Beyond a Misty Shore (22 page)

Billy was still engrossed in his search for the elusive ‘treasure’ and had piled a sheaf of papers from one of the drawers on to the top of the desk. Also on the top of the desk was a heavy, old-fashioned brass stand that contained two inkpots and a sort of blotting pad with a handle. There were two pens as well, one shaped like a quill. It was pretty and as Bella reached to pick it up her arm caught a large coloured glass paperweight. It fell off the desk, crashing on to the wooden boards of the bay where the carpet didn’t reach.

They both stiffened and Billy stared at his cousin in horror. ‘What did you go and do that for?’

Bella’s face crumpled. ‘I told you we shouldn’t come in here and go rooting through Uncle Arthur’s things. Mam will kill us!’

Billy made a grab at the papers and was frantically trying to stuff them back into the drawer when Sophie appeared, looking very annoyed.

‘What on earth are you two doing in here? Get down those stairs this instant and the pair of you can apologise to Uncle Arthur when he gets back. This is his room where he is entitled to keep all his private things. Bella Teare, I’m shocked and surprised at you, you know better than to do
something like this. I am very cross with you both and so will Uncle Arthur be. Now go down at once!’

The two miscreants fled, leaving Sophie shaking her head in disbelief and wondering just how she was going to explain this escapade to Arthur, for he valued his privacy greatly.

She bent and picked up the paperweight and then started to retrieve some of the documents that had fallen on the floor when Billy had tried to stuff them back into the drawer. The black lettering of the heading on one caught her eye and despite herself she began to read it. As she read, the colour slowly drained from her cheeks, her hands began to shake and she collapsed to the floor, leaning back against the desk. It couldn’t be true! It just
couldn’t
! But it was, this document proved it. Arthur Chatsworth had been in prison for fifteen years. That was the sentence he’d served for the crime he’d been found guilty of: manslaughter. She sat staring at the words, which now seemed to blur together. It all fell into place now: why he valued his privacy; his reluctance to talk about his past life; the reason he’d not been in the forces, the Home Guard or Civil Defence during the war; the reason he’d been forced to lodge with Lizzie.

She let the document fall as she tried to remember the odd things he had told them about himself. He had no family, just a cousin in Vermont whom he only wrote to at Christmas. He had been a widower for many years, his wife having died young. He’d lived with Lizzie for four years and now lived here with herself, Maria, Bella and Hetty – and they’d not known that he’d
killed
someone.

She fought down the panic and tried to think more rationally. He was an educated man, hadn’t he said he’d worked for a chartered accountant? As long as she’d known him he’d always been quiet, well mannered, generous and thoughtful. He’d even lent her the money to start her business. She gathered up the papers and put them back and closed the drawer. She realised that she would have to confront him; there was nothing else she could do. She had to find out what had happened and then . . . then what?

S
OPHIE HAD TAKEN
B
ILLY
home later that afternoon, accompanied by a penitent and subdued Bella, and to Billy’s profound relief nothing was said about the matter to Lizzie. If it had been Billy knew there would have followed a severe telling-off from his mam and possibly chastisement by his da. He’d never seen Sophie so annoyed, although when she’d come downstairs she was very quiet.

By the time Arthur and Hetty returned Sophie had sent Bella up to bed and had laid out corned beef, tomatoes, lettuce, cucumber and bread and butter in the dining room for, despite the storm, it was still sultry and the last thing she’d felt like doing was cooking.

Hetty, however, noticed that she was preoccupied and looked rather pale and enquired if anything was wrong.

‘No, it’s just that it has been a rather trying afternoon, so hot and then with the storm,’ Sophie replied.

‘Thank goodness we missed it; we were quite astonished when we got back to Liverpool to hear about it. We had fine weather all the way,’ Hetty informed her.

Thankfully the old lady retired early, worn out by the exertions of the day. Maria only dashed in and – after hastily changing out of her wet clothes, having not been as fortunate as Hetty – went out again with her friend Mavis.

Summoning up her courage Sophie sat down in the chair opposite Arthur, who had stated he was going to read the newspaper for half an hour before retiring as he hadn’t had chance so far today to catch up on current events.

‘Arthur, there is something I . . . I have to speak to you about,’ she began hesitantly, dreading these few next minutes.

He folded the paper and laid it on a side table. ‘It must be important Sophie, you look rather troubled. What’s wrong?’

She nodded. ‘The children got rather bored this afternoon and . . . and I’m afraid they went into your room and when I found them . . .’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘. . . they’d taken some documents from one of the desk drawers and I couldn’t help but . . .’ She began to twist her hands together nervously, afraid to look at him.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and bit her lip, wondering if he would become angry and start shouting or . . . worse. The seconds seemed to stretch into eternity before he at last spoke.

‘So, you found out, Sophie.’

She looked up, surprised by his quiet, regretful tone, which was devoid of any anger. ‘I . . . I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t.’

He nodded sadly. ‘I’m afraid it’s true. Did . . . did the children . . . ?’

‘No. No, they don’t know. But what happened, Arthur?’

‘I’d better tell you the whole sorry story, Sophie. I should have told you long before this but . . . but I was afraid to and I was so ashamed.’

She sat in total silence as he told her how as a young man he’d worked hard and had secured a good position with a reputable firm of accountants in Manchester, and of how he’d met and married Marjorie, his wife. She’d come from quite a well-off family and they’d had a lovely home in one of the quiet suburbs but Marjorie had liked a good time. She was what had been called in those days a ‘bright young thing’ and she hadn’t seen any reason why marriage should alter that way of life; she hadn’t been prepared to sit at home just being a housewife. She wore all the latest fashions, was very attractive and enjoyed going out to the theatre, supper parties and then on to fashionable nightclubs. She always insisted on staying out late and eventually both his work and his bank balance had started to suffer. Consequently there had even been some doubt about his continued employment with Asquith and Mason.

He’d tried to reason with her, pointing out that if he lost his job their lifestyle would suffer drastically, but she’d refused to listen and then heated arguments had followed.
Finally she had insisted on going out alone, saying she had plenty of friends who enjoyed her company and who would see her safely home. And indeed she did have a wide circle of friends and so she’d got her own way. His life had suddenly been turned upside down and had become more and more intolerable, but he’d been at a loss as to how to repair their increasingly deteriorating relationship.

Then he’d come home unexpectedly early one evening suffering from the sudden onset of a digestive upset. He’d told her that morning that he would be working late and he had found her with someone else: a man who had instantly fled and whom she had sworn that she barely knew; he was little more than an acquaintance. He had just called on her, there had been no assignation and in fact he’d forced himself on her, which was why he’d left so quickly. Arthur hadn’t believed her. It was so obviously a pack of lies. There had been a terrible row. She had called him a dull, pen-pushing bore who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘enjoyment’ and had accused him of ruining her life. Then when he forbade her to go out to nightclubs alone in future she had just laughed at him and he’d lost his temper. He’d lashed out at her, something he had never thought himself capable of doing. She had recoiled, tripped over a footstool and fallen, fallen awkwardly, and hit her head on the corner of the fireplace. He’d been horrified, unable to believe that she wasn’t breathing. He’d never meant to strike her; let alone
kill
her. It was a terrible, terrible accident but he’d struck her. He himself had gone for the police when he’d realised she
was dead. It had been in all the newspapers and there had been an outcry for things like that just didn’t happen in that quiet, respectable suburb, and then . . . well, she knew the rest.

‘At least I was convicted of manslaughter, not murder. I would have been hanged for that, but it was proved that I never intended to kill her. So you see, Sophie, why I didn’t want anyone to know. Why I had to lodge with your aunt when I was released. I couldn’t go back to Manchester, I had no home, no job and no hope of employment, and I still live with the guilt and shame. I . . . I served my sentence in Walton Jail and those years are ones I have since tried to put out of my mind; they were a living hell. There were times during the bombing when I prayed the jail would receive a direct hit and I would be put out of my misery. I paid dearly for my crime, Sophie, and I still regret her death bitterly.’

Sophie nodded slowly. ‘It must all have been terrible for you, Arthur.’ She meant it, it was obviously so out of character for him to raise his hand against anyone. And to have to spend fifteen long years locked up with hardened criminals – it was a wonder he had survived it all. ‘Was it hard when . . . when you came out?’

‘The world had changed so much, Sophie. A terrible war had been fought; cities were in ruins; thousands of good men dead. And thousands more wounded and crippled. Old ways, manners and customs had gone. I felt lost, disorientated and very, very alone. Oh, I wasn’t short of money, for my father had died just before I went to jail, which compounded my
guilt and despair for I’m sure the shock and the shame hastened his death, but he had left me a small legacy which was invested and which continued to earn interest but . . . but with my background I knew it would be hard to find lodgings. Eventually I found Mrs Quine and I was grateful.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘She used to think it very odd of me to spend so much time just walking the city streets but it was a luxury for me to wander wherever it suited me. I could please myself after years of having my life regimented.’

Sophie nodded again, understanding what he meant. How could she even have thought – however fleetingly – that he was a violent criminal?

‘And what now, Sophie? Will you tell Hetty? Will you both ask me to leave?’

‘No, Arthur, I won’t tell Hetty, it would upset her dreadfully. She thinks very highly of you. As you said, it was a terrible, tragic accident for which you’ve more than paid. You were provoked, your life had become unbearable and . . . and I have to say this, I think she was treating you very badly. This is your home now; I couldn’t turn you out and I have so much to be grateful to you for.’ She got up and went and put her arms around him. He would never harm any of them, she was certain of it. Look how he took care of Hetty, look how concerned he’d been for her own feelings and her future. ‘This is your home and we are your family now, Arthur. It will never be mentioned again – ever.’

‘Thank you, Sophie, and God bless you,’ he whispered with a catch in his voice.

She smiled at him. ‘Although you have to admit that we are something of a strange “family”. A widow with a child, a young girl who doesn’t really know what she wants, a lonely old lady . . .’

‘And an ex-convict. A strange collection indeed, Sophie,’ he finished, but the sheer relief that filled him made the fact that she’d included him in this odd family a blessing indeed, one he’d never expected or looked for.

I
T WAS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE
to believe that over a year had passed since they’d come to Liverpool, Sophie thought as she walked back from seeing Bella to school that cold, blustery late November morning. So much had changed; so much had happened in that time. Thanks to Hetty Foster they now had a very comfortable home; her business was successful and steady and she had a small but growing amount in a Post Office Savings account, Bella was doing well at school and was popular with her peers. And yet some things hadn’t changed at all.