Juju Levine was as colourful and chatty as a parrot. Far chattier than Clara was comfortable with, but she soon realised that the costume designer was one of her best bets at having a glimpse into the life of her uncle. But first, as the two women gathered up the scattered files, she got a potted history of the life of Juju and her twin brother Jonny (whom Clara had yet to meet). Their father came to Newcastle from Poland in the 1860s. He set up a tailoring shop in the Grainger Market and soon met and married a young actress and singer who trod the boards of the variety halls in the North East. She wasn’t Jewish but converted, and the twins were both raised as part of the Leazes Park Road Synagogue. After they were born, their mother retired from the stage and joined her husband in the tailoring shop, specialising in making costumes for the theatres and variety halls in the city. By the time Juju and Jonny inherited the business, it had lost its tailoring wing and was solely a costumier. With the vogue for fancy-dress parties, the twins expanded that part of the business and opened the shop on Percy Street.
‘So we’ve been in this building fifteen years. We first rented this office to your uncle around ten years ago, and he’s been the perfect tenant – and also a good friend. He even became one of our customers, as he sometimes needed outfits and disguises for his cases. Either for himself or his agents.’
‘Oh, how interesting! What kind of disguises?’ Clara leaned forward, intrigued.
‘Nothing too complicated. Wigs, moustaches and such. If he was following someone for a few weeks to gather information, he liked to change his appearance so he wasn’t as easily spotted. Aha!’ said Juju. ‘I think this might be what we are looking for.’ She dug out a black leather book from the top drawer of the filing cabinet and passed it to Clara.
Clara opened it and sure enough there was an alphabetical listing of cases with the date each file was opened and closed. She flicked to W. Yes, there was Whittaker, opened 1st June 1929, with no date under ‘closed’.
‘This is just what we need! Thank you, Juju. But it will require a fair bit of work to go through this lot and see what’s here and what isn’t. By the way, you seemed to know Mrs Whittaker, yesterday.’
Juju, without asking, walked into the kitchenette and started boiling the kettle. ‘I do,’ she said, over her shoulder. ‘I telephoned her to tell her you were here. The poor, poor woman, losing her husband like that, and that thankless brother-in-law flitting off to Hollywood instead of staying to help. Bob did a good thing taking on their case. But he always had a soft spot for the underdogs. Now poor Alice is up to her neck in debt – and through no fault of her own!’
‘How was she to pay Bob then?’
‘Oh, he would have agreed to get paid when the insurance paid out.’
‘And if it didn’t?’
Juju smiled sadly. ‘Then he wouldn’t get paid. He knew that, but took the case on anyway. He was a good man, your uncle, and I’m very sad that he’s gone.’ Juju sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye.
Clara was touched. ‘Juju, how poorly did my uncle get before he died? Was he in bed at home? In hospital?’
Juju shook her head. ‘No, he worked right up to the day before he died. We knew he wasn’t that well. He didn’t have the energy he used to; he had lost some weight. But no one who knew him thought his death was imminent. He had a weak heart though, and that in the end is what got him. You should speak to his doctor. I can give you his details.’
‘That will be helpful, thank you. So, you didn’t see much change in him, other than him lacking energy.’
‘Not really, no.’
‘How about mental change? Did he seem to still have all his faculties?’
Juju laughed. ‘Your uncle? Oh yes! He was still as sharp as a tack. And funny, Bob was so very funny.’ She wiped at her eyes again. ‘Sugar?’
‘Yes please, if there is any.’
‘Oh, there is. Your uncle had a sweet tooth. He would always be bringing in cakes that his housekeeper had made.’
‘Mrs Hudson, is it? Like in Sherlock Holmes?’
‘No, Hobson. Funny bird, that.’
‘Oh? Why’s that? From the letter Uncle Bob wrote I got the impression he was very fond of her.’
‘He was,’ said Juju, carrying two cups of tea out of the kitchenette without saucers. ‘But, and it’s not really my place to say so, but I think she hoped he would be fond of her in a different sort of way.’
‘Meaning …?’ prompted Clara then took a sip of her tea.
‘Meaning … well, I’m not sure how well you really knew your uncle.’
‘Not that well, to be honest. Not in recent years, anyway.’
‘I thought as much. But he obviously loved and trusted you enough to pass on his whole life to you. So I think you should know what his whole life was. Because you might find out from someone else. Someone like Mrs Hobson, who might put her own slant on it.’
Clara put down the cup on the desk. She didn’t like all this beating around the bush. ‘What are you saying, Juju? Spit it out,’ she said frankly.
Juju put down her own cup and took Clara’s hands. Clara forced herself not to pull away. Unexpected physical contact always made her uncomfortable.
‘I have a feeling, Clara, that you are not very shockable. And that’s just as well. Because, you see, Mrs Hobson, the housekeeper, is a widow. Your uncle was a bachelor. She made it very clear that she hoped he would marry her. She is in her forties. He was in his early sixties. She carried a torch for him. Even though he made it clear that he was not interested in marriage. She still kept on hoping.’
‘Well, that’s not so shocking. Is that all?’ said Clara, relieved.
‘No, that’s not all. You see, the reason your uncle was not interested in marrying Mrs Hobson, or anyone, was that he was not interested in women. Not romantically.’
Clara suddenly realised what Juju was trying to say. ‘Are you trying to tell me my uncle is – was – a homosexual?’
Juju nodded seriously. ‘I am. I don’t think anyone else knew. But he told me and my brother because, well, let’s just say my brother is of a similar disposition. They were just ordinary friends, not “special” friends, if you know what I mean. In fact, I don’t think your uncle had a “special friend”. If he did, he didn’t tell me or Jonny. But I think Mrs Hobson suspected that Bob and Jonny were more than they were – and she got herself worked up about it. So, when you meet her, be careful. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘I will, thank you. And thank you for telling me about Uncle Bob. I honestly don’t know if my mother knew. If she did, she never said. They never got on.’
‘So I heard. But he spoke about you a lot. He even showed me some of the letters you wrote to him. He kept them all, you know. He was so proud of you, going to university and reading science. He always saw that as proof that you took after him.’
‘Yes, it seems that I might have.’ Clara had a pang of guilt that she had not kept up a correspondence with her uncle in recent years. And a deep sense of sadness crept up on her for the man she could have known so much better.
Clara’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Locksmith!’
Then another voice. ‘And the police!’