‘It’s definitely happening,’ Pamela reported to Sally, bringing her up to date on the Reggie Nolan affair. Their tea break gave them a chance to catch up with the latest events. ‘Uncle Hugh has ordered Reggie to pack his bags and move out by the end of tomorrow.’
‘Good for you.’ Perched on a stool in the corner of their office where the tea things were stored, Sally was nevertheless muted in her approval. ‘I’m worried, though. Like we said, there’s no telling what Reggie will do if he finds out that you were behind it.’
‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’ Pamela took her tea to the window and looked down on the busy scene. A new consignment of uncut timber had arrived and two cranes stationed at the dockside were transferring it from freighter to yard, guided by men who waved their arms and yelled loud instructions. She frowned when she spotted Lionel Simmons enjoying a furtive smoke by the side of the cutting shed. ‘Some people!’ she exclaimed.
Sally slid from her stool and came to see what had made Pamela angry. ‘Lazy so-and-so,’ she agreed. ‘Lionel needs to watch out. One of these days he’ll get caught.’
‘He’s the limit.’ Pamela saw the offender glance up. He spotted them at the window and grinned from ear to ear. Idiot! Dismissing her scruples, she decided to tell Sally about the visit she’d paid to the Simmons household, following Connie’s instructions. ‘I called at his father’s house on Valley Road last night. I was there to update the register and it was just my luck to run into Lionel. He answered the door, then insisted on me going into the house to meet their new lodger in the flesh – a chap named Howard Enright – the aircraftman who’s been sent to take Sid Donne’s place.’
‘Let’s hope this one is better behaved than Sid.’ Sally watched Lionel throw down his cigarette and stamp on it. ‘I know it’s wrong to criticize, but there you are, I just did.’
‘Or better behaved than Lionel, for that matter.’ Pamela’s impression of the cutting shed worker hadn’t improved since the visit. ‘Guess what I saw on the dining-room table at Valley Road.’
‘I haven’t a clue.’ Taking Pamela’s empty cup, Sally washed it at the sink.
Pamela raised her voice above the sound of the running tap. ‘Copies of Action – you know, the old British Union newspaper that was banned a little while back.’
‘Never heard of it. But go ahead – I’m all ears.’
‘Action was banned by the government for being against the Jews and siding with Hitler, no less. Mr Churchill called members of the British Union fifth columnists and put their leader in prison. And yet, there the magazines were, displayed on Ben and Lionel’s table, clear as day. It made my blood boil to see them.’
‘Ah yes, I can see why you were bothered by that.’
‘I was never keen on Lionel or his father anyway. Now I know that they’re a pair of rotten Jew haters I like them even less. I can just imagine them dressed up in their black uniforms marching down the street, flying their lousy fascist flag. As for Howard Enright, luckily he seems nothing like Reggie. He’s a new recruit and his uniform was on the big side – he looked a bit lost and out of his depth, to tell you the truth.’
‘Did you warn him about Reggie?’ Sally was back at her desk, sorting through the letters in her in-tray.
Pamela, who had stayed where she was and still looked ruffled, shook her head. ‘He’ll find out soon enough.’
‘What else?’ Sally prompted. ‘Come on, I know you.’
‘Nothing.’ Pamela sighed as she continued to gaze out of the window. ‘Well, if you must know, I caught a glimpse of Ron as I was coming back through the Leisure Gardens.’
Sally gasped and stopped what she was doing. ‘Where exactly?’
‘He was sitting on a bench by the paddling pool – you know where I mean? The second he spotted me he took off for the woods behind the pool. It was all over in seconds.’
Sally’s hands hovered over the pile of unopened letters. ‘But it must have been dark. Are you sure it was Ron?’
Pamela nodded. ‘It was him all right.’ There had been no mistaking the slight build and hollow features or the way he’d staggered and swayed as he ran. ‘I’m sorry, Sally – I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings but Ron had had too much to drink again.’
‘What in the world was he doing in the Leisure Gardens of all places?’
‘Maybe he’s been sleeping rough. I noticed empty beer bottles under the bench and a pile of old newspapers that he might use to keep warm at night.’
Sally closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. ‘Did you tell anyone that you saw him?’
‘Just Connie. I mentioned it when I went back to the post with the register. Why – did I do wrong?’
‘Connie,’ Sally echoed quietly. Word would inevitably get around – it wouldn’t be long before Tom and Bill found out. She pictured the two angry men making a thorough search of the park and its surroundings. If Ron had taken refuge in the bandstand, for instance, or found an alcove in the sun colonnade where he could lay his head, they would be sure to track him down.
The truth hit suddenly; whether or not Ron had set fire to Annie May, and however badly he’d behaved towards Sally and her family, this was the man she’d once had fond feelings towards, despite his faults, and the last thing she wanted was for him to be found. Trapped, Ron would lash out. There would be a fight and someone would get hurt. ‘Oh, Pamela,’ she whispered. ‘I wish you hadn’t told Connie. Lord knows what will happen now.’
‘Your sister looks like death warmed up.’ Bert’s opinion was blunt and to the point as he and Lizzie finished off the morning’s baking and Connie tidied up the shop. He stacked big wooden trays against the side of the oven and kept his growling voice low. ‘Is it because her and Tom have parted company? Is she pining for him, or what?’
‘Who’s she, the cat’s mother?’ Connie had overheard. She barged into the bakery and cast a warning glance in Lizzie’s direction. ‘I’m feeling a bit under the weather, if you must know. It’s nothing that a few early nights won’t put right.’
‘She thinks I was born yesterday,’ Bert went on, grumbling to Lizzie as if Connie weren’t there. ‘But I wasn’t. She’s been stewing over summat for a couple of weeks and I reckon you’re in on it too.’
‘Where are the keys for the van?’ Connie’s stubborn expression suggested gathering storm clouds.
But Lizzie felt that their father deserved an explanation of sorts. ‘It must be because Tom and Bill have received their start date for minesweeping from the Patrol Service,’ she declared nervously. Still drained by the shock of receiving the news from Bill, she waited anxiously for her sister’s reaction.
‘The actual date?’ Connie took a step backwards. ‘When did you find out?’
‘Early this morning. Bill told me.’ Lizzie studied her sister’s guarded expression. ‘I take it you’ve known it was on the cards?’
Connie nodded. ‘I promised Tom I’d keep it to myself.’
‘Connie – we’re not supposed to have secrets, you and I!’ Disappointment flowed through Lizzie’s body, producing hot tears of exasperation. ‘It never used to be like this. What’s happening to us?’
Bert observed the altercation with a troubled frown.
‘If you don’t like secrets, try this one for size.’ Connie found the keys hanging on a hook behind the door. ‘Pamela caught sight of Ron Butcher in the Leisure Gardens last night – there, how’s that?’
Lizzie used her apron to wipe away the tears. ‘And how long were you intending to keep that one quiet?’
Connie swung the keys in front of her face. ‘Honestly, I don’t have time for this – I have bread to deliver.’
‘Calm down, girls.’ Bert decided it was time to intervene. ‘This isn’t like you. Take a deep breath – think about it. For one thing, even though you’re upset, the news about the call-up hasn’t come out of the blue – it was bound to happen sooner or later. For another, if Arthur Butcher’s son has been spotted, Tom and Bill need to be told.’ He turned to Lizzie. ‘That’ll be your job, since Connie and Tom aren’t on speaking terms.’
‘What’s the betting Sally won’t want anyone to follow it up?’ Connie began to regret her outburst.
‘You mean Frank Hopkins’s girl? What’s she got to do with anything?’ Failing to keep up, Bert sat down heavily on the nearest stool.
‘Dad, we’ll explain later.’ Lizzie patted his shoulder. ‘You mean she might be scared that it’ll end up in a fight?’ she asked Connie.
‘Bullseye.’ Gritting her teeth, Connie made a beeline for the door. But before she made her exit, she hesitated. ‘I take the point – it would end in tears,’ she said quietly. ‘And none of us wants that.’
‘So, we keep quiet?’ Lizzie was pulled this way and that. ‘What do you think, Dad?’
Bert’s verdict was prompt and left Lizzie and Connie in no doubt. ‘Tom and Bill deserve to know what really happened to their boat, and if the only way to find out is by tackling Ron Butcher head-on, then that’s what they should do.’
‘Even if someone gets hurt?’ Connie asked. ‘Someone’ meaning Tom, she realized with a sharp jolt.
‘Even so.’ Bert stood up and reached for his cap and jacket. ‘And if you girls don’t tell them then I will.’
Another difficult week was approaching its end, but relief was on the horizon for Fred: Reggie Nolan was leaving Sunrise.
‘He’ll be out of your hair by the weekend,’ Hugh promised as the two men drove home from work on the Thursday evening. ‘Then you and Pamela can resume normal service. She’ll be able to visit you again without fear of you locking horns with our least favourite leading aircraftman.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’ Respectful as ever, Fred stared out of the window at the towering headland, which was in deep shadow with a veil of mist obscuring the barrage balloons stationed on the ridge. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve lost your lodger, though.’
‘Don’t think twice about it. I’ll be glad to see the back of Nolan; I’ve a good mind to write to his squadron leader and tell him so.’
‘Oh no, sir, don’t do that.’ Fred wished to avoid more trouble. ‘As you say, let’s get back to normal and forget all about it.’ This is what Pamela and he had vowed to do after their last heart-to-heart, and for them it was working well. He’d taken to visiting her at her lodgings and, joy of joys, had even stayed the night there on one occasion. Reggie Nolan’s name hadn’t been mentioned in all the time they’d spent together, and Fred had regarded it as a happy coincidence that Hugh had decided off his own bat that Nolan’s time was up.
‘He never was my cup of tea.’ The airman’s lack of manners had rubbed Hugh up the wrong way from the start. ‘I ought to have listened to Edith – she’s a good judge of character.’ Turning off the promenade into his drive, Hugh gave Fred a reassuring smile. ‘Stay out of his way in the meantime, eh?’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Fred made his way towards the side door into the house. ‘And thank you again.’
The two men parted – Hugh to his sitting room, where he closeted himself with his copy of the Radio Times, and Fred upstairs to his first-floor bedroom, where he sat at the window gazing down at the promenade and the grey expanse of sea. A sudden knock at the front door roused him from his reverie and he rushed to answer it. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll get it,’ he called to Hugh, taking the stairs two at a time.
Opening the door, he was surprised to see Lionel Simmons, still in his work overalls, with a trademark half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his ear.
‘What’s up – cat got your tongue?’ Lionel’s nicotine-stained fingers brushed his forehead in mock salute. ‘Reggie asked me to call.’
Hearing the thud of Reggie’s footsteps down two flights of stairs, Fred recovered quickly and stepped to one side. ‘Please come in,’ he said hastily, hoping to be off the scene before Reggie arrived.
But it wasn’t to be; Reggie appeared, a carrier bag in one hand and a canvas kitbag in the other, and collared Fred as he crossed the hall. ‘Where are you sneaking off to?’ he demanded, dropping his bags to the floor. ‘Don’t you want to bid me a fond farewell?’
‘Goodbye,’ Fred muttered, heading on towards the kitchen.
But Reggie blocked his way. ‘Don’t you mean auf wiedersehen, Herr Müller?’
Irritated, Fred jabbed at him with his elbow, only to be shoved back against the wall.
‘You see, Lionel – our friend here can’t wait to see the back of me. Well, the feeling’s mutual.’
‘What’s he doing here?’ Fred pulled free and jerked his thumb towards Lionel.
‘If you must know, I’m moving to his dad’s place on Valley Road to be with Sid’s replacement. Not so handy for work, granted – but the atmosphere there will suit me far better. We’re a like-minded bunch, aren’t we, Lionel?’
‘You can say that again.’ The visitor had enjoyed the sight of Fred pinned against the wall and had made no attempt to intervene. Instead, he’d flipped the misshapen cigarette from behind his ear and taken out his lighter. ‘None of us likes having a spy in our midst, except a certain person who fancies herself as Claudette Colbert. You know – green eyes, kiss curls and the rest.’ Lionel outlined the shape of an hourglass with his hands.
Fred clenched his fists in an effort not to react.
Reggie smirked. ‘She’s the one who snitched on me to Uncle Hugh, in case you didn’t know.’
The snide claim hit its mark. Fred abandoned his resolution to stay calm and launched himself at Reggie, seizing him by the lapels and almost lifting him off his feet. ‘Take that back – Pamela had nothing to do with this!’
‘Oh yes she did.’ Lionel tapped Fred’s shoulder. ‘She asked the boss to get rid of Reggie – I heard her with my own ears and so did half a dozen others in the queue for the canteen. That’s when I stepped in and offered him a room at Valley Road.’
Letting go of Reggie, Fred exhaled and sagged forward. Although Pamela hadn’t said a word about this, he believed what Lionel had told him. It hurt that she’d gone behind his back, but he defended her, nonetheless. ‘Leave Pamela out of it, for God’s sake. It’s me that you have to deal with, not her.’
‘No, you two are yoked together like a – I don’t know, like a horse and plough.’ By this time, Lionel was thoroughly enjoying himself.
‘In a way, you’re right about Little Miss Perfect being a sideshow.’ Reggie straightened his jacket with his customary sneer. ‘You’re the main target, Jew-boy. Don’t try to deny it – I saw it on your tribunal card, remember.’
‘So what?’ Regretting that he’d been dragged down to Lionel and Reggie’s level, Fred made an effort to regain some dignity. ‘You saw from the card that Mr Anderson has vouched for me and the committee regards me as a genuine refugee.’
‘You certainly pulled the wool over their eyes – I’ll give you that. But you don’t fool me, Mr Clever-clogs.’
‘Nor me neither,’ Lionel added. ‘Be warned – this isn’t over, not by a long chalk. In fact, your name appears at the top of our list.’
‘What list?’ Fred demanded. Reggie’s mockery and Lionel’s sneers made him see red.
‘Shall I tell him, or will you?’ Lionel asked.
‘Our list of enemy aliens who we want to see the back of. Good riddance to Friedrich Müller is what we say. And the same applies to your fancy woman!’
‘I’ve told you once already, leave Pamela out of this!’ Fred launched himself at Reggie, but Lionel came between them and pushed Fred back.
‘She’s got it coming to her,’ Lionel insisted with increasing nastiness.
‘Got what coming? What exactly are you planning to do?’
‘Oh, perhaps Lionel can have a quiet little word with her in an out-of-the-way corner of the timber yard,’ Reggie suggested. ‘He can choose his moment to scare the living daylights out of your precious sweetheart – then we’ll see whether or not she’s willing to risk her film-star looks for the likes of you.’
The sour taste of bile rose in Fred’s mouth. The pair’s fascist views were bad enough, but now the direct threat against Pamela took things to a new level. Again, he clenched his fists, ready to make a second rush towards Reggie.
Luckily, at that moment Hugh provided a distraction by opening his sitting-room door. ‘I thought I heard voices. Lionel Simmons, what brings you here?’ he demanded sternly.
Lionel nipped out the burning tip of his cigarette then lodged it behind his ear before adopting a humble tone. ‘I’m helping Reggie with his stuff,’ he mumbled. ‘Don’t worry, sir – we’ll be out of your hair before you know it.’
‘Good – make it quick.’ Hugh glanced from Lionel to Fred then to Reggie, who was gathering up his bags. ‘It seems he can manage perfectly well without your help,’ he commented.
‘Is that all you’ve got?’ Lionel checked.
‘Yes – travel light is my motto.’ Reggie breezed across the hall. ‘You can open the door for me, though.’
Lionel quickly obliged, allowing Reggie to step outside without a backward glance. In an instant, the door closed firmly behind them with a rattle of its stained-glass panel.
‘And there’s an end to it,’ Hugh declared, turning to Fred. ‘Are you all right, my boy? You look rather pale.’
‘I’m fine, thank you. I’m relieved that he’s gone.’
‘Onward and upward,’ Hugh said. ‘Forget about Reggie Nolan and his like. Remember, Fred – you’re worth two of him put together. Now, what do you say we retire to my sitting room and partake of a small whisky before dinner?’
Pamela looked anxiously at her watch. Sally was late for work and there had been no message to say that she was ill. Five minutes earlier, Hugh had put his head briefly around the office door. ‘No Miss Hopkins?’ he’d enquired. ‘Do we know what’s held her up?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
Her uncle’s disapproving grunt had said it all – Sally had blotted her perfect copybook.
Unable to concentrate on her work, Pamela ran through various options. Perhaps one of the little ones was poorly and Sally had been forced to stay at home to look after them. Or else she’d been held up en route to work by a fresh road closure – a regular occurrence since the last disastrous air raid. Neither seemed likely, though; if it was an illness in the family Sally would have sent Eric with a message. If the latter, she would soon have chosen a different route and arrived breathless and apologetic.
The door opened again and Pamela looked up expectantly.
‘Only me.’ Fred appeared with a sheaf of papers for filing. He placed them on Pamela’s desk. ‘No Sally?’ he enquired as he looked around the room.
‘Not yet.’ Pamela went to the window to check the dwindling queue at the clocking-in machine.
‘That’s handy.’ He hovered by the door. ‘It gives me the chance to get something off my chest. You know we have this new rule of complete honesty?’
‘Yes?’ she said uncertainly. Fred wore his serious expression: a slight frown and an intense stare that always made her heart flutter. What now?
‘But you kept something from me, something important.’
She knew straight away what he meant. ‘Reggie,’ she murmured.
‘Yes – Reggie. You asked Hugh to give him his marching orders without telling me.’
‘I did,’ she confessed. ‘Are you angry with me?’
‘No, not angry.’
‘Disappointed, then?’
‘A little,’ he confessed.
This was worse than angry. Pursing her lips in an effort to hide her distress, Pamela fell silent.
‘You went behind my back – perhaps to protect me. But I don’t need protecting from Reggie Nolan and his like. I can stand up for myself.’
‘I’m sorry – truly I am.’
‘Why did you do it?’ Fred’s unwavering stare was still trained on her face.
‘I thought it was for the best.’ Pamela answered from the heart. ‘I did it because I was angry with him and with myself for not acting sooner. Reggie is vile, Fred. I had to do something.’
‘Stop.’ He moved swiftly to join her at the window. ‘You’re not telling me anything I didn’t already know, but I still wish you’d confided in me. A secret between us is like a piece of grit in a shoe – it chafes until it gets sore and can’t be ignored. You don’t want us to limp along as we did when Reggie first showed up, do you?’
‘No, I don’t want that,’ she said miserably. I want loving caresses, murmured words, more passionate nights together.
‘As I say, I already know the worst there is to know about Nolan,’ Fred insisted. ‘Last night, before he left Sunrise, he and Lionel left me in no doubt about their affiliation with Mosley. I’m afraid you’re in their firing line, too – they’re aware that it was you who asked Hugh to send Reggie packing.’
‘No!’ Pamela had nursed a forlorn hope that Lionel would keep his mouth shut but Sally’s prediction had come true. In fact, Sally’s advice had been spot on: she ought to have waited. Now she’d made matters worse and her neat plan lay in ruins at her feet.
‘You were overheard.’ Fred squeezed her hand and spoke tenderly. ‘What’s done is done and at least we’re in no doubt as to what we’re dealing with.’
‘We never were,’ Pamela whispered. ‘We always knew that Reggie was dangerous.’
‘He’s joined a nest of vipers based at six Valley Road – Ben Simmons and his son live there, and now Nolan has joined them.’
She gasped at this surprise news. ‘Is that his new billet? But do you know that the Simmons have copies of banned material there? I saw it for myself. This is serious. What shall we do?’ Her first thought was that they should report it to the authorities.
‘We wait,’ Fred insisted, letting go of her hand as light footsteps hurried along the corridor. ‘Until we work it out.’
‘Together,’ Pamela promised.
‘Together,’ he agreed, rushing across the room and opening the door for Sally, who entered the office in a rush, flustered and dishevelled. She was red in the face and still wearing her coat and hat.
‘Oh Lord, how late am I?’ As Fred closed the door behind him, Sally took off her coat and brushed dirt from the sleeve. She didn’t remove her beret as she sat at her desk and tried to catch her breath.
‘Thirty minutes. What kept you?’ Pamela too sat down, fingers poised over her typewriter.
‘Ron is what kept me.’ Sally fanned her face with a large envelope. ‘He waylaid me on my doorstep. I was on time up until that point. There, now you know.’
Pamela leaned back in her chair. ‘I might have guessed Ron Butcher would be behind it. What did he want this time?’
‘To talk to me, as per usual. I tried to tell him I was in a hurry, but he wouldn’t listen. He was sober for once.’
Sally’s bright tone belied the fear she’d felt when Ron had accosted her. He’d stepped out from the alley beside the pub, looking worse than ever. His hair was long and lank, his unshaven cheeks more hollow and his eyes sunken. He’d grabbed her by the arm and used his superior strength to march her all the way to Gas Street and down a short passage into Fletcher’s Yard.
Sally had struggled and demanded that he let her go. ‘Please – I’ll be late for work.’ She’d already dirtied her coat against the alley’s grimy walls and had been taken aback by the stench of coal gas and the filthy state of her surroundings. ‘What do you want with me? Tell me – and be quick about it.’
‘See that house?’ Ron had pointed across the yard. ‘The one with the net curtains – that’s where my mother lived with her new husband until he went missing. You didn’t know that, did you?’
She’d shaken her head but otherwise kept very still, sensing that one false move could push Ron over the edge. ‘You’ve never mentioned it.’
‘She’s still there now. Edna Shaw is her name.’ Livid spots had appeared in Ron’s pale cheeks. He’d spat out the words and tightened his grip on Sally’s arms. ‘Recognize it?’
Sally was shocked. Edna was respected locally as a member of the WVS; she provided blankets and other provisions for families who had been made homeless. ‘Yes, I know who she is, but not that she’s your mother.’
‘I thought it was time you learned the truth.’
The grip of iron had intensified and she’d struggled again, turning over on her ankle and losing a shoe in the effort to escape. It had been no use. The curtain in the window of Edna’s house had twitched but no one had come out to assist her.
‘If you’re looking for help in that quarter, think again.’ Ron had bared his teeth in a mirthless grin.
Sally had grown desperate. ‘Why on earth have you dragged me here?’
‘Just listen – all right? My mother walked out on me when I was a kid. Turned her back and never got in touch, acted like I didn’t exist. I used to dream that she’d come home one day and say she was sorry. But that never happened, did it? She’s there now, spying on us, not giving a damn, like all women.’
Sally had twisted and pulled to finally wrench free but instead of taking flight she’d been drawn further in. ‘You compare me with her?’ she’d said in astonishment.
‘You’re all the same,’ he’d snarled. ‘Running off the minute a new bloke catches your eye. Lying little bitches, the lot of you.’
‘Who? Who did I run off with?’
‘Sam Billington, for a start. And you flirted with every Tom, Dick and Harry who crossed the threshold of that pub. Don’t deny it – I saw it with my own eyes.’
‘I’ve told you before – I wouldn’t. I didn’t.’ She’d known it was hopeless to protest.
‘Don’t waste your breath. Keith Nelson, Lionel Simmons, Bill Evans, Tom Rose.’ The list had run on and on. ‘Those last two are the bastards who stole Annie May from under my nose. And that new friend of yours – the one you work with who wears the warden’s uniform and goes out on patrol, lording it over people – now she’s after me, spying on me and no doubt dropping me in it by telling everyone where I am and what I’m up to.’
Ron’s wild, rambling accusations and his mention of Pamela had made Sally shudder. It had only been when Edna’s curtain had ceased to twitch and the door of her house had been flung open that Ron had stopped ranting and turned his anger on his mother. ‘What do you want, you nosy cow?’ He’d rushed towards Edna, giving Sally the chance to escape.
She’d picked up her shoe and run – down the alley out on to the street, on towards the harbour and the dock beyond and finally to the safety of the timber yard.
Now, as Sally took off her beret, Pamela saw that her knuckles were badly scraped. ‘Did he hurt you?’ she asked quietly.
‘It’s nothing.’ Sally brushed her injury to one side. ‘He said he wanted to show me where his mother lived.’
‘And did he frighten you? Don’t lie.’
‘Yes,’ Sally admitted.
‘He frightens me too,’ Pamela told her. ‘Ron is building up to something really bad. I feel it in my bones, and to be perfectly honest, it scares me to death.’