Lizzie's War (23 page)

‘I think it ought to have a stitch,' he said. ‘Have you got a GP, Sergeant?'

‘Yes,' the soldier squinted at his arm. ‘I suppose I'd better go round and let him take a look – but it feels fine now.'

‘It might be all right, the cut wasn't really deep, but just check in case the blade was infected,' Ed said. ‘You were lucky. If the knife had struck your heart you might not have got away with it – but I have to thank you, because if you hadn't been so brave, Lizzie might have been murdered.'

‘I was glad to help,' he said and gave Lizzie that shy grin again. ‘Damsel in distress and all that – I should have liked to give that bastard a good pasting. If you know who he is, I'll take some mates with me and make him wish he'd never been born.'

‘I've no idea who he is,' Lizzie said, thankful that she could give a truthful answer that would stop him putting himself and others at risk.

‘Pity. Scum like that don't deserve to get away with it.'

‘Shall I call a taxi for you?' Lizzie asked. ‘We've got a phone here and I'm not sure you should travel on the bus alone.'

‘I'll be fine,' he replied. ‘Will you be all right, miss?'

‘I'll be seeing Lizzie to her bus,' Ed said grimly, then turned to Lizzie. ‘This has to stop, Lizzie. We have to tell the police what has been going on…'

‘Tomorrow,' Lizzie said. ‘We'll talk about it tomorrow.'

‘I'll lock up then, and I'll walk you both to the bus stop,' Ed said severely. ‘But this has to be sorted once and for all.'

‘I thought it was' she said but shook her head when he questioned with a lift of his brows.

She took Sergeant Ryan's uninjured arm, looking at him in concern. ‘You look a bit pale,' she said. ‘Are you sure you don't want one of us to come to the doctor with you?'

‘I'll be fine,' he reassured her. ‘It's just a scratch – but I'll go to my doc and ask him to put a stitch in it for me…'

Lizzie chewed at her bottom lip as she thought about what had happened. There was no doubt in her mind that she would have been badly hurt if the young soldier hadn't turned up when he did.

So much for Jack! Sebastian had believed that he'd protected her by giving her that address but the help she'd been promised hadn't materialized and if it hadn't been for Sergeant Jones she might have been lying in the alley with her throat cut.

Lizzie shuddered as she realized how much danger she'd been in. Ed was right; she was going to have to go to the police…

Hatty was waiting for her when she got in. The motherly woman took one look at her face and put a hand on her arm.

‘What happened, Lizzie?'

‘Oh… nothing much to me,' Lizzie said, ‘but it might have done…'

She explained to a horrified Hatty who stood staring in dismay until Lizzie had finished speaking and then pushed her into a chair and handed her a hot sweet cup of tea.

‘You must go to the police,' she said. ‘I think you need protection, Lizzie. I can't imagine who would want to hurt you, but…' she got no further because Lizzie's phone rang. ‘Sit there and I'll answer it…'

Hatty went into the hall but in a moment she was back, looking puzzled. ‘It's a man for you – he says he must speak to you and he insists it is important…'

‘I'll take it,' Lizzie said and stood up. ‘I'm all right, don't worry.'

She picked up the receiver and held it to her ear. ‘This is Lizzie Winters.'

‘Mrs Winters – that little matter you were worried about has been resolved. I'm sorry about this evening; we were late on the scene, but you won't be bothered again.'

‘Who is this?' Lizzie demanded but the call had been ended. She stared at the receiver for a moment before replacing it, feeling shocked and disbelieving. What had she just been told? Lizzie shuddered as an icy shiver went down her spine. She was sure no one else had been there when she was struggling for her life. At least she hadn't seen anyone. Sergeant Jones was just a young soldier on leave – she was pretty sure he wasn't Jack… he couldn't have been. So how did Jack know and what did he mean by saying she wouldn't be bothered again?

She went back into the kitchen. Hatty turned from the oven with a sizzling hot pie dish held in two tea towels. ‘Who was it, Lizzie?'

‘I've no idea,' Lizzie said bending the truth. ‘He hung up before I got there.'

‘It couldn't have been important then,' Hatty shook her head. ‘Some people…'

Lizzie smiled, feeling glad that she had Hatty living with her. Just at this moment she wouldn't have liked being alone much.

She made an effort to put her unpleasant encounter out of her mind and talk to Hatty about the shop and about Beth, telling her that she was staying with her parents until after Mary's funeral.

‘I feel for them, I really do,' Hatty said, her eyes sad. ‘We're all going through a tough time at the moment. None of us know when we'll get one of those wretched telegrams – but to lose a daughter like that, well it's hard…'

Lizzie agreed. Hatty was in the mood to talk and told her about her sons and their wives and families. She had two grandsons and another child was on the way. Although, she hadn't wanted to live with any of her daughters-in-law, she was fond of them and visited one of them every week, taking it in turns to spend Christmas with them.

Lizzie let her talk, feeling glad that she didn't have to make the effort. She went up to visit Betty while Hatty made their bedtime drinks and saw she was sleeping soundly. Bending down to touch her cheek, Lizzie caught the warm sweet smell of her and felt tears on her cheeks. If Sergeant Jones hadn't come when he did, Betty might not have had a mother by morning – and yet perhaps someone else was there waiting in the shadows. Someone who had since made sure it couldn't happen again…

Lizzie made herself think of other things. She didn't want to know what the voice on the phone had meant when he said her little problem was solved. She hoped that it really was over, but as for details – the less she knew the better.

*

Beth looked so pale as she stood with her mother, father, sister and granny. Lizzie had followed them from the church and stood just a little apart, feeling their grief but unable to offer comfort to the stricken family. She knew only too well how it felt to watch the coffin of a loved one being lowered into the ground. Lizzie might not have been madly in love with Harry, but she'd cared for him and it had hurt, just as it had hurt when she'd lost her uncle – and it hurt Beth to lose her sister, even though she'd quarrelled with Mary, perhaps more so because of that…

Bernie hadn't turned up for the service so Lizzie went to stand by Beth as Mr and Mrs Court moved away to talk to friends and relatives who had come to share this sad time with them. Beth seemed tense and when she turned to look at her Lizzie saw the anguish in her eyes.

‘Is it my fault?' she whispered. ‘If I'd let her share the twins… trusted her to look after them sometimes, she might not have gone away.'

Lizzie put an arm about her shoulders and Beth turned her face into her, grief breaking from her in heavy sobs. ‘It wasn't your fault, love,' Lizzie whispered and kissed her forehead. ‘Mary just couldn't cope with losing the baby and her husband all at once. Even if you'd let her take care of the twins, she might have been just the same.'

‘I think I must be a bad person…'

‘No, of course you aren't. That's nonsense, Beth… why would you say that?'

‘I'm being punished for something…'

Lizzie looked into her face. ‘It's him, isn't it? He's the one that has made you feel like this…' It wasn't a question; they both knew who she meant. Beth was going to deny it, but then she nodded her head. ‘We have to talk, love. You know we do. Whatever is upsetting you – maybe I can help.'

‘I don't think anyone can,' Beth said and for a moment her eyes were bleak. ‘But I want to talk soon, Lizzie – not now. He's here now…'

Lizzie glanced towards the church and saw Bernie walking towards them. He was frowning, a thoughtful look in his eyes. Beth moved away from Lizzie, and understanding why, Lizzie made no attempt to bring her closer.

Bernie had stopped to speak to Mr Court. His deep voice carried easily to them as they stood a short distance away. ‘I'm sorry I'm late,' he said. ‘I was delayed. The police were round – someone I knew was found in the canal. Apparently, he hit his head and fell in – probably drunk they say…'

‘Why did they want to see you?' Beth's father looked unimpressed by the excuse. ‘I should have thought the funeral of your wife's sister was more important than answering their questions.'

‘That's what I told them – but the man was once an employee at the factory and they thought I might know something about him; I told them I'd dismissed him because he drank too much and we can't have that when there's dangerous materials around.'

Lizzie sensed his eyes dwell on her for a moment but refused to look at him. She turned her back on him and mouthed to Beth, ‘Come to the showroom,' then aloud, ‘I have to go, Beth. I've got a rush order on…'

‘Yes, of course you go,' Beth said, and added in a whisper, ‘I'll come… promise.'

Lizzie nodded and turned to say goodbye to Beth's parents. ‘I'll visit on Saturday,' she said. ‘If I can do anything...'

‘We know, Lizzie dear,' Mrs Court said and kissed her. She whispered in Lizzie's ear, ‘Beth seems a little better – don't you think?'

‘Yes, she does,' Lizzie whispered back. She smiled at Beth's father, nodded to Bernie and walked away, conscious that his eyes stabbed her in the back.

She didn't know for sure that the man the police had found in the river was the one that had tried to abduct her, but something in Bernie's gaze made her suspect it might be. Lizzie wasn't sure how she felt about that, because she would be relieved to think that the man couldn't harm her again – and yet it wasn't pleasant to wonder if she might have been responsible for a man's death.

She comforted herself with the thought that she hadn't asked for anything that drastic. All she'd hoped for was that her attacker might be warned off, but perhaps she was naïve. Perhaps with that sort only drastic action worked.

It was unlikely she would ever know the truth. The sooner she could put all this behind her, the better.

*

It was that same evening that Sergeant Bryan Jones turned up at the workrooms just as Lizzie was about to lock up. He looked at her a little bashfully, his cap in his hands.

‘Came to see if I could walk you to the bus stop,' he said. ‘Have you had any more trouble since the other night?'

‘No,' Lizzie said. According to the cryptic phone message from Jack he'd made sure it couldn't happen again, but she couldn't tell this nice young man something like that.

‘Hopefully, you frightened him off and it won't happen again. How is your arm?'

‘My doc put a couple of stitches in and it's fine,' he said. ‘The Army medics have given me a couple of extra weeks off, said I should take a little time to recover – and told me no more heroics because I'm needed out there…'

‘Yes, of course you are,' Lizzie agreed. ‘I'm glad you're better, Sergeant Jones; it was very brave of you to charge in like that…'

‘Acted without thinking,' he said dismissively but his neck was red. ‘I wondered if you would come out with me – to the flicks or for a drink perhaps.'

‘I don't think I should,' Lizzie said and smiled to soften the blow. ‘My husband might not like that very much – but you're welcome to come back and have supper with my housekeeper and me. She looks after my little girl…'

‘Oh, I see,' he said, looking disappointed. They had reached her bus stop just as the bus was pulling in. ‘Well – why not?' He hopped on the bus after her and went to sit next to her, pulling out his money as the conductor came to take their fares. ‘I don't have anywhere else to go – my girl got bored and found someone else while I was out there…'

‘I'm so sorry.' Lizzie touched his arm. They were drawing to a stop and she didn't notice the man in the seat behind her as he got up and walked to the door. Nor did she notice the way his cold eyes stared at her

It was the evening after the day of Mary's funeral and Beth had returned home with her husband after the service. He'd hardly spoken to her since, having left the house before she was up that morning, and she thought he was brooding over something; she could only be glad of the respite. She held her breath as she listened at the door of Bernie's study. He had a visitor in there and one he didn't want her to see, because he'd told her to go upstairs and stay there if she knew what was good for her.

They'd left the door into the hall open a crack and Beth could hear what they were saying if she tried very hard. Not every word was distinguishable, but she could get the gist of most of it.

‘Who killed Norm that's what I want to know,' Bernie's visitor demanded ‘It would have had to be a professional – someone who knew what they were doin'. He ain't easy to fool…'

‘The bloody police say he was drunk,' Bernie answered. ‘He didn't often drink that much – it wasn't the way he got his kicks…'

‘No, we all know what Norm liked,' the other man muttered. ‘Did he get out of line? If he talked to someone it could mean trouble for us all…'

‘Norm wouldn't talk. 'He hadn't been tortured or the cops would've said – No, it was a neat job… someone wanted him out of the way. I thought you…'

‘It wasn't me. I thought he might have upset you?' the visitor questioned.

‘No!' Bernie's denial was sharp. ‘He was too useful for the moment. I need to know if we've been rumbled – if so I'll have to close the houses…'