Her Missing Husband (2 page)

Sidney listened to Jimmy’s version of events and shaking his head, said, ‘Didn’t call an ambulance, then.’

‘No point. She’s dead.’

‘And you’re on the run.’ Sidney kept his voice matter-of-fact. He didn’t want to antagonise Jimmy any further; he’d be no match for him if it came to blows.

‘No one’ll believe me that it was all her fault, will they? Certainly not her cow of a mother, that Lily Sharples. It was all Mavis’s fault. If she hadn’t picked up that knife, she’d still be alive and asleep in her bed.’

Sidney knew there was no point into going into the matter any further. What he had to decide was what they were going to do now. He didn’t doubt that Jimmy had come for more money than was in the tobacco jar. He’d want every penny his father had. There’d be no point in resisting. Jimmy, far stronger than he these days, would simply take it anyway and Sidney would probably get hurt in the process.

‘So, what you going to do now?’

Jimmy got to his feet and began pacing up and down. ‘Need to get away from here, sharpish’ he said, ‘and need money to do it. They could find her body as soon as tomorrow morning if that nosy cow comes back round.’

‘Where’s the baby?’ asked Sidney suddenly. ‘You left the baby by himself in the house?’

‘No, he’s with Lily. She’d took him home for the night.’

‘Good,’ said Sidney. ‘That’s one thing we don’t have to worry about. Where you going to go?’

Jimmy shrugged. ‘London, I suppose. Easier to get lost there.’

‘They’ll be watching the station for you.’

‘Not yet,’ Jimmy replied, but there was doubt in his voice. ‘They won’t have found her yet.’

‘Let’s hope not,’ agreed Sidney. ‘But you might do better to hitch a lift, to begin with anyway.’

‘No, the coppers’ll ask around and someone’d remember picking me up. Anyhow,’ Jimmy went on gloomily, ‘people only give lifts to tarts standing at the side of the road with their leg stuck out.’

‘They give lifts to servicemen,’ Sidney said. ‘Blokes in uniform.’

‘Yeah, well, I ain’t in uniform, am I?’

‘You could be,’ Sidney said. ‘Your army uniform’s still upstairs, innit?’

Jimmy looked at his father in surprise. ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly, ‘Yeah, it is.’

‘Well, then, I’d get it on quick if I was you. They won’t be looking for a serviceman, they’ll be looking for a bloke in civvies. And don’t forget to scrub your hands, ’specially under your nails. That’s her blood I can see there.’

His old uniform was now on the small side, but Jimmy managed to cram himself into it and Private James Randall came back downstairs, his hands scrubbed raw to remove the last races of Mavis’s blood, ready to hitch his way to London. While Jimmy had been upstairs, changing, Sidney had fetched his wallet and having extracted two pounds, which he hid under the back doormat, he handed over its contents to Jimmy. Jimmy looked at the five pounds and back at his father.

‘That all you’ve got?’

‘Lucky to have that much at the end of the week,’ Sidney snapped. ‘An’ you’ve already got the gas money. Listen, son, you’re going to have to manage on what you’ve got. You can’t come back here, can you? The cops’ll be watching out for you here. They’re sure to come round asking.’

‘What’re you gonna to tell them when they do, old man?’ asked Jimmy, a dangerous note in his voice.

‘Tell them I ain’t seen you, of course,’ replied Sidney. ‘What you think I’m gonna tell them?’

‘I dunno, do I? When I ain’t here you could tell them anything.’

‘I could, but I won’t. You should know better ’an that. I ain’t going to set the cops onto me own son, am I?’

‘No.’ Jimmy sounded slightly mollified. ‘No, well, you’d better not.’

‘And anyway I couldn’t tell them where you gone, ’cos I don’t know, do I?’

Jimmy hastily transferred the contents of his grip into his old kitbag, a serviceman’s kitbag, and hefted it onto his shoulder.

Sidney looked at him and nodded. ‘You’ll do,’ he said. ‘You might even make it; but don’t come back, Jimmy, I done all I can for yer now. You’re on yer own.’

Jimmy made no reply, simply nodded and turning away, walked to the front door. As he reached it he glanced over his shoulder. ‘Switch off them lights,’ he said. ‘I’m going to open the door.’

Sidney did as he was asked and heard the door open and close, and then he was left in the silence of his home, knowing that he’d never see his son again... unless he was caught.

Once again Jimmy set off along an empty street. As he reached the corner he heard the church clock strike twelve. Midnight. What a time to be out on the street. Still, at least he was in some sort of disguise. His dad had been right, they wouldn’t be looking for a serving soldier, and he wondered if it was worth risking the train after all. He’d be fine if he wasn’t stopped, if he wasn’t asked to produce his ID. Perhaps if he went to the station now, he could find somewhere to doss down until the first train in the morning.

He headed for the station and was just about to cross the road when a car drew up beside him. Sleek and black with a blue light on its roof, Jimmy nearly turned tail and fled. The nearside window was rolled down and a policemen peered out at him.

‘You all right, mate?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Jimmy managed to reply. ‘Just been dropped off by a lorry. Going to find somewhere to sleep till the morning.’

‘Difficult for you blokes to get home for a weekend’s leave, isn’t it?’ the cop said sympathetically. ‘Tell you what, though, there’s a hostel not far from here. Probably give you a bed for the night for a couple of bob.’

The last thing Jimmy wanted to do was spend the night in any hostel. ‘Thanks, chum,’ he said, ‘but I expect they’ll be closed up by now. I’ll be fine, don’t you worry about me. Want to get an early start.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ said the cop. ‘They’ll open up for us. Hop in, we’ll take you there.’

There was nothing for it. Jimmy clambered into the back of the police car... the last place he wanted to be, but at least they hadn’t queried his story. He could almost have laughed if he hadn’t been so scared.

It was only short drive and three minutes later they pulled up outside the hostel. It was, as expected, in darkness, its front door closed.

Jimmy quickly climbed out. ‘Thanks for the lift,’ he said. ‘I’ll see if I can get them to open up.’ But the policeman in the passenger seat was already out and striding up to the door. There were two bells on the door jamb, one of them labelled ‘Night’. He planted his thumb on the bell push and gave it a long blast.

‘Really,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’ll be fine now, you don’t have to wait. Thanks for the lift.’

‘Just see you inside the place,’ smiled the copper. ‘I know Sister Agnes quite well.’

For a while there seemed to be no response to the bell, but just as the policeman started to press it again they heard movement from inside. Still the cop didn’t leave; he simply waited while someone unchained and unlocked the heavy door and Jimmy had to wait with him.

Finally the door was opened and there, standing in the doorway, was the most diminutive nun Jimmy had ever seen. She made a strange figure, dressed in a blue dressing-gown, her head covered in her starched white headdress. Jimmy stared at her, but she greeted the two men standing on the doorstep with a smile.

‘Well, now, gentlemen,’ she said in a lilting Irish accent. ‘Isn’t it very late to be knocking at our door?’

‘It is, Sister,’ replied the policeman. ‘But I knew you’d never forgive me if I left one of our brave soldiers to sleep out in the street.’

‘And you were right, Constable Walsh,’ the sister said. ‘You’re more than welcome...?’ She raised her eyes to the newcomer’s face as she waited for him to supply a name.

‘John, John O’Connor.’ It was the name of a mate he’d served with in the army and it was as good as any; Jimmy certainly wasn’t going to offer his own.

‘There’s a good Irish name,’ beamed the nun, ‘and I’m Sister Agnes. Come along in and we’ll find you a bed. It’s not a night to be sleeping under the stars, beautiful as they are,’ she added, looking up at the sky. The nun turned her attention back to Constable Walsh. ‘Good man yourself to bring him in,’ she said.

Constable Walsh wished them goodnight and Sister Agnes waited to see him drive away before she closed the door, trapping Jimmy Randall inside.

‘Now, then, young man,’ she said. ‘We’ll find you a bed, but before that, are you hungry?’

Jimmy admitted that he was. He hadn’t thought about food since Mavis had told him there was no dinner. When he’d got home he’d been too drunk to care after his initial surprise at her temerity. Since then he’d been too stunned by the turn of events to think about food.

Sister Agnes was well used to dealing with vagrant men, be they soldiers or tramps, and she’d at once smelled the alcohol on him. She was surprised that Constable Walsh hadn’t, but then again perhaps he had, which was why he’d got her up in the middle of the night. He’d realised that this soldier needed somewhere to sleep it off.

She led him into the small kitchen at the back of the house and taking a loaf of bread from the pantry, she cut a couple of slices and put them under the grill to toast. A saucepan stood on the side of the old range and she pulled it onto the hot plate to heat.

‘Soup and toast’s the best I can do at this hour,’ she said, ‘but we can give you a better breakfast in the morning.’ She looked at him, a big man with the powerful shoulders of a soldier, rough hands, used to hard manual work and with a brooding expression in his dark eyes. Not a man you’d want to cross, she thought as she turned the toast.

‘You on leave, John?’ she asked casually as she put the toast onto a plate and spread it with marge.

‘Yeah,’ Jimmy grunted.

‘Heading for London? There’s an early train.’ She passed him the plate of toast.

‘No, Edinburgh.’ Jimmy had no idea where that had come from, he’d simply plucked it from the air, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell her he was going to London.

‘Edinburgh?’ Sister Agnes sounded surprised. ‘That’s a beautiful place, I hear.’ Jimmy didn’t answer and she went on cheerfully, ‘Now, soup coming up, John.’ And she ladled some thick, steaming broth from the pan into a bowl and set it down beside him.

The man grunted his thanks and attacked the food hungrily.

He really was hungry, Sister Agnes thought as she watched him spoon the broth into his mouth, eating the toast at the same time. Within three minutes he’d polished off the lot and wiping his mouth with back of his hand, he pushed the plates away.

‘Better for that,’ he said by way of thanks.

‘Good.’ Sister Agnes spoke briskly. ‘Now I’ll show you your bed and then I’ll leave you to get some rest. Come along.’

Jimmy picked up his kitbag from where he’d dumped it in the hall and followed her up the stairs. A landing ran the length of the house and off it were several doors. The passage was lit with a night light, but otherwise the house was in darkness. She pointed out the bathroom and toilet and then pushed open one of the doors. The room beyond was dark, but Sister Agnes pulled a small torch from her dressing-gown pocket and shone it inside. There were six beds crammed into the room, three on each side. All but one were occupied, and the nun shone the beam onto the empty one and whispered, ‘That’s your bed, John. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning. God bless.’

She didn’t see him in the morning. By the time daylight filtered in between the curtains and the other inhabitants of the room began to stir, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, the sixth bed was empty. John O’Connor had disappeared. Sister Agnes wasn’t particularly surprised, it had happened before that a man slipped away in the night, but it was quite unusual, they usually stayed for the breakfast. Few could afford to pass up a free meal of egg and bacon to start their day. She doubted his name was John O’Connor and she doubted he was on his way to Edinburgh, but she was used to such deceptions. They meant nothing. Few of the men who made use of her hostel used their real names and she calmly addressed them by whatever name they offered.

Jimmy had caught a couple of hours’ sleep, but he knew he had to be up and away from Belcaster before Mavis’s body was discovered and the hunt for him was up. In the early hours he had crept back down the stairs into the kitchen and using the ladle, had drunk some more of the now cold soup. It was better than nothing. He’d taken the rest of the bread from the pantry and a rather tired-looking heel of cheese and stuffed them into the top of his kitbag. Then he’d unchained and unbolted the door and let himself out into the pre-dawn mist. A final glance back at the dark and silent house assured him that his departure was unobserved, and once again he walked through the chilly streets, this time heading for the main road that led south.

It wasn’t long before a lorry driver, seeing a soldier trudging along at the side of the road, took pity on him and pulled up in answer to Jimmy’s raised thumb.

‘Where’re you headed, mate?’

‘Birmingham,’ Jimmy said.

‘Hop in, then, just chuck you kitbag behind the seat.’

The driver had been a talkative bloke, who probably picked up hitch-hikers to give him company on his long journeys. On this occasion he was out of luck. Jimmy had no intention of getting drawn into conversation. Having answered a few general questions, he shut his eyes and pretended to fall asleep.

The journey was slow, the driver keeping his speed down over the icy roads, but at last they reached the outskirts of Birmingham and he drew up in a lay-by.

‘Far as I can take you, mate,’ he said.

‘Thanks, pal.’ Jimmy grabbed his kitbag and dropping down from the cab, stood at the side of the road and watched the lorry disappear in a cloud of exhaust.

What to do next? Head for the station, he decided. Should be safe enough to catch a train from Birmingham.

When the London train came in he waited, watching until the guard was about to blow his whistle before scrambling into a third-class carriage and slamming the door behind him. A young woman and her baby were already in the compartment but, ignoring them, he heaved his kitbag up onto the luggage rack and flopped down onto a seat in the opposite corner. As the train drew out of the station, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a fitful sleep. He was woken some time later by the cries of the baby and for a split second he thought it was Ricky, then his eyes sprang open and the events of the night came flooding back to him.