Maisie stood dead still, the usual affable smile disappearing from her face as she noticed the piece of paper the woman waved in her hand.
Maisie reached out blindly and Sarah took her hand. ‘Maisie?’
‘You may well look surprised, you trollop, but you can wipe that innocent look off your face. You’ve got blood on your hands and there’s no mistake.’
Betty tried to intercede but was pushed away by the agitated older woman.
‘You’re a murderer, Maisie Taylor, and there’s no denying it! You pushed my lad into the army and now he’s dead.’ She rammed the telegram into Maisie’s face.
Maisie looked stunned and stared from Sarah and back to her mother-in-law. ‘My Joe . . . ?’
‘He’s not your Joe any longer. He’s dead, gone forever and it’s all your fault. You sent him to his death. When I think how my lovely boy took you on after you killed your own sister and now he’s paid for it with his life. I’ll see you rot in hell if it’s the last thing I do, I swear by all that’s holy.’ The woman screwed the telegram into a tight ball and stuffed it into her pocket. Pushing her way back through the startled staff, she stormed out of the store.
Betty caught Maisie in her arms as the shock turned to oblivion and she sank into a deep faint.
20
‘How is the poor love?’
‘She’s still sleeping, thank goodness. The doctor gave her something earlier and she went out like a light. I’ve been that worried about her, Vera. The girl’s like one of my own.’ Ruby wiped her eyes on the corner of her apron. ‘That was no way for her to hear that her husband is dead.’
Vera nodded. ‘The girl’s a bit on the brassy side, but she’s always meant well.’
Ruby nodded. She could have taken Vera up on her comment about Maisie, but now wasn’t the time. In a strange way, she was being kind. ‘Sarah and Freda are sitting with her at the moment so she’s not alone when she wakes up. I was truly blessed to have my Eddie with me for so many years. I can only imagine what it must feel like to be young and have all your dreams and plans for the future dashed to nothing.’
Vera patted Ruby’s hand. ‘Don’t go getting yourself upset, Ruby. You’ve got to be strong for the girls. From all accounts Maisie hasn’t got any family to speak of, so she needs her friends right now. What I don’t understand is what that old cow Doreen Taylor said about her murdering her own sister. We know that Maisie loved Joe and she didn’t send him off to be killed. But her own sister?’
Ruby nodded. ‘From what Sarah told me, the woman was demented and then stormed off out of Woolworths. Everyone was too worried about Maisie to bother much about what Doreen said at the time. Why, that Betty Billington was a marvel getting people to help Maisie and controlling the customers waiting outside the shop who all wanted to know what was going on.’
‘Do you think Woolworths will want to get rid of Maisie after this? Accusations of murder can’t be ignored, can they?’
‘The girl is well thought of at Woolworths. Why, she’s the life and soul of the place. For Maisie’s sake I need to get to the bottom of what happened to Joe. The only way to do that is for me to go visit Doreen Taylor and find out what she was ranting about,’ Ruby declared.
Vera was quiet for a moment. ‘I don’t envy you that. Do you want me to come with you for support in case she lays into you?’
Ruby reached for her coat and hat. ‘That’s good of you, Vera, but this is something I should do on my own. I’d be grateful if you could stay here and keep an ear out in case the girls need anything.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on and take a brew up to them.’
‘You’re a love. You might keep an eye on the time, as Freda needs to get to work in a couple of hours. She doesn’t want to be late for her shift at Burndept’s.’
‘That’s another puzzle if you ask me.’
‘What’s that, Vera?’ Ruby asked as she picked up her bag.
‘Freda. Why did she leave her job in Woolworths to go do shift work at Burndept’s factory? It’s a right mucky job apparently. In fact, what do you know about the girl apart from her moving down here from the Midlands?’
Ruby sucked in her breath and silently counted to ten. Vera had been a good neighbour stepping in to help when Maisie had been brought home from work in deep shock that morning. Truth be known, she was probably being nosy, but she was still a help to Ruby as she fussed around the girls and tried to keep Sarah calm. None of them wanted anything to happen to the baby.
‘There’s nothing mysterious about Freda, Vera. The girl wanted to do some war work and Burndept’s were calling out for workers now they have shifts running round the clock. By all accounts it’s essential war work, so she’s more than doing her bit. I reckon that when this war is over, she will return to Woolies and be back working with her mates.’ Ruby didn’t add that she was also more than a little puzzled about Freda’s sudden change of heart about moving back to number thirteen and leaving her shop job. No doubt she would get to the bottom of things in time. For now it was good to have Maisie and Freda living safely under her roof. She’d sort out Maisie’s problems and worry about Freda when the time came.
‘I’ll be off now, Vera. Keep your fingers crossed Mrs Taylor will talk to me civilly and not be as verbal as she was to poor Maisie. Oh, and if you hear a scratching at the back door, it’ll be Nelson. There are some scraps for him in the pantry.’
‘Nelson?’
‘My dog.’ Ruby had put off mentioning she’d taken in the dog, as she knew what Vera’s reaction would be. ‘I’ve got to calling him Nelson because of the black patch on his eye. He’s been sleeping in the Anderson shelter.’
Vera was horrified. ‘He’ll be full of fleas. You don’t want a mangy dog hanging around, not with a baby in the house before too long.’
‘He hasn’t got fleas, Vera. Freda dragged the tin bath into the garden and gave him a good scrub. He’s company for me for when the girls are at work and George ain’t visiting. Right, I’ll be off. See you later.’
Ruby marched down Manor Road trying hard to be brave. There was no knowing what state she’d find the Taylor woman in when she reached her door. Doreen was a proper docker’s wife: she stood for no nonsense from anyone and seemed to have a nasty word to say about all and sundry. She’d even been known to black another woman’s eye. Ruby would rather leave well alone and not speak to the woman, but what she did to Maisie in Woolworths was unforgiveable, and as Maisie had no family around to care for her, it was Ruby’s duty to fill the gap. Besides, it was only fair that Maisie knew the circumstances surrounding her husband’s demise, and Doreen Taylor was the only person in the know. Ruby was also eaten up with curiosity as to what Doreen Taylor was on about when she accused Maisie of murdering her sister. Not that she’d confess that to Vera.
The house was at the end of the long road just before it turned into the dirt track that led down to the riverbank and the Erith Marshes. Ruby breathed in the saltiness from the river and composed herself for the task ahead. If it wasn’t for the barrage balloons bobbing in the sky along the river, no one would have known there was a war on. But Ruby, now standing on the doorstep, was only there because a soldier had died, and she knew only too well that the war had truly entered their lives. She prayed that Maisie would get over this and lead a normal life once more.
Ruby tapped on the door and it swung open slightly. Rather than a hallway like the houses in Alexandra Road, the door to this small two-up, two-down abode led straight into the living room.
‘Mrs Taylor . . . Doreen, are you there? I’m Ruby Caselton. Your daughter-in-law works with my granddaughter.’ She listened for a sound that told her Doreen was home. ‘Do you mind if I come in?’ There was no sound to suggest there was anyone at home. Ruby stepped slowly into the dark interior. ‘Oh my God . . .’
‘Tea up, girls. I found a few biscuits to go with it. There’s nothing better than a cup of tea to perk you up.’ Vera pushed into the bedroom and placed a tray on the
spare bed. ‘Tuck in, everyone.’
Maisie propped herself up on one elbow and looked around her. ‘I don’t . . . What happened . . . ?’ A look of horror crossed her face as she slumped back into the pillows. ‘Joe?’
‘There, there, dearie. No need to upset yourself, and I’m sure what your mother-in-law said about your sister isn’t true. Is it?’ Vera leant in to look at Maisie’s face before patting her hand.
‘Thank you for the tea, Mrs Munro,’ Sarah said, guiding Vera towards the bedroom door. ‘We will bring the cups downstairs when we’ve finished with them.’
‘Well, if you’re sure, dearie. It’s no trouble for me to stay . . .’
‘You must have a lot to be getting on with,’ Freda called out to the older woman. ‘Please don’t let us keep you.’ She grinned at Maisie, who gave a weak smile back to her friend.
Sarah checked that Vera had gone downstairs before closing the bedroom door. ‘I’m sure she means well, but she is so nosy at times. How are you feeling, Maisie? You gave us quite a shock when you fainted like that.’
‘I just didn’t expect to hear news of Joe while I was at work. I always thought a letter or telegram went to the next-of-kin at their home. I was his next-of-kin, and I know he put that on his papers ’cos he told me he did.’ She reached for a sodden handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘You both know I didn’t want him to join up. That bloody woman has made it look as though I put on a Jerry uniform and shot me own husband.’
Sarah put her arms around her friend and held her close. ‘I’m sure no one thinks badly of you, Maisie. Why, most of the staff were calling out to your mother-in-law as she left Woolies, and the comments weren’t polite. So many people care for you, Maisie, whatever that horrid Doreen Taylor says.’
Maisie nodded. Always so perfectly coiffured, her face always powdered and her lips always painted red, it was a shock for her friends to see her in such a state, with no care for how she looked. ‘She’s never liked me. That’s why I was so grateful to Ruby when she invited me to live here. I know I was doing you a favour, Sarah, what with you not wanting Ruby to be on her own, but if the truth be known, I didn’t want to be living with the old witch once Joe was away.’ At the mention of her husband’s name, fresh tears threatened to fall, but Maisie forced them back. ‘I didn’t do what she said, you know.’
Freda perched on the bed next to Sarah. ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to us, Maisie. We don’t give a fig what that horrid woman says.’
Maisie sat up straight and took the cup and saucer that Sarah held out to her. ‘No, I want to tell you both about it. I’m not proud of what ’appened, but I don’t want any secrets between us. I’d only ever told Joe and he must have mentioned it to his mum. Look where that got me . . . Not that I’ll blame Joe for one moment. He was good to me and there’s no mistake. He put me on the straight and narrow after what ’appened and I’ll always be grateful to him for that, whatever anyone says.’
Freda chewed her lip. Perhaps she shouldn’t have secrets from her friends either. But how could she explain about Lenny and what happened?
‘Drink your tea and stop looking so sad, Freda. I’m gonna tell you what ’appened and then there won’t be any more secrets. I was brought up in Bermondsey near Tower Bridge. That’s South London,’ she explained to Freda. ‘There was me, Fred, who’s two years older than me, and our Sheila, who was the baby of the family and five years younger. Mum and Dad worked at the Courage brewery not far away, so I was expected to look out for Sheila when Mum wasn’t ’ome. I was fourteen and planning to get myself a job at the biscuit factory the summer it happened. It was a bloody ’ot day and we’d gone with a crowd of other kids to the Serpentine. Sheila wanted to paddle, and Fred’s mates planned to play football.’ Maisie’s eyes took on a faraway look. A flash of pain shot across her pale face.
‘You don’t have to tell us now, Maisie. It can wait,’ Sarah said, aware that talking about the loss of her young sister must be a painful experience.
‘No, I need to get this off my chest once and for all. I never want to keep another secret as long as I live. Well, I had a new swimsuit, and even though I wasn’t much off my fifteenth birthday, I fancied meself as a bit of a movie queen, like Jean Harlow, and when a couple of lads hung around and started to chat to me, I forgot about Sheila and only had eyes for them. It was when someone screamed that a kid was unconscious in the water that I remembered our Sheila, but by then it was too late . . .’ The sobs that Maisie had so valiantly held back while she told her story burst forth and it took both girls a while to calm her.
‘Why not try to have a little sleep, Maisie?’ Freda stroked her friend’s hair back from her damp face.
Maisie brushed her hand away. ‘No, no, I want to get this all off me chest now. The police said that Sheila had hit her ’ead, and with it being so crowded and her being such a little kid, no one had seen her in distress. I should have been watching her. It was my job and I let everyone down – especially our Sheila.’
‘But, Maisie, it was an accident,’ Sarah soothed her friend.
Maisie shook her head violently. ‘No, my parents blamed me and they were right. Dad said I might as well have murdered her meself for all the care I took, and Mum . . . well, she couldn’t bear to look at me. After a few months I knew I was best away from home so they could forget about me and what I’d done completely. I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night and headed towards Kent. I’d thought about going to the hop fields, as I’d heard so much about them, but as it was, I only got as far as Woolwich and picked up a job serving in a greasy spoon. After a year or so I got a job as a live-in barmaid and got on with me life. I was popular, got on well with the punters and went out with a few blokes, who didn’t ask any questions about me previous life. Our Sheila’s death had been reported in the papers, and stuff like that sticks. Most people don’t want to know a woman who as good as killed a kid. That’s the way it was until Joe walked into the pub and I fell ’ead over heels for ’im. I think you know the rest.’
Sarah didn’t know what to say. Her own life seemed so easy compared to what Maisie had put up with.
‘Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in my ’ouse?’
Ruby jumped as Doreen Taylor woke from her drunken slumber. When she’d first stepped into the house, Ruby had thought Doreen was dead. Framed photographs had been wrenched from a picture rail, and ornaments had been knocked from the sideboard and mantelpiece. An empty bottle of gin lay broken on the floor. Ruby had never before seen such destruction.
‘I came to see you. We need to talk. There was no need to shout yer mouth off like that in Woolworths. You know Maisie lives at my place. Why couldn’t you knock on my door and break the news to the girl in a more sensitive way, eh?’
‘What’s it got to do with you? That girl ruined my son’s life and now he’s dead. How am I supposed to manage without him? It was bad enough he had his pay sent to her, let alone that I lost her housekeeping money when you lured her to live with you. Blimey, you must be coining it in with the amount of money coming into your house. You lot in Alexandra Road have always thought yerself a bit above the rest of us with yer bay windows and net curtains.’
‘Now we’re coming to the point. You don’t give a damn about that girl or your son. It’s losing the money that you’re concerned with.’
‘Well, she ain’t gonna put any money through me letter box each week now she’s not got a man to support her, is she? I’ve got ter look out for meself.’
Ruby looked at the woman sprawled in front of her. She had no respect for a person who would do what she’d done to Maisie. Greed and self-preservation had outweighed any grief the woman may have felt.
Doreen Taylor reached out for the gin bottle on the floor before realizing it had smashed. She pulled herself to her feet with some difficulty and headed to the small kitchen. Ruby could hear her rummaging in a cupboard and swearing to herself as she searched for more alcohol. Ruby enjoyed a
social tipple, but God forbid that the taste of drink ever turned her into the drunk, sodden hag that Maisie’s mother-in-law had become. No wonder the girl was desperate to move away from Manor Road. Maisie was a good girl to keep sending money to the woman, even though most of it would have been spent on booze.
She looked on the table that stood in the middle of the untidy room. It looked as though Doreen had turned the contents of the sideboard drawer out searching for something. Ruby spied a crumpled telegram. This must have been what she took to Woolies when she confronted Maisie. She picked it up and scanned the few words as quickly as she could in case the woman came back into the room and noticed Ruby was poking around in her property. She tried not to gasp aloud when she spotted the telegram was addressed to Maisie and not Doreen. The old bag had opened her daughter-in-law’s correspondence. Nearby, an envelope confirmed that it was addressed to Maisie, and alongside that were an insurance policy and Maisie and Joe’s marriage certificate. What was the old cow up to? Was she going to fleece Maisie out of any inheritance she was entitled to from the death of her husband? Well, she’d soon put a stop to that. Ruby stuffed the paperwork into her pocket. By rights it all belonged to Maisie anyway. She was only returning it to its rightful owner. She turned and left Doreen Taylor’s home. She had nothing more to say to her.
‘Phew, what a day, Nelson. I’m glad to have a sit-down and put my feet up.’ Ruby stroked the dog’s head as he leant against her knee. She had taken to allowing the dog into the house when she was alone or the girls had gone to bed. He was a comfort and demanded nothing from her apart from the occasional meal and a bowl of fresh water.
‘I wonder who your owner is. I should make some enquiries, I suppose, but if truth be known, I’d miss you, lad, if you were taken away now.’ The dog placed his paw on Ruby’s knee and gazed up at her with his large brown eyes. ‘I’ll put a card up in the corner shop when I get around to it. There’s no great rush. Let’s listen to the wireless while we wait for Freda to come home from her late shift, shall we? It’s about time for the news. No doubt it’s not gonna be good.’
The Woolworths Girls Page 23
