Memories of You (40 page)

‘You're a delightful child,' Jocelyn said. ‘But what else have you got in that bag? It can't be full of pastries.'

Charlotte dumped the bag on top of the pile of papers on her desk. ‘Oh, all sorts of stuff. I'm meeting Edward in the gardens at lunchtime and I thought I'd make some sandwiches.' She started delving into the bag. ‘The pastries are here somewhere. Got them! I'll put the kettle on, shall I?'

‘Well, it's a little early for a tea break but please do.' While Charlotte had been rummaging in her shopping bag a newspaper had fallen out. Jocelyn noticed it lying on the desk and called out, ‘Why on earth did you buy that gossipy rag?'

‘For the gossip, of course! A runaway romance, would you believe! The girl I was sitting next to on the bus was reading it and I couldn't help reading over her shoulder.'

‘Bad-mannered child.'

‘I know. That's more or less what she said. But when she got off the bus she gave me her paper anyway. Do you want a look while I make the tea?'

She picked up the newspaper and offered it to Jocelyn.

‘No, thank you.'

‘Well, I'll leave it here in case you change your mind.'

She dumped the newspaper on Jocelyn's desk and hurried out to the little kitchen where a moment later they could hear her filling the kettle. Jocelyn was surprised to see Helen reach for the paper and even more surprised to see her grip on it tighten as she read one of the stories on the front page.

‘You look shocked,' she said. ‘What is it?'

Helen continued to read for a moment and then she looked up and smiled. ‘Oh, it's just the latest piece of sensationalism. I'm surprised that they print this stuff. But I'm not shocked. Not at all.'

But she was shocked; Jocelyn could see that clearly. And when she had smiled the smile had not reached her eyes.

‘I know I said I'd help you with some filing but I still haven't unpacked properly or done my washing. Would you mind if I just went home now?'

‘No, don't worry. But think about the new job, won't you?'

‘New job? Oh, the department store. Of course.'

When Helen rose from the chair she was clutching the newspaper and when she bumped into Charlotte in the doorway she made no attempt to return it. Neither did she say another word before Jocelyn and Charlotte heard her hurrying down the stairs.

‘What happened?' Charlotte asked. ‘Why did Helen rush off like that?'

‘I don't know, but I think it must be something to do with what she read in the newspaper. What exactly was the story that caught your eye?'

Charlotte looked puzzled. ‘It was all about some runaway heiress. A foolish child who has fled to Gretna Green with a man who is probably a fortune hunter. I don't see why that should upset Helen. Do you?'

‘No, I don't.' Jocelyn sighed. ‘And if ever we're going to find out it will be in her own good time.'

 

Myra liked to read the gossip columns in the newspapers. She talked about the people featured there as if they were her personal friends. Dukes, duchesses, princes and playboys, stage stars, film stars and the fabulously wealthy – she could have written several biographies. She squirrelled away the known facts about these people and speculated on the facts that were not so well known. Doc Balodis didn't understand her obsession.

‘They are just people like you and me,' he would tell Myra.

‘I know that,' she would reply, ‘but their lives are so much more interesting. Some of them are just like characters in a book or a film. Reading about them takes you out of yourself for a while.'

Danny could empathize with that. He had always enjoyed reading: books, magazines, newspapers, anything that came to hand. He read fiction for the sheer pleasure of it and he suspected that, just like their landlady, he needed to escape from humdrum everyday life now and then.

Myra would read her newspaper whenever she had time to sit down with a cup of tea and a cigarette. Danny, who was often at home during the day, especially if the weather was bad, would sit at the table with her and get on with whatever he was reading. Myra probably knew very well that Raymond was deeply involved with dangerous criminals but she was good-hearted and she had always been kind to Danny and Joe, so if she sometimes interrupted him to relay some sensational titbit Danny would listen patiently.

‘I hope they don't find them,' she said that day.

Danny looked up and tried to work out what she was talking about. It was no use. He hadn't actually been reading the book he was holding. He had been thinking, as he often did these days, of how he was going to get Joe away safely from the dangerous way he was living. ‘Don't find who?' he asked.

‘The runaways. She's only sixteen and they've eloped to Scotland so they can get married without her father's permission. Romantic, isn't it? Look—' she pushed the paper across the table to Danny. ‘Read it for yourself. I'll put the kettle on for another cup of tea and we'll have the rest of the apple pie with it.'

Myra stubbed her cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray and went into the scullery. A little later when she came back with the tea and the apple pie she looked around the room in astonishment. Danny had gone and he'd taken her newspaper with him.

 

Less than an hour later he was outside Stefano's. He knew Helen had been away from London but he didn't know whether she was back yet. Lately Danny had lost track of his sister. The lights in her upstairs flat had remained out and he had not seen her going into work. She must be away, he had concluded. He couldn't imagine where or why, especially as her boyfriend had not gone away and didn't seem to know where she was either.

So why was he standing here now debating with himself whether he should just march in and ask for her? He almost did. But in the end he decided that what he had to say was better said in private. He cursed the instinct that had made him come hurrying off to find her as soon as he had read the report in the newspaper. He didn't even know whether Helen already knew about what Elsie had done.

No, he had better go back to the dog track. He still had the problem of Joe to sort out. And that made things complicated. How could he go to Helen after all these years to talk about their younger sister without mentioning his twin brother and how they had been living? I should have thought this through, he decided as he turned to go. Maybe I'll try Helen's flat again tonight, or maybe I won't. After all, I don't suppose there is anything either of us can do.

 

 

Helen bought her usual newspaper on the way to work and started reading it on the bus. So Matthew had been out of town, she thought. She wondered whether he would get in touch with her when he came back, or whether he'd been so upset by her cavalier treatment of him that he would never want to see her again. Why on earth had she done it? Why had she risked losing the man she loved with all her heart?

Feeling far from happy, she turned the pages of the newspaper to see if there was any news of her runaway sister. Elsie, she thought, what have you done? Helen pushed her own heartache aside and gave way to nagging worries about her younger sister.

There was a small item but it didn't tell her anything new. Apparently there had been no sightings of the couple despite the fact that reporters from several newspapers had gone to Gretna Green and it was ‘rumoured' that Hugh Partington had set private detectives on them.

Oh, Elsie, my pet, what can you be thinking of? Helen wondered. Are you so foolish that you have allowed your head to be turned by the first handsome ne'er-do-well that has paid you attention? Or perhaps you were unhappy. It's not uncommon for girls to marry the first boy who asks them simply to get away from an unhappy home. And what if Hugh Partington fails to find you in time and you actually marry this man? Will your romantic dreams come true? Will he be kind to you once he gets his hands on your money? And what if the Partingtons cut you off without a penny? Will Perry Wallace keep his marriage vows or will he desert you?

Helen closed the paper and put it in her shopping bag. She was surprised to find herself smiling. With all these worrying thoughts swirling round in her mind she knew she should feel more anxious than she did. Why am I not thoroughly despondent? she wondered. And then she realized with a small flowering of hope that whatever Elsie had done and whatever happened next, she might have made it possible for Helen to contact her. The best thing that can result from this mess, Helen thought, is that I will see my sister again.

 

‘I take it you've read that?' Doc Balodis indicated the newspaper lying on Raymond's desk. It was open at the page showing the article written by the crime correspondent.

‘Too clever by half, isn't he?' was Raymond's snarling answer.

‘He's coming back to London.'

‘Well, then?'

‘He's worked it out. He'll come here. Tonight, probably.'

‘So?'

‘Are you going to go ahead?'

‘Why not? He can't prove anything.'

‘He can share anything he knows with the police. They'll test the dogs.'

‘And that will be too late. The birds will have flown.'

‘But not you. You and I aren't going to make enough out of this deal to vanish like they can. You'll be closed down here. Ruined. Almost certainly we'll end up in jail. Well, you will.'

‘What do you mean by that?'

‘I don't have to hang about. I'm small fry to them. I can collect my winnings pronto and go.'

‘There's friendship for you!'

‘We were never friends.'

‘No we weren't, were we?' Raymond shook a cigarette from the pack on his desk and lit it with the one he had just finished. This joined the other cigarette ends in the overflowing ashtray.

Balodis dragged a chair up close to the desk and sat down. ‘It's not too late to call it off,' he said.

‘It is too late and if I did they'd kill me.' Raymond's forehead was beaded with sweat and Doc Balodis realized he was deadly serious. ‘Think about it,' Raymond went on. ‘They've got too much money invested in this to write it off. I've got no choice. But I'm not as stupid as you think. I've spread my bets in places they don't know about. I'll make enough to get away. Leave all this behind.' He laughed. ‘Start a new life. That's what they do, isn't it?'

‘Does Myra know?'

‘Of course not.'

‘And the lad?'

‘You mean Joe? He'll do what he's told. He doesn't need to know anything more than that.'

‘So you'll leave him to face the music?'

‘Why not?'

‘No compunction?'