Beware This Boy Page 23
“Yes, sir.”
“And Eager – you can wear your specs. Makes you look like a boffin.”
“Yes, sir. I presume that’s a good thing.”
Tyler left him to it and began the final interviews. There was a steady flow of workers but he learned nothing new. None of them thought the explosion was anything but an accident.
“Fifth columnists? Sabotage? Never. We’re all Englishmen here,” said one wizened bloke who worked the night shift. “If it was done on purpose, how’d anybody do it?”
Good question.
He asked all of them for suggestions as to improvements in the future, and most had a lot to say.
“Management should come into the canteen sometimes and show us they’re human.”
“We should go on a tour of the airdrome and see the bombers. We don’t even know where our shells go.”
“Me, I work here so I can do my bit for the King and Queen and the little princesses. My own girl is the same age as Princess Elizabeth. I want to make sure that madman in Berlin doesn’t ever get to them.”
“Mr. Endicott should give us more credit for brains, not to mention patriotism,” said a woman with a thick Brummie accent. She looked as if she’d had a tough life but that didn’t stop her from being astute. “I work the lathes. We need a break in the middle of the shift. Everybody gets the sags after tea time. We’ll work better.”
That complaint had been voiced yesterday when the women were contemplating going on strike. Tyler was feeling something of the sags himself by now and he sympathized.
Cudmore wrote everything down. Tyler was glad that at least he’d been able to give the workers a chance to vent their frustrations.
After the last interview, Tyler said. “Mr. Cudmore, take a note, if you please, and make sure Mr. Endicott receives it. ‘By the authority vested in me by His Majesty the King and the chief minister of the realm, Winston Churchill, I hereby declare all of the suggestions herein recorded be implemented as soon as possible, on pain of death.’ ”
Cudmore didn’t bat an eye. “Quite right too, sir.”
Another alarm sounded in the late afternoon, but no raiders, and Tyler followed the lead of the seasoned Brummies and stayed where he was. Move only when you hear the bombs dropping.
The secretary had found Smith’s file and gave it to Tyler. There was no record of his being in the army. He’d come from Manchester to work at Endicott’s. Better pay was the reason given. He had a good letter of reference from the supervisor at the factory where he’d worked previously.
“Did anybody check on this?” Tyler asked.
“Oh dear, I’m afraid not, sir. We were hiring a lot of people all at the same time. I wasn’t able to follow up on any of the references. We did place him on the usual probationary period of two weeks. He has shown himself to be a reliable worker. He’s never late. No absenteeism.”
Tyler hesitated. He knew the secretary was overworked.
“There are a couple of other workers who have been in the army,” added Cudmore. “Mr. Abbot was a corporal with the Royal Lancers of Leicester. He was invalided out in ’17 with a gas-caused ulcer. A good man too. Most reliable. The other man is Phil Riley, who joined the reserve army in ’38. He is a part of the home defence now.” Cudmore regarded Tyler anxiously. “Is this important, sir? I’d vouch for all three of them.”
“Just tying up loose ends,” said Tyler. “Maybe I’d better talk to Smith again. Just to satisfy myself.”
Cudmore became even more flustered. “He’s not in today, sir. I told him he could have the day off. He was complaining of a touch of lumbago, and seeing as he had talked to you yesterday, I didn’t see the harm.”
“I’m sure that’s quite all right, Mr. Cudmore. It’ll keep.” Tyler got up stiffly from his chair. “I thought I’d drop in at the hospital. Who knows? Perhaps Peter Pavely has regained some of his memory.”
“I’ll get on to typing up these notes right away.”
“Thanks. And don’t forget to give me Miss Ringwald-Brown’s address. I thought I’d pay her a visit. As she won’t come to Mahomet, the mountain will go to her.”
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“Never mind. Just a turn of phrase.” Definitely an afternoon sag, thought Tyler.
He looked in on his constable, who actually seemed to be enjoying himself. He had a dozen files set aside.
“Good work, Eager. This could keep us in Brummagen for a month at least. Are you being astute, I wonder, or does your diligence have anything to do with a certain collision-prone roller skater?”
“Good heavens, sir. I wouldn’t dream of being so devious.”
Tyler ruffled his hair. “Glad to hear it, son.”
Phyllis had brought over an extra pork chop and some potatoes. She deposited them on the kitchen counter. Jack had come with her, but not Ted.
“The post must go through,” said Phyllis in answer to her mother’s query. “He’s working overtime.”
“Go and sit in the other room,” said Beattie. “I’m going to cook up something for us shortly.”
Phyllis went into the living room with Jack. Joe was sitting close to the fire, his leg on a hassock. Eileen was reading a book and Brian was at the table fiddling with an old jigsaw puzzle.
“Crikey, you’re a cheery lot, aren’t you,” said Phyllis. “I’ve been to livelier funerals.”
Brian looked up. “Did you get the money?”
“And hello to you, Brian.”
“Sorry, Mum. Hello.”
“Come and have a warm, Phyl,” said Eileen. “Shove over a bit, Dad.”
“Thanks.” Phyllis went to her son and dropped a quick kiss on his head. “And yes, Brian, I did get the money. I took out forty pounds from our savings. That’s all there is.” Her eyes were red and puffy from crying but Brian didn’t seem to notice or care.
Joe moved his chair and Phyllis went to stand beside him. “We’ve already given the bastard five pounds, so all we need is five more,” he said.
Beattie came in from the kitchen. “Here’s another pound. I was keeping it for emergencies.”
“And I’ve got two more,” said Eileen. She winked at her mother. “I’d forgotten I even had it. It was in my emergency tin.”
“Let’s put everything on the table,” said Joe.
Phyllis rummaged through her handbag. “I thought … yes, I knew I did. Here’s a pound in change.”
Joe pulled some coins from his pocket. “Four bob. Five pennies. Two halfpennies.” He added them to the collection.
“I’ve got sixpence, Granddad,” said Jack.
“Might as well throw it in,” said Joe. He poked at the pile of money. “Four pound, five shillings. That’ll have to do. The bastard won’t renege for want of a few shillings, will he?”
Brian had watched the proceedings without a word. Then he muttered, “Thanks everybody. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
Joe beckoned to Jack. “You might as well take this now. It’ll be dark soon.”
“I’ll go with him,” said Eileen.
“No, I’ll go,” said Phyllis. “I’m his mother, after all.”
Joe went to stand up. “I should be the one to go if anybody does. We don’t know what this rat might get up to.”
“No, Dad. You’re not going anywhere. Look at you. Your face is as grey as a flannel shirt. Your leg’s bothering you, isn’t it.”
“I’m all right.”
“No, you’re not,” interjected Beattie. “It’s best that Eileen goes. She’s used to dealing with problem people.”
“Mum –” Phyllis started to object.
“No arguing, either of you. Phyllis, you should spend some time with Brian. Joe, I’m going to put fresh ointment on your ankle. Eileen, you should get going.”
The Abbotts weren’t a particularly demonstrative family but Eileen couldn’t help herself. She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “I never knew you could be such a battle-axe,” she said affectionately.
Brian swivelled towards Eileen. “Auntie, I need to get a message to Vanessa. We’ll leave as soon as I get that passport. She’s got to be ready.”
“All right, I’ll go to her house after we drop off the money.”
Eileen put her hand on her other nephew’s shoulder. “Come on, Jack. Let’s go.”
He smiled up at her and she could see the relief in his face. He was just a sprat, thin, pale-skinned like his mother. His bony shoulder blades were prominent under the woollen jersey.
“Please be careful how you go, Eileen,” said Beattie. “Make sure you have your torch with you.”
“I will, Mum.” Eileen turned to Jack. “Why don’t you start getting your coat on. I’ll get an envelope for the money.”
They both went out into the hall. Joe began to fold the notes. Brian could have been on another planet for all the interaction he was having with them.
Beattie addressed Phyllis. “Maisie Swann has vanished.”
“What do you mean, vanished?”
“Her daughter came by this afternoon. Maisie hasn’t been home since yesterday by all accounts. They’re afraid she got caught in the blackout and has fallen into some crater. It’s been known to happen.”
“Oh dear, I hope she’s all right.”
“Winifred is going around to all the hospitals to see if they have any patients fitting her description. She said she’d come later and tell me.”
Brian looked up.
“Don’t worry,” Beattie said to him. “We can get you upstairs if we have too.”
Eileen returned with a large envelope in her hand. “This is all I could find.”
Joe slid in the coins and the pound notes and sealed the envelope.
“Phyl, there’s a bottle of pills in the bedside table drawer in my room,” said Eileen. “They’ve got a blue label. Give Dad two with a glass of water. The ointment is in there as well. You don’t need much, and it soothes the pain.”
Joe flapped his hand. “Will you women stop fussing. I should have sired boys – make life much easier.”
This was a long-standing family joke and the two sisters hissed at him.
“I’ve been like a son, haven’t I, Granddad?” Brian burst out. His intensity destroyed the momentary mood of playfulness.
“Brian, for goodness sake,” said Phyllis, her voice sharp with impatience.
“It’s all right, Phyl,” said Joe. He reached over to his grandson. “Yes, you have, Brian. Both you and Jack have been like sons. Now let’s do what we have to do so we can put all this behind us.”
Brian caught his grandfather’s hand and held it tightly against his chest. “What if we can’t, Granddad? Put it behind us, I mean. What if we can’t?”
Eileen had her hand resting lightly on Jack’s shoulder as they walked. She directed her torch at their feet, but with the overcast sky and no lights anywhere, it was hard to see. They kept close to the hedges for guidance.
“Jack,” she said quietly, “how do you know this man who’s supposed to get the passport?”
“I dunno, Auntie. I just met him somewhere.”
“What’s his name?”
“I dunno.”
Eileen stopped so she could look straight into his face. “Jack, I’m not interested in punishing you. As a family we’re in a right pickle. We’ve got to help Brian, but it’s not as simple as that. We’re doing something that’s totally against the law. I’m prepared to do it, though I wish I didn’t have to. I hope to God this war doesn’t last much longer and that Brian and others like him will be all right.”
The boy was avoiding looking at her and she could feel he was shaking.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong, Jack? What have you got yourself into? You seem terrified of your own shadow.” She brushed away a tear that had spilled from his eye. “Buck up, lad, you’re a big boy now. You’re my own flesh and blood and I want to help you.”
“You can’t, Auntie. Nobody can.”
That sounded so melodramatic that in spite of herself she smiled. “Try me. Come on, before we get to the house. Tell me what’s going on. Is somebody threatening you?”
Jack nodded but didn’t speak.
“You’ve been looting, haven’t you.”
Even now Jack seemed about to deny everything, but she pressed on. “Was he with you? Is that what’s going on?”
“Yes, Auntie,” Jack whispered. “He … he saw me. He saw me going into one of the houses. He said he’d tell the police. He said I’d go to jail and he knew people in jail who’d get me … They do awful things to boys in jail, Auntie. Awful things.” The words were tumbling out now, and Jack couldn’t stop crying. “I agreed to be part of his gang so he wouldn’t rat on me.”
“When did all this happen?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“What’s this man’s name?”
“Donny Jarvis. He lives in one of the back-to-backs on Water Street.”
Eileen frowned. “I know him. He was sent to the public clinic by the truant officer when I was doing a stint there. He’s just a lad, not a man.”
“He’s sixteen. He hurts me, Auntie. He hurts me if I don’t bring back enough stuff.”
Eileen took a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to her nephew. “Here, blow your nose. You’re beginning to sound like Oliver Twist.”
She waited until Jack had subsided, lingering sobs coming out of his throat like hiccups.
“I’m not surprised Donny Jarvis has turned into a bad apple. His home life was as rough as it could be. He’ll remember me, I’m sure. Maybe I should talk to him.”
Jack almost squealed. “Please don’t, Auntie. Nobody is supposed to know. He’ll kill me.”
“All right, all right. One thing at a time. Let’s do our errand and go back to Gran and Granddad’s. Once Brian has gone we’ll talk about what to do with the wretched lad you’ve got yourself tangled up with.”
But Jack was not to be so easily comforted. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve told on him.”
Suddenly Eileen stopped. “Hold on – I’m being slow on the uptake here. This fellow Donny, is he the one who’s supposed to be getting illegal papers for Brian?”
Jack nodded.
“How’s he getting them?”
“I don’t know, Auntie.”
Eileen bit her lip. While Jack was talking it had been at the back of her mind that she would report Donny to the police. But the family needed him right now. She couldn’t turn him in just yet.
They were at the bombed house now. It had been a pretty, well-tended house, and now it was destroyed. Eileen blinked away a tear. The Cowans had been good people, salt of the earth.
She halted. “I’ll keep watch. You deposit the money. Hurry, Jack.”
Tyler was greeted at the entrance to the ward by Nurse Ruebotham. Her manner was only slightly less intimidating this time around. She seemed harried.
“We’re frightfully short-handed so I’m going to have to trust you to be sensitive to Miss Sumner’s state. Don’t overtire her.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Physically, she’s improving – the young are resilient. But she’s quite despondent. She knows what has happened to her.”
She moved aside the screen around the bed. The adjacent bed, where Audrey Sandilands had been, was empty.
“I’ll leave you, Inspector. No more than ten minutes.”
Tyler pulled up the chair close to the bed and sat down. The nurse had said Sylvia was improving, but to his eyes she looked worse than when he’d last seen her. The bruises on her face were darker, her skin even whiter.
“Sylvia. It’s Inspector Tyler.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Is Colin here?”
“I don’t believe so. But I’m sure he’s been sent for.”
There was a small movement from her bandaged right arm, as if she was trying to reach over to him. Tyler saw a
n expression of fear flood her face.
“They said I’ve lost my arm, but it doesn’t feel that way. I keep thinking I can move it. Isn’t that odd?”
“I understand that does happen sometimes,” murmured Tyler.
She turned her head away from him. “I’m going to release Colin from our engagement. He shouldn’t have to be tied to a cripple for the rest of his life.”
“Sylvia, look at me. Come on, look at me.”
Reluctantly, she did so.
“What if Colin was the one to get injured? Would you break up with him because he’d got knocked about a bit?”
Her eyes were filled with tears. “You know I wouldn’t. I’d love him just the same.”
“And his feelings for you won’t change one bit.” Tyler hoped this was true.
Again she turned away. “You don’t understand, Inspector. I’ve lost all my fingers. I won’t be able to wear his wedding ring.”
“What’s important is that you’re alive. That’s what will matter to Colin.”
She was silent.
“That’s what would matter to you, wouldn’t it?” continued Tyler softly.
She turned back and studied him for a moment. “You have a kind face, Inspector. You have a daughter, don’t you.”
“Aye, lass. She’s a bit younger than you.”
“She’s lucky to have you for a dad.”
“It’s more the other way around, if you ask me.”
The screen was moved aside and Nurse Ruebotham poked her head in. “I’d say that’s if for today, Inspector.”
Tyler got to his feet.
“Did you want to ask me something?” Sylvia whispered. She was becoming drowsy.
“Just one thing. We found a St. Christopher medal amongst the debris in your section. Do you know who it might have belonged to?”
“No, I don’t. Not allowed to bring in stuff like that.”
“Inspector, time’s up,” said Miss Ruebotham.
Sylvia’s eyelids were drooping. “Thank you, Inspector.”