by Cathy Sharp
‘What’s wrong, Sam?’ Mary Ellen asked.
‘It’s nothing you can help with, Mary Ellen,’ Sam said and broke off as someone walked in behind her. His mouth thinned and he looked angry. ‘You’d better go. I’ve got some business to take care of …’
Billy and Mary Ellen looked at the man who’d walked in and then at each other, because it was Stevie Baker and they wondered what business he could possibly have with Sam.
‘What yer, Billy,’ Stevie said. ‘Just leavin’, were yer – only me and Sam have got private business …’
‘You need any help, Sam?’ Billy asked, lingering because he sensed things weren’t right. ‘If you want to stop the pilferin’, why don’t you put some mirrors up so you can see behind the rails? I’ll come and help yer one evenin’ if you like …’
Sam’s face split in a smile of pleasure. ‘You’re a clever lad, Billy. I’ll do as you’ve suggested. We’ll have a stock take, Mary Ellen and I’ll get some mirrors up – and I’ll move the rails round – and now you two can get off. I’m going to stop here and sort things out a bit …’
‘We could help if you want?’ Mary Ellen offered and he shook his head.
‘No, you’ve done extra today as it is. Get off, both of you. I know you don’t get much time together – and I want to talk to this person in private.’
Again, Billy sensed something in Sam’s manner. He was upset and angry for some reason. He took Mary Ellen’s arm and steered her out of the showroom into the sewing room, closing the door behind them, but the sound of raised voices reached them.
‘I’m not going to pay,’ Sam was shouting angrily. ‘If I gave in to you I might as well shut up shop – so you can run back to your boss and tell him to keep his fingers out of my business …’
Stevie replied in a quiet voice they couldn’t hear properly but Mary Ellen thought he sounded menacing.
‘Do you think Sam is all right?’ she asked, looking anxious.
‘He can handle himself,’ Billy said. ‘I wouldn’t trust Stevie as far as I could throw him, but I don’t think he could knock Sam down – he’ll be all right, and he didn’t want us there …’
‘All right, I’ll get my coat,’ she said. ‘But I don’t like that friend of yours, Billy.’
‘He ain’t a friend, not really,’ Billy said. ‘Somethin’ is goin’ on, I know that – but unless Sam wants to tell us we can’t help him sort it out …’
Billy was thoughtful as he walked Mary Ellen home. He hoped he was mistaken, but it looked to him as if Sam was being threatened into paying protection money. It would be the reason behind the pilfering and if he refused to pay, that would only be the start of his problems … and Billy’s, because he’d heard Stevie use a name and if he’d heard correctly that meant he too was in trouble. He remembered the market trader who’d told him he was wet behind the ears and wondered. Yet the police had treated Mr Connolly with respect …
Shaking his head, Billy dismissed his suspicions, because if his new boss was mixed up in a protection racket it probably meant that the rents and other money Billy had been collecting were really payments extorted from the market traders by force. And that made Billy feel sick to his guts …
CHAPTER 15
‘Ah, Wendy,’ Beatrice said as she entered the sick room. ‘I’m glad I caught you before you left. Nancy told me that you’ve had three cases of chicken pox today. Did you have the doctor see them to make sure?’
‘Yes, Sister Beatrice,’ Wendy confirmed. ‘I came to your office but Tilly told me you’d gone to the monthly Board meeting so I rang the doctor and he came out as soon as he could. Doctor Symonds confirmed that they are the latest victims. Apparently, there is quite an epidemic at the school the boys go to.’
‘Exactly who has gone down with it?’
‘Alfie Jones, his brother Freddie and Peter Jackson …’
‘Ah yes, they are all in the same dorm,’ Sister Beatrice said. ‘Hopefully, we may contain it to those three, but let me know immediately if you get a fresh case please.’
‘Yes, of course, Sister.’
‘You have them in the isolation ward – and you gown up when you enter?’ Beatrice looked round and saw that the only occupant of the sick ward was a girl called Margaret, who had recently suffered a nasty bout of tonsillitis and was almost recovered. ‘Of course you couldn’t put them in with Margaret. She is almost ready to return to the dorm I think?’
‘I thought tomorrow,’ Wendy said. ‘I would’ve let her go this afternoon but she had a headache and I thought it better to keep her one more night to be sure. We don’t want her to get the chicken pox.’
‘No. I’ll gown up and take a look at our sufferers,’ Beatrice said and went to the cupboard for the necessary aprons and gloves, before going through to the isolation ward where the three sick boys were feeling very sorry for themselves.
After supplying them with cool drinks, taking their temperatures and observing them for a moment, she discarded her soiled apron and gloves. The last thing they needed was for the disease to spread to other children at the home, because many of the children here were the ones who needed more individual care before being sent on and they were the vulnerable ones, the children who might be at risk.
Satisfied that they were not particularly at risk at the moment, Beatrice returned to her office and sat down at her desk. She was about to pour herself a small sherry when someone knocked at the door and then Nancy walked in carrying a tray of tea and a plate of biscuits.
‘How thoughtful of you, Nancy,’ Beatrice said. ‘Those biscuits look tempting – did you make them yourself?’
‘Yes, I did,’ Nancy admitted and laughed. ‘Muriel was so busy she didn’t have time to do much baking and I’d caught up with all my chores so I offered to do them. There are almond shortbread and some coconut ones too … I remembered you liked coconut …’
‘It’s such a treat to have biscuits like these instead of those things out of a packet,’ Beatrice said. ‘For years we had to be grateful for whatever we could find. It’s such a luxury now that the rationing is over …’
‘Yes, very much so. I always take Terry a big bag of sweets when I visit him.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ Beatrice nodded, about to say more when someone knocked at the door.
‘I’d better go,’ Nancy said. ‘I’ll fetch the tray later.’
‘Yes, thank you – Come in …’
She rose uncertainly to her feet as the door opened and a man entered. To her knowledge she’d never seen him before, and the suit he was wearing, while not exactly in rags, had certainly seen better days.
‘Shall I stay, Sister?’ Nancy asked, looking shocked.
Beatrice studied her visitor for a moment and then shook her head. ‘I don’t think this gentleman means me any harm, Nancy. You may leave.’
Nancy picked up her tray and went out, looking doubtfully at the stranger as he opened the door for her to exit.
‘To what do I owe this visit, sir?’ Beatrice asked as he returned to stand in front of her desk.
‘I came for a special reason, Sister Beatrice,’ he said in a voice she recognised as cultured. Despite his appearance this man had been well educated. ‘I mean no harm to you or anyone in this building …’
‘Indeed?’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘Perhaps you will tell me your purpose in coming here at this hour?’
‘I work all day,’ he replied. ‘I know you feel I’ve imposed by coming here without an invitation, but I couldn’t be sure you would see me if I tried to make an appointment.’
‘It is highly irregular. I’m not sure how you got in.’
‘One of your children opened the door and let me enter when I rang the bell – and he kindly told me where your office could be found.’
‘Did he now?’ She fixed him with a hard stare. ‘Perhaps you could tell me what you intend? I am rather busy.’
‘And you wish me gone,’ he said and smiled. ‘I’ve come on behalf of a young fr
iend of mine – Archie Miller. He wants to know where his sister has been taken so that he can visit her. I suppose you do know where she is?’
‘I have managed to discover her whereabouts,’ Beatrice frowned. ‘If you know where Archie is, please ask him to come here to me. I need to see him and to know he is safe …’
‘I assure you he is perfectly safe now, although he wasn’t when I found him. I’m sorry, but I fear Archie doesn’t trust you, Sister. He feels you betrayed him and if he knew I’d come here this evening he would think that was my intention too …’
‘Who are you? What have you done with Archie? If you’ve harmed him … have him locked in somewhere for your own wicked purposes …’
‘You wrong me, Sister. I found Archie on the streets and saved him from the kind of thing you suspect. I assure you that he has nothing to fear from me. My intention is to help him …’
‘Then bring him here. I will do what I can to secure visiting rights, but June’s foster parents may refuse if they think he would be a bad influence.’
‘Will you tell me where the child has been taken?’
‘I am not at liberty to give privileged information to someone I don’t know …’ Her eyes went over him, conveying her disapproval in a way she stopped short of speaking.
‘Someone like me, I think you meant to say,’ he spoke calmly with a smile on his lips. ‘Well, you have the right to think it, Sister, though you are wrong. My appearance is not what it once was, but my integrity remains and if you were willing to trust me I might be able to help both Archie and you – if, as you claim, you did not approve of the way the child was taken into custody without your knowledge or consent …’
‘And who are you to make such claims? How do you know so much?’
‘I am no one,’ he smiled. ‘Once I was someone you would have approved of, Sister, but misfortune brought me to the place I stand now. Will you not trust in my intentions, if not my person?’
Beatrice hesitated; there was something about him that seemed to say he might be trusted, but she could not go by her instincts in such a case. Archie was a vulnerable child and should be in her care.
‘I cannot give you the information you seek,’ she said. ‘Even if I did trust you, it would be highly improper for me to tell you anything about the child’s foster parents. I will ask you again to bring the boy to me and leave him in my hands. I shall do all that I can to reunite the children …’
‘I fear Archie would run away again and then he would be vulnerable for he would no longer trust me,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, Sister. I should not have presumed on your time or your good nature …’
Beatrice watched in frustration as he turned and walked to the door. ‘I don’t even know your name or what you do,’ she protested. ‘How can you expect me to trust you when you haven’t even told me …?’ She was talking to herself as the door closed behind him.
Sitting down sharply, Beatrice’s hands trembled as she reached for the teapot and poured the golden liquid into a cup. She felt sick and shaken and filled with self-doubt. The man had come to her and despite his appearance she believed he was honest and to be trusted, so why hadn’t she? She wished she’d acted or spoken differently, but what else could she have done? The information he’d asked for was privileged and she did not have the authority to release it to a man she’d never seen before. Yet she had the feeling that she’d missed an opportunity to help Archie and make sure of his safety. She should have found a way to negotiate with the man … a man she sensed had not always been a man of the streets, but someone she might have looked up to.
Getting to her feet, she left her office and on the spur of the moment went to the head of the stairs, but the front door had just closed behind him, and even if she ran after him and caught him, what could she say that would make him see things her way?
Returning to her office, Beatrice went to her metal filing cabinet, unlocked it and took out the details she had concerning the Baileys’ fostering of June Miller. She read them through, frowning as her sense of unease increased. Something about these people worried her, but she couldn’t quite place it – had she seen their photograph somewhere, read something about them in a newspaper?
It was no use, she could not place the source of her unease, but there was something – it was the man’s eyes. She was almost certain she’d spoken to him at some time in the past and yet the name didn’t sound familiar … and yet alarm bells had begun to ring in her head and she had the strangest feeling that June might be in terrible danger.
Perhaps she should ring Miss Sampson in the morning, ask who had recommended the Baileys as foster parents and whether all the necessary checks had been done. She thought the checks might have been skimmed over, because it had all happened so quickly – as if they’d wanted to get the child fostered at any cost.
She decided that she would telephone Miss Sampson the next day and raise her concerns, though the woman would probably accuse her of making waves for no good reason – but in all her years dealing with abused children, Beatrice had always trusted her gut instinct and it was telling her now that a terrible mistake had been made …
Archie looked up as Ikey entered the room they were sharing at the hostel with six other vagrants. He’d been anxious because Ikey had been gone a long time and he didn’t fancy sleeping in a room with these men if his friend wasn’t here to protect him. The incident under the arches had made him nervous of men like these, even though he knew that most of them were all right; they greeted him with a smile and seemed friendly enough when Ikey was around, but Archie couldn’t quite conquer his fear that one of them might attack him again.
‘You’re late,’ he said half-accusingly as Ikey sat down on the bed next to him. ‘I thought something might have happened to you?’
‘Thank you for caring,’ Ikey said. ‘I went to see Sister Beatrice and ask if she would let us have June’s address but she rightly says she can’t – so I’ll have to go in at night and find it.’
‘You didn’t tell her where to find me?’
‘Certainly not. I think she means well, lad, but her hands are tied. I’d hoped she might see sense, but no joy – so I’ll have to resort to other means …’
‘I know how we can get in,’ Archie said. ‘At least I can – and I could unlock the back door for you …’
‘I was thinking of going on my own. I don’t want you to get caught. It doesn’t matter about me, but you would end up in a remand home and that’s the last thing we need.’
‘We can be careful. The window I got in last time isn’t big enough for you. Unless I squeeze through and let you in, you’d have to break a bigger window or force the lock and there’s mostly someone about at night – a nurse or a carer or Sister herself.’
Ikey was silent for a moment, clearly thoughtful. ‘You realise that we’re preparing to commit a criminal act?’
‘It’s her fault for lettin’ them take my sister away. She lied to me and I trusted her – but she’s like all the rest … those fools that put my ma in prison and that man who shut me in a cupboard. They talk about what’s right and proper but they don’t treat people fair.’
‘No, Archie, they don’t,’ Ikey said. ‘I’ve been on the receiving end of the kind of injustice you’re talking about, lad, and I didn’t like it any more than you do. I’m going to help you get your sister’s address and we’ll go and see her. It depends on what we find whether or not we can do more – and I’m going to visit your mother myself after we’ve paid your sister a little visit …’
‘Is it because you had bad things happen to you?’ Archie asked in a hoarse voice. ‘Is that why you’re helping me?’
‘Yes, partly,’ Ikey said and smiled, ‘but I like you, lad. You’re a plucky young ’un and I think you deserve a break … I’ll be talking to a friend of mine that may be able to help us – but I’m not promising I can make everything right, Archie. We’ll find June, talk to her and see how she feels about her foster home – and t
hen we’ll see what we can do …’
Archie’s throat felt tight and tears stung behind his eyes. Until Ikey dragged the tramp off him, he’d been feeling desperate, at the end of his tether, hating the world and almost everyone in it – even his mother sometimes for leaving him and June. Ikey reminded him of his father. There was something about him that made him think he was a decent man, honest and straight- forward. He wondered what had happened in Ikey’s life to put him on the streets. Ikey worked hard on the Docks in the wood yard there, hard physical labour, and he seemed to enjoy it, but Archie was sure it wasn’t what he’d done before whatever had happened to bring him down. He was curious but he wouldn’t ask, because it was Ikey’s business and he didn’t have the right to poke his nose in. He just felt grateful that Ikey was around when he needed him …
Ruby looked up startled as Sister Beatrice entered her office. It was the first time the nun had sought her out in her office and relations had been strained between them since the incident over June Miller. She was pretty certain that if Sister Beatrice had the opportunity she would have put her out on the street without a reference.
She rose to her feet uncertainly. ‘Yes, what can I do for you, Sister?’
‘I have spoken to Miss Sampson and she told me that you recommended the Baileys as foster parents. I wanted to know about the people you thought suitable to be June Miller’s foster parents. How well do you know them?’
‘Why?’
Ruby felt a trickle of unease. Had something happened to the child?
‘Because I have a feeling I’ve seen the man before – but he wasn’t going under the name of Bailey at the time …’
‘They made inquiries about taking one of our girls, but they’re here for punishment and there was no question of it – I gave their details to Miss Sampson and everything was properly checked. Why do you ask? What are you implying? I know you’re angry because I forgot to tell you about the Miller fostering, but … this is rather petty …’
‘My feelings over the matter have nothing to do with this. I think something may not be quite right about them …’
