The Lodger (43 page)

‘Could you say all that again, and more slowly?' asked Bobby.

‘Mum said you'd be lovely as a pageboy, specially in blue velvet.'

‘No, she didn't,' said Bobby.

‘Yes, she did. She said, “Oh, that Bobby, he'll make a lovely pageboy.” But she did ask me to ask you not to wear a box on your head. I could curl your hair for you at home one evenin', if you like.'

Bobby finished his bun and looked at the girl who had inspired him to put his foot down with his work-shy dad. Her brown eyes were bright with glee. What a performer.

‘Trary Wilson, you're makin' an Aunt Sally of me. I'll get me own back.'

‘You'll be lucky.'

‘All right, quits,' said Bobby. ‘Tell you what, last one round the rink pays the tram fares 'ome.'

Challenges excited Trary, especially challenges from Bobby. They got up and clumped their way over the carpet to the rink. With the band playing a gallop, off they went, weaving their way around other skaters, Bobby quickly in the lead, the much improved Trary on his heels, laughing and exhilarated. The rink, the rendezvous of the young, was a sea of movement. Bobby went at speed, and Trary's skirt whipped as she raced after him. Skate crossing over skate, they executed fast turns, Bobby making a dash for the finish. There he described a swishing circle and came to a full stop. Trary skated straight into his arms, and Bobby kissed her, right on her mouth. Girls yelled in delight at them, and boys whistled.

‘Oh, you cheeky devil!' cried Trary.

‘I'll give you pageboy,' said Bobby.

‘Take that,' said Trary, and handed out a push. Bobby wobbled backwards, grabbed at her, and they fell together. Boys and girls swerved around them, shouting with laughter.

‘Give 'im another, Trary!'

Trary sat up, face flushed, eyes dancing, ‘Oh, you 'ooligan, wait till I tell mum!' she gasped.

‘Tell her what?' said Bobby. ‘Are we engaged, then? I still think we ought to wait a bit. Still, I suppose it's our destiny.'

‘Oh, you daft lump,' said Trary, and sat there, helpless with laughter, a young girl full of the joys of living.

At the local police station on Monday afternoon, Emma had her long statement read out to her by Detective-Sergeant Arnold, with Inspector Greaves present and Nicholas still an absentee. The latter fact quite vexed her. Something had to be done about that gentleman.

Finding the statement in order, she signed it. ‘That's all for the time being?' she asked.

‘Until the court proceedings,' said Inspector Greaves. ‘It's my pleasure to inform you, Mrs Carter, that we owe you considerably.'

Emma shook her head, ‘May I ask if the prisoner's confessed?'

‘Not yet,' said the Inspector, and advised her in ponderous fashion that Stephens was trying to climb into the heavyweight division by declaring he couldn't remember a thing about what he had done to seriously offend the law. His recollections of said capital crimes were nil. By which forgetfulness he was hoping to be committed to a criminal asylum.

‘Doesn't he remember why he chose fair-haired women, why he cut a strand of their hair off?' asked Emma.

‘He shakes his head. In all my experience, Mrs Carter, I've never seen any prisoner do a better job of shakin' his head. But we're persistin' patient and methodical, you might say. We're in helpful possession of the silk stocking and sharp-bladed penknife duly found on him, which can be presented as items relatin' to premeditation. Which could to a jury accordingly dispose of his suggestions that he must 'ave suffered brainstorms. That's 'eavyweight division, Mrs Carter, brainstorms.'

‘Yes, I suppose so,' said Emma. ‘Inspector, I'm relieved your men weren't badly hurt. Where's Sergeant Chamberlain at the moment?'

‘Doin' most of the work on the prisoner,' said Inspector Greaves.

‘I see,' said Emma, and made up her mind that what must be done to the absent gentleman, she must do herself.

An hour after she arrived home, a messenger boy called with a presentation bouquet of red roses and an accompanying letter. From Nicholas.

Dear Emma,

I think you deserve something more than thanks for all your help. If anything pleasant came out of this case, it was getting to know you. I thought about letting you get on with your private life, but if your friend is only a friend, I think I'll give him some competition. I have to see you, in any case. Will you let me know when it's convenient to call? Best wishes and affectionate regards, Nicholas.

Affectionate? That was all? We'll see about that, said Emma to herself, and replied briefly but graciously.

Dear Nicholas,

I was touched by your gift of roses, they're lovely. How kind of you. Please come to tea on Sunday. Four-thirty. Yours sincerely, Emma. PS. You wait.

Wait? What for? That was the first question Nicholas, newly promoted to Detective-Inspector, asked when he arrived on Sunday afternoon. So Emma, of course, took him to task for talking to newspapers about her and accordingly being responsible for reporters besieging her door. Nothing to do with me, said Nicholas, blame someone else at the Yard. And by the way, he said, you're up for the reward. What reward? For help and information leading directly to the capture of Herbert Stephens. Five hundred pounds. Who says so? I do, said Nicholas, I've put your name forward and you'll get it. Oh, you dear man, said Emma. But remembering something had to be done about him, she asked if he truly believed women should have the same rights as men. Nicholas said yes, as long as they didn't sneak in a few extra, of which they were perfectly capable. Well, we're smarter, of course, said Emma, but do you truly believe? Yes, said Nicholas. Good, said Emma, then may I have the right of asking you to marry me? Nicholas tottered. Emma said she didn't have much to offer a Detective-Inspector except herself, although she might shortly come into a fortune of five hundred pounds. Were herself and five hundred pounds enough for him?

Nicholas, hardly able to believe she was his, fell over. Well, almost.

Emma laughed.

But she still kept one thing to herself. She didn't want him to be cross with her, not now. The fact was she had known it was Alf Barker who followed her home that night. She'd recognized his voice when he said goodnight to her, but if she'd admitted it she'd have had no reason to ask Nicholas to call on her at a time when she was feeling stupidly fretful about his absence from her life.

Herbert Stephens was committed at a magistrates' court for trial at the Old Bailey. There he pleaded guilty. His counsel pleaded guilty but insane. The judge, guided by medical reports, accepted the plea. It saved Linda Jennings going into the witness box, and more importantly for her, it saved all the darker details of Mabel Shipman's life being served up to the world.

Coming out of school with Jane Atkins, Trary saw Bobby turning the corner into West Square. He gave her a cheerful wave.

‘Oh, come on, Trary,' said Jane, ‘his name's not really Dick Turpin, I bet it's not. Who is he really?'

Trary saw Bobby's smile, his long walking legs, and how he looked as if the world was made for fun and laughter. Her young heart did a little flip.

‘He's mine,' she said, and ran across to meet him. Bobby put out his hand and she took it.

He walked her home. She was fourteen, and at fourteen it was her destiny to be holding hands with him.

The End

About the Author

Mary Jane Staples
was born, bred and educated in Walworth, and is the author of many bestselling novels, including the ever-popular cockney sagas featuring the Adams family.

Down Lambeth Way

Our Emily

King of Camberwell

On Mother Brown's Doorstep

A Family Affair

Missing Person

Pride of Walworth

Echoes of Yesterday

The Young Ones

The Camberwell Raid

The Last Summer

The Family at War

Fire Over London

Churchill's People

Bright Day, Dark Night

Tomorrow is Another Day

The Way Ahead

Year of Victory

The Homecoming

Sons and Daughters

Appointment at the Palace

Changing Times

Spreading Wings

Family Fortunes

A Girl Next Door

Ups and Downs

Out of the Shadows

A Sign of the Times

The Soldier's Girl

 

Two for Three Farthings

Rising Summer

The Pearly Queen

Sergeant Joe

The Trap

The Ghost of Whitechapel

Escape to London

The Price of Freedom

A Wartime Marriage

Katernia's Secret

The Summer Day is Done

The Longest Winter

Natasha's Dream

Nurse Anna's War

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THE LODGER

A CORGI BOOK : 9780552137300
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781446488546

First publication in Great Britain

Printing History

Corgi edition published 1999

9 10 8

Copyright © Mary Jane Staples 1991

The right of Mary Jane Staples to be identified as the author

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