a bigger pleasure to take her in.’
‘True.’ Cathy glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it time for you to ring in again and see if you’re in demand?’
Once more there was nothing.
‘Would you mind patrolling on your own?’ Cathy asked. ‘I want to pop over to the infirmary. Maybe Hannah’s woken up.’
‘Meet for dinner at half twelve?’
‘Kardomah? If you haven’t been called to action before, of course.’
‘Fat chance of that. They just want to keep me dangling.’
‘How is she?’ asked Lottie later on at the Kardomah.
‘They have her on something to help her sleep.’ Cathy sipped the cup of coffee and took a bite of her meat paste sandwich. ‘The nurse said she’ll be fine in time, but she won’t ever be able to have a baby.’
‘She’s going to live,’ Lottie said quietly. ‘That’s something.’
‘I know.’ Cathy pushed the plate away and started to reach for her cigarettes. ‘I forgot. Not when we’re in uniform. I have an appointment at the hairdresser after work. She was willing to squeeze me in.’
‘To look nice for Jimmy?’
Cathy smiled. ‘I’m going to sit him down and have a talk. Tell him the truth and hope he believes me.’ She gave a small, wan smile. ‘It’s all I can do.’
‘You’ll win him over.’ She tried to sound certain. ‘Have your talk, then it can be honeymoon for a while.’
‘Did I ever tell you what our honeymoon was like? One night in a hotel before he had to rejoin his ship.’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘Give him months of honeymoon and he’ll soon forget the rest.’
They both smiled.
‘You know, we could pop back to Millgarth,’ said Cathy. ‘It’s only a few minutes’ walk, easier than finding a telephone. I can give Mrs Maitland the report on Hannah.’
The station was just through County Arcade and down the hill. Lottie finished her tea and signalled the waitress for the bill. ‘You just want to sneak off into the loo for a cigarette.’
‘Me?’ Cathy put a hand to her chest. ‘I’m shocked you’d even think that. Just give me an extra five minutes when we’re there.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHERE have you been?’ McMillan asked as he saw her.
‘Sarge?’ Lottie turned to face him while Cathy marched on along the corridor.
‘You were supposed to ring in every hour.’
‘I did. But every time, the sergeant said there wasn’t any message for me.’
‘He said that?’ McMillan took a breath. ‘Come with me.’
The desk sergeant stood to attention behind the counter.
‘What were your orders this morning, Sergeant Berwick?’
‘In what regard, sir?’ He was a heavy, florid man, a map of broken veins across his nose and cheeks, his top lip hidden under a heavy grey moustache.
‘With regard to messages for a woman police constable.’
‘That she would ring in every hour and I should pass anything on to her.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’
The desk sergeant stared daggers at Lottie. ‘Because I never received a telepho
ne call from her, sir. I’d have passed any message on otherwise.’
‘That’s—’ she began, but McMillan cut her off.
‘What if I say I know that’s a lie?’
The sergeant drew himself up. ‘Then it would be your word against mine.’
‘The inspector will be talking to you. I daresay he’ll ask for a statement.’
‘Whatever he wants.’
‘How many times have you been reprimanded, Berwick. Three?’
‘Twice.’ The man stayed at attention, staring straight ahead now.
‘Then the third time might bounce you off the force.’ He took Lottie by the elbow. ‘Come on, I’ve needed you all morning.’
‘Why?’ She followed him out to the car.
‘Jane Walker went out last night,’ he told her. ‘Guess what?’
‘She hasn’t come back.’
‘You’re on the money. We have coppers all over looking for her. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.’
How would she? Whoever told the women anything?
‘Isn’t there a constable on their house?’
‘She told him she was popping down to the shops and drove off. He didn’t think anything of it until later.’
‘What about her husband?’
‘The inspector’s been questioning him half the night and most of the morning. Says he doesn’t know where she’s gone. He thinks she might have gone hysterical under the pressure.’
‘What?’ Lottie asked with her hand tight on the door handle of the Peugeot.
‘You know what he means.’
‘I do.’ Her voice was cold.
‘People do crack up.’ He slid into the driver’s seat. ‘I saw it in the trenches.’
She thought of some of the shell-shocked men she’d seen wandering in town during the war in their blue hospital jackets. They looked lost, overwhelmed by the world. Even now there were plenty of them around, six years after the Armistice. Yes, they did break. Maybe Jane Walker had, too. But it wouldn’t have been her fault.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Back to the Walker’s house. I’d like you to talk to the servant, see if she knows anything. I tried, but she just began crying.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
Modern Crimes Page 12
