The Buffer Girls (26 page)

For the first time in her life, Emily lashed Josh with her tongue.

‘Have you a thought for Dad? Mam says we can’t afford a doctor for him and here you are, wasting money on beer and the like.’ Her deep anxiety over Trip made her speak even
more sharply to her brother than she would have done. But once
started, there was no stopping her. ‘Have you been out with Lizzie?’

‘I might have been,’ he mumbled, startled by Emily’s anger. ‘Wha’s it got to do with you?’

‘Plenty! Have you forgotten Amy?’

Josh blinked and stared at her for a moment, almost as if that was exactly what he had done. Then he laughed – the silly laughter of the inebriated. ‘Amy? Who’s Amy?’

‘Your fiancée, Josh.
The girl you left behind in Ashford and haven’t bothered about since.’

‘I have,’ he muttered, suddenly morose once more. ‘But she doesn’t care about me any more. She’s never written. Not once.’

‘Don’t you want to find out
why
she’s not written to either of us? You asked her to marry you and I thought I was her best friend. We’ve both written –
several times – so why have we heard nothing
from her in return? And, if you are getting close to Lizzie –’ Emily noticed at once that Josh now avoided meeting her gaze and looked
a little sheepish – ‘I think the least you can do is to go and see Amy first. See how
you
really feel. And be honest with her – with both of them, if it comes to that.
Lizzie and her mother have been very helpful to us. I don’t want you hurting her either.
I’ve tried to warn her, but she doesn’t listen to me.’

‘Or me, if it comes to that,’ Josh said ruefully. ‘I . . .’ he began and then hesitated.

‘What?’

‘I don’t really know how I feel, Em, and that’s the truth. I loved Amy – I know that.’

‘Loved? Past tense?’

Josh sighed. ‘I still do, I suppose. But she’s not here and—’

‘Lizzie is.’ Emily finished the sentence for him.

Josh nodded, looking so woebegone that Emily felt sorry for him. He was such a kindly young fellow, he wouldn’t hurt a fly and he certainly wouldn’t want to hurt either of the
girls.

Emily moved to him and put her arm through his, smiling up at him. ‘Listen to your big sister for a moment. Go back to Ashford – just for a visit – to see Amy. It might help
settle things in your own mind
– one way or the other.’

‘What if it doesn’t?’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But,’ she added, lowering her voice, ‘if you’ll take my advice, don’t tell Mam you’re going. Get up early
next Sunday morning and just go. Trip said he’d take you once he got a sidecar. But he wasn’t at the park today.’

‘Wasn’t he?’ Josh said mildly, but Emily could see that his mind was elsewhere.

‘And for Heaven’s sake, stop going out with Mick Dugdale and his mates and spending all your hard-earned money when Mam’s saying we haven’t enough for a doctor for
Dad.’

Suddenly, Josh put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a fistful of pound notes. He threw them on the table with an angry gesture. ‘There, is that enough for you?
That should pay for several visits
from a doctor. Might even get him a bed in the hospital, if that’s what you want.’

Emily stared open-mouthed at the money. ‘Josh – where did you get all that?’

Suddenly, Josh realized what he had done. In his frustration at her nagging, he’d forgotten to guard his tongue. He tried using the same ploy he’d used to his mother.

‘It’s what I’ve got left from my Christmas bonus.’

But
that wasn’t going to work on Emily as it had on Martha. She was far too shrewd and knew a lot more about the cutlery industry than their mother did.

‘Don’t give me that. Waterfall’s doesn’t give bonuses. Come on, tell me.’

‘You’re to promise not to tell anyone.’

‘Just tell me, Josh,’ Emily said, her tone tight.

‘I’ve been out with Mick – not Lizzie – and we go up to Sky Edge and
play pitch and toss.’

Emily pulled in a startled breath. ‘Gambling, you mean? But – but that’s illegal, Josh. Oh my goodness! What if you’d been caught?’

‘We nearly were,’ he admitted. ‘On Boxing Day. That was the first time Mick took me up there and these two coppers came up and—’

‘And you haven’t had the sense to keep out of it since? Oh Josh, what have you got yourself into?’

He shrugged. ‘I can’t see the harm in it, myself. It’s like we used to play when we were kids, Em. You know, heads or tails. That’s all.’

‘Maybe, but we didn’t
bet
on who was going to win, did we? It’s the betting that’s illegal, unless you’ve got a licence. And I don’t think Mick
Dugdale has one, do you?’

They stared at each other in the soft lighting. Neither of them could think of
anything else to say but they were both fully aware now of the enormity of what Josh had got involved in.

At last, Emily said, ‘You’d better get to bed. We’ve work in the morning, both of us.’

As he paused at the stairs, he murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Em. I’ll sort it out, I promise. And I’m sorry about Trip. But he’ll be all right. Maybe he hasn’t come
back after Christmas yet. I expect his
mother wanted to see a bit more of him.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘There must be some compensations for being the boss’s son.’

He crept quietly up the stairs leaving Emily thinking, Not when Arthur Trippet’s the boss, there aren’t.

Now she had two worries and she didn’t know which frightened her the most: Trip not turning up to meet her or Josh being involved in activities that were regarded
as criminal.

Trip wasn’t in the park the following Sunday or the week after.

‘Haven’t you heard anything from him?’ Josh asked her.

Emily bit her lower lip to try to stop the tears from starting in her eyes. But the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking. Sadly, she shook her head and turned away.

She felt Josh’s hand on her shoulder and heard him say, ‘If you don’t hear
something soon, I’ll go to Trippets’, if you like. Mr Bayes might know
something.’

‘Thank you, Josh,’ Emily said huskily. ‘What about you? How’s – everything?’ He’d been out again the previous weekend, but this time he’d
persuaded Mick to let him take Lizzie out to the theatre. Anything, he thought, was better than getting in deeper and deeper with Mick Dugdale and his exploits. Even if
it meant giving Lizzie the
wrong idea. For the rest of the week, Josh had seemed distracted and he had made two serious mistakes at work, which had resulted in another warning from Mr Crossland.

‘I don’t reckon you listened to a word I said last time, did you, lad? You’ve been seen with Mick Dugdale. Well, it’ll do you no good.’ He stepped closer and
lowered his voice. ‘Look, Josh. You’re
a nice lad. I like you and – most of the time – you’re a damned good worker. But this week your mind’s been elsewhere and
I can’t have that when you’re operating dangerous machinery. And if you’re going to spend your free time with the likes of him, then I’d have to think seriously about
keeping you on here. I’ll give you a tip, lad, though I’d ask you to keep it to yourself. My nephew’s a
copper and they’ve got Mick Dugdale and his gang in their sights. I
wouldn’t like to see you caught up in that, ’specially if there are some arrests soon.’

Josh gaped at him and actually trembled inside.

Hoarsely, he said, ‘Thanks, Mr Crossland. I’ll mind what you say. Really, I will.’

As he walked home, Josh was deep in thought. He would keep that piece of knowledge to himself;
he wouldn’t even tell Emily and he certainly wouldn’t say a word to Lizzie, though he
did feel guilty. Whatever they said, Mick had been good to the Ryan family in all sorts of ways and it was Mick who’d been instrumental in helping the girls set up their ‘little
missuses’ business. Josh sighed. Whatever was he going to do?

‘Josh, you really ought to go to Ashford and sort things out.’
Despite her own ever-growing worries about Trip, Emily was still anxious about her brother.

Josh turned away. ‘Soon, Em. I’ll go soon. Another week or so won’t make a lot of difference now.’

‘It might, where Lizzie’s concerned. She does nothing at work but talk about you when the machines are off and even when they’re on sometimes, but we’ve all stopped
lip-reading her.’

Josh smiled
thinly. ‘You’re right, of course. Things are getting a bit more – well, you know – between Lizzie and me. It would be better if I knew once and for
all.’

‘Then for Heaven’s sake
go
, Josh. And the sooner, the better.’

Josh gave a lot of thought to what Emily had said. In fact, he thought of little else. She was right, of course, about Amy and Lizzie, but she didn’t know the half of it.
He’d give
anything to be safely back in Ashford with Amy and well away from Mick Dugdale.

The following evening, when Josh arrived home, he was agitated and kept glancing anxiously at Emily. She could see that he was itching to tell her something. As soon as they could, they left the
house and went outside. Emily pulled her coat tightly around; it was bitterly cold.

‘Trip’s gone,’
Josh burst out.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I went to Trippets’ for you, like I promised. Mr Bayes said there was a terrible row between Trip and his father just after Christmas. Trip stormed out of his office, roared off on
his motorbike and no one’s seen him since.’

‘What was the row about? Did Mr Bayes know?’

‘Not really . . .’

‘He’ll have gone home. That’s where he’ll be. Back
in Ashford.’

‘I don’t think so. Mr Bayes said he did hear the final words. Mr Trippet told him to get out of the factory, that he was no longer a son of his and – and that he wasn’t
to go home.’

‘Not go home!’ Emily was shocked. ‘But what about his mother? Mrs Trippet is a lovely lady. Look how much she’s always done in the village. Surely she wouldn’t
stand by and see her son treated
like that.’

‘Huh! I bet old man Trippet rules the roost. She’ll have to do what he says or risk being thrown out too, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘But Trip’s his only son. His heir.’

Josh didn’t answer.

‘I must find out where he is, Josh. If you don’t go to Ashford, then I will.’

‘I’ll go. I’ve got to be the one to go.’

‘When?’

‘Just as soon as I can.’

Two more weeks went
by and it was the beginning of February. Josh still made excuses not to go to Ashford. With each day that passed, Emily became more and more frantic to find
out something – anything – about Trip. She comforted herself with the thought that Trip would have gone home at least to
see
his mother, even if he couldn’t stay at
Riversdale House. He’ll be all right, she told herself, but somehow she
couldn’t convince herself and she was irritated with Josh that he was still putting off going to Ashford both to
see Amy and to find out about Trip. If Josh didn’t go that weekend, she promised herself, then she would.

‘Any letters, Mam?’ she asked when she came home from work every night and, each time, Martha shook her head.

It was the second Saturday of February when Emily, tired
and dispirited, sat helping her father to eat his evening meal. ‘You look good tonight, Dad,’ she said, trying to sound
cheerful for his sake. The last person she wanted to worry was her beloved father. ‘Are you feeling a bit better?’

She hadn’t expected him to reply; Walter hardly ever responded to anything that was said to him. Most of the time, he just sat sunken in gloom, probably with
horrific memories of the
trenches going through his mind that would then bring on a bout of shaking. But tonight, he was sitting up straight, there was no shaking and he was staring at her, his eyes bright, and he looked
as if he was trying to tell her something.

‘What is it, Dad?’ Emily said softly.

Walter glanced warily across the room to where Martha and Josh sat at the table eating
their tea. Emily looked at them too and then her gaze came back to Walter’s face. Slowly, he put his
fingers to his lips. Emily nodded that she understood. There was something he wanted to communicate to her but not, it seemed, in front of either Martha or Josh, or maybe both of them. She nodded
and whispered, ‘Later, Dad, eh?’

There was the ghost of a smile on his mouth, something Emily
hadn’t seen for years.

After tea was finished and the washing-up done, Josh went out and Martha went upstairs to change the sheets on Walter’s bed.

When they were both safely out of earshot, Emily said softly, ‘What is it, Dad?’

Walter opened his mouth, trying hard to speak, but the words would not come. Then he spread his left hand and with his right forefinger he made a sign as if
he were writing something.

‘You want to write something?’

Walter shook his head and repeated his action. Then he acted out folding a piece of paper, putting it in an envelope, licking the edge and sealing it.

‘You want to write a letter?’ Again, Walter shook his head. Then he pointed to the clock on the mantelpiece above the range, behind which were one or two official-looking
letters.

Emily pointed at them. ‘Is there something in one of those you want me to read? No? Then I wonder . . .’ Emily frowned. He was trying desperately to tell her something.

‘It’s something about a letter, is it?’

Now Walter nodded.

‘Letters we’ve written or ones written to us.’ As he nodded again, Emily asked, ‘Both?’

Another nod.

Now Walter put his hands together and acted
out tearing paper and then tossing it into the range fire.

‘Letters have been torn up and burned. Is – is that what you’re telling me?’

Again, his answer was ‘yes’.

Now Emily stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘But – who? And – and why? And which letters?’ And then she knew. Without Walter having to make any more signs, she knew. But she had
to be sure.

‘Who, Dad? Who destroyed the letters?’

Slowly, Walter glanced up towards the ceiling.

‘Mam? Mam did that?’ Emily whispered, shocked now beyond belief.

Walter’s eyes filled with tears as he nodded. Emily took hold of his hands and held them tightly as she asked, ‘Amy’s letters to us?’