Private Sorrow, A (5 page)

Molly didn’t add that it was also going to be difficult finding the names in Vera’s address book. They could all be living in different places now. There was also the problem of her parents leaving for Australia tomorrow. She would take them to the train at Wormit and see them off. Her mother had been going on and on at her for not going with them and quite honestly she now wished she was – then she wouldn’t be lumbered with this difficult job now. Still, it was only for one month and she couldn’t see Vera having the financial means to prolong the search. She would have the use of their car again and she planned to park it in Baltic Street, just under her bedroom window.

As she was leaving, Gina said, ‘I got the impression that the marriage wasn’t a happy one but I could be wrong. Vera certainly never said this.’

As Molly walked down the Hilltown, she wondered if this opinion was significant. She wasn’t an expert on married life and for all she knew, loads of married couples were living unhappily together. She thought of her own parents – they seemed happy together but what deep emotions lay underneath daily life?

Back in the office, Jean was arranging work for the next week and Molly noticed that Mary had been allocated a month’s vacancy in the quality control department of Keiller’s sweet factory. There was also work for Edna, plus her three days every week with John Knox. What a good customer he had turned out to be and she smiled at the thought that it had to be Edna he requested. She wondered if love was in the air.

She had copied all the names from Vera’s address book into her own and asked Jean to type them up and put them in the filing cabinet. The address book had been a bit chaotic, with names and addresses scored out and others pencilled in. Molly hoped she would be able to speak to some of these people and try to get some idea what kind of girl Etta was.

Later, she made her way to Craig Pier to catch the ferry to Newport. She was staying with her parents tonight as they were leaving on an early train in the morning. Darkness had fallen and the river was a mysterious black stretch of water. The lights and smoking chimneys of Dundee slowly receded as the ferry chugged its way to the opposite shore. It had turned colder and the stars looked icy and bright in the dark sky. Molly loved the stars and her eyes traced the Plough with Polaris the Pole Star, Cassiopeia, and the great hunter of the cosmos, Orion. In a few weeks, her parents would be looking at the Southern Cross, which was a constellation that Molly had loved when she had been in Australia. Then she suddenly thought of Tom and Kenneth and she began to cry softly into the night sky.

After tea, still feeling depressed, she went next door to see Marigold. Molly knew the garden was a riot of colour, with the trees and bushes a delight to look at with their various shades of autumn colours. There were also a few containers with blue and yellow winter pansies competing with the russets, reds and browns. But in the darkness, everything was shadowy with small golden shafts of light from the roadside lamps.

Marigold was delighted to see her and ushered her into the lounge where a fire was blazing in the grate. Sabby was curled up on a small chair but she totally ignored Molly. Molly suddenly felt homesick for the warmth of her parent’s house and their wonderful neighbour. Her flat was functional but it lacked the homely touches. Still, she dismissed this thought as it had been her decision to move above the office.

Marigold poured two glasses of sweet sherry. ‘Here, drink this. It’ll warm us up on this cold night.’

‘Marigold, did you ever read about a man, who died in an accident in Arbroath, and his daughter, who went missing in Dundee in October 1930?’ asked Molly. ‘I’ve been hired to trace the girl.’

Marigold sipped her sherry and looked astonished. ‘Disappeared in 1930? Heavens, that was twenty-four years ago.’

Molly, of course, was already aware of this but Marigold had a fantastic memory for all sorts of strange news items and bits of gossip. Marigold went over to the cupboard in the corner of the room, rummaged around the shelves and appeared with a thick book in her hands. ‘I like to keep scrapbooks with interesting bit of local news. Now let’s see.’

Molly moved over to sit beside her and she watched as Marigold turned the thick pages that were covered with cuttings from the newspaper. ‘Ah, here it is,’ she said, passing the book to Molly. Molly was disappointed to see that they were the same cuttings that Vera had given her.

‘Yes, I remember the accident,’ said Marigold. ‘At the time, I felt so sorry for Vera Barton, his wife. She was in the hospital having a major operation and she had to also contend with her husband’s death and her daughter clearing off.’

‘Do you think Etta, the daughter, is still alive, or what did you think of at the time?’

Marigold gave this some thought. ‘It’s just my opinion, of course, but I thought she must be a selfish girl to put her poor mother through all that torment. But whether she’s alive or dead, I couldn’t say.’

Molly had to agree with her. ‘Yes, I think the same. I could never do that to my parents.’

Marigold patted Molly’s hand. ‘No, but you’re a good, sensible, truthful girl with high morals. I’m afraid some people are quite able to do these things without a second’s thought.’

Molly sighed and drained her glass. ‘I’d better be off. Mum and Dad have an early start tomorrow and I’ve got to try and make a start on finding Etta Barton.’

As they went to the front door, Marigold became serious. ‘Be careful, Molly. This Etta has never contacted her mother during all these years and there must be a reason for that, so please be very wary what you discover. Uncovering dark secrets can be like lifting a wet stone. All manner of creepy crawlies try to scuttle out of view and some can give you a nasty bite.’

As Molly hurried down the dark garden, she shivered suddenly. Heavens, she thought, I’m letting Marigold’s warning frighten me.

*  *  *

The next morning, they all piled into the car with their luggage. Because it was still dark, Molly drove carefully. The train pulled into the station on time and with a flurry of goodbyes, her parents were on their way. Her mother had said, ‘This will be our last trip for a while and I wish you were coming with us to see Nell, Terry and the baby, Molly.’

‘Give them all my love and I’ll write soon,’ she had replied.

As the train pulled out of the station, Molly experienced again the feeling of déjà vu. It was so strong that, should the train have still been in the station, then Molly would have been tempted to jump on board. She walked away to the car, mentally chastising herself. ‘I’m a big girl now,’ she said aloud, her words echoing in the empty darkness.

Edna walked to John’s house on Friday with a feeling of trepidation. Her stomach was churning and she wished now she had eaten some of the breakfast Irene had made for Billy. The house looked the same and all was quiet as she knocked at the door. John had given her a key but for some reason she didn’t want Sonia to know this.

Suddenly the door was yanked open and John stood on the step, his face red with annoyance. He strode ahead of her and when she reached the lounge she saw the reason for his anger. The room had been cleaned thoroughly. All the papers and books had disappeared, the carpet had been vacuumed and the smell of lavender polish was explained by the shining furniture.

‘I’m sorry, Edna. We can’t do any work today because all my notes have been tidied away. I’ll have to search for everything and that will take time.’

Edna was appalled. ‘Let me help you, John. Surely they’ll be in some cupboard.’

John’s face was still red. ‘No, Sonia can’t remember what she did with them. She thinks she threw them out as they looked like a pile of rubbish. No, Edna. I don’t want you to be here when I have strong words with her.’

Just then the door opened and they heard the sound of the vacuum in the lobby. Sonia poked her head around the door. ‘Good morning, Edna. I’ll put the coffee on when I finish this.’ She looked at John. ‘Do you know, John, that your house is so untidy and dirty that it’s a disgrace?’ She stared at Edna as if she was the cause of all this untidiness.

John put on his jacket and walked Edna into the garden. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, ‘but don’t come back for the next two weeks, Edna. I have to sort this mess out and I hope to be rid of her soon. I’ll still pay the agency so you don’t lose out financially but I’ll see you a fortnight on Monday.’

Edna was upset. ‘But what about your notes and papers?’

‘I don’t know but hopefully she hasn’t thrown them out and I’ll find them.’ He looked at Edna. She was almost crying.

‘I’ll see you soon then, John. Goodbye.’

He walked with her to the garden gate and suddenly put his arms around her and kissed her. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll all be sorted out soon. I promise.’

Edna was filled with a mixture of emotions, and happiness at his kiss was uppermost. However, the figure at the window that witnessed the tender moment was filled with fury. ‘So that’s how the land lies,’ she said. ‘Well we’ll see about that.’

Alice was over the moon with her week’s wages in her pocket. She would now be able to have a treat and buy some things that were badly needed, like a new pair of stockings, for example. She hated lying to Victor but she had told him she only worked for two hours on two mornings a week. She knew he earned a good wage as a welder at the Caledon shipyard but he only gave her £2.10s. a week to pay for everything and he ate like a horse. She was always scrimping by Wednesday, no matter how hard she tried to make the money last.

It had been Maisie who had told her to keep back most of her wages and that she would look after the money for her in case Victor raked around the house, as he often did on a Thursday, even having the cheek to ask her if she had anything left from her ‘generous’ household allowance. These were his words, not hers, but she learned to keep her purse empty, as he would grab it and search for coins.

‘This is a terrible house when a working man can’t have a drink or two with his mates at the end of a hard day,’ he would shout when his two closest pals came calling at night. She would sit and hear them calling at the door. ‘Are you coming out for a pint, Buffo?’ That was another thing, that ridiculous nickname and God only knew where it came from. He never explained. In spite of having no money, he would still join them and she suspected he borrowed money from them. She could just hear him complaining to them: ‘It’s all right for you two. You don’t have a wife like mine who takes all my wages.’

But now she was financially self-sufficient and she hoped this job would last because she enjoyed meeting all her families who needed help with their cleaning. She stopped at the butcher’s shop on Princes Street and bought a steak pie for the tea and hurried up the stairs to her flat in Arthurstone Terrace. There was just time to put the potatoes on and set the table before Victor arrived home. When he came in, his face lit up at the aroma of steak pie. ‘Oh good, I’m starving,’ he said, taking the pie out of the oven.

Before she could cut it into two portions, he scooped the whole pie onto his plate and added most of the potatoes. He also put the bread on the table and cut four slices, which he proceeded to dunk in the thick, rich gravy. Alice put the couple of potatoes onto her plate and added the dregs of the gravy from the dish. Victor, being the kind of man he was, never made the least comment on his wife’s meagre portion.

When he was drinking his mug of tea, he put her housekeeping money on the table. Alice saw it was ten shillings short. ‘You’ve just given me two pounds,’ she said.

‘Aye, I have. Now that you’re earning ten bob a week at your job it’s time for you to help out with the bills.’

Alice was angry. ‘That’s not the point, Victor. My money is to be used for some extras for us both. I couldn’t afford the coalman last week and I owe him for a bag of coal.’

But Victor wasn’t listening. ‘I’m away out of here. I can’t stand a woman nagging me all the time.’

‘I thought we might go to the pictures tonight,’ she said.

‘No, you better keep the picture money and pay for that bag of coal with it.’

Alice was almost crying as he sauntered out the door but as soon as she was sure he was gone, she wiped her eyes and went down to the chip shop where she bought a haddock supper with a pickled onion. As she sat at the table with a large pot of tea she was so thankful that she had kept quiet about her true hours. Later, she went with Maisie to the Broadway cinema, which was a few hundred yards from the house, and they had a bag of sweets between them.

Meanwhile, Victor made his way to Gussie Park where the carnival had arrived a few days earlier. He wasn’t interested in all the flashing lights of the fairground attractions but made for the perimeter of the ground where the large boxing booth was situated. He did, however, cast an appreciative eye on the two pretty girls who were advertising some Hawaiian event. Dressed in skimpy grass skirts with flowers around their necks, their orange-toned faces, legs and arms were covered with goose pimples due to the cold wind. But they never looked at him. They were probably wishing they could be on some warm, sun-kissed South Sea island or at least at home with a good book and a cup of cocoa.

Inside, the boxing booth was heaving with scores of men standing around the boxing ring that took centre stage. Thick blue cigarette smoke filled the tent but no one seemed to notice. Then the star boxer arrived in the ring and the scrawny looking referee began shouting that a prize went to any man who could last a couple of rounds with the boxer. Victor wasn’t tall, just five feet six inches tall, but he kept himself fit. He eyed the boxer as various men climbed into the ring and left without the money. The man was tall and broadly built but he was getting old. Victor noticed the roll of fat around his waist and the way he shuffled around the ring. But he still packed a mighty punch.

Victor stayed in the tent for a couple of hours and then went to meet his two pals in the pub. The carnival would be there for a couple of weeks and Victor promised himself he would climb into that ring and show the old bruiser that a new young king was in town. King Victor.