The Buffer Girls (37 page)

Lizzie knocked on the door of the apartment where she and Josh had taken Belle. She was a little nervous, not knowing what her reception would be. She was even more flustered
when she saw the man sitting in Belle’s front room, whom she recognized as Arthur Trippet, even though Belle made no attempt to introduce them to each other. She, too, seemed ill at ease
now.

But
then Lizzie smiled inwardly. Actually, she thought, this was perhaps working out better than she’d hoped. She knew all about Arthur disowning his son. And, of course, living in the
same court – how had they dared to come back? – she knew, too, that Trip and Emily were now married and that Emily was trying to establish another business in the workshop above Mr
Hawke. And, if the latest rumours
were true, to reopen the business that Lizzie – and her brother Mick – had helped her to start in Rockingham Street.

‘You want to go and see Mr Trippet,’ Mick had suggested. ‘They’re all taking no notice of me just now. That bugger Hawke has taken a stand against me and the other little
mesters are following his lead. But he’ll regret it, you mark my words. They all will. I’m working on
it, Sis, I promise, but you go and see old man Trippet. Word has it he’s
disowned his son. For a start, you can get back at the little bitch through her beloved husband.’

‘I can’t go to his factory. He’d send me off with a flea in my ear.’

Mick had frowned, his devious mind working quickly. ‘What about that woman you met in the park when you were with Josh? Belle Beauman?’

At the
mention of Josh’s name, Lizzie’s face hardened as she nodded. Now Mick grinned, ‘’Cos I’ve got a bit of news for you about her, that’s if you
don’t already know. She’s old man Trippet’s whore.’

Lizzie’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Now that is interesting.’

‘Why don’t you go and see her?’

And so, on her brother’s suggestion, Lizzie had come to see Belle. She was disconcerted for a moment,
finding Mr Trippet there, but perhaps it was all meant to be, for it was really his
help she wanted and to talk directly to him was far better than asking his mistress to intercede for her.

She took a deep breath. ‘Mr Trippet . . .’

For a moment, the man looked startled and cast an angry glance at Belle for having invited the girl in. He didn’t want all and sundry knowing his business,
but as the girl began to speak,
he realized that perhaps, after all, she could be useful to him.

‘I have a very juicy bone to pick with your new daughter-in-law.’

‘She’s no daughter-in-law of mine,’ Arthur snapped.

Lizzie now smiled openly and put her head on one side with a coquettish gesture. ‘Then,’ she said softly, ‘you will have no objection to me trying to – er – throw a
spanner in her works.’

Arthur’s face brightened. ‘None at all. But how do you intend to do that?’

‘She’s started up a little buffing business again and got all Nathan Hawke’s buffing work back and Trip – I mean, Thomas – is working for him. Nell and the other
two girls, who were
my
employees, have gone to work for Emily. They are traitors, that’s what they are, and I want to ruin the
lot of ’em.’

‘What happened between you and the Ryan girl?’ he asked bluntly, still refusing to call her by her given name.

Lizzie glanced at Belle. ‘I was walking out with her brother, Josh, but he jilted me to go back and marry the little slut he’d got pregnant in Ashford and I blame Emily for
encouraging him. She knew how I felt about him. Besides,’ she ran her tongue around dry lips.
She could be pushing matters a little too far, but she plunged in, hoping that she recognized a
ruthlessness in the man sitting in front of her that was in her own nature. ‘Besides, if I hurt his precious sister, I hurt Josh too.’

Arthur smiled grimly and nodded slowly. ‘I see. It’s all about revenge, is it?’

‘Absolutely.’

He was thoughtful for several moments, whilst both Lizzie,
and Belle, too, grew increasingly anxious. They were both unsure exactly what his reaction was going to be. And then Arthur gave a low,
rumbling chuckle. ‘Then, I think, my dear girl, that we could be useful to each other. I can certainly speak to all my fellow cutlers to prevent them putting their business her way. That
should stop the little madam.’

And now Belle relaxed too. Although
she had never thought of herself as a vindictive woman – she had lived in the shadow of Arthur’s marriage for so many years without a word of
complaint – she now saw a way to bring about a plan of her own.

‘There’s not much I can do to prevent Thomas working for Hawke, but I can certainly do something about
her
.’

‘That’ll do me. I have nothing specific against your son, to be honest.’

‘Well, I certainly have and, like you say about her brother, if I hurt her, then I hurt my son too.’ He balled his right hand into a fist. ‘Not physical harm, you understand. I
don’t want that, but I’ll ruin them both, if I can. If I have my way, they’ll never work in this city again.’

As Lizzie took her leave, Arthur stood up and shook her hand. ‘Keep in touch. You’d better not come
to my factory, though.’ He nodded towards Belle. ‘You can always leave
a message with Mrs Beauman.’

As the girl left, Belle wondered what the next day would bring, for she had a surprise of her own for Arthur Trippet.

The following morning was Sunday, and Arthur announced that he thought the coast would now be clear for him to return home to Ashford. ‘If Thomas and his new wife
–’
he spat out the words – ‘are back in the city, then it means that Constance is alone and my wife,’ he said bitterly, ‘has a lot of explaining to
do.’

‘Do stay for luncheon, Arthur, please.’

‘Very well,’ he agreed, not knowing that he was about to get a shock that would have repercussions for years to come.

Just before the meal was due to be served by Belle’s one and only maid, whose
services were paid for by Arthur, there was a knock at the front door. The maid glanced at
Belle with wide eyes and a fearful glance towards Arthur, who was sitting, quite unperturbed, reading the previous day’s
Times
newspaper. Calmly – although she was quaking
inside – Belle nodded to her maid to open the door and admit the person, who came every week at this time, although he had been unable
to visit whilst Arthur had been staying with her. After
a few moments, the door to the sitting room opened and the maid ushered in a tall young man of about sixteen with dark hair and brown eyes. He hesitated for a moment and glanced at Belle, but at a
nod from her he came slowly into the room.

Arthur looked up at him and then stared fixedly at him for a long moment. The young man met
his scrutiny steadily as Belle rose slowly to her feet and went to stand beside the newcomer. She
tucked her arm through his and hugged it to her. In a voice that was unsteady, she said, ‘Arthur, this is my son, Richard.’

Arthur struggled to his feet, his face thunderous. ‘Is it indeed? You kept that very quiet. I suppose my money has been keeping him too, has it?’

‘Arthur,’ Belle said
quietly and now her voice was strangely calm, ‘he is
your
son too.’

For a moment, Arthur stood very still and then he fell back into the chair with a groan. His hands shook and his face worked.

‘Quick,’ Belle said, rushing to his side, ‘get a glass of water and send for a doctor. I think the shock has caused him to have a stroke.’

But Arthur was waving his hands frantically and shaking
his head. ‘No, no,’ he gasped. ‘No doctor.’

If the moment had not been so serious, Belle might have laughed as she realized the reason behind Arthur’s refusal to send for medical aid; he didn’t want to be caught at her
house.

After a few moments, Arthur had recovered enough to glare at Belle and then at Richard. ‘So, you didn’t think fit to carry out my orders all those years ago. What
is it? Fifteen,
sixteen years? So why have you not told me of his existence before?’ And then, before Belle could speak, he answered his own question. ‘I expect you thought your meal ticket would
disappear.’

He continued to stare at Richard, who met his gaze fearlessly, yet without belligerence or insolence. It never occurred to Arthur to question whether the boy was actually his; Richard’s
resemblance to his half-brother, Thomas, was unmistakeable. There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind that the young man standing so calmly before him was indeed his son.

Quietly, Belle said, ‘If you wish to end our friendship, then I shall quite understand.’

Arthur grunted. ‘Oh, sit down, the pair of you. You make the place look untidy.’

Belle and her son glanced at each other and then
did as he asked.

‘So, I still have a son after all, have I?’ Arthur mused, his gaze never leaving Richard’s face.

‘You have two,’ Belle dared to say.

Arthur shook his head. ‘No, not now. Thomas is lost to me. I won’t have deliberate disobedience.’

Belle bit her lip. She wanted to defend Trip, to say that all the young man had done was to fall in love. Didn’t that count for anything
with Arthur? Evidently, she thought, it did
not.

‘So, how old are you? What school do you attend?’

‘I’m sixteen, sir, and I’m at the King Edward the Seventh School.’ The boy’s voice was low and cultured.

Arthur’s mouth was tight. ‘And I presume I have been supporting you all this time. Why have I not seen you before? Where do you live?’

‘Richard was placed with foster parents
just after his birth. He still lives with them, but comes to see me every Sunday. Normally, you are not here on that day.’

‘And when did he learn about me?’

‘He’s always known that I am his mother. I told him about you when he was twelve and all about my – my past.’ She glanced at her son with fond eyes. ‘He is a mature
young man for his age and he understood. I’m sorry that I have deceived
you over Richard’s existence. When I fell pregnant and told you, I was shocked to the core that you told me to
get rid of the baby. I couldn’t do it. And then when you stayed away for so long – I thought at that time you were never coming back – I decided to keep him.’ It was as if
they were talking about a puppy or a kitten, not a living, breathing human being. Richard was infuriated,
but he had the sense to keep his face expressionless and to say nothing except to answer
his father’s questions politely. Although he’d known exactly who his father was for the past four years and had learned about – and understood – his mother’s way of
life, he had never expected to meet Arthur Trippet. At school he kept quiet about the relationship; his friends thought his foster parents were
his natural parents. No one knew – or guessed
– that his real mother was the mistress of the wealthy factory owner, who was well known in the city and who wielded power over the lives of all his employees, including his legitimate son,
Thomas.

‘Well, well, well,’ Arthur murmured, stroking his moustache thoughtfully for some minutes, whilst Richard sat, outwardly placid, awaiting whatever
decision Arthur Trippet was going
to make. ‘You know, Belle,’ Arthur said at last, ‘I could be very angry with you that you disobeyed me and have deceived me all these years, but in the circumstances I now find
myself, I am very pleased that he – exists.’

‘He’s doing very well at school,’ Belle said proudly. ‘He’s very good at maths and his schoolmasters think he could go to university
if—’

Arthur shook his head. ‘No, he will leave school at the end of this term and take up a place in the offices at my factory. If he’s as clever as you say, he can learn the
administrative side of the business.’ He was thoughtful for a moment and then his eyes narrowed as he said slowly, speaking directly to the boy, ‘If you do well, I am prepared to
acknowledge you as my son and perhaps,
one day . . .’

He left the sentence unfinished, but there was no mistaking the meaning behind his words. If Richard did well, he would one day inherit the works.

‘And now,’ Arthur heaved himself to his feet, ‘I will go back to Ashford. I shall have great pleasure in informing my wife that I still have a son.’

‘Aren’t you staying for luncheon, Arthur? It’s all ready.’

‘No. Next
week, Belle. Next week I’ll come on Sunday and we’ll all have luncheon together.’

Driving his big car home, Arthur began to feel a little unwell, but it was to be expected, he told himself. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and his rotund stomach was beginning to rumble
with hunger. And he had had a few shocks just lately. First, finding out that Thomas had disobeyed him and now this. Belle
had deliberately deceived him and had kept their son’s existence a
secret all this time. And he was incensed that Constance had gone against all his wishes. But at least Thomas would no longer be at home; he was now married to the Ryan slut and living back in the
city.

Arthur Trippet was not a forgiving man and whilst it suited him to acknowledge Richard as his son – and to use him to
exact revenge on his legitimate son – he was deeply angry with
Belle. He wondered how he could punish her without harming the boy. It would not be easy. And there was this other matter about which the girl – Lizzie Dugdale – had sought him out. She
could be very useful to him too. He’d heard of that family name before. Mick Dugdale was fast becoming a notorious name in the area as the leader of
a gang, and as a man who ran several
illegal activities in and around the city, and who, at the moment, was cleverly avoiding the police. He had now set up as a rival to Steve Henderson’s gang, according to Arthur’s source
of information. No doubt the rivalry would one day escalate into street warfare. Arthur had no intention of being on the wrong side of the law; he had his reputation to think
of, but if, through an
intermediary like Lizzie, he could engineer a few activities that, whilst not causing physical harm to anyone – he had no stomach for that – could cause hardship to those who had
crossed him, then he would be satisfied.

As he drew into the driveway of Riversdale House he could see that Kirkland was still busy attending to the ravages which the wedding reception had
left upon the lawn. He glowered at the man,
but said nothing. It was not Kirkland’s fault. He’d only been following Constance’s orders. Ah yes, he thought, as he climbed out of his car, today has been a good day all round.
And now, my dear wife, I have something to tell you. Something I am sure you will not want to hear.