The Pawnbroker's Niece

by June Francis

  She said with a moue of regret. ‘Sorry. We had a break-in a few weeks ago and it was stolen along with some jewellery and stuff. My aunt was really angry.’

  ‘What was I angry about?’ said Margaret.

  Rita whirled round, feeling guilty at being caught gossiping. ‘I was telling Billy about the burglary.’

  Margaret stepped down from the storeroom and placed several banknotes on the counter. ‘Well, now you’ve done that you can go and warm up the sausage rolls.’

  Reluctantly Rita said tarrah to Billy.

  ‘I’ll probably see you again sometime,’ he called, an appreciative gleam in his eyes.

  Margaret pushed the money across the counter. ‘Give your father my regards.’

  ‘Why don’t you give them yourself?’ said Billy, picking up the money. ‘I’m sure my stepmother would love to have you drop in sometime.’ He winked and walked out.

  Impudent, she thought, but definitely has some of his father’s charm. A charm she was surely immune to after all this time, knowing she was going to have to find out if that was true or not.

  Chapter Seven

  Margaret gazed at her reflection and thought she should have taken Rita’s advice when she asked for it months ago. Although asking her niece what to do to improve herself instead of relying on her own judgement showed an amazing lack of self-confidence.

  What had William’s son thought when he’d looked at her across the counter? Well past her best? She fingered a handful of hair, glossy as the skin of a horse chestnut and drew it across her face beneath her nose. ‘Aha, me beauty! Your money or your virtue?’ she growled.

  You’re going off your head, said an inner voice.

  Maybe! She went cross-eyed trying to see the strand of hair close up and spotted a couple of grey hairs. Determined not to let them get her down she told herself that it was never too late to improve oneself. A cut, a perm, a new outfit and she would feel ready to face William Brodie.

  Having made up her mind, Margaret lost no time in having her hair done. She did not find it a pleasant experience sitting for hours with tubes sticking out of her head — and as for the smell of the lotion! But when the hairdresser had finished with her she was astonished by the transformation. There was a bounce in her step as she made her way home.

  Rita seemed to need to look at her twice before recognising her. ‘Blinkin’ heck! You’re a new woman! What an improvement!’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Margaret smiled and went into the back premises where Mrs McGinty was cooking lunch. ‘So what d’you think?’

  The char’s mouth dropped open. ‘Yer going to have to buy a new hat.’

  ‘Never mind a hat! Do I look younger?’ Margaret looked at herself in the mirror above the sideboard.

  ‘Ten years, at least,’ said Mrs McGinty, knowing which side her bread was buttered on. ‘You got yerself a man?’

  Margaret rested her hand on her springy curls. ‘I just thought it was time I took myself in hand. If I’d done it while Father was alive it would have been too much of a struggle, but with him dead well over a year now, I can please myself.’

  ‘And why not?’ said Mrs McGinty with an unexpected burst of fervour. ‘He wasn’t the easiest of men to live with.’

  Margaret could agree with that but it seemed rich coming from the wife of Alf McGinty.

  Two days later, Margaret left Rita in charge of the shop again and went to Bacon’s in Bold Street, where she had once worked as a finisher, and watched a parade of that summer’s fashions. She was persuaded into parting with more money than she had intended on a calf-length artificial silk frock in peach and cream. It had a scooped neck and long sleeves with a double layer of frills at the cuff, and there was even a matching coat. When she saw herself in the outfit she felt wonderful.

  I have gone crazy, she thought on her way home, the bag with the shop’s distinctive label swinging from her fingers. This outfit is more suitable for a dance or a wedding than for a business visit. So the next day she went to Lewis’s and purchased an ‘off the peg’ navy-blue frock with the tiniest of white spots: to go with it she bought a white straw hat with a navy ribbon round its brim, a pair of two-tone strapped shoes, navy gloves and bag.

  The next early closing day she waited until Rita had gone off to the matinee at the Trocadero with one of the shop assistants from Berry Street before changing into the navy-blue frock. To all outer appearances Margaret looked smart and confident but inside her stomach it was as if a hundred moths were doing the Charleston.

  When she reached Brodie’s yard, she was surprised to find the gates closed. She tried the Judas door and was relieved when it opened. Her heels made a ringing sound on the cobbles as she walked across the yard. She noticed several slates missing from the roof of the house and three carts had their shafts resting on the sunlit cobbles. It was the silence she found disturbing. Was she too late? Had all the horses been sold off to pay William’s debts? She headed for the stables, peered inside and was relieved to see several horses in the stalls. She re-emerged, puzzled.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  Margaret started and turned to gaze at the man standing a few feet away. She would have recognised him anywhere, despite the creases at the corner of his eyes and the lines running between nose and mouth. She felt a catch in her throat, thinking that he would never see forty again. There were threads of silver in his dark curly hair but he still had good shoulders and stood erect in the black shabby suit.

  ‘That roof needs a few slates fixing, Will.’ Her voice sounded breathless in her ears.

  He lost colour and did not answer immediately. Then he appeared to collect himself and covered the space between them in two strides. ‘Maggie?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d recognise me. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Yes!’ He gazed at her with an intensity that made her blush. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Curiosity! I’ve only recently heard that you’d remarried and given up the sea.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Does it matter? You swore undying love to me.’ She had not meant to say that and knew she shouldn’t have by the change in his expression.

  ‘You turned me down! I had the boy needing a mother. If you’re having second thoughts now about marrying me in place of Alan, then you’re fifteen years too late.’ His tone was harsh.

  For a wild panicky moment she wanted to flee the yard, mortified at having plunged them immediately into an argument. Perhaps that desire had been simmering in her subconscious all this time, waiting for the right moment to erupt, needing to sort out the unfinished business that was between them. But did she have that right? He had taken a second wife. She drew on that inner strength which she had needed to call upon so many times in the last twenty years. ‘I’m not here to go through all that again. I’ve tried to put the past behind me.’

  ‘But haven’t quite managed it, obviously!’ He smiled. So might his twin have smiled if he had still been alive! She felt sadness along with that fluttering excitement she had experienced on her way here and placed her arms across her chest in a subconscious defensive action. ‘True.’

  ‘So what can I do for you?’ He patted his pockets and brought out a tobacco pouch. ‘I presume you didn’t come just to tell me that you’d heard I’d married again and accuse me of being a liar.’

  ‘Is that what I said?’ As soon as the words were out she had wanted to retract them. ‘Sorry. The truth is I heard you had money problems.’

  His hand stilled a moment and then he resumed shredding Old Twist. ‘And who told you that?’

  Margaret did not reply but looked about her. ‘It’s so quiet. You’ve horses in the stables and carts not getting used.’

  ‘The men are out at a funeral. I’ve just got back. They’ll be here soon. One of my drivers was killed down at the docks. A chain snapped and a bale of cotton fell on him.’ He rammed the tobacco into the bowl of the tortoiseshell pipe with long fingers, then str
uck a match on the sole of his shoe. ‘Doesn’t rain but it pours. Isn’t that what our mothers used to say when one thing went wrong after another?’ He raised an eyebrow as he lit the tobacco, flicked out the match and drew on his pipe. ‘I lost a horse the other day, broke a leg and had to be shot. Jimmy, my stepson, said it was more of a loss than the man who died because men can easily be replaced, the way unemployment is these days. Unfortunately I can’t afford to replace him. Not for the first time my moneylender is threatening to send in the bailiffs.’

  ‘I’m sorry! How’s your wife coping with it all?’ Margaret felt a need to bring her into the conversation to see how he reacted. She would like to meet her.

  ‘I keep as much as I can from her about the business.’ He encompassed the yard with a sweep of his pipe. ‘She doesn’t enjoy good health.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. Is that why you gave up the sea?’

  Margaret wanted to hear his reasons from him.

  ‘Good God, no! Billy was the problem. He went a bit wild after losing his mother and then I married Maud, who had two kids of her own. My parents died and he just did not get on with my wife. Not that I blame him entirely for that but she has a daughter, Alice, and she didn’t want them getting close. As well as that, she considered him a bad influence on Jimmy.’

  ‘The poor lad! No wonder he went a bit wild.’

  ‘You feel sorry for him?’ A tiny smile flared in his eyes. ‘Ohhh, Maggie! If only you’d married me, how different all our lives would have been.’

  ‘You know why I turned you down! And as it is you’ve proved me right. We weren’t meant for each other. You found someone else.’

  William’s smile faded and he drew on his pipe before saying, ‘You know where I met Maud? At Aintree during National week! Her father owned a couple of horses and she told me to back them. I won a packet! She’d just been widowed and was doing everything she could not to face up to life without her husband. Her father had money and was prepared to indulge her. When I was on leave, my mother looked after Billy and we hit the high spots. Not the right way to handle loss, perhaps. But we were two needy people.’

  She felt pain, imagining the kind of life he had lived while she had struggled to forget him and his brother, telling herself that she had done the right thing in refusing his proposal. She had been convinced he could have got Alan out of China but hadn’t done so because he was jealous of him and wanted him to die. ‘Are you still gambling?’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business. Have you come here to gloat?’

  ‘No! I came to see if I could help you. What tune is the business in debt to?’

  He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Who told you about it? And what is it to you?’

  ‘My niece, Rita. Your stepdaughter came into the shop with something to sell. So come on, Will, humour me!’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘It might be to your advantage.’

  He stared at her for what seemed a long time and then, ‘What the hell!’ He named a sum that made her reel.

  Instantly Margaret knew that if she took on his debt she could say goodbye to that dream house of hers. If his business went to the dogs, most likely she’d lose most of her money, but what would happen to him if she did not bail him out?

  ‘A crazy amount, isn’t it? Terrifying how it’s doubled, trebled, quadrupled from the original amount I borrowed.’

  She knew exactly what he meant. ‘What’ll you do if you were to lose the yard?’

  ‘If I only had myself to think about I’d go back to sea. As it is…’ His teeth clenched on the stem of his pipe.

  ‘You’d rather not think about it.’

  ‘Yes. But it’s all I can think about. I’m in a downward spiral and it’s a bloody struggle trying to get out of it.’

  ‘What happened to your wife’s father? You said he had money.’

  William grimaced. ‘What d’you think, Maggie? Thousands have gone bankrupt in the last couple of years. He was no exception. On top of everything else, Maud’s had to cope with her father shooting himself.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ A shiver convulsed Margaret. ‘She has my sympathy.’

  ‘Thank you!’ His voice had softened. ‘Now, if there’s anything else I can do for you, Maggie, say it now or go. The men’ll be back in a minute and —’

  ‘I could save you from the bailiffs.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘My father died a year or so ago and left me everything.’

  ‘Lucky you!’ He paused. ‘What about Eve?’

  Margaret’s smile vanished. ‘Do you always have to worry about other women? Eve went off and left me to deal with the mess Mother was in after Donald’s death — and I worked damned hard for Father. Anyway, she isn’t your concern. Now do you want me to take over your debt or not?’

  He did not answer immediately but looked towards the gates as men began to trickle through the Judas door. Then he faced her. ‘Can I trust you to treat me fairly?’

  She almost choked on her indignation. ‘You’ve got a nerve to ask me that. When did you ever treat me fairly? Don’t answer that! I know the answer myself. I work within the law. I won’t cheat you.’

  ‘Then it’s a deal.’ He held out a hand and she hesitated only a second before taking it. ‘So when will you give me the money?’ he asked.

  She could not help but throw back her head and laugh. He smiled. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘D’you think I’m daft? Give me the name of your moneylender and I’ll take over the debt from him.’

  Only for an instant did he show annoyance and then his expression changed to reluctant admiration. ‘Your father’s trained you well. If anyone can turn this business round it’s probably you. My heart’s never really been in it.’

  ‘Cut the soft soap,’ said Margaret, flushing with pleasure nevertheless. ‘You’ve still got to work damn hard. You’ll pay me just as you would the moneylender you have now but my rates will be slightly lower, I should imagine, and I’ll give you more time to pay. One bit of advice — stop gambling. You must have let hundreds slip through your fingers.’

  ‘Do you take me for a fool?’

  ‘Do you take me? I remember Alan writing to me after finding you in that gambling den in Shanghai.’

  William’s eyes glinted. ‘Did you ever wonder what he was doing there?’

  ‘You’re insinuating he was a gambler, too? How low can you get?’

  ‘Pretty low,’ he said quietly. ‘But remember, nobody was as close to him as me. Although you might think you knew him, I knew him better.’

  ‘Oh, go to hell!’ she said, and almost changed her mind about helping him. ‘You make me mad!’

  His lips twitched. ‘Then neither of us has altered that much.’

  ‘You certainly haven’t.’ She got control of herself. ‘Now, give me the name of your moneylender and your credit agreement and I’d like to see the books.’

  ‘Come over to the house and I’ll let you have them.’ He led the way.

  Margaret hoped to meet his wife but William took her into a small room that obviously served as an office. Despite the paperwork that littered the desk, he seemed to know where to find the agreement because he produced it in no time and handed it to her. ‘I’ll be glad to have him off my back. Would you like me to come with you when you visit him?’

  Margaret shook her head. As long as she turned up with the money — with a bit extra for interest after checking the wording on the agreement with a fine toothcomb — she felt certain she would have no trouble. ‘I’ll send my niece round with the new agreement for you to sign in a few days.’

  He looked surprised. ‘I didn’t know Eve had a daughter?’

  ‘Rita lives with me.’

  ‘She works for you?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And you keep in touch with Eve? I got the impression —’

  ‘That Eve and I have nothing to do with each other?’ Her laugh had an edge to it. ‘Yo
u’re right! She sent the girl to me eighteen months ago and ran off with a man — and you feel sorry for Eve?’ She walked out of the room, hoping she had given him plenty to think about.

  Over the next few days Margaret wasted no time getting William’s financial affairs sorted out. She would like to see him again, but had mentioned sending her niece because she thought it better for them both if she appeared businesslike, rather than too friendly. She must not forget he had a wife.

  ‘What’s this?’ Rita turned the envelope over between her hands and noted the address.

  ‘It’s a credit agreement between Mr Brodie and me.’ Margaret glanced up from the book open on her knee. ‘I want you to take it to the yard and make sure he signs the original and the copy.’

  A smile lit the girl’s face. ‘You’ve decided to help them. I’m really glad.’

  Margaret raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s a business agreement, Rita. Nothing to get excited about. I just hope I’ve made the right decision. If I haven’t, then you’ll be out on your ear for bringing their troubles to my door in the first place. Now go!’

  Rita went. She was happy and swung her arms, humming a tune from the Ivor Novello film she had seen the other day. She came to numbers chalked on the pavement and did a hop, skip and a jump, taking in most of the squares. She remembered Sam chalking on the pavement for money and wondered how he was getting on at his aunt’s. She had yet to hear from him and hoped he would keep his promise and write.

  She reached Brodie’s yard and walked between the open gates. Carefully avoiding a heap of steaming manure she approached an old man clad in a tatty jacket and trousers shiny with wear. He was in the act of climbing onto a wagon behind the scrawniest horse she had ever seen.

  ‘Where can I find Mr Brodie?’ she asked.

  He jerked his head in the direction of the house and mumbled words she didn’t quite catch. He flicked the reins and told the horse to walk on. She approached the house and was about to knock when the door opened and Billy came out, almost knocking her over in his rush. He saved her from falling by seizing her shoulders and bringing her against his chest. Her nose caught one of the buttons on his reefer jacket. ‘Ouch! That hurt!’