Freddie was delighted and felt rash enough to say, ‘That’s good news for the company. It needs the money. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer buying a motor, Mrs Black? You are a bit out of the way here and one would prove handy.’
Eudora’s smile deepened. ‘I can see you might make a decent businessman one day, Freddie. I’ll let you persuade me. My investments have produced some very good dividends during the war but now it’s over, I need to consider something new to invest my money in. There’s obviously a future for the automobile, would you say?’
‘Hell, yes,’ said Freddie, leaning forward with enthusiasm written clearly on his young face.
She nodded, liking what she knew of him and trusting his word. ‘I’ll need a chauffeur,’ she said. ‘Do you think you can fill that role? Just until I’m ready to learn to drive myself, perhaps? You could also do some gardening and odd jobs now Malcolm’s indisposed.’
Freddie grinned. ‘It’s fine by me. I’ll bring you some information about the latest models soon to be in production.’
‘Yes. And in the meantime, sound out Kenny as to whether he would be interested in an investment from me. Although, I’m not sure if Sebastian will be in favour if Alice has any say in the matter.’ Eudora’s expression was mischievous.
‘Seb’s no fool. He knows the business needs investment. If he’s any sense, he’ll not mention to Alice where it’s coming from.’
Just then Joy entered the room, carrying a tray. ‘I hope you’ll find this satisfactory, madam?’ she said with a smile and placed the tray on an occasional table.
Eudora gazed at the fluffy omelette with the orange strips of smoked salmon and picked up her knife and fork. ‘It looks perfect. Now, is there anything else I need to know.’
‘Clara,’ said Freddie.
‘What about her?’ said Eudora.
‘She said that her grandmother would like a visit from you.’
‘Would she, indeed?’ murmured Eudora, then was silent for several minutes. ‘On her last legs, is she?’
‘Her condition is unchanged, as far as I know,’ said Freddie. ‘They now have a lodger, thanks to you.’
Eudora looked thoughtful. ‘I’ve several clients to see over the next few weeks and then there’s that conference on Spirituality in Chester soon, isn’t there, Joy?’
‘Yes. The third week in May.’
‘Then Bernie O’Toole will have to wait until after that,’ said Eudora. ‘Freddie can drive me there. Perhaps we’ll make a weekend of it. We can go on the Friday and stay at the Adelphi Hotel, and on the Saturday I’ll enjoy doing some shopping in the morning and we’ll take in a matinée at the theatre in the afternoon. We will visit Bernie O’Toole in the evening. Of course, Clara will be working, no doubt, but you can take her for a short drive on Sunday morning while I visit the Spiritualist church off London Road. Joy, you will write and make the arrangements for the last weekend in May.’ She beamed at them both. ‘Is that clear?’
Joy and Freddie could only nod and wonder at the super organisational powers of their employer.
* * *
The following evening, Freddie dropped Eudora outside Chester Infirmary. He made himself comfortable and opened the Liverpool Echo and turned the pages over desultorily, thinking of Clara and wondering what she would make of him turning up with Mrs Black at the end of May. So far he had resisted writing to her, still uneasy about involving her in their troubles. He knew Bert of old and guessed that, if he were true to form, he would want to get back at him and Clara for spoiling his attempt to kidnap Flora.
Suddenly, a headline caught Freddie’s eye and he read the article beneath. It concerned an outbreak of robberies with violence in Liverpool. It appeared that at first the police had been baffled by the number of robberies involving a lone robber, especially when the description of him given by witnesses differed. Yet all had described the words and actions he used as similar. Now apparently it had occurred to the police that it might be the same man and they had connected him with a robbery on a wigmaker’s shop in Mount Pleasant, who had threatened the owner with a gun.
Once upon a time it would not have occurred to Freddie to relate guns and armed robbery to his brother. But he was convinced that the gunman on Easter Sunday had been Bert and that he had disguised himself with a wig made of hair similar to that of Mr Moran. So did this mean that his brother was living in Liverpool and had taken to a life of crime? He thought of Clara dwelling in the same city and felt a stab of anxiety. He told himself that he was being stupid. Liverpool was a big city, much larger than Chester, so what were the odds of Bert meeting Clara? And anyway, Freddie doubted that he would have got a decent enough look at Clara to remember her face, and as long as Bert could not connect her with the Kirks, Morans or Bennetts, she should be safe.
He frowned, wondering if it was worth mentioning the article to Mrs Black. He knew she had business connections in Liverpool and he had a vague memory from years ago of hearing Hanny talking about the medium once hiring a detective to trace Mr Moran. Perhaps he would speak of it when she left the hospital and they were on their way back to Eastham. He wondered how she and Mr Moran were getting on with each other and how long she would keep him waiting.
* * *
Eudora had been directed to the ward where Malcolm lay resting in bed. She had been told by a nurse not only that he already had a visitor, but that she must not excite him because he had been causing something of a disturbance. She wondered about the visitor as she made her way down the ward between the long line of beds. Then she spotted him talking to a pretty adolescent girl in a yellow and green frock with red-gold hair. It was a while since Eudora had set eyes on Tilly Moran, but she was pleased to do so now. It meant the girl had enough spirit to stand up to her sister.
‘My dears, how lovely to see you talking together,’ said Eudora, as she approached. ‘I confess I was wrong when I thought it was best if you never met.’
Tilly gazed at her with interest as she rose to her feet and held out a hand. ‘You’re Mrs Black. Dad said that you would come. Apparently he told the nurses the same but he called you his angel of mercy and one of them apparently knew of your reputation and said that he was a stupid old man.’
Eudora liked the girl’s frankness and shook her hand. ‘You’re not like your sister.’
‘No. Alice and I are very different.’
‘Does Alice know you’re here?’
Tilly smiled. ‘It would only upset her if I told her. Please, have my chair and talk to Dad. It’s time I was going. He wants to go home, by the way.’
‘Then I’ll see that he does as soon as possible.’
Tilly hesitated before saying, ‘Can I visit him there?’
‘If that’s what you wish.’
Tilly nodded and bent over her father and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ she said.
Eudora and Mal watched as she walked away with a bounce in her stride up the long ward. When she reached the entrance she turned and waved to them. Then she disappeared through the doors.
‘She has ma colour hair and eyes but her mother’s pretty face and nature,’ said Mal huskily. ‘I don’t deserve that she should care for me.’
‘Why not, haven’t you suffered enough?’ said Eudora briskly, determined to keep her emotions firmly under control.
‘I need to be punished.’
‘That’s your mother speaking,’ she said sternly. ‘Banish all thought of her and allow Tilly’s unjudgmental spirit to lighten the remains of the darkness that still exists in your mind.’ She paused. ‘I discovered something very interesting when I was up in Scotland. You have a cousin up there who remembers Clara O’Toole’s mother’s family. She said your mother knew them, too. Amazing, isn’t it, how the spirit works?’
Mal rested his head against the pillows and gazed at her with warmth in his eyes. ‘I’m glad yer back. I mightn’t be able to make sense of half what yer say but it’s gud to see ye. Can yer get me out of here?’
* * *
‘Freddie! I presume you brought Mrs Black here?’ asked Tilly, walking over to the black shiny automobile and stroking its bonnet.
‘Of course. You were in the office when I spoke to Kenny about it.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You’re looking nice and summery. I presume neither Alice, Seb or Kenny know you’re here?’
‘Heavens, no.’ She glanced over her shoulder and then laughed. ‘I am feeling a little on edge, though.’
‘Would you like me to give you a lift home?’
She gave him a teasing look. ‘What would Clara think? Or Mrs Black for that matter, if I took you away from your duties?’
‘I think they’d both understand,’ he said soberly.
She gave him a startled look. ‘What do you mean by that? Surely you can’t think Bert might still be hanging around, wanting to get back at the family? It’s daylight, there’s plenty of people around and I’m not a child anymore.’
Freddie got out of the car and opened the passenger door. ‘If you’ve spoken to Mrs Black, I’m sure she’ll expect me to see you safely to your front door.’
‘But aren’t you supposed to wait for her?’
Freddie sighed. ‘Just get in. I don’t want to waste time arguing. Besides, I’ve something to tell you and I want you to pass it on to Seb and Alice.’ He handed the Liverpool Echo over to her. ‘You can read the article on page four while I drive.’
‘What am I supposed to be looking for?’
‘It’s about an armed robber.’
Tilly’s eyes widened as she read the article while he drove through the ancient streets towards the Dee. ‘You think there’s a connection with Bert, don’t you?’
He nodded.
‘OK. I’ll give it to Seb. Is there anything else you want me to tell him?’
‘Clara.’
She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘You really are nice looking,’ she murmured.
‘I’m not for you,’ he said firmly. ‘So save the flattery. We grew up almost like brother and sister. I really like you but that’s all it is, Tilly. That’s why you must tell Seb not to get in touch with Clara. We have to keep our distance, so she doesn’t join those Bert wants to destroy.’
Tilly shivered. ‘You’re cruel and you’re getting to sound as bad as the others. Do you really believe he wants to destroy us?’
Freddie nodded.
After that she had no more to say but sighed heavily several times on the way home. He dropped her off outside the house and waited until she was inside before he drove off.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Have you seen this?’ Alice’s voice sounded odd as she tossed a postcard onto Seb’s lap. ‘It was behind the clock.’
He looked up from the brochure he was reading. ‘I know. I put it there.’
She was surprised. ‘Then you’ve read it?’
‘Of course I’ve read it. It’s addressed to me.’
‘But it must be from your mother. Why didn’t you tell me it had arrived?’
Seb groaned. ‘Alice, I put it behind the clock while I thought what I should do about it.’
‘But why didn’t you mention it to me?’ She switched on a lamp before sitting beside him and picking up the postcard.
‘Because I knew what you’d say – that she must be mad.’
‘I haven’t read it, so what’s she done that would make me say that?’
Before Seb could answer there was the sound of the front door opening and Tilly calling, ‘I’m home.’
‘Where’ve you been, young lady?’ called Alice.
Tilly did not answer, and when she entered the room, she immediately went over to Seb and dropped the Liverpool Echo on his lap. ‘There’s an article on page four that Freddie wants you to read. He also wants you not to get in touch with Clara.’
It was Alice’s turn to groan. ‘I knew it was a big mistake for him and Clara to get involved with each other. She’s going to be hurt.’
‘It’s possible he could be in love with her,’ said Tilly, plucking the postcard from her sister’s fingers and gazing at the picture. ‘This is from New Orleans. Is it from Seb’s ma?’
‘Who else?’ said Alice, reaching up a hand. ‘Give it back to me. I haven’t read it yet.’
‘Hell’s bells! She’s heading for Chicago in search of her first husband, Mr Robbie Bennett,’ said Tilly, emphasising the Bennett. ‘I thought she’d divorced him to marry Seb’s uncle and no longer had anything to do with him.’
Alice frowned. ‘Is that what it says?’
‘She actually does ask after Seb’s arm and the children, as well,’ said Tilly, holding the postcard just out of her sister’s reach. ‘She finishes by saying, Next stop: Chicago. If you need to get in touch with me I’ll be staying at the Morrison Hotel on the corner of Madison Street.’
Alice said, ‘Unless there are two musicians called Robbie Bennett, she’s not going to find him there.’
‘Why not?’ said Tilly, sitting down and picking up the Red Letter magazine from the arm of the sofa. ‘Have you seen what they’re offering in this? A Magic Fortune Card.’
‘Will you two shut up a minute,’ muttered Seb, glancing at them. ‘Have you read this, Tilly?’
‘Yes. I think Freddie believes the armed robber is Bert,’ she said with a grimace. ‘He was talking about Bert just beforehand. He said that Bert deliberately disguised himself as my father, probably hoping to lay the blame for Flora’s kidnap on him.’
‘Which means Bert must have been skulking in the crescent while your father was here,’ said Seb, tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa.
‘Can I see the article?’ asked Alice, stretching out a hand.
‘The first robbery took place at a wigmaker’s shop,’ Tilly continued. ‘Even the police seem to think the robber is using different wigs to disguise himself.’
Alice read the article and then folded the newspaper carefully. ‘I can only say I’m glad it’s happening in Liverpool and not here. Bert’s probably realised we’ll have reported the incident to the police and is steering clear of us for now.’
Tilly seized on her words. ‘You believe he will try and harm us?’
Alice’s throat moved convulsively and then she nodded. ‘It’s the way he works. He likes to play cat and mouse. He’ll draw away and then, when we think we’re safe, he’ll pounce.’
Tilly felt cold all over. ‘Do you think he knows we know he’s alive?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea,’ said Alice in a low voice. ‘We just have to be on our guard and hope the police will catch him.’ She dropped the newspaper on the floor and held up her hand for the postcard. ‘You asked why I think Gabrielle is wasting her time looking for her first husband. It’s because Clara told me that there’s a musician called Robbie Bennett in the Palladium Orchestra who spent time in America. He’s come home to support his widowed sister and her children.’
Seb and Tilly stared at her. ‘It has to be the same man,’ said Seb.
‘I agree,’ said Alice, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘Your ma’s on a wild goose chase. I wonder, when she lands up in Chicago and doesn’t find him there, where will she go next?’
Tilly thought of Donald Pierce and the atlas she had borrowed from the library so she could pinpoint where he lived in the United States. ‘Chicago is a long way from New Orleans,’ she said. ‘It’ll take her a couple of days or more to get there.’
Seb nodded. ‘You’re right.’ He took the postcard from Alice and left the room.
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Alice. ‘I should have kept my mouth shut. Unless his mother leaves that hotel before Seb’s letter can reach her, the next thing we know she’ll be turning up on our d
oorstep.’
‘Or Clara’s,’ said Tilly, tapping her fingers together. ‘At least it’s one way of reuniting Seb’s mother and his granny and keeping Clara in touch with us.’ She decided that perhaps it was time she put pen to paper and let Clara know what might transpire in the coming weeks where her aunt was concerned. Maybe she should also mention the article in the newspaper and about Freddie’s concern for her.
* * *
Clara flicked over a page of The Picture Show magazine. It was an advance copy and had cost her tuppence. To anyone interested in filmmaking it was compulsive reading, having articles such as ‘Husbands and Wives on Film’, ‘My Screen Debut’ and ‘Flickers in Film Land’. It was a fine May day but a strong breeze was keeping the temperature down, so she felt happier indoors until she had to go to work.
‘There’s a couple of letters here,’ said Bernie, shuffling into the kitchen. ‘And for a change they’re not both for you.’
‘Oh!’ Clara shot her a glance. ‘Where’s mine then?’
Bernie threw it over to her and then settled herself in her chair with the one addressed to her on her lap. She peered through her spectacles at the writing as she tore open the envelope. ‘Bloody hell, it’s joined-up writing and there’s a helluva lot of words here,’ she complained.
‘D’you want me to read it to you after I’ve read mine?’ asked Clara, putting her magazine aside. ‘Yours could be from Mrs Black.’
Bernie turned the page over and looked at the signature.
‘Yeah. It says Warm-est re-gar-ds, Eudora Black.’
Clara smiled. ‘I told you so.’
‘All right, clever clogs, tell me if she’s coming or not?’
When the Clouds Go Rolling By Page 31
