When she opened it, however, she was glad she had done so, for Emma stood on the doorstep. She was looking extremely apprehensive, but the look cleared when she saw Dot. ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she breathed. ‘I wasn’t sure I’d got the right number, though I remembered you’d said Lavender Court.’
Dot looked quickly over her shoulder. ‘You were dead lucky to catch me in. I’ve been doing the messages all morning,’ she informed her visitor. ‘What would you have said if me aunt had come to the door? Still, that don’t matter; what’s up, Emma?’
‘Something’s happened which is really rather important. D’you remember I told you about—’
‘Dot? Who’s at the perishin’ door? If it’s someone sellin’ something, tell ’em we don’t want none an’ get back here afore your pastry goes hard.’
‘Shan’t be a mo, Auntie,’ Dot shouted. She turned back to Emma. ‘Quick! Wharris it?’
‘It’s – it’s a feller who wants to help us only we’ve got to talk first, before we make up our minds what to do,’ Emma hissed. ‘Can you come to the flat at a quarter to six? And can you get in touch with Corky, only I walked past Rathbone’s and he wasn’t there. I don’t like to go to the churchyard in broad daylight, but I thought the pair of you were almost certain to meet before this evening, so—’
‘Dot!’ Aunt Myrtle’s shout was accompanied by footsteps. Oh heck, she was coming to see for herself who was keeping her niece at the door for so long.
Dot said loudly: ‘Yes, miss, thanks very much, I’ll do me best,’ and then closed the door firmly in Emma’s astonished face and turned back to her aunt. ‘It’s all right, Aunt Myrtle; it were one of the shop ladies – I told you I’d been looking for work, didn’t I? – saying she’d like me to do a delivery for her this evening. It’s only the one, just to see whether I can manage, so I said I would; is that all right? Only it means I’ll have to leave here around five, so I’ll probably miss me tea.’
‘If we get this pie to the baker’s, you can have a slice and a bit o’ bread an’ marge before you leave,’ her aunt said grandly. ‘What’ll they pay you for deliverin’? Is it newspapers? They pays all right for deliverin’ newspapers . . . oh, no, it can’t be, not startin’ that late in the evening.’
‘No, it’s – it’s a dressmaker who wants stuff delivered when her customers are home from work,’ Dot said, improvising wildly. ‘I dunno what she pays yet – probably not much – but I said I’d have a go; I could do wi’ some pocket money.’
‘Aye, you’re not the only one,’ her aunt said, as they reached the kitchen once more. ‘Now, gerron wi’ that pastry so’s I can line the tin an’ tip the meat an’ potatoes in.’ She swiped at a large bluebottle which was making passes at the cooked meat and potato, cooling in its pan. ‘I suppose I’ll have to buy some more fly papers; them I got last week is so thick with dead bodies that the live ones can’t climb aboard, even if they wanted to.’
Despite Dot’s best endeavours, it was after five o’clock before her aunt said she might go. The meat and potato pie had been delicious; Dot had received the promised slice and had praised it extravagantly before slipping out of the front door and making her way towards Rathbone’s. She had hoped to find Corky there, but there was no sign of him and she was turning away and wondering whether she would have time to get to the ruined church and back to Emma’s flat by a quarter to six when she heard her name called and turned to see Corky materialising, apparently out of thin air. He fell into step beside her, saying reproachfully: ‘I thought you meant to come along and take a turn at the watching. I didn’t bother to come this morning, but I arrived at one o’clock – he closes for his dinner – an’ I’ve been there ever since. Fine one you are! Me belly thinks me throat’s been cut an’ me tongue’s turned to leather ’cos I’m so thirsty, but I s’pose that’s girls for you.’
Dot opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. It was the sort of thing boys always said without necessarily meaning it. ‘I couldn’t help it; me aunt’s in the family way and it was her baking day. I couldn’t get away till about five minutes ago and then I came straight here. Only where
were
you? Emma came round earlier – come to think, it must have been around one o’clock, because it was her dinner hour – and said she’d been up to Rathbone’s looking for you. So I guess you weren’t watching then, Mr Clever.’
‘I were, but I were keepin’ a lookout for you. I dare say a dozen smart young ladies like Emma might have walked past me, but I were lookin’ for a redheaded scruff bag,’ Corky said airily. ‘As for where was I, you didn’t think I were goin’ to stand around on the pavement in full view of the shop, did you? From what you say old Rathbone’s no fool; he’d soon start gettin’ suspicious if I was there for an hour, let alone six.’
‘Well, if you weren’t on the pavement, where the devil were you?’ Dot asked curiously. ‘I didn’t see you, but you saw me; how did you manage that?’ She had decided to ignore the remark about a redheaded scruff bag; she would get her revenge for that later.
‘If you look back, you’ll see that there’s a sort of tunnel down between two of the shops, a bit further away, and some empty dustbins standing beside it,’ Corky informed her. ‘You can see the shop from halfway down the tunnel, and of course you can see it really well if you’re crouching amongst the dustbins. I was there for a bit, then when a queue formed outside the baker’s I joined on the end of it, then I went an’ played hopscotch at the end of the jigger with three girls. When you come by, I was talking to the newspaper boy who stands on the corner.’
‘Oh,’ Dot said, digesting this. ‘Then if you’ve been going in an’ out of shops, why didn’t you buy yourself a bun an’ a bottle of lemonade instead of blamin’ me? Look, don’t bother to answer that ’cos Emma came round to Lavender Court to ask us to be at the flat by a quarter to six. She couldn’t tell me much – me aunt were hoverin’ – but, apparently, she’s found some feller she thinks might help . . .’
‘Some feller!’ Corky said scornfully. ‘We don’t want no feller interferin’, we’re in trouble enough as it is. I hopes she’s not been an’ gone an’ told him anythin’, because if she has . . .’
‘Of
course
she hasn’t. She promised,’ Dot said indignantly. ‘That’s why she wants us to go round this evening, to discuss what she should do. She’s nice is Emma, and she knows how dangerous it could be if old Rathbone or his mate found out we knew what they’d been up to. Us women aren’t like men, you know, we don’t jangle to all our mates just to show how big we are.’
Corky began an indignant denial then stopped short, grinning at Dot. ‘Awright, awright, maybe I deserved that, you redheaded scruff bag,’ he said genially. ‘But let’s get movin’ or we shan’t get to the flat by a quarter to six.’
As they walked, Dot told Corky her aunt’s momentous news and how it would affect her. When she came to the bit about being sent to an orphanage, Corky whistled between his teeth. ‘You don’t want to end up in one of them,’ he said positively. ‘If I hadn’t been in an orphanage, I’d have had a job, been independent, like. But they don’t let you get work until you’re at least sixteen when you’re from an orphanage, because they say you haven’t had no experience of ordinary life. And besides, you haven’t got a real home with a mum and dad to see to your food and washing and that, so they have to find you a place in a YMCA or a hostel, and that ain’t much fun, I’m tellin’ you. So you stick to your aunt and uncle. Why, you’ll be out and earnin’ money in less than two years, and then you’ll be able to pay them for your keep. So we’ll have to arrange for you to do your watchin’ of old Rathbone when your aunt and uncle don’t need you.’
‘Evenings will be best,’ Dot said, very relieved that Corky could see the importance of keeping in with her aunt and uncle. ‘That’s when most of the work’s finished for the day and me aunt can relax; me uncle’s usually down the pub or off with his mates, or playin’ pitch ’n’ toss. Oh, an’ I forgot to say, Uncle Rupe works for Rathbone sometimes, heaving carcasses and that kind of work. I don’t know when he starts, or when he finishes for that matter. But he’s usually out of the factory by four or five, so it’ll be some time after that. Did you see him this evening?’
‘I dunno who I saw, do I?’ Corky said gloomily. ‘What’s he look like?’
‘Well, he’s got dark, greasy sort of hair and a nasty, mean face. He’s quite tall and fairly thin, I suppose, only pretty strong-looking. Oh, I dunno, it’s difficult to describe someone you hate so much because you only glance at him in passing.’
‘It ain’t a shop as many men use, it’s mainly women,’ Corky said thoughtfully, after a pause. ‘I did notice one chap, though; does your uncle have a black moustache and rare bushy eyebrows?’
‘No, of course he doesn’t,’ Dot said, giggling. ‘I’m not completely mad, you know, Corky; if he’d had a black moustache, or even a grey one – or a snow-white one, for that matter – I think I’d have mentioned it. Never mind, I just thought I’d tell you that he works for old Rathbone now and then.’
‘Right. Tell you what, Dot, if you were to come down in the early evening, you could point him out to me, only I don’t really see that it matters. I mean, you don’t think he was involved with the robberies, do you?’
Dot giggled again. ‘It certainly wasn’t him in the alley that night, and I reckon he’s too stupid to be much help to anyone planning something they want kept secret. He might be all right when he was sober, but when he’d got a few drinks inside him he’d start boasting about what he’d done. Though, come to think of it, he hasn’t been drinking the way he used to, except when Aunt Myrtle told him about the twins.’
‘Right; then your uncle ain’t important,’ Corky said decidedly. ‘And I’m bound to recognise him sooner or later because you say he does the heavy work in Rathbone’s shop. And now tell me about this feller Emma thinks might help us. I’m sure you’re right, and she hasn’t told him anything yet, but for myself, I’d rather we tackled it alone.’ Dot explained that Emma had not had a chance to tell her anything but the bare facts, not with Aunt Myrtle coming out into the hall to see what was keeping her niece from her work. She did say, however, that she was all in favour of getting another adult in to help.
Corky disagreed and a lively argument ensued. He was afraid that Emma might want to confide in someone who, unknown to her, was a pal of the butcher’s, or might know the mysterious Ollie – might even
be
the mysterious Ollie. ‘So you see, we’re best off trusting no one,’ he said earnestly, as they turned into the jigger which led to the back of Mitchell & Grieves jeweller’s shop. ‘We really know so little about Rathbone and his pals, but we do know about this Chamber of Trade thing, and when folk get together like that they’ll sometimes stand up for each other, even if they know it’s wrong.’
‘But we’ve got to trust
someone
,’ Dot was saying worriedly, as they knocked on the stockroom door. ‘It’s not as if—’
Her words were cut off short as the door swung open, revealing Emma in a light green cotton dress, with white collar and cuffs, looking very spruce and cool. She smiled a greeting and led them up to the flat where she sat them down at the kitchen table, fetched glasses of lemonade and biscuits, then joined them. ‘It’s rather a long story, but I’ll keep it as brief as I can because I want you to hear what happened before Mr Randall arrives,’ Emma told them. ‘It all began after our expedition to the churchyard. I walked home with no trouble but when I reached Church Street I forgot I’d only taken the back door key with me and went to the front of the shop . . .’
She had reached the point in her story where Mr Randall had told her that he was investigating the burglaries and would very much like her help when there was a loud ring of the bell. Emma jumped to her feet. ‘Here he is now; don’t forget, I’ve told him nothing and won’t do so if you truly think he’s unsafe. But remember, he’s not a local man, so he can’t possibly be in league with the thieves, and—’ The bell sounded again and Emma waved a distracted hand at them and headed for the stairs.
‘Hang on,’ Corky called after her. ‘We haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet and once he’s seen us he’ll know who we are and he could start following us around.’
‘Don’t be so silly,’ Dot snapped. ‘He doesn’t know what we know or how we know it; if we don’t trust him we’ll just say we were in Church Street when the shop was robbed and saw two men running past. We can give him a false description, I suppose, if it makes you happier, but I think you’re being real stupid, honest to God I do. We need help, you know we do; all we’ve done off our own bats is lose the perishin’ necklace . . .’
She might have said more, but at this moment Emma pushed open the kitchen door and ushered a young man into the room. He was tall, with curly dark hair, very bright eyes and a determined chin. He grinned at them and Dot braced herself because he looked nice and she hated to think that Corky was going to refuse to co-operate. If they started off by telling the young man lies, giving him false names and pretending to know very little, then it would be almost impossible to retract and ask for his help if she and Emma outvoted Corky.
But the most extraordinary thing was happening. The young man had smiled at them both, but when his eyes met Corky’s he looked puzzled for a moment, then exclaimed: ‘Well, if it isn’t the young feller-me-lad I last met at Redwood Grange! And what might you be doing here? I guess I advised you to get out of the orphanage as soon as you could, but I suppose I never thought you’d do it.’ He turned to Emma. ‘This young man and myself are well acquainted. I interviewed him, and a number of his pals, several months ago when I was writing an article for my newspaper.’