Fred brightened and came to stand at the blue and white wash basin as Dickie filled a shaving mug with hot water and began to lather his cheeks.
‘Ye’d better scrape some o’ that muck off your face too,’ his adoptive father suggested and turned the tap on again.
The boy rolled up his sleeves and dipped his hands into the water, withdrawing them immediately. ‘Ow! It’s too hot.’
‘Needs to be hot for a proper shave.’ Dickie was sweeping the borrowed razor around his jaw.
Fred picked up the shaving brush, waited a second for his father to object, then dabbed it experimentally on his cheek. Dickie’s eyes smiled amusedly at him through the mirror. Encouraged, Fred worked up a full lather, then exchanged the shaving brush for the lolly stick and, copying Dick’s movements, used it to scrape off the foam. His father laughed – then sucked in his breath and swore as blood seeped through the lather. Seizing a flannel, he pressed it to his neck. ‘Christ, let’s get this blood mopped up quick before your Aunt Erin gets a whiff and comes haring down the Leeds road for my jugular – oy! Put that down.’ Fred had sneaked the razor up to his face, but Dickie snatched it away before he had the chance to do any damage. ‘Ye’ll be slicing your bloody nose off. Gimme a piece o’ that tissue paper, there.’ He pointed. Fred dripped his way over to the box of toilet tissue and handed it to his father. A piece was torn off and stuck over the nick. ‘Come on now, get washed an’ let’s get some coffee.’
Dickie finished shaving, slapped the flannel around his upper body and towelled himself briskly. Sniffing his own shirt, he removed the collar studs, threw it back on the floor and took one from Nick’s wardrobe. With the studs inserted through a clean collar and his jacket in place, he took charge of Fred, slicking his damp hair into place and giving his clothes a brush. Then the two went down.
‘Why did you tell me that the man what lives here is your son, and then say he wasn’t?’ asked Fred. ‘Is he or isn’t he?’
Dickie laid a hand on top of the boy’s head and used it to propel him in the right direction. ‘Oh, ’tis a complicated story, Fred. I’ll maybe tell it ye some time – only you’re not to repeat it to anyone here.’
They had reached the drawing room and went in. Win turned from the window where she had been standing rubbing her back. ‘Ah, Uncle! Nick’s father’s here. He’s just gone to put his car into the stable.’ She waddled over. ‘He seemed inexplicably annoyed when I mentioned that you and Freddie were here.’
‘Oh…’
Win was watching his reaction closely. ‘He said he’d better just go and check outside to see if he’d been followed.’
Dickie looked apologetic. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell ye the main reason for our being here, Win.’
‘Well, I hardly thought it was a social visit what with you asking to borrow Nick’s razor, but I didn’t realise I had a desperado on my hands.’ The young woman tried to look severe.
Dickie covered his face. ‘Told you everything, did he?’
‘After some threatening he deigned to give me the gist of it, yes.’
‘I was only trying to spare you, Win.’
‘That was Dad’s excuse for not telling Nick yesterday.’ She glanced at the boy who had been looking from one face to the other. ‘Freddie, would you like to go to the kitchen and get some biscuits to keep you going until we eat?’ She waited for him to leave before proceeding on the ticklish subject. ‘Now, Uncle, would you care to give me the story before Dad gets back?’
Dick barely had time to explain the situation before his irate brother came bursting in. ‘What the heck d’you think you’re doing getting Nick and Win involved in this!’ Sonny flung his checked driving hat on a chair but didn’t sit down himself. His face was furious.
‘I didn’t know where else to go, Son,’ replied Dickie lamely.
‘You should’ve come to our house!’
‘I thought the police might’ve been there.’
‘I don’t suppose it’ll be long before they are! They’re already on guard at Peasholme.’
‘Oh, sod.’
Win looked disapproving. ‘Uncle, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like but I won’t have foul language in my house.’
Coffee arrived but failed to dampen tempers, which were still high when Nick came in at luncheon.
‘I didn’t know we were expecting luncheon guests.’
‘I should expect a few more uninvited guests,’ said his father, still fuming. ‘One’s in uniform.’
Win frowned at her husband’s insouciance. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’
Nick admitted that his father had told him yesterday. ‘We didn’t want to worry you.’
‘It might have been nice to be prepared,’ she objected and asked for the whole story.
‘Could we give it you over lunch?’ begged Dickie. ‘I’ve only had a bit of bread and cheese this morning.’ The food he had taken from Belle had been consumed before nine.
His brother heaved another sound of vexation, but everyone moved into the dining room, Win sending instructions to the kitchen that yet another guest would be requiring lunch and for Frederick to have his meal downstairs.
Nothing of import was said until the soup had been eaten and the main meal served, when Nick took the unusual step of dismissing the maid. ‘Now, how long are you going to lodge with us?’ he asked his uncle.
Before Dick could answer, Sonny put in, ‘I don’t think he should stay at all.’ He watched his brother stuff his mouth full of roast lamb, peas, potatoes, carrots. ‘Apart from anything else you’d be bankrupt after a few days of trying to keep him fed.’
‘He might as well stay now he’s here,’ said Nick, casually slicing his meat. ‘Nobody saw him come, did they?’
‘That’s not the point,’ argued Sonny.
Dick had been trying to fathom the deadpan expression; did Nick genuinely not care – after all the efforts by his natural father to provoke him? ‘Listen, I can see my being here is gonna cause trouble for everybody,’ he pronounced between mouthfuls. ‘Soon as I’ve eaten this me an’ Fred’ll be on our way.’
‘Where to?’ demanded his brother and, receiving a shrug, pointed his knife. ‘No, well leave the talking to them as talks sense! You had no right to bring your troubles here, especially with Win in her condition.’ Contrary to her thoughts, Win said that it was no hardship, and as Uncle had already pointed out, the police would be more likely to visit Roundhay than here. ‘I don’t doubt they’ll be paying you a call sooner or later, Win,’ replied her father-in-law. ‘I don’t know what your parents are going to think of us involving you. I find it highly embarrassing. Anyway,’ he turned to Dickie, ‘I can’t see the point in you coming to Leeds at all – you should be heading back for America.’
‘You know why I can’t,’ said Dickie, munching.
‘The children?’
‘And Mam. I promised her, Son.’
‘Why you have to start having a conscience this late in life beats me!’ said his brother. ‘But if you must, then we have to get this police business sorted out. You can’t possibly live like a fugitive indefinitely. A couple of days of being cooped up and you’ll be climbing the walls.’
‘Ye’re not suggesting I give meself up?’ When his brother said yes, Dickie laughed. ‘No, siree. I’ve had enough o’ courts.’
‘You got off once, didn’t you? Wouldn’t it be better to have it over and done with rather than looking over your shoulder all the time?’
‘Over and done with could have a more permanent meaning than the one you have in mind.’ Dickie massaged his neck. ‘It is murder we’re talking about – don’t worry, Win, I didn’t do it.’ He had seen her blench.
‘Yes, you haven’t told us about that yet,’ Sonny reminded him, mopping his lips with a napkin. ‘Don’t you think you’d better?’
Dickie sighed, wiped his own lips and, as briefly as he could, repeated the story he had given Belle, concluding with, ‘And with no witnesses save an old tro
llop, who’ll probably be dead by now I’m kna … snookered.’ Sonny tried to be optimistic, pointing out that there were no witnesses to say he hadn’t done it, but there were none to say he had, either. ‘I’m not chancing it, Son. Sorry.’ Dickie slapped the table with an air of finality. ‘But, if ye want me to go I’ll go.’
Sonny was exasperated. ‘Oh, sit down!’
‘If you don’t mind,’ cut in Win, ‘could we continue this over coffee in the drawing room?’ She pressed her palms against the dome beneath her ribs and arched in discomfort. Nick asked concernedly if she was all right. ‘I will be when I get rid of this lump,’ sighed Win.
‘My sentiments exactly,’ replied Sonny with a look at his brother.
Win laughed and kneaded her aching ribcage. ‘Roll on next week.’
‘I’m not sure you’ll last that long, looking at the size of you,’ said Nick.
She censured him, ‘You’re so indelicate!’ and led the way back to the drawing room, where she rang for coffee.
‘At least there’s one good thing in this,’ said Sonny. ‘I’ll get your portrait finished while you’re stuck here. Well, I suppose I’d better go and telephone York to tell them you’re still free – and that’s another thing: you’re in a bad position here with no telephone. None of us can warn you if the police decide to pounce. I’ll go after I’ve finished my coffee. At least Dusty’ll be relieved.’
‘Relieved?’ said Dick. ‘She’ll kick me inside out.’
‘She’ll have to fight Belle for the privilege. Not only did you steal Freddie …’
‘Steal him – ye think I want to be lumbered with him?’
‘Be that as it may, Belle holds you responsible, and not only for that. You stole her money …’
‘Christ, ’twas only a few bob.’
‘… but worst of all you’ve had her evicted!’
‘How the devil…’
‘I didn’t stop to find out! But she’s there at Peasholme with all her kids and her belongings.’ When Dickie groaned and rubbed his face, Sonny added, ‘At least we can put one thing right. I’ll take Freddie back.’
‘I don’t want to go back!’
All heads turned. ‘Who gave you permission to walk straight in here?’ asked Dickie, putting down his cup.
Fred ignored the question and came stamping up to hang on his adoptive father’s arm. ‘Don’t send me back! I want to stay with you.’
‘Your Aunt Belle’s worried about you, Fred,’ explained Sonny.
‘You can tell her I’m all right, I’m with me dad.’
‘See?’ Dickie spread his hands.
‘Well …’ Sonny looked dubious; ‘I’d better telephone first and see what Belle says.’
When he returned he was the conveyor of bad news for the boy. ‘I’m sorry, but Belle insists I take him back or she’ll come over herself. She’s livid.’
Dickie turned to the child. ‘Well, there y’are, Fred, looks like ye gotta go.’
‘Don’t let him take me!’ pleaded the boy.
Sonny approached with a kind smile. ‘It’s best if…’ Fred scrambled onto Dickie’s lap, eyes full of panic. Sonny was unaccustomed to playing the role of villain and hated the way Fred was looking at him. ‘Oh … all right, then.’ He retreated to a chair. ‘But I don’t know what I’m going to say to your Aunt Belle! I’ll have to telephone her again.’
‘Right, Fred, you can go back downstairs till we send for you.’ Dickie was unsuccessful in removing the boy from his lap and had to stand so that Fred slid off. ‘Go on!’ After much confirmation that he would not be sent back to York, the boy left. ‘What’re ye going to say to her ladyship, Son?’ asked Dickie.
‘I think I’m about to save the day,’ said Win in a small voice. When the men looked at her she was cradling her abdomen, a fearful smile on her face. ‘You were right, Nick, the baby thinks it’s waited long enough.’ She gave a little laugh at her dumbstruck audience. ‘You wanted an excuse for not taking Freddie back, Dad, well you’ve got one.’
Nick went to her side. ‘Come on, I’ll help you up to bed.’
She shoved him away. ‘Leave me be! I’m not going up yet. It might be hours.’
Nick looked agitated. ‘I’d better go over and let your mother and father know.’
‘There’s bags of time yet, sit down! I’ve only had three twinges. I’m not having my family hovering round for hours on end waiting for me to produce. I’d feel like a circus act. But I suggest you telephone Belle, Dad, it might take the heat off things. Tell her we’re keeping an eye on Freddie and he’s perfectly safe.’
Dick tutted at the lack of confidence in his fatherly skills, then asked, ‘Did Dusty send any message?’
Sonny shook his head. ‘Sorry, Belle monopolised the telephone. I’d better go and call her back. I can speak to Dusty too.’ He turned to look at Nick. ‘Do you want a lift over to Win’s parents?’
‘Yes please, and could you take Johnny to your house for the night? He’ll be a bit of a nuisance here.’ So saying, Nick left with his father.
Dickie looked at the young woman uneasily. What if she should give birth while they were away? ‘Er, can I get you anything, Win?’
‘No thank you, Uncle.’ Win had picked up some knitting. ‘It’s just a matter of waiting.’
* * *
The telephone rang at Peasholme. Dusty, much peeved that Belle had not paid her due consideration before, leapt from her seat and was into the hall before anyone else had the chance. ‘Hello!’ She pressed the handpiece to her ear and shouted into the box on the wall. ‘Sonny, is that you? Look … yes, yes!’ She couldn’t hide her impatience. ‘Just put that wretch of mine on, will you!… What? Well, where are you telephoning from?… and he’s still at Nick’s?… Right, I’m on my way!’
‘Dusty, wait! Please …’ Sonny fought to get his words in-. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, you’ll be followed.’
At the silence that ensued, he asked urgently, ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes … I’m here,’ came the dull response. Dusty slumped against the wall.
‘Listen, Dick’s fine and so is Freddie, that’s partly why I’m telephoning. Belle insisted that I bring him home but he refuses to come. Short of violence I can’t persuade him to leave Dickie … Belle isn’t in earshot, is she?’
Dusty did not have to turn; the entire family were gathered in the doorway. ‘Yes,’ she replied simply.
‘Oh … well look, can you tell her that we’ve got a bit of an emergency here. Win’s gone into labour and I’m having to do a lot of running around, so I can’t see me getting to York with Freddie tonight.’
‘I’m sure your mother’ll be delighted to hear that.’ Dusty turned her head away from the wall to tell the gathering, ‘Win’s baby’s on its way.’
Thomasin and Erin looked highly pleased. Belle was more irritated. ‘But what about Freddie?’
‘Excuse me a moment, Belle.’ Dusty turned back to the telephone. ‘Look, Sonny, whatever you do, don’t give Dick any money or else he’ll skip off again. I want him where I can find him. All right, I’ll bring a bag over with some clothes and stuff. Thank you for ringing, Sonny – oh, d’you want to speak to your mother?’
‘Yes, I’ll have a few words if she’s handy.’
Dusty gave the earpiece to her mother-in-law and hovered whilst Thomasin shared a sentence with her son.
‘I want a word too,’ said Belle.
‘Hang on, Sonny, Belle wants a wo… oh, sorry.’ Thomasin turned to her grand-daughter. ‘Too late, the line’s broken.’
‘He asked me to pass on a message,’ said Dusty.
‘So what was it?’ demanded Belle.
Dusty was cool. ‘With Win being about to give birth it’s obvious he wants to be around. He said he can’t possibly fetch Fred back tonight.’
‘Then I’ll have to go myself!’ Belle swung towards the door.
‘For God’s sake, anybody would think he was in mortal danger!’ sho
t Dusty, stopping the other’s exit. ‘Dickie’s not going to harm him.’
‘Maybe not mortal danger,’ snapped Belle. ‘But certainly moral!’
Thomasin stepped in. ‘Belle, I don’t want you going over there upsetting things when Win’s having her baby. It’ll be a bad enough time for her as it is without having people fighting downstairs. When she’s had the baby we’ll all go over and see what can be done.’
* * *
Dickie had no experience of birth. He had only been fifteen months old when his brother was born. Therefore, he was unprepared for the screams that reverberated around the house.
It had all started fairly smoothly. Win had spent the afternoon in conversation with the men. Towards evening, however, she had decided that the arrival was going to be somewhat quicker than formerly anticipated and had retired to her bed. The midwife had been sent for and had arrived; so too had Win’s parents. Her mother was assisting at the birth, while her father sat waiting for the outcome with his son-in-law and Dickie. From necessity, Nick had divulged his lodger’s secret – for one thing they could not keep him hidden away and for another there had already been news of the escapade in the local evening paper. His in-laws had been alarmed for their daughter’s safety, not to mention their own good name, but Nick had assured them that his uncle had been unjustly labelled and would only be here until he decided the best course of action. Only this, and the fact that he thought highly of his son-in-law, allowed James Cordwell to sit here chatting so leisurely.
It was a warm sunny night and Frederick was out in the garden playing; somehow his presence had been overlooked when plans had been made to distance Johnny from the ordeal. Everyone in here seemed calm – everyone bar Dickie. He got up and began to pace. ‘How much longer is it going to be?’
Nick shrugged and took a drag of his cigar. ‘Who knows?’
Another scream rent the peace. ‘Christ!’ Dickie marched over to a cabinet and lifted a decanter. ‘D’ye mind?’ Nick gave him leave to help himself. ‘Can I get anybody else one?’ At the nods, Dickie poured three glasses of Scotch and distributed them.
Dickie (Feeney Family Sagas Book 4) Page 42
