Sunday 29th December 1929, North Shields
The snow continued to melt. By Sunday morning, all signs of a white Christmas were gone. The road to North Shields, following the industrial artery of the Tyne, had lost its picture-postcard beauty and Clara sped past the tortured silhouettes of the shipyards and coal stacks.
‘Me dad worked at the docks in Wallsend,’ said Bella.
‘Oh? Is that where you were brought up?’ asked Clara.
‘Aye, it was. But when me dad died, me mam took us to live with her family in Lemington. I’ve been there ever since.’
‘Sorry to hear about your dad, Bella.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, miss, it was a long time ago. He fell from the top of a crane he was painting. Me mam says he was drinking on the job.’
‘Oh my, that’s a horrible way to go.’
‘Not really. It was quick. And he was already three sheets to the wind,’ said Bella matter-of-factly. Clara smiled to herself. She liked Bella’s no-nonsense approach to life.
‘May I ask how old you are, Bella?’
‘Aye, miss, no bother. I’m thirty-two.’
‘I’m thirty. Never married either.’
‘Oh I’ve been married! Not all it’s put up to be, I can tell you that!’
Clara cast a quick look at her travelling companion. ‘Really? Tell me more!’
‘Well, Cuddy’s me maiden name. Me married name’s Plumber. It was me ex-husband’s brother I had round to fix your radiators.’
‘A plumber called Plumber?’ asked Clara with a chuckle.
‘Aye, you couldn’t make it up!’
‘You say ex-husband? Not late husband?’
Bella snorted. ‘Well, he pretended he was late – as in dead. But I soon sniffed out the truth.’
Clara kept her eyes on the road as she overtook a coal cart pulled by a pony. Then she turned to look at Bella again. ‘Well, this I have to hear! Tell me more.’
‘His name was Paul. Paul Plumber. We met in 1917 at a dance. He was a corporal in the army, but home on leave. Swept me off me feet, he did. And I’ll not be letting that happen again!’
‘You were young …’
‘Not that young. I was nineteen. Me sister was married at sixteen. So I thought I’d better get on with it. That’s what me mam said too.’
‘Was he handsome?’
‘Oh aye, he was that. And, as it turns out, a real lady’s man. But I only found that out too late.’
Clara drove past the entrance to the ferry port and carried on towards North Shields. ‘You said he’d pretended he’d died? What was that all about?’
‘Hmmm,’ said Bella, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘He went back on duty a month after we’d got married. He never came back. He was apparently missing in action, presumed dead, according to the army. But me sister saw him one day in Carlisle. With another lassie on his arm. She followed them into a pub and confronted him. He denied he was Paul Plumber, gave her some made-up name. But she swore it was him and told me about it. So I went to Carlisle to do some investigating. Sure enough, I found him and his new missus. Who didn’t know about me. But they had a bairn. And I left them to it after giving him a piece of my mind and a good belting.’
Clara did not ask Bella to clarify what the ‘good belting’ entailed, but after seeing her performance at the jiu-jitsu class she wouldn’t have been surprised if Paul Plumber came off second best in any physical altercation.
‘Goodness me, Bella. What a bounder!’
‘He’s a philandering, lying, scheming bastard, miss!’
‘That he is. So did you get divorced?’
Bella smiled. ‘No. I wouldn’t give him one. So he can’t get remarried – not legally, anyway. Serves him bloody right.’
‘But that means you can’t get remarried either.’
Bella shrugged. ‘Just as well I don’t want to. But if I do, I’ll get the divorce then. I have proof I’m the wronged party.’
Clara thought of all her uncle’s cases that involved divorce and infidelity. Bella would certainly be an asset there! And today. Clara was well aware that she came across as a posh southern lady. It would help to have a local lass with her when she spoke to Sybil’s family. As they drove into North Shields Bella directed them through the quiet Sunday streets down to the fish quay. Normally the place would be a cacophony of fish sellers hollering to outdo their rivals, while seagulls out-squalled them all. But Sunday trading laws were strictly enforced and the gulls had the entire quayside to themselves. Fishing boats groaned and heaved in their berths, their crew enjoying a day of rest.
Clara and Bella had already discussed that Sunday morning would be a good time to find three prostitutes at home. It was ten o’clock, so not the crack of dawn, and the women were not likely to be churchgoers. It was highly likely they would be having a lazy morning in bed – hopefully without any clients.
Bella directed Clara to a long row of ramshackle slum tenements. ‘Best we park doon near the quay though and walk up. Over there outside the church will be safest.’
Clara agreed. Soon she and Bella were standing outside the residence of Sybil Langford’s mother. Clara knocked on the door. It took a few knocks before a bleary-eyed woman in a dressing gown opened the door. The woman was in her sixties but Clara could see the similarity to Sybil. This must be Sadie Smith.
‘Mrs Smith?’ asked Clara.
‘Aye. Can I help you ladies?’
‘I’m Miss Vale and this is Miss Cuddy. We’re sorry to disturb you on a Sunday morning but we are involved in the investigation into your daughter’s death. Are you able to speak with us about that? We hope you can help us find out what happened to her.’
Sadie Smith’s eyes welled up but she held her composure. ‘I haven’t even seen her yet. We was going to go to York. But the polis rang and asked us not to. They said they had to look at the body again.’
‘Yes, I know. I was there. I assisted in the autopsy,’ said Clara.
‘Did you now? Well, you’d best come in.’
Bella and Clara stepped into the hall. They could smell mould and damp overlaid by stale cigarette smoke. Sadie led them into a living room cum kitchenette and shooed a scraggly grey cat from a threadbare two-seater. ‘Sorry it’s such a mess,’ she mumbled, then indicated that her guests should sit. She pulled up a wooden kitchen chair and settled herself down with a sigh. ‘Well thank you for coming. Finally. I’ve not had no one come to tell us owt. Not since they told us they’d found her dead. Before Christmas, it was.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Clara, doubting that there would have been such poor communication and support if Sadie Smith had been a well-to-do lady. ‘Just to clarify though, I’m not from the police. I’m a private investigator. I was hired by one of Sybil’s friends to find her. Everyone was terribly worried about her.’
Sadie nodded and pursed her lips.
Clara noticed there was still a red stain from last night’s lipstick.
‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ said Sadie. ‘That she had friends like that. I didn’t meet any of her friends, you know. She was too ashamed, I think, to bring any of them home. Except the one.’
‘Who was that?’ asked Clara.
‘Her gentleman friend.’ Sadie gave a hollow laugh. ‘She always looked down on me for my gentlemen friends, did Sally – that’s her real name you know, not Sybil. She took that name to be high and mighty.’
‘Yes, we know,’ said Clara. ‘But you still loved her. I can see that. You’re a mother who loved her child.’
Sadie caught her breath. ‘Aye,’ she said quietly, ‘aye I did. She was me first bairn, and I always loved her.’
‘Loved her enough to look after her child too, I believe?’
Sadie’s eyes narrowed. ‘How do you know that?’
Clara did not want to admit that she’d intercepted and read Sybil’s post. ‘As I said, Mrs Smith, I’m an investigator. It’s what I’m paid to do.’
‘So you are.’
‘Is she here? Sybil’s daughter?’
‘Aye, she is. Still in bed. I can get her if you like.’
‘It’s all right, Gran, I’m here.’ Clara, Bella and Sadie turned round to see a girl standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a nightdress. She was without a doubt Sybil’s daughter. Her sleep-tousled blonde hair was nearly to her waist. Her green eyes were red from crying, but it didn’t diminish her beauty. Clara could see what Sadie meant when she said men were already paying her attention. Clara’s stomach churned. What chance did the girl have?
‘Hello,’ said Clara. ‘I’m Miss Vale and this is Miss Cuddy. We’ve come to talk about your mother.’
‘I heard,’ she said.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Clara.
‘Sophia.’
‘That’s a very pretty name.’
‘It’s what me mam called me.’
‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ said Clara. ‘So very sorry.’
Sophia started to cry. Clara waited for her grandmother to comfort her, but instead the woman lit a cigarette and turned her head away. With a tut, Bella got up and pulled the girl into her strong, warm arms. ‘Oh, petal, cry away.’
No one spoke while the girl cried but eventually she stilled. Bella pulled out a hanky and gave it to her. ‘Are you able to talk now? To see if you can help Miss Vale?’
Sophia nodded. ‘Good,’ said Bella, not moving from her side. ‘Carry on, Miss Vale,’ she said.
‘Thank you, Miss Cuddy. So, Mrs Smith, Sophia, you were saying Sybil introduced you to a gentleman. By any chance was it last summer?’
‘Aye it was,’ said Sadie, her hands shaking as she held the cigarette. ‘His name was Jan. A Dutchman. Sybil said they were going to get married. Over in Holland. And that they’d be coming back to get Sophia to take her with them once they’d got settled over there.’
‘And what did you think of him?’ asked Clara. ‘What type of man was he?’
Sadie’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. ‘Well, he was a big ’un.’ She laughed. ‘In all departments, I’d bet.’
‘No,’ said Clara, trying to remain patient, ‘what character of a man? Was he kind? Was he thoughtful? Was he someone who would treat her well?’
Sadie shrugged and took a drag on her cigarette. ‘I honestly don’t know, Miss Vale. She seemed happy enough with him. He didn’t speak much when he was here. Just came the once.’
‘They took me for tea and cake,’ chipped in Sophia.
‘Did you like him?’ asked Bella.
‘He was friendly. He made me laugh. But that doesn’t make him a good man, does it?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Clara.
‘Well,’ said Sophia. ‘Lots of men are friendly and make the girls laugh. But then they can turn, can’t they? If they’ve had a few drinks? Or they’re cross about summat.’
‘Aye, they can,’ said Bella. ‘You’re a canny lass, Sophia. So did you see Jannie turn? Did your mam say he did?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I didn’t see it. And she didn’t say. But summat happened. Because the wedding was called off, wasn’t it. Mam wrote to say we wouldn’t be going with Jannie to Holland no more. She didn’t say why.’
Sadie’s eyes narrowed. She looked at her granddaughter through a swirl of cigarette smoke. ‘When did she write to you? You didn’t tell me that.’
Sophia’s eyes widened in fear.
‘Go on, Sophia, this could be important,’ said Clara. ‘When did your mother write to you and what did she say? Have you still got the letter?’
Sophia shook her head. ‘No. I burnt it. I was angry. I’d told me friends at school I was going to Holland. Now I wasn’t. So I burnt it.’
‘What did your mother say?’
Sophia lowered her eyes to the floor.
‘Answer the lady!’ snapped her grandmother.
Sophia’s eyes flashed up. ‘Nowt really. Just that it was over between her and Jannie. But that she would explain it all to me when she came to see us next. She said she’d be up after the Newcastle run of the panto.’
‘So she intended to do the Newcastle run?’
Sophia nodded. ‘That’s what she said.’
‘Do you remember where the letter was posted? And the date?’
‘It came from York. Mam said she was writing from York. It got here on the Tuesday before Christmas. Not Christmas Eve, the Tuesday before that. Before school broke up. I saw the postman on the way to school. He gave me the letter so he didn’t have to walk up the bank.’
‘You should have told me!’ snapped Sadie.
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Sophia.
‘Is there anything else you haven’t told me?’ asked her grandmother.
Sophia lowered her eyes again.
‘You lie to me again and I’ll tan your arse, missy!’
Sophia swallowed hard.
‘It’s all right,’ said Bella, putting a protective arm around her. ‘You can tell us. We’re trying to find out how and why your mam died. And if anyone was involved.’
Sophia nodded. ‘He was here.’
‘Who? Jannie van Lelyveld? When?’ asked Clara.
‘On the Monday. The day before I got the letter. He was …’ she flashed a look at her grandmother ‘… he was with Fran at the Dog and Bull having a drink. Then they went to a room upstairs. I saw them when I was walking back from school.’
‘Who is Fran?’ asked Clara.
‘Me auntie.’
‘One of me other daughters,’ said Sadie.
‘And did Fran and Jannie see you?’ asked Clara.
‘Aye, they did. Jannie gave me half a crown and told me not to say owt. And he asked me if me mam had sent anything to me. A parcel or owt. And I said no. The letter hadn’t arrived yet, so I wasn’t lying; I swear I wasn’t lying, miss.’
‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ said Clara gently. ‘But thank you for telling us the truth now. Is Fran here?’ she asked Sadie.
‘No. She’s not back yet. She was working last night.’
‘Any idea where she might be?’
Sadie shrugged. ‘She’s a grown woman. Her business is her own.’
‘I do,’ said Sophia. ‘I know where she is. Shall I take you there?’
The Dog and Bull was a tavern just off the fish quay. It was shuttered up as expected on a Sunday morning. But Sophia didn’t take them to the front door; she took them round the back. ‘That’s where the guests come in and out when the pub’s shut,’ she explained. But before they went in, she stopped, suddenly looking sheepish.
‘What is it, petal?’ asked Bella.
‘Oh I’m sorry, miss, I’ve lied again. I know I said I didn’t, but I did. But I didn’t want to say owt in front of me gran. And I don’t want to say owt in front of Auntie Fran. So best I tell you now. Or best I show you.’
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a little black velvet bag with a drawstring. ‘Me mam didn’t just send me a letter. She sent me this too. And she said I was to keep it for us and not tell me gran or me aunties. She said if Jannie comes looking I mustn’t tell him either. She said she would be coming to get me after Christmas, and we’d live together, just the two of us, like a proper family. She said she’d been saving up and now had enough for us to start somewhere new. I won’t get into trouble, will I?’ asked Sophia.
‘For telling the truth? Absolutely not. Can I look?’ asked Clara.
Sophia nodded and placed the bag in Clara’s hand. Clara felt the weight and the substance.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ asked Bella.
Clara opened the drawstring and peered inside. ‘Yes, Bella, it’s the missing diamonds.’
Bella let out a long whistle.
‘Do you still need to speak to Auntie Fran?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Clara, ‘I most certainly do. But don’t worry.’ She tapped her nose. ‘I won’t tell her anything about these. I will need to take them though. To give them to the police. Do you understand why?’
Sophia nodded. ‘Aye, I do, miss. Will it help to find out who killed me mother?’
‘It’s an essential clue. And you’ve provided it. Thank you, Sophia.’
Bella put her arm around her. ‘Don’t worry, pet. Miss Vale is the best detective in the world. She’ll get to the bottom of it.’
Clara smiled at Bella. ‘Well, I’ll do my best. Take us to your Auntie Fran, Sophia.’
Sophia led them to the back door of the tavern, which was unlocked. They entered a hallway with a door leading to the bar area and another door saying ‘private’. There was a small kiosk with a window labelled ‘reception’ but no one was there. The girl led them up a flight of stairs to a landing with six shut doors. Sophia pointed to one of them. ‘That’s the one Auntie Fran usually uses.’
Clara nodded then knocked. A woman’s voice answered: ‘I’ve paid to midday.’
‘It’s not the manager, Fran. Can I have a word with you?’ A moment later the door opened a crack and a blonde woman in her forties peered through. ‘What do you want?’
‘My name is Clara Vale. I’m a private investigator and I’d like to ask you some questions concerning the death of your sister, Sybil Langford.’ There was a sudden commotion from inside the room and a man’s voice called out: ‘What the hell?’ Clara recognised it immediately. Fran tried to shut the door. Clara pushed back, simultaneously reaching into her coat pocket.
‘Bella! Help!’ Bella leapt into action, rammed the door open and tackled the shocked woman to the ground. Clara ran past them, her Webley .22 poised and ready.
Jannie van Lelyveld stood in the middle of the room, completely naked. ‘What the hell?’ he asked again, taking a step towards her.
Clara pointed the gun at the centre of his chest. ‘Stop right there or I’ll shoot.’
‘Bloody bitch,’ he muttered, and raised his hands above his head.