Rosemary Aitken (3 page)

She frowned at him. ‘Well either of the Miss Westons could have told him that. They know better than anyone where Mrs Thatchell lives. But he never came there asking. Cook or someone would have told me if he had. Who is he anyway?’

Alexander took another gulp of air. ‘Effie, that’s exactly what we would like to know.’

She had stopped being frightened. She was merely puzzled now. ‘Well, how don’t you ask him?’

He didn’t answer that. He looked away and underlined the writing in the book. ‘You have no idea at all who this man might have been?’

She shook her head firmly. ‘I don’t know any men. ’Cepting for Father and Uncle Joe, of course, but they know where I live. They wouldn’t have to ask . . .’ She broke off suddenly. ‘Here, this isn’t anything to do with Father, is it? There hasn’t been an accident or something down the mine . . .?’

‘We don’t think it is your father,’ he began, meaning to reassure her.

But she was already shaking that lovely chestnut head and saying in an altered tone of voice, ‘No, course it couldn’t be. They’d have sent at once to Aunty Madge – and she’d have let me know. So whoever is it, to ask for me by name? And you say he isn’t local.’ She looked at him suddenly. ‘There was a cousin of Mother’s went to America, years and years ago. Couldn’t be him, could it? You’d think he’d write to say. And he’d go to Father, not just ask for me.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘But I suppose it might be. Sound foreign, does he?’

He said, very carefully, ‘Seems to be English, from what I understand. But not a local man. No possessions, as far as we can see – except what he stood up in – and nothing about him that would help us to find out who he was.’

‘Was?’ The girl was staring at him disbelievingly. ‘You’re telling me he’s dead?’ He hadn’t meant to let that out so soon, but she had been too sharp. Before he could say anything, she spoke again. ‘Never been murdered, has he?’

‘Nothing so dramatic. Died of cold and hunger, by the look of it. The butcher found his body lying in the yard. But there’s nothing on the body to tell us who he was – no name, no wallet, nothing of the kind.’

‘Someone might have robbed him after he was dead,’ the girl said, surprising him. That was an intelligent idea. Perhaps he would suggest that to the sergeant later on.

‘Maybe, though it looked more as if he’d fallen on hard times.’

‘You mean he was a tramp.’ Effie was frowning. ‘How didn’t he go to the workhouse, whoever he was? I know it’s bad up there, but surely it’s better’n dying, freezing on the street. And what did he want me for? Who was he anyway?’

He cleared his throat and put the notebook carefully away. ‘Effie,’ he said gently, ‘you’d better come with me. I’m sorry to ask you, but the sergeant will want to have a word, and maybe you had better have a look – it may be that you’ll know this person when you see his face. You want me to let your employer know where you have gone?’

She shook her head. ‘Better not – she’ll be spitting tin-tacks as it is, without having a policeman turn up on her step. No doubt the Misses Weston will stand up for me. Won’t take too long, will it, looking at the corpse?’

‘It won’t disturb you?’

She flashed him a wry smile. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve seen dead folks before. Though never a stranger, come to think of it. And this must be a stranger – I can’t think who else. But why on earth should he be wanting me?’

She was a resilient little creature and she looked so awfully young. He rather wished he’d not suggested this; it would have saved her anguish – but someone was sure to have fetched her in the end. Though if anyone was going to shepherd Effie through this unpleasant business, he was happy that it should be Alexander Dawes. He got slowly to his feet. ‘Then, if you’ll follow me.’

Another bashful smile. ‘If you say so, sir. Only I’d better get these books and silks before we go – Mrs Thatchell will be livid with me, as it is.’

‘I’m afraid that your errands will have to wait. Dead men are in no hurry – but my sergeant is.’ He found himself adding, with a little smile, ‘If there’s any trouble when you do get home, make sure you let me know, and I will come and explain things to your mistress myself.’

It wasn’t so terrible, looking at the corpse. It wasn’t mangled, like the bodies that she’d once seen at the mine, and there was none of the heartbreaking familiarity and sense of loss that had accompanied Mother’s laying-out. This was just an ordinary man, looking quite peaceful although a little blue, and lying stiffly underneath the sheet which they pulled back from the face to let her have a look.

She did look, quite closely, but then shook her head. ‘I’m quite sure,’ she told the nice young policeman, who was standing at her side. ‘Nobody I’ve ever set eyes on in my life.’

‘It couldn’t be that cousin of your mother’s from America?’

She looked at the dead stranger’s waxy countenance again. There wasn’t the slightest resemblance to the family, as far as she could see. ‘Shouldn’t think so, from the look of him,’ she murmured doubtfully. ‘Only you’d better ask my Pa, just to make quite sure. He would have known that cousin, years ago – when they were young.’ Were you allowed to suggest that sort of thing to police? She glanced at the constable to see if she had overstepped the mark.

But he didn’t seem to be offended in the least. ‘We’ll do that!’ He signalled that the mortuary man should cover up the corpse’s head again and said quite gently, ‘Thank you. You’ve been very brave.’

Even the stout sergeant, who was standing by the door, was smiling at her now from behind his thick moustache – which he hadn’t shown the slightest tendency to do when he was asking her all those questions at the police-station earlier. ‘This has been an ordeal for you, miss, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘But you’ll appreciate our position. When someone comes to town and asks for you by name, and then turns up dead of cold, naturally we hope that you will help us with his identity. But I accept that you genuinely did not know the man.’

Effie turned scarlet with embarrassment. She deserved to be in trouble with the police, over that business with the books, and here they were apologizing to her instead! She said, in a guilty attempt to help, ‘He must have heard my name from somewhere else – although I can’t for the life of me think how. Perhaps he knew my second-cousin in America, for all you say he had an English-sounding voice?’

The sergeant very nearly smiled again. ‘That is a possibility of course. Perhaps, as you say, your father can throw some light on it. However, that is our affair. Thank you for attempting to assist. If we need to speak to you again, be sure we’ll let you know.’

Effie found she’d turned to jelly at the knees. ‘Come down the police station again, you mean?’ she stammered. Dreadful scenes were flashing through her mind, with Mrs Thatchell being furious. ‘My mistress won’t . . .’

He seemed to realize that she was upset. ‘Only if we really need you – which I hope we won’t. I’m sorry you’ve been bothered, Miss Pengelly,’ he said, putting her in a little flurry suddenly. Nobody ever normally called her ‘Miss Pengelly’ – although of course, that’s exactly what she was.

‘Well, if you want my father, he’ll be down the mine.’ She frowned. ‘Won’t lose a day’s pay, will he, for having to come here?’ If so, it would be her fault, she thought wretchedly. ‘Can’t wait till he’s finished I don’t suppose? Early shift this week so he should be off at four.’ The policemen were exchanging glances, which almost gave her hope, until an idea struck her and she added wretchedly, ‘Without he’s working doublers – in which case he won’t be up to ground till after midnight, I suppose.’

‘Doublers?’ The young constable sounded mystified.

Effie stared at him. Surely everybody knew what doublers were? ‘Two shifts back to back,’ she explained, patiently. ‘Being a tributer and working for his-self, he can do that sometimes if he likes – does his own and then stands in on someone else’s team. Either they pay you extra or you exchange your time in lieu, and that’s what he does sometimes – gets a half-day off and comes to Aunty Madge’s for a meal. Likes to take it Thursday, if he can manage it – that’s my free afternoon, and I generally go over then as well.’

The sergeant was still smiling as he held the door for her. ‘Thursday? I’m afraid this matter cannot wait till then.’

She hadn’t meant that and she shook her head. ‘Never thought it would. I was only warning you that Pa might not be up to ground again today. Mind, he doesn’t always do the double shift, even if the chance is there: he’s getting old, and nowadays he finds it very hard . . .’ She trailed off in dismay. She was keeping the policemen waiting, she realized suddenly – chattering on when they expected her to move. She took a hurried step towards the door.

But the young constable was already at her side. ‘We’ll make enquiries. And we’ll see he doesn’t suffer for assisting us,’ he said, taking her elbow gently and guiding her out of the mortuary and back into the street. ‘I’m sure his masters will agree to let us question him.’

She turned to look up at him – he towered over her. He had a nice face, though a little pink around the ears, and his grey eyes were looking into hers. She dropped her gaze at once. ‘They might stop his money, that’s the only thing,’ she told him earnestly. ‘Like my mistress will probably stop mine – or worse – if I don’t look lively and get back to work. And even now I haven’t got the books and threads that I was sent to fetch!’

The two policemen were exchanging looks again. The sergeant nodded. ‘Well, Constable, you’d better see this young lady home. Explain to her employer what’s been happening – that she’s been doing her public duty and all that sort of thing.’

‘Yes, Sergeant, certainly I will. Thank you, sir.’ Was she imagining it or did the sergeant wink and was young Constable Dawes turning even redder than before?

Alex had an unaccountable desire to make the escorting mission take as long as possible, but of course that would hardly have been very fair – the poor girl was obviously anxious to be back and terrified she’d be in trouble as it was. He contented himself with hurrying along, while asking her lots of questions about herself, which – perhaps because of the uniform he wore – she answered in detail and without embarrassment. He quickly learned that she was an only child and that her mother had died in childbirth when the girl was only ten.

‘Pa couldn’t have me,’ she told him earnestly. ‘What with working shifts, so Aunt Madge took me in. Course he always paid her something for my keep – and now I give her half-a-crown myself. ’Tisn’t much, with all those mouths to feed, but it does help a bit, especially with what the older girls bring home these days from the bal.’

‘And you still feel obliged to contribute?’

She stared at him. ‘What else would I do? What I would have done without that family, heaven only knows. Ended up in the workhouse I shouldn’t be surprised, or taken in by strangers – which would have broke my heart. Bit of a crush in that small house of course, especially after the little ones were born – but we all managed somehow.’

She was quite without self-pity, though to him her life seemed very hard – nine people squashed into a tiny cottage, the four boys in one bedroom lying head to toe and the two girl-cousins with whom Effie shared a room, doing the same thing in a narrow bunk, while she thought herself lucky to have a tiny truckle bed to herself. ‘Aunt Madge insisted,’ she went on gravely, ‘seeing Pa was paying for my keep. But they can’t well afford the space, now the boys are growing big – Sammy keeps on falling out and keeping the other three awake. He’s got my truckle now. That’s how I was so pleased to get this job. Let’s just hope I still have it after all of this.’

He thought of his own well-appointed home – a bedroom of his own, with handsome furniture, a wash-stand and thick rugs and someone to bring a tray of tea when you woke up, and light the fire and draw the curtains back. Even in the training quarters at the police station he had a comfortable bed, and a private locker in which to keep his things. He said, ‘So you like it where you are? I got the impression that your Mrs Thatchell was a bit severe.’

Effie gave him a sheepish sideways grin. ‘Well, so she is – but you’ve got to count your blessings, haven’t you, and it’s lovely having a whole attic to myself. Proper iron bedstead and a corner with a rail where I can hang my clothes – even a piece of mirror where I can comb my hair. Better off than I ever was back there – though it is a bit chilly of a morning now and then. And Mrs Thatchell isn’t all that bad if you jump to it and see your chores are done – though she can be a proper Tartar if you don’t come up to scratch.’ She looked at him. ‘In fact, it’s very nice of you to see me home like this, but when we get there I shouldn’t come inside if I were you. She’ll likely bite your head off, constable or not – and I don’t want her deciding that I’ve got a follower. She’d have me out of there before you could say knife – if she wasn’t minded to do that anyway.’

‘You heard my sergeant,’ Alex said. ‘I’m to take you home and explain to your superiors why you were delayed. Those were my orders – and I’ll tell them so; that way they can’t go blaming you for it.’

By now they were crossing the bottom of the street on which the haberdashery was sited further up. He half-expected Effie to want to go back there and get the silks and books she had been sent to fetch, and he was calculating whether he dared permit her to, or whether the sergeant would complain at him for being out so long. But Effie did not even look towards the shop, because at that moment the town clock struck the hour.

‘My stars!’ she murmured. ‘Listen to the time. I’d better hurry on. Mrs Thatchell will have me for garters as it is.’

He took her elbow and steered her firmly straight across the road. ‘I’ll come in and have a word to Mrs Thatchell for you, if you like,’ he offered, and saw the look of gratitude on Effie’s pretty face. ‘We’ll see if she “has you for garters” after that!’ However, when they got back to the house, he almost wished he hadn’t said so much. There was a skinny woman scrubbing the front steps as they arrived, and her thin face looked up at Effie with a scowl.

‘So there you are, young lady. Where on earth have you been to? Madam’s been creating for at least an hour and even Cook is crosser than two sticks.’