Dancing in the Moonlight (27 page)

She glanced at Perce, but the newspaper was very firmly in place and she took the hint. She’d leave this for tonight, but the matter was by no means closed.

Hidden behind his
Echo,
Perce knew exactly the way Lucy’s mind was working, which was why he hadn’t let on that he’d already arranged to pay a visit to the Old Market
early in the morning, before it was light, and see for himself the sort of fish the man could offer.

‘Me pal dropped a load off not more than an hour ago,’ the man had murmured before he’d left the shop. ‘It’s packed in ice for the night, but there’s too much
for me. You’ll see what I mean when you have a look. Meet me before the market gets goin’ an’ there’s too many folk around. Say five or thereabouts? Come to the main
entrance in Coronation Street an’ I’ll see you all right. Me lad’ll help you bring back what you want. We’ve got a handcart we use.’

It’d be daft not to go and at least have a look, Perce thought to himself. He lost nothing by doing that, except an hour or two’s sleep. If he was canny he could be back before Lucy
knew he’d gone and she’d be none the wiser.

His eyes focused on the paper. It was full of doom and gloom, predicting a steady increase in the jobless figures, which showed no indication that the trend would change in the coming months.
‘Lengthening dole queues, as the world economy slumps further after last year’s Wall Street Crash, are besetting all countries, not just Britain.’ the reporter had written.
‘Industrial production is in rapid decline as factories close or lay off workers; farmers and small tradespeople are facing ruin and, where benefits are paid, they are rarely enough to keep
families above starvation level. Mass unemployment, desperate poverty and political extremism are the best that Britain and the rest of the world can look forward to in the new decade.’

He was a right cheerful Charlie, Perce thought with dark humour, but he dared bet the bloke was right, which made it even more imperative to make the most of any opportunities that did arise.
God helps those who help themselves, and in these times no one could afford to be choosy.

Having justified himself, Perce settled down to read the rest of the paper in peace. What the eye didn’t see, the heart didn’t grieve over, and Lucy could remain in ignorance, if he
was careful. That was the way to handle this.

Stealthiness and silence didn’t come easily to Perce, and he was sweating with the effort it had taken not to awaken Lucy and the rest of the household when he left the
flat the next morning just before five o’clock. Creeping down the stairs to the shop with his boots in his hands, he tiptoed through Lucy’s new kitchen and into the main part of the
premises, where he put on his boots on. Sliding the bolts on the front door, he opened it, then locked it from the outside and pocketed the key.

It had snowed again during the night and was bitterly cold, but the mantle of shining white created its own light, making it easy to see in the darkness. The rest of the world was sleeping, and
he stood for a moment on the icy doorstep, viewing the clean, pure, untouched scene in front of him, which made even Long Bank beautiful. Like the Garden of Eden before man had had to go and stick
his oar in and spoil things, he thought. As he stepped down onto the pavement it came to him that he had never thought in such a way before Lucy had come into his life. She saw beauty in so many
things he’d never really looked at before – the different colours of autumn leaves; the little robin that regularly came to the kitchen windowsill for the crumbs of cake she put out for
him; the delicate fragility of a snowflake – and it had rubbed off on him. He smiled self-consciously. He was going soft, that was the trouble.

He hadn’t even reached the end of the street and turned into High Street East when he became aware of three men standing on the corner of Bank Street. It wasn’t unusual, since the
slump had taken hold, to see a number of huddled figures on street corners. They stood, collars up, cap peaks down and faces morose, as they shared a Woodbine between them and railed bitterly
against the government, employers, the upper classes and anyone else they blamed for the current state of affairs. What was unusual was that it was five o’clock in the morning.

Perce, anxious to get to Coronation Street, see to the business and return home before Lucy awoke, barely glanced their way as he passed. He had covered another few yards when instinct brought
him swinging round. But it was too late . . .

A tap on the bedroom door brought Lucy jerking awake. Realizing Perce wasn’t in bed beside her, she sat up, pushing back her hair. ‘Yes? Come in,’ she called,
flinging the blankets aside and reaching for her dressing gown.

‘We’ve all overslept.’ Ruby stood in the doorway, Daisy in her arms and the twins either side of her. ‘It’s gone half-six Lucy. Why on earth hasn’t Perce
called us?’

‘I don’t know.’ Taking Daisy from her sister, Lucy tried to think. ‘You wake the boys and put the porridge on. I’ll see what’s what.’

Opening the flat’s front door, she stood on the small landing and peered down the stairs. ‘Perce? Are you there?’

It was eerily quiet. Furthermore no lights were showing, so the gas jets hadn’t been lit. Her heart in her mouth, Lucy was about to go down the stairs when Ruby appeared at the side of
her, clutching the heavy iron poker. ‘Give Daisy to John, lass, and he’ll keep the little ’uns up here. I’m coming down with you.’

Lucy stared at her sister, really frightened now. Silently John carried Daisy into the flat, shutting the door behind him. Not knowing what they would find, they crept down the stairs. The back
door leading to the yard was still bolted, and the kitchen and shop stood empty in the morning light. The air left Lucy’s lungs in a sigh of relief. ‘It doesn’t look as though
there’s been a break-in.’ For a minute she’d been worried that Perce had heard something in the middle of the night and come down and been set upon. ‘But where is he? Look,
the door’s unbolted.’ Walking across, she tried it. ‘It’s locked. He must have gone out, but where?’

‘Nothing’s set up.’ Ruby was as perplexed as she was. ‘And the fish from the docks’ll be arriving any minute.’

The words had hardly left her mouth when they heard the horse and cart that signified the day’s delivery. Grabbing the spare key from behind the counter, Lucy opened the front door and
took charge of the crates of fish and other seafood. They normally opened for customers at half-past seven, but after locking the door again Lucy left the Closed sign in place.

By the time Daisy had been changed and everyone was dressed and sitting down to breakfast, Lucy was wondering if Perce’s early-morning sojourn had anything to do with the matter
they’d discussed briefly the night before. It still didn’t explain why he hadn‘t told her he was going out, especially if he’d thought he might be so late back, and Perce
was the last person on Earth who’d do anything to worry her. She knew that. But it seemed the only explanation. She decided that, once Ruby and John had gone off to school with Matthew and
the twins, she would take Daisy and Charley with her and pay a visit to the Old Market, to see if she could spot Perce or maybe the man who’d called in at the shop. She certainly
couldn’t just sit around waiting, she was too het-up. As for the shop – it would have to stay closed. There was nothing else to be done.

They were still eating when there was a loud banging at the shop door. Leaving Ruby in charge of the breakfast table, Lucy shot downstairs, hoping desperately it was Perce. It was only when she
saw the two policemen through the shop window that she realized Perce wouldn’t have knocked. He had taken the key.

Opening the door, she stared at their grim faces and her heart jumped into her mouth. For the life of her she couldn’t speak a word.

The older of the men spoke, his voice quiet. ‘Mornin’, lass. We’re looking to speak to Mrs Alridge.’

She was vaguely aware of Ruby appearing at her elbow as she whispered, ‘That’s me. I’m Mrs Alridge.’

Sergeant Johnson hid his surprise. When she’d opened the door it had been on the tip of his tongue to ask her to fetch her mother. Just to make sure, he said, ‘Mrs
Percival
Alridge?’

Her eyes wide and fear-filled, Lucy nodded.

‘May we come in and have a word, Mrs Alridge?’

‘Is it Perce? Where is he?’

‘I think it would be better if we spoke inside.’

‘Oh yes, yes, come in.’ She trod on Ruby’s foot as she backed away from the door, but neither of them noticed.

The younger policeman shut the door once they were inside and, like his colleague, had been taken aback by the slip of a girl who was the fishmonger’s wife. She was a beauty, he thought,
finding it hard to take his eyes off her. But so young. And now she was a widow.

‘I’m afraid it’s bad news, Mrs Alridge.’ Sergeant Johnson kept his voice calm and matter-of-fact. Thirty years of being a policeman had placed him in this kind of
situation more than once and he’d found that an air of control helped the bereaved to accept what he had to say. ‘Your husband was found in an alley off High Street East a little while
ago.’

Ruby was clutching Lucy’s arm, and it was she who said, ‘He – he’s hurt?’

Lucy knew. Even before the policeman said quietly, ‘I’m afraid it’s worse than that.’ She listened while he went on to explain that they suspected it was a robbery that
went wrong. Perce had a number of knife wounds to the chest. His pockets were empty. No one had heard or seen a thing. Perce being a big man who looked as though he could take care of himself, it
was highly likely they were looking for more than one assailant. The bairns who had found the body had fetched their mother and she’d recognized him as the fishmonger who lived in Long
Bank.

Lucy took in each fact that the policeman stated in his steady, carefully sympathetic voice as she enfolded Ruby in her arms, who was weeping profusely. When the Sergeant suggested they go
upstairs, she explained about the children and said she would rather break the news to them herself. She agreed to go to the police station later, whereupon they would take her to identify the
body. She thanked them for coming and said she would answer any questions they had later that morning. And all the time, every moment, one name was burning in her mind.
Tom Crawford.
He
had found them. Found her. And he had done what he’d threatened that night. He had warned her he wouldn’t let another man have her, and now he had killed Perce. She knew it as surely as
if he was standing in front of her and saying so himself. But no one would believe her. She hadn’t laid eyes on him for nigh on two years and he hadn’t contacted her in any way, but she
knew – she
knew
– Perce’s murder was no bungled robbery. That man yesterday, he hadn’t wanted to sell cheap fish. He’d lured Perce to his death.

Oh, Perce, Perce. After everything he had done for her. He had given her back her life and, in doing so, had saved Daisy too. And he had never judged her. If only she had told him that she loved
him. That was what he’d wanted, she knew that. And she hadn’t, and now she’d never see him again, she couldn’t make it right. She couldn’t bear it – she’d
go mad.

Through the agony of her thoughts, she made herself look at the two policemen. ‘I’m sorry, but could you go now? I need to take care of my sister and then we have to tell the
bairns.’

Sergeant Johnson’s gaze narrowed on the beautiful white face in front of him. Instinct told him that her shock over her husband’s demise had been genuine, but she was a cool one sure
enough. Cool as a cucumber, and not a tear for the poor devil. He understood from the mother of the bairns who’d found the body that this one was the fishmonger’s second wife, and it
didn’t take the Brain of Britain to work out that he’d wanted a bonny young thing to warm his bed and she’d seen him as a meal ticket. Still, the ins and outs were nothing to do
with him, but he’d bear it in mind in his investigations – not that he thought she had anything to do with what had happened. But you never knew.

Nodding politely, he said, ‘Certainly, Mrs Alridge, and we’ll see you later. Are you sure you’re all right to be left?’

‘Quite sure.’ Lucy hesitated, then, her voice a whisper, she said, ‘Would – would he have suffered much?’

She met his eyes as she spoke and the Sergeant found himself recanting his earlier thoughts and feeling ashamed. His voice uncharacteristically gentle, he lied softly, ‘No, lass, no.
He’d barely have known a thing.’

She didn’t believe him. As Lucy shut the door behind the two policemen, her eyes were dry, but she was weeping from every pore of her body. She had to make the others believe it. It was
the only comfort she could give them.

The murder was on the front page of the
Echo.
A local shopkeeper, a respectable, God-fearing man with a beautiful young wife left to bring up a number of bairns, the
youngest a daughter only thirteen months old – the story was a reporter’s dream. And they made the most of it.

On top of her consuming grief and her worry about the children, Lucy had to bear the fact that her past was winkled out and held up to scrutiny. Not that the reporters were unkind. Rather, they
presented her as a tragic heroine who, after the death of her menfolk, was turned out on the streets with her brother and sisters by a harsh landlord, but went on to find love and happiness with
the saintly Perce, who opened up his home and his heart to them. The drama and romance were the stuff of the silver screen. Her maiden name, where she used to live, even where she went to school,
were reported with avid detail. From being a nondescript fishmonger’s wife, Lucy was elevated to the ranks of the legendary overnight.

Much as she hated the loss of privacy, it was the particulars about Daisy that frightened her. She had told Tom’s mother that her daughter was six months old, and here it was in
black-and-white that Daisy was double that. If Tom hadn’t known before that there was a good chance Daisy was his, he’d put two and two together now.

She had no hope that the perpetrators of the attack on Perce would be brought to justice. Whether Tom had done the deed himself or got others to murder Perce, the tracks were well and truly
covered. He would make sure of that. He was evil, but in a cold, clever, calculating way. How he came to be Jacob’s brother she would never fathom.