Whitley Bay, Saturday 24th August 1929
The next morning, as arranged, Clara met Alice at the station and together they travelled through to Whitley Bay. Now they stood in front of an ironmonger’s shop, its window filled with pots, pans and household paraphernalia. ‘This is Gill’s Ironmongers,’ said Alice. ‘Alfie lives in the flat upstairs – and this is where Will Spencer lived too.’
The door to the shop was locked. But there was a doorbell, which Alice rang. A few moments later a window opened in the upstairs flat and a young man put his head out and said: ‘Mrs Whittaker! Come around the back, I’ll let you in there. Me uncle’s just shut the shop up while he pops out to the bank.’
Alice led Clara up the street, around the corner and into a back alley. A few minutes later they were being let through the gate of a courtyard, piled high with crates. Some of the crates were filled with jam jars.
‘You still taking the jam jars from the bairns?’ asked Alice, a slight quiver in her voice.
‘Aye, Mrs Whittaker. Me Uncle Joe exchanges them. The Spanish City and the Majestic won’t take the jars. But now the Paradise is gone there’ll be nowhere else for the bairns to go.’ Alfie paused, looking glum.
‘What is it, Alfie?’
The usher sighed. ‘I’d best tell you then. I’ll be asking for a job at the Majestic. With the Paradise gone, I need the work. I’m sorry, missus, you know I am.’
‘Aye, Alfie, I know,’ said Alice. ‘And I don’t begrudge you the work when there’s nowt else going.’
‘You don’t think it’s disrespectful to Will? So soon after he’s gone?’
‘No, Alfie, I don’t. You know he would want you to get on with your life.’
‘I believe Will lived here with you,’ said Clara. ‘That he didn’t have any other family.’
‘Aye, that’s right, miss. He was me best mate, was Will. And I shouldn’t have let him go into that fire on his own. I should have saved him.’
The young man’s shoulders slumped and he looked near to tears. Alice squeezed his shoulder. ‘There was nowt you could have done, son. Don’t blame yourself.’
‘I can’t help it, missus.’
‘Aye, I know. I feel the same. But Miss Vale here is going to help us find out what happened. For Will’s sake. Aren’t you, Miss Vale?’
‘I hope so,’ said Clara, with the most reassuring voice she could muster.
‘Thank you, miss,’ said Alfie and ushered the ladies through a door. They went through the back storeroom and headed towards the stairs. ‘Are you the only ironmonger’s in town?’ Clara asked.
‘No, miss, not the only one by far.’
‘I see. But is this the closest one to the Paradise?’
‘It is,’ said Alfie, ‘that’s why the bairns – the children, miss – bring their jam jars here.’
Alfie opened a door at the top of the stairs and led them into a neat little flat that smelt of lemon detergent. ‘Can I get you ladies some tea?’
‘Aye, please, Alfie, that’ll be grand,’ said Alice.
Alfie busied himself in the kitchen while Clara took out her new notebook and prepared to ask him some questions.
A few minutes later they were settled with a tea tray in front of them. While Alfie and Alice sorted the tea, Clara got down to business.
‘Alfie, Mrs Whittaker tells me that sometimes the light in the space behind the screen was left on by accident. And if it was, it would shine through the screen when the lights went down. Was there any light shining through on the day of the fire?’
‘You mean just as the show was about to start?’
‘Yes, then. I didn’t see anything, but I wasn’t really looking. Did you?’
‘No, miss, I didn’t. If there was, I would’ve flashed me torch at the projection box and Mrs Whittaker would have come down and dealt with it. Cos I can’t leave the audience when they’re in. That’s the rules. Different at the Majestic, mind, cos they’ve got more ushers.’ He looked at Alice. ‘They have four a show!’
Alice pursed her lips. ‘I expect they do, Alfie. But we could only afford one of you.’
Alfie realised his faux pas and looked crestfallen. ‘Oh Mrs Whittaker, I didn’t mean—’
‘That’s all right, I know you didn’t. But the fact is, we only had one usher. So if there was anything that you needed, I was the one who would have to come down to help. Isn’t that right?’
‘Aye, Mrs Whittaker, that’s right. But there was nowt I needed you for that day. All seemed shipshape.’
Clara made a note. ‘So the light wasn’t on before the show, but might it have gone on during the show? Would it have shone through?’
Alfie weighed his hands, left and right. ‘It might’ve and it might not. It would have depended on what was on the screen. Some of the darker, more dimly lit parts of the film might have showed it. But not the lighter bits. And the lamp was low down, stood on the floor, so would have only affected the bottom bit of the screen where not much was happening, if you follow my meaning.’
Clara nodded. ‘I think I do. We weren’t far into the film when the fire started though. Can you remember if it was a light or dark bit?’
He thought for a minute. ‘It was a bright and busy bit of the film, with the tramp on the run in the circus ring, so I probably wouldn’t have noticed if the light was on, no. But I did see the flames lapping the curtains. And the screen beginning to melt. And then Will rushing in with the fire bucket. I told him to leave it for the brigade. You heard me, miss, I told him …’ His voice trailed away as his eyes filled with tears.
‘Yes, I heard you,’ said Clara softly.
Alice reached over and held Alfie’s hand. Clara sat uncomfortably, an intruder in their shared grief.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually. ‘I’m sure this is hard, but I need to push on.’
‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I understand. What else d’ya want to know?’
‘I’ve got a few more questions. But to sum this one up, the lamp couldn’t have been on before the film started because you would have seen it when the auditorium lights dimmed?’
‘Aye, that’s right.’
‘But it might very well have been switched on after the film started, and you wouldn’t have noticed because it was bright and busy on the screen and the light would have been low down and not that noticeable with everything else going on?’
‘Aye, miss.’
‘Right. Thank you.’ Clara scribbled another note. ‘So, moving on to the back door. Mrs Whittaker tells me that you were expected to keep an eye on the back door in case anyone tried to sneak in. Could you see the door from all parts of the auditorium?’
‘Not all parts, no, but I’d position meself so I could. To be clear though, I couldn’t see the door itself, there was a thick curtain over the entrance to keep daylight out if the door did open, but I would have seen if anyone tried to sneak through the curtain.’
‘And you didn’t see anyone?’
‘No, miss. That’s what I told the polis and the fire inspector.’
‘The polis?’ asked Clara.
‘He means the police,’ explained Alice.
‘Ah, I see. Thank you.’ She turned her attention back to Alfie. ‘Mrs Whittaker tells me you didn’t see Will unlock the back door either as he normally does before the show began. So you couldn’t swear that he hadn’t done it.’
Alfie gave a furtive glance at Alice, his face the picture of remorse.
‘It’s all right, Alfie, just tell the truth,’ said Alice, encouragingly.
Alfie turned back to Clara and nodded sadly. ‘That’s right, I couldn’t say one way or the other. If I had seen him I would’ve said, I swear, but I didn’t. That doesn’t mean he didn’t, just that I didn’t actually see him, if you follow my meaning. I was busy getting things ready. I wasn’t watching him the whole time. I didn’t need to – I knew he always did it.’
‘All right, thank you,’ said Clara. ‘What do you think might have happened to the key?’
Alfie shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, I have no idea. If it wasn’t on the keyboard in the office, and it wasn’t left in the door, and it wasn’t in Will’s pocket, then I have no idea. I told the police that too.’
Clara nodded and checked her notes. Then she looked up into Alfie’s nervous eyes. ‘Are you aware that someone told the police that they saw Will lock the door half an hour before the start of the show, put the key in his pocket and walk back into the front of the cinema?’
‘Aye, so I’ve heard. Horace Fender.’
‘That’s right,’ said Clara. ‘Then tell me, both of you, what you know about him.’
Alice and Alfie looked at one another. Alfie nodded. Alice spoke first. ‘He’s a down-and-out. I wouldn’t go as far as to call him a tramp; he’s had a family in his time, and he’s worked around the town on and off for years. He used to drive a milk cart. But he’s a heavy drinker and has been off and on the wagon for as long as I can remember. His wife used to keep taking him back, but she’s given up. When the children grew up she left him and moved away.’
‘Does he live nearby?’ asked Clara.
‘Not since the wife left. She used to pay the rent from her own earnings. She took in laundry. After she left, he couldn’t keep it up on his own. He was chucked out. As far as I know he’s in and out of the Salvation Army shelter. Isn’t that right, Alfie?’
‘Aye, it is, Mrs Whittaker. He sometimes slept in the alley behind the Paradise. That’s how he says he saw Will coming out the back door. But I don’t know why the police believed him. He’s blind drunk half the time. Other times me or Will – and Mr Whittaker when he was still with us – had to chase him away because he’d relieve himself in the alley or try to steal jam jars from the bairns. He’d come in here sometimes and ask me uncle to give him money for ’em.’
Clara was making notes. She wrote ‘grudge?’ and circled it. ‘Did you tell the police about that? That you, Will and Mr Whittaker had to chase him off sometimes.’
‘Aye, I did, but it didn’t make a blind bit of difference.’
‘Did they explain to you, Alice, why they took his word on this?’
Alice pursed her lips. Clara could see the anger boiling. ‘They said that the Sally Army folk had said he’d been sober for a few weeks. That he was trying to put his life back together. They vouched for his character. But no one was vouching for Will’s character, not one bleedin’ soul!’
Alfie looked near to tears. ‘I did, Mrs Whittaker, I swear I did.’
Alice nodded at him. ‘I know you did, lad, and so did I. But it wasn’t enough. And the fact that the door was locked and it was Will’s job to make sure it was open, was the thing that damned him in the end. So I was told even if Horace Fender was lying, and someone else locked the door, Will should have checked and he should have made sure no one else was able to do that, that he shouldn’t have left the key in the door. And in the end, as the owner, it’s my fault. I should have made sure Will did his job.’
Clara wondered what might have happened if Will had lived and this all had to go to court. She was no expert, but she reckoned that a good defence barrister would have poked holes in this Horace Fender’s story and character. She checked her notes again and noted the word jam jar.
‘Alfie, you said Fender sometimes would steal jam jars from children and bring them here to be cashed in. Do you know if he did that the morning of the fire? Or sometime soon before that?’
Alfie cocked his head; there was the sound of a door downstairs opening and closing. ‘I don’t, but me uncle will know. And it sounds like that’s him back from the bank.’
Alfie, Clara and Alice finished up their tea, gathered their things and headed back down the stairs. They were met by a gentleman in his sixties who was introduced as Joe Gill, owner of Gill’s Ironmongers, and Alfie’s uncle. Alfie explained why Alice and Clara were there and that Clara wanted to ask him some questions.
Mr Gill confirmed Alfie’s story about Fender sometimes cashing in jam jars. ‘I’d do it for him during the week but not on a Saturday when there was a matinee. Or when there was a special showing in the school holidays. I’d think he’d nicked them from the bairns. But on a normal weekday he might not have. And I’d not have any proof that he hadn’t unless Alf told me he’d tossed him out on his ear that day.’
‘Did he come around last week then? The week before the fire?’
Mr Gill screwed up his face in an exaggerated demonstration of remembering. ‘Aye, aye he did. But he didn’t have jam jars. Which is why I think I remember it. Because it was out of the ordinary.’
‘In what way?’ asked Clara.
‘In that for once old Horace had money and he actually wanted to buy something.’
‘And what did he buy?’
Mr Gill nodded to a tank behind him. ‘A can of kerosene.’