The Girl With No Name (63 page)

‘What letter?’ Charlotte said without preamble. ‘What letter was Harry talking about?’

Caroline sighed and looked across at Billy, but his face was impassive. ‘Sit down, Charlotte,’ she said. Charlotte did as she was told, perching on the front of an armchair as if about to leap to her feet again.

‘That Saturday, when Harry didn’t come as promised, you were so upset. I was furious with him for standing you up. Remember the next day I sent you back to Kemble Street to try and get news of the Federmans?’

Charlotte nodded, but made no reply.

‘Well,’ Caroline drew a deep breath, ‘you found them and suddenly your world changed. You were so thrilled to find them again, to see the baby...’

‘What about this letter?’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Caroline said. ‘You seemed so much happier than I’d seen you for ages,’ she went on. ‘And then one morning, when you were down at Wynsdown seeing Mr Thompson, a letter came for you. It had an HMP Brixton postmark. The only person I could think of who might write to you from Brixton prison was Harry.’

‘And what did the letter say?’ asked Charlotte coldly.

‘I don’t know,’ Caroline said quietly. ‘I didn’t open it.’

‘You threw it away.’

‘No, I didn’t. I kept it. There were several times when I was about to give it to you, but you seemed to have taken control of your life and,’ she glanced again across at Billy, ‘I didn’t want to stir everything up again.’

‘You never liked Harry,’ Charlotte said, her voice breaking as she spoke. ‘You didn’t want him to come back into my life, did you? But it was my life and I
did
want him back.’

Caroline could see the tears in Charlotte’s eyes and she was filled with regret. Charlotte was right, she’d no right to have kept the letter from her, however good her motives had been.

Charlotte fought to keep her tears at bay. ‘So where is it now?’ she demanded, ‘This letter?’

‘It’s in my bureau.’

Billy, standing a silent spectator as Caroline admitted what she’d done, started at this information. She had told him she’d destroyed the letter and hearing Charlotte’s reaction he’d been feeling relief that she had. Now the inevitable was about to happen. Harry was staking his claim.

Caroline turned and went into her office, coming back holding a buff-coloured envelope and handing it to Charlotte. She took it and looked at it, addressed to her at Livingston Road. The postmark was smudged, the date unreadable, but the frank HMP Brixton, though faint, was there.

Without a word, or a look at either Caroline or Billy, she left the room and went upstairs to her own room, her refuge. She sat down on the bed and for a long time she looked at the envelope and then at last she slipped her finger under the flap. Opening it, she pulled out the single sheet it contained; a letter written in pencil on a sheet of lined paper.

Dear Lisa

I’ve been arrested and charged with lots of things. Most of them aren’t true and it’s a fit up. I don’t know when they’ll be letting me out again. I’m being tried next month some time. When I do get out I’ll come and find you and we can get together again. I’ll be here in Brixton for a while yet, so you can write to me here. Can’t believe I’m banged up again after I’d just got out of the internment camp.

Please write.

Love Harry

Charlotte read the letter through twice and at last allowed the tears to spill down her cheeks. Harry had written to her, but because Caroline had hidden the letter he thought she’d abandoned him. She lay down on her bed, still fully dressed, and wept.

The next morning she woke, tired and miserable. Everything about her life had seemed to be moving to some sort of resolution, an equilibrium. The war was over, here in London anyway; she was going to search for her family, she had a home if she wanted to move back to Somerset, she knew Billy loved her and she’d come to believe that it might be safe to love him in return. And now, because of this letter, a letter she should have received nearly three years ago, everything had disintegrated round her. Her plans for searching for her family seemed as stupid as Harry had told her they were. Her reunion with the Federmans seemed far away. They were not responsible for her any more, they had young Nicky, now four and half. Her brother, they’d called him, but he wasn’t and now it seemed silly to pretend that he was. She and the Federmans would drift apart as England picked itself up, dusted the war off its knees and got on with life.

When she didn’t appear for breakfast, Caroline sent Billy up to see her. ‘She certainly won’t want to see me,’ she said, ‘but she loves you, Billy. It’s you who must be there to help her get through this. You are her rock.’

Billy knocked on her door and when there was no answer he turned the handle and went in. Charlotte was lying, still fully clothed, on her bed, staring at the ceiling. He went over and sat down on the bed beside her. She didn’t look at him, but he took her hand in his and stroking it gently said, ‘Tell me about Harry.’

*

Harry woke early and having scrounged some breakfast at the centre, decided to go out and find some funds. The small handout he’d been given when he left Gloucester was fast dwindling and somehow he had to get enough money to buy his passage to Australia. His and Lisa’s. He hadn’t quite given up on her coming with him. When he saw her again and told her about the Morrison woman hiding his letter, she’d know that he’d been thinking about her all the time he was away. That clod-hopping bloke from the country would discover that he, Harry, was the one Lisa would choose. They belonged together.

He stuffed his new papers into his pocket – there was no way he was leaving those in the centre for some thieving bastard to nick – and set off to trawl the crowds still surging about the streets. One of the skills Denny Dunc had encouraged him to acquire, while in Gloucester, was the picking of pockets. An old lag, known as ‘Dipper’ for his talent in this direction, had taken Harry in hand and by the time he left, Harry was an accomplished pickpocket.

‘Never know when you’ll need a bob or two to tide you over,’ Denny Dunc had said and Harry was about to try his luck. With the crowds still celebrating, many of them boozy and dozy with alcohol, it would, Harry thought as he made his way to Trafalgar Square, be easy pickings. He was just walking up The Strand when he felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Mick Derham, one of the men he’d taken Denny’s message to.

‘All right, ’Arry?’ Mick said.

‘Yeah, why? What’s up?’

‘Denny wants yer.’

‘Denny does? He’s inside.’

Mick gave him a gap-toothed grin. ‘Not any more, ’e ain’t. We got ’im out yesterday.’

‘Out?’ Harry couldn’t take in what Mick was saying.

‘Everyone else was busy celebratin’,’ grinned Mick. ‘Seemed a good day to go for it. Anyhow,’ he went on, ‘you got to come with me. Denny wants yer.’

Harry was about to protest, but when he saw the steel in Mick’s expression, it seemed a better idea to go with him. They turned back and Mick led him through a maze of side streets, glancing behind from time to time to make sure they weren’t being followed.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ Harry asked.

Mick treated him to the same gap-toothed grin. ‘Always knowed where to find you, mate. Denny knew he’d need you sooner or later. Part of the plan, you.’

At last they reached a tiny street down by the docks, narrow, hemmed in by tall buildings. Mick tapped on a door with brown, peeling paint and moments later it opened and they went inside. Another of Denny Dunc’s henchmen led them upstairs to a small room overlooking the street and there they found the man himself, sitting in an armchair, a glass of whisky at his elbow.

‘Harry, boy!’ he cried as Harry came in. ‘Good to see you, son.’ He glanced at Mick and said, ‘No trouble? Good. Give the lad a drink.’ Mick slurped some whisky into a glass from an open bottle on the table and handed it to Harry.

‘Sit down, Harry,’ Denny said, suddenly serious, ‘and I tell you what’s going down. Surprised to see me, are you?’

Harry took a swig of whisky and nodded. ‘Yeah, how’d you swing it?’

‘Never mind how, Harry, it’s been planned for months, just waiting for the right day. You played your part, now you get your reward.’

‘My reward?’ Harry wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

‘Coming to Australia, my son. Coming to Australia with me.’

Harry stared at him. ‘Australia?’

‘It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? A clean record sheet. A passport. A new name. I gave you all those, Harry, or should I be calling you “Vic” now? Anyhow, it’s all sorted.’

‘What’s all sorted, Denny?’

‘Got a couple of berths on a merchant.
Maiden Lady
. Leaves tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’

‘Not soon enough for you, Harry boy? Never mind, it’s the best I can do.’

‘But how...’

Denny gave him a self-satisfied grin. ‘Money, boy. Money. Money’ll buy you anything if you’ve got enough. All we have to do is be sure the rozzers don’t find us before we go. They’ll be on the lookout for you, because they’ll know you had a hand in my escape.’

‘But I didn’t do anything,’ gulped Harry.

‘Course you did, son. Needed to get my messages out, didn’t I? And once they break my tame screw, which they will, all will be revealed. So we have to be well clear before they work it all out. Lucky for us the rozzers ain’t very bright. Should take them a while, but we can’t take no risks, so it’s indoors here for you and me, till we go on board tomorrow night.’

‘Why me?’ asked Harry, wondering how on earth he was going to get away.

‘Cos you’re clean, boy. Vic Merritt ain’t got a record and you’re Vic Merritt now, just like you wanted. Me? I’m George Merritt, your old dad. Travelling together to a new life now that we’ve been made homeless in London.’

‘But... Lisa...’ As he said her name, Harry knew he shouldn’t have mentioned her.

Denny gave him such a fierce glare that his words trailed away. ‘We know you’ve got a girl, Harry— Vic, I mean, got to get used to calling you that. We know about Lisa and where she is. If you still want her when we get there, Mick here can get her sent out, no trouble, can’t you, Mick?’

Mick nodded. ‘No trouble, boss.’

Harry thought of Lisa, so vulnerable, unaware that anyone knew about her or was watching her and he said, casually, ‘No problem then, I can send for her when we’re settled.’

He thought he saw the slightest relaxation in Denny’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came as he said, ‘Knew you’d understand, son. Always problems once we involve the ladies... love ’em!’ He heaved a sigh. ‘My old lady’s staying behind. Can’t even visit her before I go, the rozzers’ll be watching her place like hawks, hoping to nab me there. Still, she knows the score and she never goes without.’

They remained in the upstairs room until dusk the following day. Mick had brought in a paper that had a small piece about Denny’s escape, but with the excitement of VE day, it was only half an inch at the bottom of the back page.

‘So much the better,’ Denny said when he saw it, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he was sorry that his escape hadn’t made a bigger splash.

As dusk turned to dark
, Maiden Lady
slipped her mooring and slid off down the Thames. Harry stood on deck and watched the lights, now shining clearly along the shore, recede as they reached the sea. He was on his way to Australia; not quite as he planned with Lisa by his side but, he thought with a fatalistic shrug, he’d write to her when he got there and explain it wasn’t his fault that he’d gone without her. Lisa would understand.

The letter from Switzerland arrived a month later. Charlotte had looked up Nikolaus Becker’s address and had written to him yet again. She’d heard nothing from him since he’d returned her letter to her parents back in 1940, but she was desperately hoping that was because the address he’d had for her no longer existed.

It had been a difficult month since VE day. Charlotte continued to work in Livingston Road, but there was a distinct coolness between her and Caroline. She had waited impatiently for Harry to come back as he’d promised, but when he did not, she gradually had to accept that he wasn’t going to. It was no good blaming Caroline. She hadn’t caused his disappearance and the longer Harry was gone the more Charlotte had to admit that Caroline had, though misguided, thought she was acting in Charlotte’s best interests when she’d withheld his letter.

Billy had had to go home again, but not before Charlotte had told him all about Harry, how he’d befriended her, what he meant to her. Billy realised straight away that now was not the time to ask Charlotte to marry him as he’d been intending. Harry’s arrival and disappearance were too raw. All his gentle approach, his wooing of Charlotte had been wasted, Billy thought bitterly, wiped out at a stroke by the return of Harry Black.

Charlotte had told him, however, about Miss Edie’s bequest. It was still been a matter of conjecture in the village, but no one was really any the wiser. Charlotte had told no one else until she’d told Harry and now she felt it was only fair to tell Billy, too.

He’d stared at her for a moment before saying, ‘You mean Blackdown House is yours?’

She nodded.

‘But what about the Nicholsons who live there now?’

‘They’re tenants. They’re just renting it for the duration of the war.’

‘So you might come back and live there, now the war’s over.’ Billy tried to keep his voice even, so that the hope that leaped within him didn’t sound in his words.

‘I don’t know, Billy. It all depends.’

Depends on what? Billy wanted to ask, but all he said was, ‘Does Harry know?’

It seemed to him that everything related back to Harry. He was glad that Harry hadn’t put in an appearance since VE day, but Billy was afraid that he might simply be biding his time until he, Billy, went home again.

‘Yes, I told him when I saw him.’

Billy was dying to ask what Harry’s reaction had been, but he wanted all thoughts of Harry to fade as fast as possible, so he said nothing.

The day the letter arrived, Charlotte was out with some of the children in the park. She sat and watched them playing on the swings and remembered how Harry had found her there. She glanced round, half expecting to see him coming up behind her, but instead, to her surprise, she saw Caroline hurrying towards her.