The Esther & Jack Enright Box Set

by David Field

  ‘Then I’m really not sure what further assistance I can render,’ Bowden replied as the first light film of sweat appeared above his eyebrows.

  ‘It’s a rather delicate and awkward matter,’ Percy continued as he tried his best to look embarrassed. ‘My niece is employed by the Alliance that occupies that building and she was unwise enough to lend a modest amount of money to the man who was in charge of the other workmen. Then he simply didn’t turn up for work again and my niece is anxious to secure the return of the money. As I said, the amount is modest enough, but my niece has strong Christian principles and I’m sure I need not underline her desire to ensure that the debt is repaid.’

  ‘Quite, and it proves the old adage about being neither a borrower nor a lender,’ Bowden agreed unctuously, ‘but presumably you were able to obtain some sort of assistance from the man’s employers?’

  ‘No, regrettably not.’ Percy smiled deceivingly as he moved in for the killer punch. ‘And that’s why I’m here, at the suggestion of Eastside Jobbers and Joiners. They tell me that the man who supervised the work on the Lamb Street premises was supplied by your company. This is a registered company, is it not? Only Mr Hemmingsworth referred to you as his “fellow director”. Clearly you don’t entirely disapprove of borrowing money from investors?’

  ‘Who exactly are you?’ Bowden demanded weakly, as his face approached ashen in hue.

  ‘A concerned uncle, as I advised you,’ Percy replied as blandly as he could to cover his elation. ‘But who exactly are you?’

  ‘I believe that this consultation is at an end,’ Bowden insisted as he rose from his chair.

  ‘You can believe that if you like,’ Percy gloated back. ‘But take it from me, there’ll be others.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘I do apologise for dropping in on you like this,’ Esther said, smiling warmly at Lucy over the china tea cup, ‘but I simply had to come over here and congratulate you on what I believe may be a happy event in the near future. Also, to get some decorating ideas — you’re so artistic.’

  Lucy smiled artlessly.

  ‘Uncle Percy always did have a big mouth. But please don’t let Mother know — I want to tell her in my own time and I’m not entirely certain yet. I have an appointment with a man in Devonshire Street next week then I’ll know for sure. If I’m correct, then of course I’ll step down from being your bridesmaid, because the child will be due in August and I’ll look hideous by June.’

  ‘Have you told Teddy yet?’

  ‘Of course, since he was the cause of it. He’s delighted, fortunately, but it’s a bit inconvenient for my budding acting career. I’ve joined this amateur theatre group just up the road and I was hoping to audition for the lead in “Saint Joan”. Even though it’s being put on in April, my bulging side profile even then would not quite be suitable for the Maid of Orleans.’

  ‘If you aren’t to be bridesmaid, no doubt your mother will insist that you hand over the role to one or more of your cousins. Which ones should I avoid?’

  ‘Angelica, most certainly. If ever a girl didn’t live up to her name, it’s her — the family’s resident practical joker. You’d be almost guaranteed frogs down your bodice, ants in your underwear and one of her home-made “windy blasters” under the groom’s seat in the church. And avoid her sister Clarissa, who cries buckets at anything, including her own parents’ wedding anniversary on one legendary occasion.’

  ‘It might be best if I name my own choices,’ Esther chuckled. ‘Who’s left?’

  ‘Aunt Jane’s two would be a safe bet,’ Lucy advised her. ‘Alice is a very mature eleven year old and she exercises a most sensible influence over her younger sister Elizabeth, who’s eight and very cute. But don’t you have friends of your own, or young female relatives?’

  ‘Even if I did, would your mother entertain them?’ Esther smiled.

  Lucy grinned back. ‘I take your point. She does rather tend to take over and organise things. If she’d been in charge of the Hundred Years War it would have been over by the second day, with everyone joining her for a hand of bridge.’

  Esther burst out laughing and wanted to throw her arms around her hostess out of sheer pleasure at being back in her company.

  It fell silent for a moment, before Lucy asked, ‘So how are all the other arrangements going?’

  ‘Swimmingly. We’ve bought a place to live — a second floor suite of rooms in Clerkenwell which we have to start decorating and furnishing soon. Hopefully I can move in there if my current job folds up, which it looks like doing.’

  ‘What’s this glum news about your job?’

  ‘It’s all a bit complicated, but my current employer’s trying to form a women’s union and is meeting a good deal of resistance from some men’s unions. It’s all getting a bit unpleasant and I think that she’ll give up soon. Then the premises will be re-let and I’ll be out in the street. My continued residence in Lamb Street goes with the job, you see.’

  ‘I’m sure we could always squeeze you in here,’ Lucy offered.

  Esther shook her head with a smile. ‘Thanks, but as I already mentioned, I’m pushing Jack to get the new house ready so that I can live there if necessary.’

  ‘My big brother doesn’t push easily when it comes to practical matters, as you’ve probably discovered for yourself,’ Lucy said, smiling, ‘but the offer’s always there, anyway.’

  ‘Actually,’ Esther responded tentatively, ‘there is one thing.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My wedding dress. Could I bring it here to store before the big day?’

  ‘You’ve bought it already?’

  ‘No. Actually ... look, please don’t tell your mother, but I’m making it myself. It’s almost finished.’

  ‘Really? How clever of you! But then, of course, you were always so skilled at needlework and suchlike. Why can’t you tell Mother — she’d be so proud!’

  ‘And she’d no doubt broadcast it to the entire church congregation, in that case. But my fear is that she’ll think it’s a cheap and nasty way to do things. You do hear of working-class girls getting married in home-made sacks, or their big sister’s cast-offs and your mother’s so ... well, so ...’

  ‘Say no more, Esther,’ Lucy chuckled. ‘Your secret’s safe with me. But bring the dress over whenever you wish — I simply can’t wait to see it! Another salmon sandwich?’

  An hour later Esther waited for the bus at the corner of Chancery Lane bathed in the warm glow that came from being a one-time orphan who’d found a welcoming family. Then her spirits sank as she remembered what she had to start doing the following day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Percy Enright had a familiar glint in his eye as he returned from the offices of Hemmingsworth Properties and headed straight for Records, where he called for the file for the company he now suspected beyond any reasonable doubt was up to its Memorandum of Association in union money. Sure enough, there it was, so far as he could deduce given the inadequacies of the law on such matters.

  Trade unions were regarded in law as ‘unincorporated associations’, which gave them both advantages and disadvantages from a legal perspective. Since they were not legal ‘entities’ they could not own property, or make investments, in their own name, but had to do so through certain nominees. These nominees were private individuals who in the case of unions could be expected to be office bearers and Percy was prepared to bet a substantial sum of money that the ‘Union of Allied Woodworkers and Turners’, of which a Mr George Manners was the General Secretary and legal officer, was the same union to whom a certain Mr Jenston had been referring as the one that he dared not annoy if he was to retain his job at Eastside Jobber and Joiners. The self-same union that had taken a substantial shareholding in Hemmingsworth Properties less than a year ago.

  It all slotted into place as neatly as a tongue and groove joint executed by one of Eastside’s skilled craftsmen. The union had invested in the property company to whom its directors
were therefore beholden. By virtue of its control over the men who formed its workforce that same union was able to flex its muscle when it came to which man did which job. It was the union that had been in the ultimate overall position to ensure that when Helen Trenchard was unwittingly unwise enough to require certain internal alterations to her rented premises, it could insert its own ferret into the rabbit hole.

  But was it simply a matter of union rivalry, or was there something much deeper that had not so far surfaced? And was the man who went by the name of Bert Freeman simply an unpleasant bully boy hired for the occasion, or did he have a relationship with the union — or perhaps one of its officers — that went back much further in time? Perhaps something more personal in relation to Helen herself? Though surely, if that were the case, would she not have recognised him when he was posing as the foreman inside her business premises?

  One thing was clear — they were not going to get any further unless and until they could pull the mask of anonymity from the face of ‘Bert Freeman’.

  Though Esther had been detailed the painstaking work of enquiring of as many of her union members as she could whether any of them had something to offer that would identify the man, any name that her searches revealed would almost certainly not be that of Bert Freeman and Jack would need to be ready to match any other name that floated to the surface with a criminal history that fitted the bill. Except he had to work backwards, by unearthing likely suspects with suitable criminal histories and compiling a list of names, one of which would hopefully match the one — if any — that Esther came up with. Percy reminded himself ruefully that an easier task might be turning water into wine, or feeding the five thousand. At least he could feed two and he asked the Records Supervisor if Jack might be found inside the rabbit warren that lay behind the main desk with its many reading rooms.

  ‘He’s been in A5 since this morning,’ Percy was told and he grinned as he looked through the glass panel set into the top of the door to where he could see his nephew’s head bent over a pile of paper the height of a water hydrant.

  ‘Any luck?’ Percy enquired breezily as he opened the door and strolled in.

  Jack rubbed his eyes and looked round.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe how many men in London remove ladies’ underwear.’ He grinned. ‘Of course, these are just the ones who did so without encouragement from the ladies to whom they belonged.’

  ‘How many used violence when caught in the act?’

  ‘This smaller pile to the right here,’ Jack muttered. ‘I use the term “smaller” advisedly, since there are over fifty of those, just in the Met.’

  ‘Do their criminal histories give their occupations?’

  Jack gave a rueful frown. ‘If they were gainfully employed they wouldn’t be lags, would they? And they wouldn’t have time to patrol clotheslines during drying hours.’

  ‘Forget the clothesline specialists,’ Percy instructed him. ‘We’re looking for a break and enter expert who has a thing for underwear and can get violent if caught at it. If you get one who lists his occupation as “joiner”, that’s a bonus.’

  ‘Do you imagine I didn’t already think of that?’ Jack smirked. ‘Here’s your best four.’

  From his left hand side he passed up a single sheet of paper bearing four names, behind which he had secured the relevant criminal histories with a pin. Percy studied the fruits of an entire morning’s work carefully, then offered his observations.

  ‘Brady never operated north of the river and Canavan seems to have specialised in the West End. Only Jamieson and Prescott travelled widely afield and Prescott has previous for flashing and groping, before he took to assault. But he’s got no occupation listed and he should still be inside, according to this.’

  ‘It’s real needle in haystack stuff,’ Jack complained.

  Percy smiled. ‘Welcome to the Met. Let me buy you a mutton pie.’

  Downstairs and across the road, Percy brought Jack up to date with his latest findings and Jack smiled grimly when advised that the property company could be directly linked with an appropriate trade union to which it owed a big favour.

  ‘It also ties in with what Jenston told us about not falling out with a union,’ he observed, ‘but what next?’

  ‘We need to speak to Helen again. I’m hoping she can tell us something more about the man who runs this union that seems to be behind it all — George Manners. Finish that pie, then it’s back down to Spitalfields.’

  Helen frowned as she looked up from the desk she had placed, somewhat hopefully, in front of the reception wall that proudly displayed a new Alliance banner, but smiled when she saw Percy and Jack walking in.

  ‘I’ve had dinner, I’m afraid.’

  ‘So have we,’ Percy announced, ‘but a cup of tea would be nice. Then I hope you can tell me all about George Manners.’

  ‘Where’s Esther?’ Jack asked as they established themselves around the kitchen table.

  ‘She’s out visiting members, as you requested,’ Helen replied. ‘At least, I hope you did, because that’s where she’s been for the past two days.’

  ‘Has she had any luck?’ Percy asked.

  ‘Not that she’s mentioned,’ Helen replied, ‘but I thought you were here about George Manners?’

  ‘Is he a familiar?’ Percy asked in his strange Scotland Yard manner of speech.

  ‘Not as familiar as he’d like to be,’ Helen replied through firmly set lips. ‘He’s a drip who hangs around hoping that I’ll be overawed by his greasy charm. He’s pathetic, that’s all. Why, do you suspect him of some involvement in all that’s been happening?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ Percy confirmed. ‘He’s the man who’s listed as the General Secretary of the Union of Allied Woodworkers and Turners — have I got the right George Manners?’

  ‘I think that’s what he eventually called his union.’ Helen nodded. ‘It was formed a couple of years ago and I met him and his lady friend at a Congress meeting around the time when I was forming the Alliance. I misguidedly asked him for advice on the necessary legal and administrative steps I needed to take and then I simply couldn’t shake him off. I believe that he was more interested in me personally and most of the actual advice I received came from this woman who was always there like a bad smell around an open sewer cover. It was your typical love triangle, if you can believe for one moment that a thirty-five year old like me is still capable of attracting admirers. He was pursuing me, while this woman — Margaret Templeton — was avidly pursuing him.’

  ‘I could well understand why a man would find you sufficiently alluring to reject the advances of another woman,’ Percy oozed.

  Helen went bright red and opted to keep the conversation more general. ‘I really couldn’t imagine George Manners being a burglar, or even employing one,’ she insisted.

  Percy inclined his head from side to side. ‘It always turns out to be the quiet ones, in my experience. May I take it that you didn’t encourage Mr Manners’ attentions?’

  ‘I most certainly didn’t,’ Helen bristled, ‘but that didn’t seem to dampen his ardour. He kept sending flowers and penning letters dripping with sentiment and flattery. Almost child-like, but always beautifully scripted.’

  ‘Definitely not the man who left that note on your bedroom wall, then?’

  ‘Most definitely not. His letters to me were nowhere near as crude and were much better spelt.’

  ‘He could have been deliberately trying to appear semi-literate,’ Jack suggested.

  Helen shook her head. ‘The man who was in my room smelt of hospitals, whereas George Manners always smelt of men’s pomade. Quite “Nancy”, in a way, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘A “Mary-Anne”?’ Jack suggested.

  Percy shook his head. ‘Unlikely. The underwear nonsense was designed to instil fear, not create a private collection.’

  ‘What’s a “Mary-Anne”?’ Helen enquired.

  ‘Basically a homosexual, but one who delights in we
aring women’s clothing,’ Percy advised her.

  ‘So have you revised your opinion of policemen?’ Jack asked quickly, registering Helen’s shocked expression.

  Helen smiled. ‘I told Esther that I’d reserve judgment until I’d met you and you certainly haven’t disappointed me. As for your lovely uncle here, well Esther was right when she said what a credit he was to the Metropolitan Police and how comforting it was just to have him around.’

  Percy managed to look embarrassed, Jack suppressed a smirk and Helen blushed again, but they were all saved further awkwardness when they heard the faint sound of a key being turned in the front door lock downstairs.

  ‘Ah, that sounds like Esther returning,’ Helen announced with a slightly overdone breeziness. ‘Let’s see if she’s got anything to tell us.’

  Esther’s glum face lightened as she entered the kitchen and saw Jack and Percy in attendance. She kissed Jack, then sat down heavily.

  ‘Any tea left? And perhaps a large brandy?’

  ‘Was it so bad?’ Jack enquired solicitously as he put his arm around her.

  ‘Worse,’ Esther announced as she reached for a ginger biscuit. ‘If I have to visit one more hovel full of screaming children, women with wet washing hanging from their ceilings and the ever-present smell of overflowing privies, I swear I’ll become a nun instead.’

  ‘We can’t have that,’ Jack chuckled.

  Percy looked enquiringly into her eyes. ‘What my shallow nephew should have asked was whether or not your displeasure is caused by lack of progress.’

  ‘You could put it that way,’ Esther nodded with exhausted eyes, ‘but it’s the sheer depression of it all. The women who haven’t received any warning are suspicious of my motives for calling, the ones who have can’t get me out of their rooms fast enough, and nobody seems to know of a man in the woodworking trade who has an eye for ladies’ undergarments. Apart from their own men, of course. I’m up to my neck in lurid stories of how their menfolk seduce them into yet more childbirth, then head off to the pub.’