The River Folk (14 page)

‘I bet that was the loud thud we heard,’ Bessie muttered, her wide eyes taking in the scene of devastation before them.

‘But where is she?’ Dan said, looking round. ‘Where’s Mrs Clark?’

‘Mebbe she’s gone with him.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Mebbe they’ve both scarpered and left the little lass . . .’

‘No,’ Dan shook his head. ‘Surely no mother would leave her child.’

Bessie cast him a wry glance but said nothing. Dan might be a man now, but in some ways he still had a lot to learn about the world and its cruel ways.

‘You don’t think . . .’ he was saying and pointing with a finger that shook slightly, ‘that she’s under there?’

They exchanged a glance that said, ‘Well, if she is . . .’

Dan heaved the bed away from the wall and it fell with a crash on to the floor. Elsie was lying face downwards, squashed against the skirting board, and before Dan even turned her over very gently, they both knew that there was little or no chance of her being alive.

Now, of course, they had no choice. The police had to be called.

‘I’ll have to go, Mam. If I miss the tide, Mr Price might sack me.’

‘What? When you’re walking out with his daughter?’

Dan sighed. ‘That wouldn’t make a scrap of difference to Mr Price. In fact, it would make it worse, because he’d think I was deliberately taking advantage.’

Bessie sighed. ‘You’re right, Dan. Jack Price is a hard man. I know him of old.’

‘Mam, tell the police when they come that I’ll be home tomorrow and I’ll go straight to the station and give them a full statement. It’ll only be the same as yours anyway.’

Bessie nodded. ‘You go then, lad. I’ll give you a few minutes to get aboard, else if your ship’s not halfway down the river, they’ll likely fetch you back.’

Despite the gravity of the moment, Dan smiled. ‘Thanks, Mam. Good luck.’

Wryly, Bessie said, ‘I reckon I’m going to need it, lad.’

As Dan’s heavy boots clattered across the yard and away down the alley, Bessie went towards her own house, biting her lip. ‘I wish my Bert was here,’ she muttered to herself. ‘I could do with him here right this minute.’

How on earth was she going to break the dreadful news to Mary Ann?

The girl’s first question, however, was not about her mother, nor her father. ‘Where’s Dan?’ she demanded the moment Bessie set foot in the kitchen.

‘He’s had to go back to his ship, love. Come and sit down with me a minute. Min, have you got that kettle boiling? I could do with a strong cuppa.’

‘Yes, Bess.’ Minnie scuttled between kitchen and scullery and only when they were all sitting around the roaring fire in the kitchen range did Bessie say gently, ‘Mary Ann, we’ve found your mam, love.’ She glanced at Minnie, but her neighbour was looking even more round-eyed and fearful than the young girl was. ‘I’m afraid . . .’

‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ Mary Ann took the words from her and Bessie held her breath, unable to guess exactly how the girl was about to react.

Bessie nodded. ‘I’m so sorry, love, but yes, she is. And . . . and I must call the police. You understand that, don’t you?’

Mary Ann was staring at her. Her calmness was unnerving. Bessie had steeled herself to cope with hysterics, but Mary Ann sat quietly and it was obvious by her next words that she was thinking rationally and, for her age, with adult logic.

‘My father killed her, didn’t he?’

Bessie gulped. ‘I’m afraid it does look that way, yes.’

‘And now he’s gone?’

Bessie nodded.

‘He locked me in, didn’t he? Locked me in that house with my mother lying dead somewhere . . . Where was she?’

‘Did you look in their bedroom?’

Mary Ann nodded.

‘So, you saw the bed against the wall?’

Again the girl nodded.

‘She . . . she was under that.’

Beside her Bessie heard Minnie gasp and, turning to glance at her, saw that she had turned white.

‘Here, give me that cup before you drop it,’ she said, getting up at once. ‘Now, head down between your knees. I can’t do with you fainting on me just now, Minnie Eccleshall.’

A little roughly, though not unkindly, Bessie took the cup and saucer out of Minnie’s shaking hands and thrust her head into her own lap. ‘Now, just stay like that till you feel better.’ She glanced at Mary Ann. ‘You all right, love?’

Although the girl nodded, Bessie was still worried. Her reaction was unnatural. Although it would be hard to deal with, she almost wished Mary Ann would cry, rage even. At least that would be more normal. But she just sat there, staring ahead of her, her face expressionless, her hands lying idly in her lap, as if her mind was completely blank.

Perhaps it was, Bessie thought. Perhaps that was going to be the girl’s way of dealing with it. Just not to think about it.

Slowly Minnie sat up. ‘I’m all right, Bessie, honest. Sorry. Now, what do you want me to do?’

‘Finish your tea first,’ Bessie said, sitting down again herself and picking up her own cup. She glanced at the clock. Dan had had a good half an hour’s start now. Time enough, she thought. She mustn’t be much longer fetching the police or they would want to know why she had delayed calling them. ‘Then,’ she went on, ‘if you’d look after Mary Ann, I’ll see to everything else.’

Minnie nodded gratefully and gave another little shudder, pleased not to have to go into the house next door. ‘You can come home with me, Mary Ann.’

Bessie nodded her approval. Although it was only just across the yard, at least in Minnie’s home, Mary Ann would hear less of the comings and goings next door.

As she saw them out, Bessie whispered to Minnie, ‘Keep her the far side of your house, if you can. The less she sees the better, poor bairn.’

Minnie nodded. ‘There’s only me scullery window looks over this way. I’ll do me best, Bessie.’

Bessie patted her friend’s shoulder. ‘I know you will, Min. Thanks.’

As Bessie stood in the middle of the yard awaiting the arrival of the police, Amy opened her door. ‘What’s going on, Bessie? What are you standing there for?’

Bessie glanced over her shoulder towards the alleyway, but there was no one emerging from its shadows into the yard yet.

She moved towards Amy and said in a low voice. ‘There’s trouble at the Clarks’ house. The police are on their way. I’ve just been to the station to fetch them.’

Amy smiled maliciously. ‘Good for you, Bess. Get the bugger arrested, that’s what I say. Sling him back in jail where he belongs. Let him rot . . .’

‘He’s not there, Amy. He’s gone.’

Amy’s mouth dropped open. ‘Gone? Gone where?’

Bessie shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

‘So why . . .?’ Amy began and then her eyes widened. ‘You don’t mean he’s done for her?’

‘Well, she’s dead. That’s all I know for certain. But it looks like it.’

Even Amy, for a moment, was shocked. Then her mouth was a grim, tight line. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. That’s all his sort are good for, battering defenceless women. I told you he was no good. That’s what comes of having a conchy in our yard. I hope they find him and hang him.’

Grimly, Bessie said, ‘If they do find him, that’s exactly what they will do. Hang him.’

‘Hanging’s too good for him,’ Amy said now, perversely. ‘They should throw him to the women. All us women, who’ve lost someone in the war. We’d soon show him what we thought of a conchy.’

‘Oh Amy,’ Bessie sighed sadly. ‘Don’t be so bitter, love.’

‘Bitter? Bitter, you say? Don’t you think I’ve got good reason to be bitter?’

With that Amy slammed the door just as Bessie heard what sounded like an army of heavy boots thundering down the alleyway and into the yard.

‘So, Mrs Ruddick. You and your son found the body, did you?’

Bessie faced the burly, solemn-faced policeman. He was not in uniform but had introduced himself as Inspector Chapman. He seemed to be in charge of a sergeant and several younger constables, who were dashing about doing his bidding.

Bessie licked her dry lips. ‘Yes. My son Dan has had to go back to work. He said to tell you that when he gets back tomorrow, he’ll come straight to the station to see you.’ She tried to smile winningly at the man. ‘I’ll tell him to ask for you, shall I?’

The man was unmoved and said sternly, ‘He should not have done that, Mrs Ruddick. He should have waited here.’

Bessie bristled. ‘He’s on one of Mr Price’s ships and he’d have missed the tide, else. Expect him to lose his job, do you?’

‘This is a very serious matter, Mrs Ruddick.’

‘I know that,’ Bessie snapped. ‘I’ve got eyes in me head, ain’t I? But, like I said, he’ll come and see you just as soon as he gets back tomorrow. Besides, I was with him. He can’t tell you any more than I can.’ Craftily, she added, ‘Not as much, really.’

‘Oh? Why is that?’

‘Because me and Bert heard all the rumpus going on in the night.’

‘And who might Bert be?’

‘Me husband, of course.’ Bessie was fast losing her patience. She had got off on the wrong foot with this man, she knew, so she took a deep breath and tried to hold on to her composure. ‘Dan wasn’t even here.’

‘Really?’

‘No. His young lady had been here with us to see the New Year in and he’d taken her home.’

‘I see. We shall need her name and address to verify that.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘To confirm your son’s alibi.’

‘Alibi? What on earth should my Dan need an alibi for?’

‘No need to get alarmed, madam. It’s just routine.’

‘Is it, indeed. Well, it sounds a very silly routine to me, if you start accusing innocent folk, who just try to help. It’s obvious who’s done it, ain’t it?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ the man said carefully. ‘We have to make our inquiries and you’d do better to assist us, Mrs Ruddick.’

‘I’m trying to,’ Bessie snapped again, ‘if you’ll let me get a word in edgeways to tell you.’

Now the man listened whilst Bessie explained in detail all that had happened the previous night. When she fell silent he asked, ‘Had you heard such noises before last night?’

Bessie’s mouth tightened. ‘Oh yes. From the day they moved in, we knew what he was, but I had a go at him . . .’ She was about to recount how she had threatened Sid Clark on his own doorstep, but she was fast becoming very wary of this policeman. She doubted that he would see her side of such a situation. He might even run her in for menacing the man, or something as daft.

For once, Bessie held her tongue, but it was, even she realized, with great difficulty.

‘Do you know anything else about the family? You mentioned a girl?’

‘Yes, Mary Ann. She’s across at my neighbour’s house.’

‘Does she know what’s happened?’

‘I told her.’

‘And?’

Bessie shrugged. ‘I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. She’s only thirteen.’

‘I shall have to have a chat with her, since she was in the house all night.’

Bessie shuddered inwardly. What this dour man’s questioning would do to poor Mary Ann she dare not think.

‘Now then, me little lass, you come and sit down in Mrs Ruddick’s kitchen with me and we’ll have a little chat, shall we? Perhaps this nice lady would make us a cup of tea. Should you like that, eh?’

Bessie’s mouth dropped open. Inspector Chapman was like a different man. Mesmerized by the sudden change in him, she watched as he took hold of Mary Ann’s hand and led her across the yard, walking on her right hand side so that his tall, broad frame shielded her from even having to see her home.

‘Now,’ he said kindly, as they entered Bessie’s house. ‘You sit there. My word,’ he spread his large hands out towards the warmth as they sat down either side of the range. ‘This is a nice fire, isn’t it? Get yourself warm, love. Cold old day, isn’t it? And this little bit of trouble doesn’t help, does it?’

Little bit of trouble, he called it. Well, that was one way of looking at it, Bessie supposed. Just about the worst that could happen to anyone had happened to Mary Ann and he was calling it ‘a little bit of trouble’.

Bessie went into her scullery and set about making a cup of tea, but she kept her ears attuned to what was going on in her kitchen.

‘I’m sorry to have to ask a lot of questions, love, but you’re old enough to understand that we have to find out what’s happened, don’t we?’

Bessie could not hear if Mary Ann answered, but she heard the man continue. ‘So, were you there last night? All night?’

Again there was a pause and Bessie presumed Mary Ann was merely nodding or shaking her head in response.

The big man’s voice was very gentle now as he asked, ‘And can you tell me what happened?’

There was a long silence before Bessie, carrying a tray of cups through, heard Mary Ann say haltingly, ‘Me dad came home drunk. It was very late. Later than usual. Gone midnight.’

‘Does he get drunk very often?’

Now Bessie was in the room setting the tray on the table and saw Mary Ann nod.

‘And then what happened?’

‘We’d gone to bed, me mam and me.’

‘And where did you sleep? In that little room at the top of the stairs?’

Again, she nodded.

‘And your mam?’

‘In the big bedroom. With . . . with me dad.’

‘Yes?’ Gently Chapman encouraged her.

‘Well, he was banging about. Falling up the stairs, you know.’

Now the man nodded, but Bessie noticed that he never took his gaze away from Mary Ann’s face. He was watching her intently.

‘Then I heard him get into bed. It creaks, their bed. And I heard her crying out, “No, no, please don’t.” Then I heard him making funny noises, sort of grunting and the bed was creaking and me mam was still crying.’

Chapman and Bessie exchanged a look but neither said a word as the girl continued, recounting now things she didn’t perhaps fully understand, but the older man and woman understood only too well.

‘After a bit it went quiet and I thought he must have fallen asleep but then I heard him shouting at her. “Shut up, you silly bitch, I’ve every right.” ’ Mary Ann paused and wrinkled her forehead. ‘At least, I think that’s what he said. Then he said, “What sort of wife are you, eh?” And then he was swearing and . . . and hitting her. I heard the slaps and her crying out. Then . . . then it got worse. There was thumps and bangs and . . . and then I didn’t hear me mam no more.’