Sealed With a Loving Kiss (38 page)

‘Hello, Cyril. Remember me?'

He opened his eyes with a start and looked blearily at Mary as his heart began to pound against his cracked ribs. ‘I'm Tommy,' he rasped.

‘You are when it suits you,' she replied coldly. ‘Well, I'm your daughter, Flora.'

Tommy froze and stared up at her, his addled brain working desperately to clear the fog of pain and think straight. ‘I don't have a daughter,' was all he managed.

Mary looked at the other women who'd come to stand protectively at her side, thereby surrounding him. ‘He obviously needs a little reminder of the truth. Shall we tell him how we found out about the way he lied and betrayed us all?'

Tommy's blood ran cold in his veins and the icy sweat beaded on his battered face as he tried and failed to think of a way to wriggle out of this situation. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' he muttered as he glanced from one angry, set face to another.

‘Remember Gideon Jones and his childless wife Emmaline?' Mary's voice was low and unemotional as she and the other women closed in around him. ‘Remember going to his church in Carmine Bay once you'd discovered the sad story of their lost children, and the fact they were about to move to another parish in another county? They were prime targets, weren't they?'

Tommy pressed back in the chair as Rosie leaned towards him. ‘And remember how you lied and told me Eileen had changed her mind about me keeping Flora?'

‘And how you tricked me into handing over my baby so you could give her away to strangers,' added Eileen.

Tommy grabbed one of the crutches and began to jab at the women to get them out of his way as he struggled out of the chair. ‘I don't have to sit here and listen to this,' he hissed. ‘If you won't heed my warning about the Copeland brothers then that's up to you, but I'm getting out of here.'

‘You're not going anywhere, Findlay,' said Sergeant Williams as he and three hefty constables stormed up the stairs and into the room. ‘At least not until we've searched this place thoroughly for illicit contraband.'

Monty began to growl and Ron quickly silenced him before he nodded to the women to move away from Tommy.

Tommy's sneer of contempt encompassed them all before he turned back to the sergeant. ‘Help yourself,' he said dismissively. There's nothing of interest to you here.'

‘Really?' Sergeant Williams rocked back and forth on his heels as two of his men began a perfunctory search behind the couches and under the cushions. ‘That's an unusual state of affairs for you, Findlay. You've usually got something stashed away.'

‘Not this time,' he replied smugly. ‘I'm a law-abiding citizen now, and wouldn't dream of breaking the terms of my probation.'

Sergeant Williams surveyed Tommy from his bruised and battered face to the cast on his broken leg. ‘Had an accident, have we?' he asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘Run into a couple of fists, and maybe a heavy boot or two?'

Tommy didn't reply, for Williams was a wily old bastard and probably already knew who'd given him a beating. He watched through his swollen eyelids as two of the policemen began to search through Rosie's kitchen cupboards, and felt a certain satisfaction that they were wasting their time.

‘I understand you've discharged yourself from hospital,' the sergeant continued. ‘Now why would you do that when it's clear you're still a very sick man?'

‘I hate hospitals,' he muttered.

‘Hmm.' He turned to his men, who were still opening and shutting drawers and cupboards in the kitchen. ‘You two go and search the bedrooms while PC Carter minds the stairs and I have a chat with Mr Findlay here.'

Tommy's eyelids had puffed up again and it felt as if there were grains of sand scratching his eyeballs as an army of drummers marched through his head. Yet he managed a sickly smile as the two policemen headed down the hallway. ‘Look where you want,' he called after them. ‘You won't find anything more than my dirty underwear.'

‘I see you haven't lost any of your bravado, Findlay,' said Williams, ‘but then it's a rather necessary commodity when mixing with people like the Copeland brothers, isn't it?'

‘I dunno what you mean,' he replied as he sank back into the chair and battled against the nauseous headache.

‘Come, come, Findlay. The Copelands are your friends. Why, they even took time out of their busy, nefarious schedule of robbery, intimidation and violence to visit you in hospital this afternoon.'

Tommy was fighting not only the blinding headache but the gnawing pains that were shooting through his tortured body. ‘How do you know that?' he rasped.

Sergeant Williams rocked on his heels as his stony-faced constable stood at the top of the stairs and kept an eye on Tommy. ‘Matron became most concerned over your welfare once she'd discovered who your unsavoury visitors were. She telephoned me at the station, and I sent Carter here to go and keep an eye on their office at the abattoir and see if he could discover what they were up to. I also had a man watching you – which is how I knew you'd be here this afternoon.'

Despite the agony he was in, Tommy's curiosity had been piqued, and he looked through his swollen eyelids at the sergeant, noting he seemed to be very pleased with himself. This didn't bode well, and the sweat was cold as it ran down his back.

‘The Copeland brothers are creatures of habit and never stray far from their office – it must be the stench of all that blood and raw meat that attracts them,' the sergeant added with a sneer. ‘Carter didn't have long to wait until he saw them piling into their delivery van, armed to the teeth with clubs, knives and chains.'

Sergeant Williams beamed with pride as he glanced across at the beefy constable. ‘Despite his size, Carter is fleet of foot and managed to get to a telephone box to warn me the Copelands were looking for trouble, and that he'd overheard them planning to do over this place.'

Tommy heard Rosie gasp in horror and ignored her. He was far more interested in hearing from Williams what had happened next.

‘We were waiting for them, and let them get as far as the side door of the pub before we trapped them in the alley. It was like shooting fish in a bucket,' said Williams smugly. ‘Now they're all tucked up nice and tight in my cosy cell waiting to go before the magistrate in the morning.'

Tommy's relief was so intense that he couldn't help but smile, even though it pulled on the cuts in his lips.

But that smile swiftly disappeared when the two policemen came into the room carrying armfuls of shoeboxes. ‘We found these in the back of his wardrobe, sir.'

There was a horrified cry from Rosie and an answering yap from Monty as the boxes were deposited on the low table and opened to reveal dozens of packets of cigarettes and tobacco as well as several half-bottles of gin which were clearly marked with the RCA insignia.

Tommy's blood froze. He'd been stitched up – and he knew exactly who'd done it. ‘It's not mine,' he protested as he struggled to get out of the chair. ‘Someone put all that there to frame me. It's not mine, I tell you.'

Sergeant Williams ignored his protests, and as the evidence was packed away and carried down to the sergeant's car, he indicated that Tommy should be helped to his feet and then handcuffed.

‘Thomas Arthur Findlay,' he intoned gravely, ‘I am arresting you for possessing goods which you are clearly planning to sell on the black market. You will also be charged with stealing the property of the Royal Canadian Air Force, and for the robbery committed on Jackson's tobacconist on the night of December the twenty-second.'

‘It's not mine,' moaned Tommy as he feebly struggled against the policemen's iron grip. ‘I was stitched up.'

Williams carried on with his speech as if Tommy hadn't spoken. ‘As you have broken your terms of probation, you will spend the night in my cell alongside your friends, the Copelands, and be transferred first thing in the morning to His Majesty's Prison in Maidstone.'

‘No. I can't be banged up with them,' Tommy whimpered through his pain. ‘They'll kill me.'

‘I must warn you,' continued the sergeant with little emotion, ‘that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.'

Tommy felt the cold grip of the handcuffs round his wrists, and he shot a glare of pure malice at Ron. ‘I'll get you for this, you old bastard,' he snarled.

‘I heard that threat against a law-abiding citizen,' said Sergeant Williams, ‘and if you open your mouth again, I'll charge you with intent to harm.'

Tommy cried out in pain as he was manhandled towards the stairs. ‘You're hurting me,' he wept. ‘For God's sake, don't be so rough.'

But the policemen carried him none too gently down the stairs and out to the police van. The door was opened and he was virtually thrown into the back. He lay there fighting to breathe and to contain the searing pain that shot through his body and right through his head.

But the terror of knowing he would be sharing a cell with the Copeland brothers was far greater than any pain, and he sobbed in despair as the doors were slammed and the van began to trundle inexorably towards the police station and his doom.

‘I'm sorry you had to witness that, ladies,' said the sergeant. ‘But rest assured, you are quite safe now, Rosie. We've found enough evidence at the abattoir office to finally prove that the Copeland brothers were responsible for at least one murder as well as black-marketeering, grievous bodily harm and aggravated burglary, so they'll be locked up for the foreseeable future. As for your brother, his sentence will be increased to take into account these latest charges, and this time he will serve the full term.'

He turned away from the women and gave Ron a sly wink of thanks for the tip-off as he carefully placed his peaked cap on his head. ‘I wish you all a very pleasant evening,' he said, and with the broad grin of satisfaction for a job well done, he took his leave.

THERE HAD BEEN
a great deal of discussion once the sergeant had left the Anchor, and as the women settled down to explain everything to Barbara Boniface, Ron had sneaked a slice of cake, kissed Rosie goodbye and left them to it. Monty and Harvey were due for their evening walk, and he was looking forward to getting some good clean air in his lungs after breathing in the same atmosphere as Tommy Findlay for the latter part of the afternoon.

The master-stroke in his plan to nail Findlay once and for all had been his purchase of that black-market gin from his mate Bill Fletcher, who always kept a bottle or two of something hidden in his potting shed. Those bottles had condemned the man to at least ten more years in prison, and Ron had no regrets about what he'd done. His Rosie would be safe, and all the unpleasantness that had simmered between her and Eileen could be wiped away in the knowledge that their little Flora had survived Tommy's twisted plotting, and that although she would be leaving Cliffehaven the next day, she was returning home to the people who loved her.

It was heart-warming to know that good things could still happen in these dark days, and there was a spring in his step as he tramped up the steep hill behind the racing, excited dogs.

A month had passed since that day of revelation, and Peggy had been well aware of the need for Rosie and Eileen to set aside their feud and recover from their deep disappointment that Mary had left Cliffehaven to be with Barbara and Joseph before she went to college. She knew that hard work was a good cure for all ills, and had encouraged them to help her remove all trace of Tommy from the spare room.

The walls had been freshly painted, the curtains and bedding thoroughly washed, and the stained carpet which was riddled with cigarette burns was taken down to the corporation rubbish dump. Once the floorboards had been scraped and newly varnished, Rosie had managed to purchase a pink rug from the Saturday market which exactly matched the roses clambering up the pretty curtains. It was now a perfect guest room, and Rosie had confided in Peggy that she hoped that one day Mary might come for a visit.

Peggy had fretted over everyone, for she'd known how deeply saddened Eileen and Rosie were that Mary hadn't wanted to stay and perhaps forge some sort of relationship with them, but Peggy secretly thought she'd done the right thing. Such revelations would take time to absorb and understand, and the girl needed the security and love of the woman who'd more or less raised her to help her through. Barbara had, to all intents and purposes, been Mary's mother, and it was right that they should be together.

As for Rosie and Eileen, they were beginning to pick up the threads of their lives again, their sorrow for what might have been soothed by the many letters that came from Mary, who seemed to understand that it was necessary for all of them to stay in touch.

It was now February, and Peggy was in such a happy mood that she went about the house singing to herself. There was so much to be grateful for despite the absence of Jim and the almost daily air-raid warnings. Cordelia was fully recovered; Fran and Robert had become inseparable; Suzy and Anthony were blissfully happy in their tiny cottage; and dear little Rita seemed to have wings on her heavy boots now she and Matthew were planning their engagement.

She came into the kitchen with a broad smile on her face and picked up Daisy, who was scuttling around the floor on all fours. Giving her a big kiss, she danced round the kitchen and sang along to the music on the wireless.

‘Goodness me,' said Cordelia as she came in wearing her best suit and hat. ‘Someone's happy this morning.'

Peggy kissed her. ‘Oh, I am,' she said. ‘It's a beautiful day; I've had another two airgraphs from Jim; Danuta's finally written to say she's well; everyone's in love or at least happy with their lot; and you and Bertram are off to have a lovely lunch at the golf club.'