Better Days Will Come (32 page)

The car door opened and a figure dressed all in black got in.

‘Is it safe to stay here?’ Norris asked.

‘Nobody saw me,’ said his passenger. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out some papers. ‘There is another shipment on the way.’

Norris kept his hands on the steering wheel. His passenger flapped the envelope impatiently.

‘I can’t do this any more,’ said Norris. ‘It’s too dangerous and I have too much to lose.’

‘That has never stopped you before. In the beginning you liked the danger.’

‘I did, but things change. Since that George Matthews business, I don’t have the stomach for it any more.’

‘It’s all blown over, hasn’t it?’ snapped his passenger. ‘His father has gone back to South Africa.’

‘What if Grace Follett tells him her daughter was there?’

‘Don’t be daft! If she does that, she implicates the girl, doesn’tshe?’

Norris stared at his fingernails. ‘The locket has gone.’

‘
Gone?
What do you mean, gone?’

‘She must have taken it from the safe.’

His passenger stared at him and then lashed out, raining blows over Norris’s head. ‘You bloody idiot,’ he shouted. ‘That was my way out of here.’

Norris didn’t retaliate, rather he curled himself up and tried to take the blows on his arms. When it was all over, they sat in shocked silence, the only sound in the car being heavy breathing.

A man rounded the corner of the street and walked briskly towards them. His passenger pulled his coat collar up and his hat a little further down. ‘If you were worried about being seen with me, you were a bit daft parking so close to the street lamp,’ he grumbled.

‘What if the boy’s father makes waves?’ said Norris. ‘What if he and Grace put two and two together?’

The man beside him didn’t answer but Norris felt his body stiffen.

‘The police may want to reopen the case,’ he pressed.

‘Then put the frighteners on her,’ said the man. He put the papers onto Norris’s lap. ‘You’ve done it before. Do it again.’

‘You’re not listening,’ said Norris. ‘The locket has gone. I’ve got nothing to bargain with. I’m telling you. I want out!’

‘Now listen to me, matey,’ snapped his passenger. ‘You’re in this up to your neck. When it gets this far, it can’t be turned back. I’ll pass on your concerns to headquarters but for now it’s business as usual.’

The pedestrian had crossed the street and it was empty again.

‘I never thought it would go on for so long,’ said Norris.

‘Yeah,’ said the man, getting out of the car, ‘and Hitler never thought he’d lose the bloody war, did he.’

Grace threw her bag onto the table and put her suitcase by the stair door. It was good to be home again. She felt as if she had been away forever. Her mother had passed away three weeks ago and she had travelled back from Yorkshire for the last time.

She had stayed long enough to bury her mother and to clean and clear out her house. It was all very quick and very final. Her mother had died on a Monday, been buried on the following Monday (Rita couldn’t come because she had her final exam) and Grace had posted the keys through the landlord’s door the Monday after that.

In the lonely days before her mother’s funeral, Grace had done a lot of thinking. She couldn’t understand why she never stopped to work things out long before now. Life had dealt her some difficult cards but instead of asking why, she’d just got on with it.

Since reading her mother’s letter she’d realised that so many of her problems were down to Norris Finley. He’d taken her baby, when she’d been given provision to keep him. He’d pressured her mother into silence and that guilt had blighted their relationship for more than twenty-four years. Her children had been denied a real relationship with their grandmother because Freda had felt compelled to move up to Yorkshire rather than betray her promise to Norris.

Ever since she could remember, Grace had lived in one of the many properties Norris had scattered around the town, with no rent book and the fear of rising rents looming over her head every week. And then there was the blackmail. Keeping Bonnie’s locket in exchange for favours was revolting but now that she was thinking straight, Grace was sure she wasn’t the only victim. When she’d picked up the little envelope, it felt heavy. She’d tipped the contents into her hand, and found Bonnie’s locket but she’d also glimpsed a gold watch. She’d thought and thought about it. Could it have been the gold watch Kaye had been accused of stealing? She would probably never know because the poor girl had been so upset, she’d taken a bus to Beachy Head and never come back. Did she do that rather than sleep with Norris? Had she chosen death rather than dishonour?

Snowy wasn’t much for writing but she had mentioned once again that Polly was looking increasingly thin and that she was a bag of nerves. It wouldn’t surprise Grace if Norris hadn’t forced the girl to do something she was ashamed of. Every time Grace thought about Polly, she grew angry. She was only a kid. Somebody had to stop Norris before yet another young girl in the first bloom of her life went over the cliff. There were more ways than one of being a monster.

As she chewed things over, other people came to mind. People she hadn’t thought of for years. What really happened to that girl whose husband had accused her of going with another man? She had worked in the factory and when her husband … Desmond, that was his name, Desmond Peterson … came home on leave, Dolly had ended up in hospital. She was never the same again. The beating he gave her did something to her brain. Everybody hated Des for what he’d done and he’d been sent to prison. Quite right, everyone said, but now Grace remembered how he’d protested his innocence all along. Did Norris have a part in that too? Who had knocked her down when the Thrift Club money was taken, if not one of Norris’s thugs? Or … could it have been Norris himself ? How else could she explain the torn and empty envelopes and her bag in his safe?

Whatever happened when she got home, Grace was determined to expose Norris somehow. He mustn’t be allowed to ruin anyone else’s life.

There was little to bring back. Most of her mother’s things were too far gone to be much use to anyone, but her furniture still had a bit of life in it. She had shared the big things around the neighbours, and been content to give them as gifts.

‘Surely you want summat for it, lass?’ one of them said but Grace shook her head. ‘Mother would have wanted you to have it.’

She had boxed a few things up and brought them with her on the train. Right now they were in the porter’s room at Worthing station because Manny Hart had promised to bring the box with him on his way home.

‘You heard from that girl of yours yet?’ he’d asked.

Grace shook her head. The question coming so soon after she’d arrived back home cut her to the quick but she was grateful as well. At least Bonnie wasn’t totally forgotten.

It was late. Grace was shattered; she’d been travelling all day. She looked around. Everything was neat and tidy, and sparkling clean. Snowy had been working very hard. It was only then that she noticed the Christmas decorations. Snowy wouldn’t have bothered with them. Her heart skipped a beat. Hadn’t Bonnie always said how much she hated the old decorations? She’d promised to put up new ones two Christmases ago. Could it be …? She heard a footfall upstairs and her heart leapt.

‘Bonnie? Is that you?’

‘No, Mum,’ came a voice. ‘It’s me. Rita.’

Grace stood for a second, her hand on the rail while she steadied herself and swallowed her disappointment, then she bounded up the stairs as quickly as her tired legs would allow.

‘I wasn’t expecting you home until tomorrow,’ she said, her face wreathed in smiles. She wished she hadn’t called Bonnie’s name. Poor Rita. She must have been hurt. Mother and daughter hugged and kissed each other.

‘I’m sorry about Granny. How was the funeral?’

Grace was surprised to find her eyes immediately filling with tears. ‘All right. All the neighbours came.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rita, hugging her again.

As they separated, Grace fumbled for a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘What’s that you’ve got in your hand?’

Rita held up her diploma. ‘Da-daaa.’

‘Oh Rita,’ Grace beamed. ‘Let me look.’

The piece of paper was impressive.
This is to certify that Rita Elizabeth Rogers has successfully completed a shorthand and typing course …

‘And before you ask,’ she went on, ‘I already have a job.’

Grace took in her breath.

‘I went for a job in the office at Southdown buses but then I saw Bob Dawson. He drives one of the buses and he told me they’re desperate for conductresses. Mum, it was £2 3s 11d rising to £2 15/- after a three-month trial.’

‘But all that hard work with your shorthand and typing,’ Grace protested.

‘Please don’t let’s fight about it, Mum.’

Grace hesitated and then cupped her daughter’s face in her hands. Grace didn’t want to fight either. She felt the past year had been a waste, but what could she do? She could tell by Rita’s face that she was utterly determined and it was, after all, her life. ‘When do you start?’

‘In the New Year,’ said Rita, ‘which means we can enjoy Christmas and the New Year together.’

‘Oh darling,’ said Grace. ‘I’m so glad for you. It’s time things started to go right for you.’

‘They are, Mum,’ said Rita sitting back down on the bed. ‘Emilio is coming back after Christmas.’

Grace looked away. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t spend so much time with him,’ she said carefully. ‘Find yourself a nice boy and settle down.’

‘I don’t want another boy,’ said Rita. Her voice had an edge to it.

‘Rita …’

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Mum,’ Rita interjected. ‘You always try to put a dampener on me and Emilio. I can never understand why. He’s kind and gentle and he treats me very well.’

Grace felt uncomfortable. Could it be that Rita
still
didn’t understand about Emilio? ‘Did you ask him where he was, while he was away?’

‘No,’ said Rita defensively. ‘Why should I? I trust him. Besides, he’s already told me he’s learning all about the fishing around here. He wants to be the best fisherman along this part of the coast.’

Grace felt her stomach fall away. Dear Lord, Rita
really
didn’t know. She should have been more explicit with her. ‘Darling,’ Grace began again, ‘you don’t understand …’

‘No, Mum, it’s you that doesn’t understand,’ said Rita. ‘Look, it’s our first night together for ages. I really don’t want an argument.’

Grace nodded sadly. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ She’d have to make sure they had time together and then she would explain. Of course her daughter didn’t know Emilio’s preferences. She was an innocent.

Rita stood up and went into her mother’s arms. ‘Was it awful with Granny?’

‘No,’ said Grace softly. ‘She was old and tired and she was ready to go. In the end, it was very peaceful.’

‘She was a funny old thing,’ said Rita. ‘I’m not sure she liked us very much.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Grace. ‘She loved us more than we could have ever known. One day I shall tell you about the sacrifice she made.’

There was a sharp knock at the door and they heard it open. Manny’s voice called out, ‘I’ve brought your box, Grace.’

‘I’d better go,’ said Grace, squeezing her daughter one more time. ‘Shall I get fish ’n’ chips for tea?’

‘Rather,’ Rita enthused. ‘It’ll certainly make a change from Aunt Rene’s boiled cabbage.’

‘Grace?’ Manny sounded impatient.

‘Coming, Manny,’ and laughing, Grace ran downstairs.

There were only four and a half shopping days to Christmas and so much still to do.

Rita was home and Snowy presented her with a brand new rent book. What was even more wonderful, thanks to the Fair Rents panel, she was paying 5/- a week less than she had been.

Grace set about everything with a purpose. She left a list of things at the counter of Potter and Bailey’s and asked for the boy to bring them round in the afternoon, then she walked to the bus stop to catch the bus into town. She passed Archie’s shop on the way. Michael’s chair was still in the window. It was still in one piece but it had been neatly divided into two sections. One side was still exactly the same as when she had sold it to him but the other arm had been completely restored in the burgundy leather. It looked wonderful.

She slowed her footsteps as she caught sight of it and her heart lurched. She was filled with a mixture of emotions, chief of which was the poignancy of Michael not being here any more. She’d never ever forget him but it didn’t hurt as much as it had done. Like her mother, he was gone forever. She remembered curling up on the chair with the girls when they were younger and telling them stories of princes and princesses and happily ever after.

When she pushed a thank you note for the rent book through the letterbox, she looked up and Archie was watching her. Her whole body still yearned for him and she found herself making as if to go into the shop. All at once she stopped herself. Archie had a customer. A man, who had been bending over a chesterfield couch and running his hands along the refurbished leather, stood up and opened his wallet. He began counting a lot of notes on the counter, until he noticed Archie’s attention was elsewhere. The man turned to look, a slow smile touching his lips. He glanced back at Archie then back at Grace. It was Norris. As Grace turned away in disgust, she was aware of Archie’s puzzled expression as he saw Norris blow her a kiss.

It was a shock later that day when Grace opened the door and Norris stood on the doorstep. ‘Anyone here with you?’

She stepped back, her clenched fist pressed over her mouth as he walked in uninvited. She’d never seen him like this before. He looked like a man possessed.

‘I suppose you’ve heard that the boy’s father is here, in Worthing,’ he blurted out.

Grace didn’t know what he was talking about but she was too terrified to speak.

‘If you want me to keep quiet about your daughter,’ he growled, ‘you’d better tell me where you’ve put the letter my father wrote to you before he died.’