Tilly's Story

by June Francis

  She flushed. ‘I was hoping to see you to arrange where you’ll pick me up.’

  ‘I’ve been away on business. Where do you live?’

  She told him where the shop was and he raised his eyebrows but only said, ‘That’s fine. I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.’

  Tilly thanked him and said that she would see him then. She was wondering what the rest of the day would have in store for her as she walked up the Bennetts’ path. She was surprised to find Eudora already dressed in her outdoor clothes. It seemed there was to be no morning cuppa before they left the house that day, nor time to see her father.

  ‘I thought we’d go and give the Doyles a surprise visit,’ said Eudora briskly. ‘I haven’t slept all night. I have a feeling – I worry about those children,’ she finished abruptly.

  ‘Me too,’ said Tilly. ‘But life should have improved for them now it’s summer and they’re getting regular help.’

  ‘Well, we’ll soon find out,’ said Eudora.

  They caught the tram and Eudora paid their fares and proceeded to tell Tilly about some of the acts they now had for the concert. ‘We’ve a magician and a ventriloquist. I thought there’d be those in the audience who would enjoy a bit of magic; also a comedian.’

  ‘What about a tap dancer?’ asked Tilly, remembering Mrs Nuttall.

  ‘You have someone in mind?’

  ‘Yes. But she hasn’t been approached yet,’ said Tilly. ‘I’ll try and arrange for you to meet her. She hadn’t been well and her husband was taking her on a long holiday.’

  ‘I hope she’s better. Let me know when she returns.’ Eudora paused. ‘So tell me, how are you getting on with Seb’s mother?’

  ‘Fine,’ said Tilly brightly. ‘She does have a good voice.’

  ‘She could certainly belt out a song when we were young. Let’s hope her voice holds up on the night,’ said Eudora.

  Tilly changed the subject and asked whether there had been any more news about the body or the burglar.

  Eudora shook her head. ‘It’s so annoying. I had hoped the police would have found out something more by now. I’m beginning to think I’ll never see my lovely Chinese vases again and that grieves me.’ She sighed. ‘But then I tell myself that people are more important than possessions.’

  Tilly agreed, thinking that her most precious possession was her typewriter and she would hate it if that was stolen. ‘Perhaps they’ll be found yet,’ she said. ‘Have you thought of consulting a private detective?’

  Eudora smiled. ‘Pushing for business for your other employer, Tilly?’

  Tilly protested. ‘No. But he has a client who had jewellery stolen, as well as her pedigree cat, and he’s doing his best for her.’

  ‘Any progress?’

  ‘He says he has a few leads but doesn’t want to say too much.’

  They both fell silent and not long afterwards they left the tram and made their way to the street where the Doyles lived. As they approached the house, the front door burst open and Patricia came flying out. She looked like she had been crying and her clothes were torn and her hair a tangled mess. She went past them as if she did not see them.

  ‘Something has happened. I knew I was right! You go after her, Tilly,’ instructed Eudora.

  Tilly ran after Patricia whilst Eudora made for the house. A man staggered to the door before she could even knock. ‘Is Mrs Doyle in?’ she asked.

  He ignored her question and growled, ‘Where’s that little slut?’

  Eudora could smell onions and stale beer on his breath and stepped back a couple of paces. She decided to revert to the accent of her childhood. ‘If yer meant Patty, the girl’s ran off. What is it yer wanted her for?’

  ‘None of yer bloody business,’ he answered, gazing down at Eudora with an ugly expression on his face. ‘Who are yous, anyway?’ His eyes were suddenly suspicious as he took in her appearance. ‘Haven’t I seen yous before?’

  ‘I’m a friend of the family, so mebbe yer have and mebbe yer haven’t,’ said Eudora.

  He stared at her a moment longer and then shoved her aside. She made a grab for his arm but he seized her hand and crushed her fingers, then pushed her away and staggered down the street.

  Eudora was aware of palpitations in her chest and knew she had to try to keep calm. She had made herself some medicine to deal with such an event but she did not have it with her. Should she go after him and the girls or go inside and find out what had happened? She decided there would be enough people about to prevent that horrible man from hurting them. She stepped inside the house and found the silence eerie. Then she caught the sound of a snuffle and saw the pram in the corner begin to rock.

  She walked slowly over to it and gazed at the baby, who was rubbing his eyes. At least he was all right but where were the other two pre-school children and their mother? It looked like she was going to have to climb the stairs. She stood a moment at the foot of the stairs and took several careful deep breaths before attempting the climb. It was a relief when she managed to reach the top and walked into the front bedroom.

  At first Eudora thought Mrs Doyle was sleeping but as she drew closer to the bed, she realised the woman was not breathing. Eudora’s heart began to hammer and she had trouble catching her breath. There was no sign of violence, only a carelessly tossed pillow on the floor. Where were the other two children? She forced herself to leave the first bedroom and go into the next. The bed was empty; the bedclothes flung back. She stood listening and it was as if the room was holding its breath. Then she went over and lowered herself carefully onto her knees and peered under the bed. Two frightened pair of eyes stared back at her and she almost collapsed with relief on seeing the twins.

  ‘Come on, Mary and Maureen. Out of there,’ she said breathlessly. ‘He’s gone. I’ll look after you.’

  They crawled out from under the bed and clutched at her skirts. ‘Where’s Patsy?’ asked one of them.

  ‘She’s all right. Miss Moran will look after her. Shall we go and put the kettle on and have a warm drink?’ gasped Eudora.

  Both nodded. Eudora noticed that they were wearing only their vests. She told them to put on their clothes and she sat on the bed while they did so, thinking that they needed a bobby and a doctor. Eudora knew she was in no state to go and fetch either and considered the twins too young for such an errand. Hopefully Tilly and Patricia would be back soon and then she could send them for help.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tilly caught up with Patricia just round the corner of the street past the pub. ‘Will you slow down?’ she gasped. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

  ‘Can’t stop!’ gasped Patricia. ‘If he catches me, he’ll kill me.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Tilly, running alongside her.

  ‘Me uncle, of course. He’s done for Mam.’

  Tilly was horrified. ‘You mean—?’

  ‘Dead as a doornail. I saw him doing it. I couldn’t believe me eyes.’ Her voice broke on a sob.

  ‘You’ll have to go to the police,’ said Tilly.

  ‘Where the hell d’yer think I’m going?’ shrieked Patricia. ‘I wouldn’t just run out on the twins and the baby! I’m going for help.’

  Tilly said no more but ran with her, hoping that Eudora would manage to prevent the uncle from following them and make sure the other children were safe.

  The two girls reached the Bridewell on Athol Street and dragged themselves up the steps and inside. Staggering over to the counter they rested against it, breathing heavily.

  The desk sergeant looked down at them. ‘So what is it you two want?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s been a murder,’ gasped Tilly.

  His dark eyebrows twitched together. ‘Where? When? Who are you?’

  Tilly gave her name and status briefly and the Doyles’ address.

  He looked at Patricia. ‘I knew yer dad,’ he said. ‘Yer’d best both come through.’

  Patricia shook her head. ‘Yer’ve got to get someone there now! ’Cos if yer don�
�t he’ll get away and go into hiding and then come back and get me,’ she babbled.

  ‘Now calm down, love,’ said the sergeant. ‘Who’s the “he” yer talking about – and who’s dead?’

  ‘Me mam!’ Patricia’s voice cracked. ‘And the he’s me uncle, her brother. She stole something from him and sold it. He’s a bloody thief himself and he was storing stuff in our house before getting rid of it. But now he-he…’

  ‘Shush now,’ said the sergeant in a soothing voice. ‘Just tell me one thing more – did this fatality happen at your house?’

  Patricia nodded.

  ‘Then we’ll send someone there right away.’

  While he saw to that, he had a policewoman take them to an interview room, where she brought them cups of sweet tea and toast. As they sat beside each other drinking the tea, Tilly was aware that Patricia was trembling. She reached out and took hold of the other girl’s hand and squeezed it. ‘It’ll be all right,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s OK for yous to say that but-but what’s going to happen to us kids now Mam’s dead?’ Her voice broke and she began to weep into her tea.

  ‘You’ll all be taken care of,’ said Tilly, feeling helpless in the face of such misery.

  ‘Yer don’t understand,’ sobbed Patricia. ‘That’s what I’m scared of.’

  Before either of the girls could say anymore, a policeman came into the room, accompanied by the policewoman who had brought them the tea and toast. She carried a notepad and pencil with her. They both sat across the table from them. ‘Now, Miss Doyle, perhaps you can tell me what this is all about – from the beginning?’

  * * *

  Eudora started when she heard the banging on the door and, carrying the baby in her arms, went over to it and asked who was there. When she heard it was the police, she unlocked the door and invited them inside. She told them what had happened since she had arrived and where the body was, and then she sat down and waited.

  It was a couple of hours before Patricia and Tilly returned to the house. By then Mrs Doyle’s body had been removed and it had been decided between Eudora and the police that the children should go with her and stay at her house until other arrangements could be made. At the moment there was no room for them at the Seamen’s Orphanage. As for the uncle, he seemed to have vanished without a trace.

  ‘How long will we be able to stay at your house, Mrs Bennett?’ asked Patricia, her face pale. ‘I don’t want to go to the orphanage. We’ll be separated and I’ve always looked after the others.’

  ‘Hush, dear,’ bid Eudora. ‘Nobody’s going to separate you and you’ll be safe from your uncle with me. You can help Joy in the house and Miss Moran’s father will be there to keep his eye out for any intruders.’

  ‘Is he your dad?’ asked Patricia, turning to Tilly.

  ‘Yes. Dad’s quite strong. He’ll look after you,’ she promised, hoping Eudora was right and that the police would find the uncle. Until they did so, she suspected that Patricia was in danger.

  * * *

  ‘So what’s all this about a gang of kids staying at Uncle Robbie and Aunt Eudora’s house?’ asked Wendy, as Tilly came into the shop.

  ‘Weigh us out half a pound of mixed sweets?’ asked Tilly, producing a handful of change. ‘And tell me how you’ve found that out so quickly.’

  ‘Our Pete was having a practice there and came running to tell us,’ said Wendy, moving to the shelf on which there stood shining bottles of sweets. She removed one and took out the glass top and emptied some sweets into the weighing pan.

  ‘I did hear a clarinet but didn’t realise it was him,’ said Tilly.

  ‘So give and let’s know what’s going on,’ begged Wendy.

  ‘I’ll tell you later. I’m going back to the house with these sweets for them.’

  It did not take Tilly long to perform her task and she left Patricia and the children crunching on the sweets in the attic rooms that Eudora had allotted them. She wondered if she would bump into Leonard on her way but she didn’t and hurried back to the shop.

  By then, it was not only Wendy who was wanting to know what had happened but her mother and Minnie, too. Over supper Tilly told them that Mrs Doyle’s brother had smothered her with a pillow and her daughter had been a witness to the murder.

  ‘The poor kid,’ said Wendy. ‘But why has Aunt Eudora taken them all in?’

  ‘She did what she thought was best for them at the time,’ said Tilly. ‘I admire her.’

  ‘Our Robbie’s not going to like it,’ said Mrs Wright. ‘He’s never had any kids and the noise of them will drive him mad.’

  ‘He was good with us,’ defended Peter.

  ‘I like him,’ said Davy. ‘He takes me to the football matches.’

  ‘Yes, but there’s a baby. Robbie was never around when you were a baby,’ said his mother. ‘Mark my words. He won’t put up with those kids for more than a week.’

  * * *

  Rita Wright was to be proved wrong because the Doyle children were still living at the Bennetts’ house when Tilly was getting ready for the soirée.

  ‘Wow! You really look somebody in that dress,’ said Wendy, gazing enviously at Tilly. ‘Who is taking you to this soirée?’

  ‘None of your business,’ said Tilly, holding out her winged arms and performing a pirouette.

  ‘It’s not Mr Simpson, is it?’

  ‘No!’ Tilly stopped and went over to the mirror and checked her hair, rouge and lipstick. ‘You don’t think I look like a painted doll, do you?’

  ‘No. Although if I was you, I wouldn’t let Mam see you.’

  ‘And how am I to prevent that? She’s bound to be in the shop or one of the rooms downstairs if you’re here.’

  ‘You could wear a mask,’ teased Wendy. ‘Wouldn’t you rather be going to a masked ball instead of a soirée?’

  ‘If I could dance half-decent that would be fun.’ Tilly smiled at her reflection. ‘As it is, I’m looking forward to this evening. I could do with a treat.’

  Wendy’s expression changed. ‘I can’t believe you were caught up in a murder. It was bad enough when your dad found the body in the garden.’

  A shadow crossed Tilly’s face. ‘I can’t believe it myself sometimes. Those poor Doyle kids. I just hope all the grownups at the house are keeping a close eye on them.

  ‘What about school?’

  ‘Joy and your Aunt Eudora are doing lessons with them at the moment. It’ll be the summer holidays soon and hopefully by September the charity will have worked out what’s going to happen to them.’

  ‘The murder got a mention in the Echo, you know,’ said Wendy.

  Tilly turned away from the mirror and picked up her handbag and gloves. ‘It didn’t say where the children were staying, did it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. I’d best be going. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘You’d best not be late. Have you mentioned to Mam that you’re going out tonight?’

  ‘Yes, and I told her that my sister and brother-in-law approve.’

  ‘What about your dad?’

  ‘Your mam didn’t mention him,’ replied Tilly. ‘Which is a good job because I haven’t told him.’

  Wendy smiled. ‘That’s OK then. Have a good time. Use the side door then Mam won’t see you go.’

  The side door was seldom used but for once Tilly made use of it. She was five minutes early but Leonard was waiting for her in a black shiny car. Her eyes lit up. ‘Is this yours?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. I bought her a few days ago,’ he replied, springing out of the car and going round to the other side to open the door for her. ‘What do you think?’

  Tilly stroked the side of the automobile. ‘She’s beautiful. I know something about cars because my family has a car business.’ She hitched up her skirt at one side and climbed into the passenger seat. She was aware that he was staring at her ankles and felt her cheeks warm.

  He closed the car door. ‘That’ll be in Chester?’

&n
bsp; ‘Yes.’

  ‘Pity they don’t have a place in Liverpool, I could have put some business their way.’ He lowered his head. ‘You’re looking lovely, by the way. That’s an attractive gown you’re wearing.’

  The compliment made her cheeks grow even hotter. ‘Thank you.’ She watched him get into the driving seat and start the car and did not speak until he initiated the conversation.

  ‘So how’s your week been? Interesting?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. A bit shocking actually. I was caught up in a murder.’

  ‘A murder!’ He glanced at her before fixing his eyes on the road again. ‘How did this happen?’

  ‘You might have read about it in the Echo,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve had little time this week for reading the newspapers,’ he said dryly. ‘Labour troubles: the joiners are on strike. You tell me about it, Tilly.’

  So she told him and he listened without interruption until her voice trailed off because suddenly it occurred to her that Leonard knew the murderer. His knowledge of him might only be slight but she had seen him with Patricia’s uncle. Should she warn Leonard about him? But that could mean telling him that she had seen him outside the pawnbroker’s in Scotland Road. She remembered the maxim when in doubt say nought, and decided to stick to it.

  ‘What a terrible thing to happen to those poor children,’ said Leonard, looking concerned. ‘Where are they?’

  Tilly hesitated. Was it possible that he was unaware that there were children living at the Bennetts’ house? ‘The charity has taken responsibility for them,’ she said, inexplicably feeling the need to cross her fingers.

  ‘That must be a relief to you and Mrs Bennett,’ said Leonard.

  ‘It is,’ said Tilly.

  ‘So, on a lighter note,’ said Leonard, ‘did you get a chance to see the prince?’

  Tilly had forgotten the Prince of Wales had visited Liverpool to unveil the statue of his grandfather, Edward VII, at the Pierhead. ‘No, but I’ve seen the statue of him sitting on a horse.’