by Pam Weaver
She gulped back a sob. ‘You’re so handsome,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe it’s you.’
‘Don’t cry,’ he said softly. ‘It’s all right.’
Grace was aware that Dinah had taken over the making of the tea. She continued to look at John. ‘I should have fought harder … I wanted to do what was best … Norris told me you wouldn’t want for anything.’
‘Shh, shh,’ he said.
They sat at the table. She couldn’t take her eyes from him. Her boy. Her baby, all grown up. Dinah pushed some tea in front of her but John had hold of both her hands and was looking at her. ‘Bonnie has told me so much about you,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
‘I wouldn’t want to hurt your mother,’ Grace said. She let go of his hands to search for a hankie.
‘You won’t,’ he said.
‘She came here yesterday,’ said Grace. ‘She was wonderful.’
‘My mother is an amazing woman and full of surprises.’
Dinah kissed the top of John’s head. ‘I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in an hour.’
Norris had woken up with a headache. His solicitor had told him to keep quiet but once the police confronted him with what Manny had been telling them, he had to make sure they had his side of the story.
‘The kid recognised Manny from a photograph he’d been given at one of the camps,’ he told them. ‘Manny worked with Mengele.’
DS Nyman looked Norris straight in the eye. ‘How come you got involved with this man?’
‘Manny and I met before the war,’ said Norris. ‘Then after the fall of Germany they asked us to help some of the German high command to escape. We used the cold room as a hiding place until we could move them on.’
‘Tell us what happened that day,’ said Nyman.
‘George rang me,’ said Norris. ‘He said he’d seen an ex-Nazi at the station and he didn’t know what to do.’
‘How did he know the man was a Nazi?’
‘George liberated some concentration camp and one of the inmates gave him an old photograph.’
‘The photograph in his case,’ Nyman mused. ‘Why did he tell you and not the police?’
‘Because I was his boss, I suppose.’
‘Go on.’
Norris put his hand on his forehead. ‘As soon as he told me, I rang the station and spoke to Manny. I told him I’d arranged for George to meet me at the old factory. Manny said to keep him there. He told me there was some whisky in the first aid cupboard. He told me to give some to George, get him drunk if I could, but not to have any myself.’
‘And you gave it to him.’
‘I never knew what was in it,’ cried Norris. ‘It wasn’t until Manny got there that he told me he’d laced it with cyanide.’
‘So between the two of you, you got him in the cold room and locked up.’
‘Yes,’ said Norris.
DS Nyman leaned back in his chair. ‘Funny thing is,’ he began, ‘Mr Hart tells me it was you who laced the whisky.’
‘That’s not true,’ Norris wailed.
‘He says he only came to the old factory to beg George not to expose him.’
‘He’s lying.’
Nyman went over everything again and again but Norris never once changed his story.
‘You’ve lost everything, you know,’ Nyman said eventually. ‘We’ve just had a message from your wife. She wanted you to know she’s made a statement and she’s suing you for a divorce.’
Norris Finley’s jaw dropped. ‘Bitch. She can’t do that.’
‘She just has, sunshine. And it seems like she and her friend Grace Rogers can’t tell us enough about what you’ve been up to.’ He began counting them out on his fingers. ‘There’s the question of an assault the Christmas before last, a young girl who committed suicide, and something to do with falsifying official documents. More recently, there’s a case of driving without due care and attention and leaving the scene of an accident. Oh, and then there’s a question mark over Des Peterson’s conviction for wife battery.’ He chuckled. ‘My, my, who knows what else they’ll find under that particular stone?’
Norris was white. ‘There’s another one,’ he said as Nyman called for him to be sent to his cell.
‘Another what?’
‘Cyanide pill. He dropped it.’
Nyman stared at him. ‘Who dropped it, and where?’
Norris smiled maliciously and tapped the side of his nose. ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out.’
After another hour of questioning, DS Nyman, himself exhausted, let him go back to the cells. ‘Do you think he’s telling the truth?’ he asked his colleague as they both headed for home that night.
‘Nah,’ said the man. ‘He’s just trying to get his own back, that’s all.’
‘I think I might mention it to Manny in the morning,’ said Nyman. ‘If there’s a cyanide pill running around, he’d be more likely to know where it is.’
And now that it was morning, Norris sat up and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He supposed he’d better tell them about the pill. He didn’t want another death on his conscience.
The cover over the cell door window slid back noisily and a face peered at him. Norris heard the bolts sliding back and a couple of seconds later a policeman brought in some breakfast. A couple of fried eggs, hard looking, and a rasher of bacon. He slopped an enamel mug of tea onto the table in the corner.
‘Tidy yourself up, Finley,’ he growled. ‘They’ll be taking you to the magistrates’ court in an hour.’
‘But I’m innocent,’ Norris cried helplessly.
‘Save it for the judge,’ said the copper. ‘Whatever happened in that storeroom, you’ll hang along with Hart.’
He went out, slamming the door behind him. Norris stared at the wood for a second or two, then he leapt up and letting out a tremendous roar he kicked it. This was all because of that bloody Grace Follett’s daughter.
‘I’ll get you for this, bitch,’ he yelled.
He sat back down on the bed and put his head in his hands. Presently he sat back up with a smile. Ah yes, there was still one way he could exact his revenge.
Forty
Grace thought she had never seen anything more beautiful as the train came into view. She’d told Archie what was happening on her way past the shop. He was washing the windows.
‘I’m really, really pleased for you, Gracie,’ he’d smiled. ‘You’ve waited a long time. Enjoy your day.’
Rita squeezed her mother’s hand tightly. She had come out of hospital the day before and after a day of complete rest at home, she was fully recovered from her ordeal. Bob was back at work, but Rita had been given the rest of the week off.
Grace had hardly slept a wink last night. Her daughter and her granddaughter were coming home. There was a new ticket collector at the barrier, Harry Dawson, Elsie’s husband and the father of Mo and Bob. Grace had put in a good word for him when Manny was arrested. He smiled and clipped their platform tickets. ‘Good luck, darlin’,’ he said.
Grace scanned the carriages for her first sight of them. The train juddered to a halt and she heard the engine letting off steam. People began to open the doors and climb out: a man in a grey suit, a woman with a shopping basket, somebody in painting overalls. Where were they? Grace turned around frantically.
At the far end of the platform she saw a man getting out of the first-class carriage. She recognised John at once. He held his hand out and a woman took it. She climbed onto the platform and they both reached back into the carriage. When John closed the door, Grace could see that the woman was Bonnie. She was holding a little girl with golden curls.
‘Bonnie!’ Almost three years after her last cry, Grace shouted at the top of her voice and began running. Her comb fell out of her hair and it tumbled untidily around her shoulders but she didn’t care what she looked like. Her daughter, her beloved Bonnie was home at last. Bonnie put the chi
ld down and, keeping hold of the little girl’s hand, they began to run too. Within ten yards of each other, they both stopped and looked at each other. Confused, Shirley looked up at her mother.
‘Is this my granny?’ She was such a little sweetie Grace fell in love with her immediately.
‘Yes, darling,’ said Bonnie, never once taking her eyes from her mother. ‘Oh Mum, I’m so glad to be back.’
Then Grace opened her arms wide and her two daughters and her grandchild came to them, then John put his all-encompassing arms around them all.
There was so much laughter in the house, Grace could hardly believe it. They had caught up with just about everything. Bonnie’s plans with George for South Africa, Norris’s arrest, Manny Hart turning out to be a German and an escaped Nazi to boot, Rita and her forthcoming divorce, John and Archie Warren. By lunchtime, they’d all talked until their jaws ached and the teapot ran dry.
Shirley loved all the attention she was getting as she moved from lap to lap. The old Christmas toys were a bit tired but she found plenty in the box to keep her amused. Grace handed Bonnie the locket. ‘You dropped it the day you went to the factory,’ she reminded her when she saw Bonnie’s puzzled expression.
Bonnie shook her head. ‘That’s not mine,’ she said. ‘The one George gave me had a horseshoe shape.’
‘Then who does this belong to?’ asked Grace.
Bonnie shrugged. Shirley took it from her and began to chew the heart shape.
Rita gave her mother a hug. ‘One thing I don’t understand, Mum,’ she said quietly in her mother’s ear. ‘I’m not judging you but how could you bring yourself to go with Norris Finley?’
‘I already told you,’ said Grace, wishing she could put this shameful thing behind her once and for all.
‘No,’ said Rita. ‘I meant the first time, when you had John.’
Grace frowned for a second and then began to laugh. ‘No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,’ she said. ‘I was in love with Max Finley.’
‘Max?’ cried Bonnie.
‘Norris isn’t John’s real father,’ said Grace. ‘His brother, Max, was killed in a car crash before we could get married.’ She turned and smiled at Bonnie. ‘So you see, darling, history repeats itself.’
‘So Norris adopted his brother’s child?’ said Rita.
Grace nodded and smiled wistfully. ‘Only he pretended John was his own flesh and blood.’
‘Did you love Max very much, Mum?’
John had gone to the other side of the room. Grace nodded and, making sure John was out of earshot, whispered, ‘I certainly did, but I think I loved your father more.’
They could hear someone outside calling her name. ‘Grace, Gracie …’
‘Ahhh,’ Rita teased. ‘It’s Archie.’ She opened the door and they saw Archie running up the road. ‘Get the locket,’ he was shouting breathlessly. ‘Get the locket.’
‘What locket?’ said Bonnie.
‘He must mean the one you gave Shirley.’
Archie arrived at the door with no breath left. He bent over and clasped his knees. ‘Oh God, where is it?’
‘Where’s the fire more like?’ Rita joked.
‘Where’s the locket you took from Norris?’
‘It’s all right,’ said Grace. ‘It wasn’t Bonnie’s after all. Shirley’s playing with it.’
‘My God, Grace,’ shouted Archie. ‘They’ve just rung me from the police station. It’s got a bloody cyanide pill inside it!’
Everyone fell over themselves to get hold of Shirley and take the locket away from her. Bewildered she began to cry when her mother snatched her up in her arms. Bonnie pushed her finger into her reluctant child’s mouth. ‘Open your mouth, darling. Let Mummy see.’
‘Where is it?’ Grace was shouting.
Rita was on her hands and knees on the floor. ‘Here it is.’ She held it up but the sight of it gave nobody relief. The heart shape was wide open and there was no sign of the pill.
Forty-One
April 21st 1951 was a glorious day. After all the sadness and loss the family had suffered, the sun was shining and although there was a light breeze, already it felt as if the halcyon days of summer were on the way.
The congregation at St Matthews chatted among themselves as they waited for the bride to appear. At the front of the church, the groom fidgeted nervously. They were lucky that they’d been allowed a church wedding; Rita had been granted a decree absolute because her first marriage had never been consummated and therefore, in the eyes of the church, she had never been married in the first place.
Surprisingly, although she was angry with Emilio for using her to gain social respectability and a home in the UK, Rita bore him no real animosity. She only felt a sadness that he and Jeremy had suffered so much at the hands of society. They had nowhere to go to be together. Rita didn’t like what they did but right now, they were both in prison again. They’d been caught by an off-duty policeman in the gents’ toilets by the pier. Jeremy had been dismissed from the army, and Salvatore and Liliana had sold the shop and moved away without leaving a forwarding address.
The organist struck up the music and the mother of the bride looked nervously over her shoulder. The sight of her second daughter on the arm of her first-born son brought an immediate tear to her eye. John looked so handsome and Rita was a vision of loveliness in a beautiful dress they’d all clubbed together and bought from Hubbard’s.
Grace remembered what a tower of strength John had been to her and to Bonnie that dreadful day when Shirley opened the locket and got the cyanide pill. They discovered later that Norris knew about it but had kept quiet in the hope that some harm might befall Grace or her family. Luckily for them, Manny had come clean to DS Nyman the day Bonnie came home.
‘I hung on to it in case I got caught,’ Manny told him. ‘I thought I’d sooner die by my own hand than the hangman’s noose.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘I dropped it somewhere,’ said Manny.
‘What did it look like?’
‘Heart shaped, on a silver chain,’ said Manny. ‘Why, have you seen it?’
DS Nyman did some quick thinking. He already knew about the watch Norris had accused Kaye Wilcox of stealing. Could Grace or Bonnie Rogers have been blackmailed in the same way? He had risked a telephone call to Archie, and Archie remembered Grace saying she was looking for Bonnie’s locket. It didn’t take long to put two and two together and while Nyman got the police cars out, Archie had dropped the phone and run up the street.
They’d got Shirley to hospital in double-quick time and faced an anxious wait until Nyman’s officers did a fingertip search in the room and found the pill, intact, where it had rolled under the sideboard. It had come to rest beside a newly created mouse hole. When they pulled it into the light, it had what looked like teeth marks on it. A policeman got on his bicycle and pedalled down to the police box by the station to relay a message to the hospital. When he got back to the cottage, to everyone’s relief, the only casualty was a dead mouse just inside the hole.
Now Grace could see Mo Dawson, Bob’s sister, followed by Bonnie as matron of honour holding hands with Shirley as a posy girl. They were all dressed in the same pretty pink taffeta bridesmaids’ dresses she’d spent hours making. Grace felt her heart swell with joy. What more could a woman want?
A tear dropped off the end of her nose and Archie pushed a handkerchief in her hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Warren,’ she said softly.
‘You’re welcome, Mrs Warren,’ he smiled.
The congregation rose as one to its feet and the wedding began.
Grace’s mind went back to the events of the past year. Norris had been sent to prison and although he would be there for a very long time, he’d avoided the hangman’s noose. Manny Hart hadn’t been so lucky. Oswald had lived to see his son’s murderer pay the ultimate price but Mrs Matthews hadn’t. Oswald was just across the aisle from Grace watching his little granddaughter, the light of his life, as she walked pr
oudly beside her mother.
Before the trial began, Archie had wheeled Michael’s chair back to her house and then sat her in it while he got down on one knee to propose. Grace couldn’t believe it. She’d argued that she wasn’t a good woman, that her reputation was in tatters, but he’d stopped her mouth with kisses.
Using the money old man Finley had left her, they’d bought a house in Findon and married in the autumn. Grace had questioned whether or not she was entitled to it because she had never actually raised John, but in the end she had been persuaded to take it. Bonnie had gone back to finish her NNEB and was now a staff nursery nurse. Mrs Finley, whose company had bought Granny Chamberlain’s cottage from Dinah, was still busy buying up property in Worthing and nobody minded having her as a landlord. She asked for fair rents, everybody had a rent book and she modernised all her properties. John and Dinah were well set up for their future as well. They had married last year and Dinah was currently sitting in a position that maximised the chances of everyone seeing her gently rounded stomach. Grace was going to be a grandmother again before the year was out.
As Rita reached Bob at the front of the church, Mrs Dawson turned around and looked at Grace. Both women had been so sure Bob and Rita belonged together, they couldn’t resist a mutual grin of triumph.
As they sang the first hymn, Archie whispered, ‘Happy?’
Grace nodded vigorously and sang with great gusto.
The bride was making her responses now and as she did so in clear ringing tones, Grace looked up at Archie and mouthed the words they had spoken to each other just a few short months ago:
For better, for worse. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health …
