When Georgina heard Mrs Crawford greeting her father in the room next door, she felt herself panic a little. Last night she had seen the head welder, Rosie Thornton, in the flesh and it was then that the faint jingle of a bell in the distant recesses of her memory had started clanging. The memory had caused her pain, but then again, any kind of reminiscence about her mother always did.
Rosie’s mum and her own mum had been friends.
Georgina could vividly recall her mother’s smiling face and the trail of her lavender perfume as she left the house to have what she called ‘her tea and chatter’ with her friend, Mrs Thornton.
She had dredged her childhood memories and recalled that Mrs Thornton and her family had lived over the river in Whitburn village, and it was only when she came into town every month that she met with Georgina’s mother.
Georgina had met Rosie only the once, and very briefly, when Mrs Thornton had knocked on their door and apologised to her mother for having to call off their usual monthly get-together. She remembered hiding behind the folds of her mother’s long skirt and peeking a look at the woman and child on their doorstep. The little blonde girl had smiled back at Georgina, and she remembered thinking how pretty she was.
She had recognised Rosie straight away last night. The pretty little girl had developed into a stunning woman, despite the facial scarring, which she had managed to hide well, but not so well that it was indiscernible.
Strictly speaking, Georgina should hand everything she had learnt about the women welders, including what she now knew about Rosie, over to the client. After all, that was her job, it was what she was paid for.
For heaven’s sake, Georgina huffed to herself. Why should it matter that their mothers had been friends?
‘Good day, Mr Pickering, how are you?’ Miriam sounded the epitome of politeness. She even surprised herself sometimes as to how nice she could actually be – how easy it was to win people over. ‘And how’s that lovely young lady who works for you?’ Miriam looked around the room as if expecting to come across Georgina lurking in a corner.
‘She’s very well, thank you,’ Mr Pickering said. ‘In fact, let me just go and see if “the lovely young lady” has all the information you required.’
Georgina heard her father’s chair scrape back on the bare floorboards and she started scrabbling to put her various bits of paper into order. When he opened the door, she looked up and smiled, trying to keep the indecision from showing on her face.
‘I’ll bring you the file in two minutes,’ she said, causing her father to do an about-turn back to his own office.
Miriam counted out the money she owed Mr Pickering. She was paying cash as there was no way she wanted anyone to have even an inkling that she had visited such a shady establishment – never mind employed the services of a private investigator.
As promised, two minutes later Georgina entered the room with her file and handed it over to Mrs Crawford. It was the first time Georgina had really looked at Miriam and she couldn’t help but be a little intimidated. The woman was stunning. For her age, at least.
‘Here you are,’ she said, feeling a ridiculous urge to drop in a curtsy.
‘Thank you, my dear.’ Miriam gave the young girl a convincing, kindly smile.
In truth, Miriam didn’t think the doleful-looking girl with the sad eyes at all ‘lovely’, and she certainly wasn’t like any of the secretaries Miriam had ever met.
When Georgina left the room and went back to her own small office, she flopped back down on her chair behind the square little wooden desk.
She just hoped that she had made the right decision.