He smiled glumly. ‘All the time in France I only ever imagined you all talking and laughing in the kitchen, everything just the same as it had always been. I thought if anything was to go wrong, it would be to me, never you.’
‘I’m on the mend now,’ she said. ‘Go on, away with you. We’ll talk later.’
As soon as Jimmy had eaten his breakfast and drunk three very welcome cups of tea, he went to find Garth. He was polishing glasses in the bar, and looked round anxiously as Jimmy came in and closed the door to the house behind him.
‘How was the training?’ Garth asked. ‘The haircut is a bit severe.’
Jimmy smiled ruefully and ran his hand over the inch-long stubble that had been left by the army barber. ‘With luck I won’t need another cut till Christmas,’ he said. ‘Belle told me about the attack. Have you got any information on who did it?’
‘Only that there’s been quite a few similar attacks in the past few months, in Lewisham, Catford and Greenwich,’ Garth said. ‘The police think it’s the same man, he always preys on people alone in shops, usually at the end of the day. They think he’s from Deptford, but you know what it’s like down there.’
Jimmy did know: grim, overcrowded tenements, hovels like rabbit warrens and people who weren’t going to squeal on one of their own. ‘If they think he’s from Deptford, do they have a name?’
‘If they have, they aren’t telling. It’s hard to track someone down without a full description. Do you think Belle could draw him? That might help.’
Jimmy thought about this for a moment. Belle was very good at quick sketches of people but he wasn’t sure whether sketching a man she’d rather forget would be good for her. He told Garth this.
Garth sighed. ‘I know, I haven’t said anything because of that. A man who would beat a defenceless woman needs a good kicking himself. It would do me a power of good to be the one to do it.’
‘Me too,’ Jimmy said. ‘But I’ve only got a couple of days’ leave, and I want to spend all of that with Belle.’
‘How is it over there?’
‘I’ve got aches in muscles I never knew I had,’ Jimmy said wryly. ‘But I’m fitter than most of the others. Getting to be a crack shot too – the sergeant has packed in shouting at me and he even said I was doing well the other day. I just hope I can hold my nerve once I’m at the front. Most of the younger men can’t wait to get there, but I came back on a ship with the wounded and saw injuries so bad that I felt sick.’
He didn’t want to tell Garth that he had got stuck in to helping the nurses. He couldn’t do much, just offer water, or hold a cigarette to a soldier’s lips. Some of them asked him to write a letter for them to their loved ones at home. These men were all regular soldiers, tough, fearless men some of whom had fought in the South African war, a very different breed from the volunteers Jimmy was training with. If they, with all their knowledge of warfare, could be wounded or killed, what would happen to the novices who still thought war was an adventure?
Two of the men Jimmy wrote letters for died before reaching Dover, but all the same he would go out and post their letters later. It might be a small comfort to the relatives to know they had been thought of right to the end.
Garth gave him one of his hefty pats on the shoulder. Jimmy knew that was his uncle’s way of saying he was proud of him and understood his fears.
After a bath, a couple of hours’ sleep on the couch and once again dressed in civilian clothes, Jimmy heard the doctor leaving Belle’s room and caught him as he was going down the stairs.
‘How is she, doctor?’ he asked after introducing himself.
‘A great deal chirpier now you are home,’ the doctor smiled. ‘I think she’s out of the woods now, but it’s going to take a while to build her strength up again. She lost a great deal of blood.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Mrs Franklin will see she gets the right food and plenty of rest. Thank you for all you’ve done for her. And for seeing I got leave. I really appreciate that.’
‘It was nothing.’ The doctor put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, and looked at him with concern. ‘But I’m afraid there is something more I must tell you. It would not be advisable for your wife to risk having another baby.’
Jimmy paled. ‘Not ever?’
‘I cannot say with absolute certainty that the injuries she received will prevent her from ever carrying another baby full term, but it would be risky,’ the doctor said gently. ‘I know what a blow this will be to you both, and I am so sorry.’
‘Have you told Belle yet?’ Jimmy asked, his voice quivering with emotion.
‘No, I haven’t, and for the time being I think it would be advisable to keep it just between you, Mrs Franklin and myself.’
Jimmy swallowed hard and nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Two days later, while Belle was having a nap, Jimmy walked up to her shop.
This morning there had been several kind letters from her customers who had heard what had happened and wanted to offer their sympathy. Belle asked him how she should reply to them, and if she was to tell them she would be closing the shop down.
Jimmy hadn’t known how to reply. Garth had made his feelings on the subject quite plain. He felt it wasn’t safe for her there any more and her place was at home. Jimmy agreed with Garth, but he also knew what the shop meant to Belle so was reluctant to say anything just now.
He thought if he just looked around he might be able to clear his head and come to a firm decision. He closed the shop door behind him and stood there for a moment gazing around him. Mog had cleared up the day after the attack, but the cheval mirror without glass in it and the broken chair in the stock room was enough for Jimmy to imagine how bad it had been. There was still a smear of blood on the wall too and the sight of it made his insides contract with anger.
Yet as he walked about the shop, touching the pretty hats Belle made so well, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to insist that she gave it up entirely. Without that interest and with him in France, she would feel she had nothing left.
The sound of banging on the shop door interrupted him. Mog had put a notice on it saying ‘Closed until further notice’, but despite this he could see a young woman outside who was gesturing for him to open up.
Somewhat irritated, Jimmy opened the door. The woman was young, very stylishly dressed in a green hat with a feather which he was sure was one of Belle’s. ‘I’m sorry, but the shop is closed,’ he said, and pointed to the notice.
‘I know, I can read,’ the young woman said tartly. ‘But I’ve been away for a while. I came round to see Belle, we’re friends, you see. My name is Miranda Forbes-Alton. Has something happened to Belle? And who are you?’
Jimmy did recall a mention of someone called Miranda, Mog said she had an overbearing mother, and judging by the daughter’s snooty manner she was cut from the same cloth.
‘I’m her husband,’ he said. ‘She was attacked and robbed and as a result she lost the baby she was carrying.’
To his consternation the woman’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, dear God no,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. ‘Poor, poor Belle, what a terrible thing to happen! She was so happy to be having a baby. If only I’d known sooner! Is there anything I can do now? I could mind the shop if that would help.’
Jimmy hadn’t liked the curt way she had asked who he was. Yet her obvious distress at Belle being hurt made him warm to her.
‘That is kind of you,’ he said. ‘But we’ve decided to keep it closed for a while. As you can imagine, she’s still very weak and sad.’
‘Of course she must be. I’m so sorry about speaking sharply to you, Mr Reilly. I didn’t expect it to be you as I knew you were in France. Tell me about the attack. What time of day was it?’
Jimmy explained in more detail, including how close Belle had come to dying from blood loss and how the doctor had pulled strings to get him home. Miranda winced and looked horrified.
‘But you will have to go back to the army, won’t you?’ she said. ‘Is there anything I can do to help out then? I like Belle so much and I know she’ll be even sadder once you are gone.’
Jimmy could see this woman meant what she said, and he was sure he would feel easier about returning to France if he knew Belle had a good friend to talk to.
‘I do have to go back tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’m sure Belle would be glad of a visit in the afternoon, maybe you could cheer her.’
‘I will certainly try,’ she said. ‘And please tell her that I’m thinking of her, and explain I didn’t know about the attack until talking to you.’
‘Of course, Miss Forbes-Alton. She will appreciate your concern, as I do. We have a side door at the Railway; you don’t need to go in through the bar.’
‘I shall be there around two,’ she said. ‘And you keep safe back in France. Belle needs you all in one piece.’
Jimmy smiled at her then. He understood now why Belle liked her; she might be a bit snooty at first, but she improved on acquaintance.
At six that evening, Jimmy was trying to persuade Belle to eat a little more. ‘Come on, just one more mouthful,’ he said, holding out a forkful of fish pie to her.
She sighed, dutifully opened her mouth and let him feed her. Mog made the best fish pie in the world, and under normal circumstances she would have wolfed it down, but she wasn’t hungry and had only eaten a couple of mouthfuls before giving up. But as Jimmy was going back to France in the morning, she knew he’d be less anxious if he thought he’d got her eating again.
Having him home with her had made her feel better. Much to Nurse Smethwick’s annoyance, he had spent most of the previous two days on the bed beside her, talking and reading the paper to her. She was going to miss him so much when he had to go back.
Dr Towle had told Smethwick the previous evening that she wasn’t needed any more. Both Belle and Mog were glad to see the back of her as she had been such a tyrant.
‘You see, you were just being lazy,’ Jimmy said triumphantly as he spooned yet another mouthful into her mouth. ‘Now, if you don’t feed yourself I’ll tell Mog to get Smethers back.’
‘I really have had enough now.’ Belle nudged the plate back to him. ‘I’m not using up enough energy to be hungry. That will come back once I can get up each day.’
‘That won’t be for at least another week,’ Jimmy said firmly, putting the dinner plate back on the tray. ‘And then only for an hour or two to start with.’
‘You won’t know,’ she teased him.
‘I bet I will, I feel connected to you even when we’re apart. The day that man attacked you I had a strange feeling of foreboding. I just didn’t think it could have anything to do with you.’
‘Then I’d better be very careful what I get up to,’ she said impishly. ‘Now, pass me my sketchpad and I’ll try and draw that man.’
Jimmy lounged back on the pillows as Belle sketched. It never ceased to amaze him that anyone could capture a likeness of anything with just a pencil. He could only draw like a child – dogs that looked like sausages on sticks and flowers all turning out like daisies.
It grieved him to see Belle look so pale and weak. Her hair needed washing, he’d never seen it so lank and dull, but it couldn’t be washed until her shoulder stopped hurting. He knew she was trying hard to convince him she really was on the mend, and physically she was, but however much she tried to laugh and to tease him, he could sense her deep desolation at losing the baby. He just wished there was something he could do or say to make that go away.
When he’d got home earlier and told her that Miranda would be coming the next day, she’d seemed very pleased. ‘I’m so glad you met her,’ she said. ‘She comes across as stuck up at first, but that’s just the way she’s been brought up. Once you get to know her she’s no different to us.’
Now, as he watched Belle sketching and thought about her striking up a friendship with someone as unlikely as Miranda, he wondered whether Belle’s father had been a gentleman. Even at fifteen, she had had that polished, refined look about her that was prevalent in the upper classes. Maybe it was partly because they had better nourishment right from infancy, but you only had to look at thoroughbred horses to know blood lines did count. Mog might have nurtured her and taught her good manners, but Belle’s black curly hair and her beautiful blue eyes must have been inherited from her father. He thought her poise and charm were likely to have come from him too.
If Annie knew who he was, and in her line of work she probably didn’t, she was never likely to tell Belle. Mog didn’t know; she said she had paid little attention to Annie until she was in the later stages of her pregnancy, and when she once asked Annie about it she’d been told to mind her own business.
Jimmy knew from Mog that Annie had grown up in a village and that her father was a carpenter. She might put on airs and graces, dress well and have gained a patina of sophistication, but no one would ever be fooled into thinking she was out of the top drawer.
‘Well, that’s the best I can do,’ Belle said, rustling her sketchpad and bringing Jimmy out of his musings with a start.
Jimmy took the pad from her and studied it, but instead of the villainous kind of thug he’d imagined, she’d drawn a very ordinary face which could easily belong to a bank clerk or a station porter.
‘Not what you expected?’ Belle asked. ‘Sorry I couldn’t give him a villainous scar, or a patch over one eye, but he was quite run of the mill. He was stocky, almost completely bald, about five feet eleven. He had a rough kind of voice, and it was only once he came closer to me that I noticed his dirty collar and untrimmed beard and could smell a damp, musty odour coming from him. That was when I got scared.’
‘I should know from the years in Seven Dials that bad people don’t come with warning signs on them,’ Jimmy said thoughtfully. ‘You are so good at drawing, Belle. Maybe you should take it up, seriously I mean.’
‘Instead of the shop?’ she said, and he saw that stubborn look in her eyes that he knew so well.
‘Not necessarily,’ he said carefully. ‘Look, I agree with Uncle Garth that it isn’t safe for you to work in there alone any more. It’s too close to the heath, so easy for any thug looking for easy pickings to rob you and get away unseen. But if you were to take on an assistant, you’d be much safer.’