Better Days Will Come

by Pam Weaver

  ‘These gentlemen are from the police,’ said Norris rather unnecessarily. ‘They’d like to ask you a few questions. You see, a body …’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Finley,’ one of the men interrupted. ‘We’ll take it from here.’

  Grace swayed. A body? Whose body? It couldn’t possibly be Bonnie. She would have felt it if Bonnie was dead. She’d know. She was her mother.

  ‘I’m Detective Inspector Chester and this is Detective Constable Nyman. Can you tell me your movements on Wednesday 12th November last year?’

  How could she forget that day? That was the day Bonnie had left home. Every minute of that day was etched into her memory and would remain there until the day she died. Shakily but clearly, Grace told them her movements ending with, ‘When I got to the station, it was too late.’

  ‘Did you see anyone at the station?’ asked DI Chester.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Was there anyone else there? Someone you knew?’

  Grace frowned. ‘Manny Hart was on the gate,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t let me go on the platform without a platform ticket even though I begged and begged him.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  Puzzled, Grace looked from one to the other. ‘Peggy Jones. She gave me the penny for the machine.’

  ‘I see,’ said the DI.

  Norris’s face became stricken. ‘Now hang on a minute …’ he began.

  ‘Have you found my Bonnie?’ said Grace.

  ‘This isn’t about Bonnie,’ snapped Norris. ‘What they want is …’

  ‘It’s plain that this lady saw no one else on the platform that day, Mr Finley,’ interrupted the DI again. ‘Don’t go putting words into her mouth.’

  ‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous!’ said Norris, rising to his feet as he became heated.

  ‘There was nobody else on that platform!’ said Grace loudly. She hated the raised voices and she was only interested in onething. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. I watched the train leave and I was so upset Mr Finley took me home.’

  Norris smiled triumphantly and sat back into his chair. ‘See?’

  ‘So Mr Finley was on the platform?’ said the inspector.

  ‘Yes!’ cried Grace. ‘I’ve just said so. He took me home. Now please, will someone tell me what this is all about?’

  ‘The police have found the body of a young man in the old factory,’ said Norris letting out a hollow laugh. ‘I think I may have been in the frame for his murder if you hadn’t said I was there.’

  ‘Who said anything about murder?’ said the inspector tetchily.

  Norris looked alarmed and gulped. ‘Well, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t something serious, and taking into consideration what you’ve just told me about the circumstances, what else could it be?’ He paused for effect. ‘Like I said,’ he went on, ‘I was returning from Southampton. In fact, I do believe I bought the evening paper while I was down there. Yes, yes, I did. In fact, I used it to line the drawers over there.’

  Norris went to the office desk and pulled the drawer open. He emptied it and pulled the newspaper lining onto the table. ‘There you are,’ he said triumphantly. ‘Southampton Evening Standard, dated 12th November.’

  Grace had her mind on other things. She felt terrible but she was glad. Glad the police had come about a young man. Glad it was nothing to do with Bonnie.

  The policemen put on their trilby hats and made to leave. ‘We may need to ask some of your other employees a few questions,’ said the inspector. ‘We need to establish the victim’s movements on the last day.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ said Norris, rising from his chair to see them to the door, ‘I left him to lock up the old factory and I never saw him again.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said the inspector.

  ‘Who was he?’ said Grace when they’d gone.

  ‘George Matthews,’ said Norris.

  Grace put her fingers to her lips and gasped. ‘George? What George Matthews, the machine operator? But he always seemed nice enough. Why would anyone want to harm him?’

  ‘There were hidden depths to that young man,’ said Norris mysteriously.

  Grace turned to go.

  ‘In fact,’ said Norris. ‘I get the feeling he was sweet on your daughter.’

  ‘What?’ Grace’s head was spinning. Was this the young man Bonnie had a crush on?

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Norris. ‘I should have warned you but what with the move and everything … He wanted me to invest in some dodgy deal but I was having none of it. I have no time for that sort of thing.’ He shuffled some papers on the desk. ‘Anyway, you’d better get back to work.’

  Grace frowned. ‘How do you know he was interested in Bonnie? Where did they find him?’

  ‘He was in the cold room,’ said Norris matter of factly. ‘There’s no handle on the inside so if it slammed shut after him, he wouldn’t have been able to get out. The thing was still switched on so if he didn’t die of thirst, it must have been the cold.’

  ‘But if he was accidentally shut in,’ said Grace, ‘why were you talking about murder? And what was all that stuff about the evening paper? I saw Manny give it to you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Norris curtly, ‘but I have to get on. I’ll talk to you later.’

  Reluctantly Grace made no further comment as she left and closed the door quietly. Poor man. What an awful thing to happen. When she got back to her position, she told the girls around the table. They were all as deeply shocked as she was.

  ‘I liked George,’ said Snowy. ‘Bit of a dreamer but a nice man.’

  ‘Did he have a girlfriend?’ Grace tried to make her voice sound casual, but her heart was thumping in her chest. The other girls shook their heads or shrugged. Nobody knew for sure.

  As she worked, Grace went over and over what had been said until her head hurt. Had Bonnie been walking out with that man? Did Bonnie know something about George’s death? She’d certainly left in a great hurry. Tears pricked at Grace’s eyes. Time and again, she shook the terrible thoughts away but they kept coming back. There was no way her Bonnie could be involved, was there? One thing was crystal clear. She had to keep this from Rita.

  The day seemed endless. At one point, Norris left the factory in his car.

  ‘Now where’s he going?’ Grace whispered for Snowy’s hearing only. Snowy shrugged but a bit later on the message came back down the assembly line.

  ‘The police wanted him back at the old factory.’

  The boss was gone for about an hour and when he came back he glanced over at Grace. That pushed her anxiety back up again.

  As they packed up to go home, Norris leaned over the balustrade and called down curtly. ‘Mrs Rogers, a word.’

  Grace glanced up at him anxiously. What now? And why now? Why hadn’t he called her up earlier, as soon as he got back from the old factory? She shot a fear-filled look at Snowy.

  ‘Go on, love,’ said Snowy. ‘I’ll wait for you.’ It was an unwritten code. Snowy was telling her: whatever happens I’ll be here for you.

  The factory was almost empty as Grace climbed the wrought iron staircase once more. She went into the office and Norris made to close the door. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Snow,’ he called down. ‘You can go.’

  ‘We always walk together, sir,’ said Snowy firmly. ‘I’m happy to wait for her.’

  Norris closed the door and Grace spotted an almost imperceptible twitch of irritation on his face as he walked around her and sat at his desk. He stared down as if deep in thought.

  ‘Well?’ said Grace. ‘What is it?’ Her tone was familiar rather than respectful. After his suggestion the day he whisked her off to Durrington in his car, she was wary of him. She didn’t want to be alone with him any longer than was necessary.

  Norris opened the drawer of his desk and took out a brown envelope. ‘I hate doing this to you,’ he said, keeping his eyes down, ‘but I have to.’

  He tipped the contents onto the desk and Grace frow
ned. A heart-shaped locket spilled onto the inkstand.

  ‘I don’t want any presents,’ she said tetchily.

  ‘I’m not giving it to you,’ he scoffed. ‘Don’t you recognise it? It’s your daughter’s.’

  Grace gasped in shocked surprise. She made a grab for it but Norris snatched it up again.

  ‘How do you know it’s hers? I never saw her wearing it.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t. It was a secret present … from George. He once asked me which was the best jeweller in town and when he’d bought it, he showed it to me.’

  Her heart was pounding so hard, Grace thought for a minute it was going to leave her chest altogether. ‘Prove it.’

  He reached into the drawer and took out a piece of striped paper. Grace’s heart nearly stopped. She recognised it at once. It had been the paper wrapped around the Wibley’s box, the one Bonnie had had from her admirer.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ Now she couldn’t take her eyes off the delicate little chain wound around his big sausage fingers. The heart-shaped locket swung against the back of his hand. ‘Where did you find it?’ she asked again.

  That same muscle twitched involuntarily as a slow smile played on his lips. ‘In the same place the police found the body.’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘What? You don’t think …’

  He nodded slowly. Angry tears sprang into Grace’s eyes. ‘If you think my daughter had anything to do with that poor man’s death …’

  Norris shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, Grace,’ he said casually. ‘But I do think the police might be very interested if I told them about it.’

  Grace frowned as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. ‘You mean the police don’t know you’ve got it?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Because I picked it up from the floor the day we closed the old factory,’ he said. ‘I’ve only just put two and two together. Of course, had I known poor George was still on the premises … locked up in the cold room, I might have saved him.’

  ‘I don’t understand. You told the police you left him to lock up.’

  Norris shifted some papers on the table. ‘Obviously, someone else went there to meet George.’

  Grace covered her mouth with her hand. Was this the reason why Bonnie left in such a hurry? Had she discovered the body too? What was she doing in the factory in the first place?

  Grace lowered herself into the chair on the other side of his desk. ‘No, it couldn’t have been Bonnie. She would have been at work.’

  ‘It was Wednesday, half day closing,’ he said. He put the little locket and chain back into the brown envelope and sealed it down.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Grace, expecting him to hand it to her. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am because of this.’

  ‘I’m sure you are.’ He stood up and to her horror he turned towards the safe, opened the door, put the envelope inside and slammed it shut.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Grace leapt to her feet and rushed to his side, but the click of the combination lock as he turned it was already filling the room.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way of showing me just how grateful you are, Grace,’ he leered. ‘Who knows, you might even find it quite pleasant.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting …’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything.’ He smiled again. ‘But I’m telling you that locket goes to the police at the end of the month unless you have a change of heart.’

  She glared at him in disgust. ‘You want me to sell my body for a locket?’

  ‘Perish the thought, my dear,’ he purred. ‘All I ask is a few hours of your company and as a reward I’ll make sure your daughter isn’t tried for murder.’

  Grace swayed and he caught hold of her arm. Their eyes met and he began to lean his head towards her lips. Gathering every ounce of strength she could muster, Grace pushed him away. ‘And I’m telling you,’ she spat, ‘that hell will freeze over before I let you touch me, Norris Finley.’

  He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s up to you, my dear.’

  She made a dash for the door and pulled it open.

  ‘End of the month,’ he repeated.

  Without a backward glance, Grace swept out and slammed the door.

  Alone in the office, Norris listened to her footsteps as they raced down the metal steps and chuckled to himself. He loved the thrill of the chase and he’d waited a long time for this one. She’d flounced off on her high horse now but give her a few days and she’d come crawling back. He wouldn’t give her the locket of course. Not until he’d had his fill of her, and who knew how long that might take?

  Snowy didn’t ask questions but they stood between them as big as houses as the two of them walked home. Grace was so deep in thought she hardly noticed when they’d reached Snowy’s place.

  ‘Is that man trying to get into your knickers?’

  Grace was jolted back into the here and now by her friend’s bluntness. She nodded dully.

  ‘Don’t let him, Grace,’ said Snowy. ‘He’s tried that on with a few others, the creepy bastard. I don’t know what it is about him but he always leaves them wrecked.’

  They walked on and then Snowy said, ‘I reckon that’s what happened to poor Kaye.’

  Grace frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Sorry, I thought you knew,’ Snowy sighed. ‘She took the bus to Beachy Head and walked over the top.’

  Grace stopped walking. ‘What?’

  ‘St George’s Day.’

  Grace was appalled. She had thought Kaye looked worried about something ever since Christmas. How could she have let so much time go by without even asking her if she could help? ‘What made her do it?’ she asked faintly.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Snowy, ‘but that business with the watch … there was something very fishy about it.’

  ‘And you think it had something to do with Norris?’

  ‘I’m damned sure of it,’ said Snowy. ‘I just can’t work it out, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘Whatever he’s holding over you, Grace, don’t get involved with him.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Grace defiantly. ‘This is one woman he’s not getting into bed.’

  But even as she spoke, her words had a hollow ring.

  Sixteen

  ‘Miss Rogers will show you into a cubicle, Madam.’ Miss Bridewell’s bony fingers dug into Rita’s back as she pushed her towards their client, a matronly woman still wearing her winter wardrobe.

  At this time of year in the fashion department, they were rushed off their feet. Rita hardly had time to breathe. If she wasn’t making a customer comfortable in the cubicles, she was re-hanging the garments or helping the mannequins dress in the outfits Miss Bridewell deemed right for the day. Being the general dogsbody, Rita was also responsible for arranging for a tea tray to be on hand for the wealthier customers. The pettiness of it all got to her sometimes but when they were busy she quite enjoyed herself.

  Rita wasn’t supposed to talk to the customers but she did. She was careful not to do it when Miss Bridewell was within earshot but there were times when she voiced her opinion. Most customers were grateful but occasionally Rita’s honesty got her into trouble.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked a particularly difficult-to-please customer.

  ‘Perfect,’ gushed Miss Bridewell.

  The woman twirled this way and that, unable to make up her mind.

  ‘The dress suits you perfectly, Madam,’ Rita smiled conspiratorially when the manageress had moved onto another customer, ‘but perhaps you are unsure about the colour? Perhaps the pink is a little too pale for your complexion?’

  ‘I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,’ Miss Bridewell hissed when the customer left empty-handed. ‘She was on the verge of buying that.’

  ‘But she looked awful,’ Rita protested. ‘It didn’t suit her one bit.’

  ‘Since when did you become such an expert?’ Miss Bridewell spat. ‘I’ll
thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, Miss Rogers.’ And spotting another customer she slid away with her best smile. ‘Can I help you, Madam?’

  ‘Treading on the toes of the Almighty again,’ Dinah grinned. ‘That was a Rembrandt dress. One of our most expensive.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ said Rita defiantly. ‘It didn’t suit her at all.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Dinah chuckled.

  Rita liked Dinah. She understood why her sister had been such good friends with her. She was older than Rita, more Bonnie’s age than her own. Dinah had a wonderful figure that didn’t need a foundation garment but she wasn’t a bit stuck up about it. Rita was sure if Dinah wore a brown paper bag she’d look good in it.

  ‘I’m going off early today,’ Dinah said, ‘so only give me a couple of dresses to model. It’s the Worthing Musical Comedy show tonight at the Pavilion.’ Rita brought her a floral day dress from the rail and helped her with the buttons. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘I’ve never been to a show,’ said Rita shaking her head.

  ‘Then you must,’ cried Dinah. ‘For the first time since the war, we’ve got two shows this year. This one’s called No, No, Nanette.’

  Rita smiled. She didn’t make any further comment. Tickets would be expensive and she didn’t have that much saved. She added a small red belt to Dinah’s tiny waist and selected some white gloves to wear with her outfit.

  ‘You simply must come,’ Dinah insisted. ‘Tell you what, I’ll leave a couple of complimentary tickets at the box office for tonight’s performance.’

  Rita’s eyes sparkled. ‘Really?’

  ‘The show starts at 7.30pm so be there by 7.15pm. Just say my name and they’ll give them to you.’ She looked into the mirror and fluffed up her hair. ‘You’ll love it.’

  Miss Bridewell was scowling on the other side of the curtain when they pulled it back. ‘Come along, Miss Chamberlain,’ Miss Bridewell said tetchily. ‘We haven’t got all day.’

  ‘I just need a matching hat,’ said Dinah cheerfully.