Lizzie's War (25 page)

‘How did you hear about her?'

‘She heard about me,' Lizzie said. ‘Some friends of hers bought hats that I designed and made – and so she wondered if I would be interested in buying some of their more expensive ranges. I jumped at the chance naturally.'

Ed nodded and smiled. ‘You're a good businesswoman, Lizzie, always were…' He broke off as they heard a commotion in the showroom and went through in time to hear a woman shouting at Tilly.

‘What's wrong, Tilly?' Lizzie asked, puzzled because the customer was red in the face.

‘So you're the one that runs this place,' the woman said bitterly. ‘I've heard what sort you are – married and taking soldiers home with you…'

Lizzie gasped. ‘If I chose to do so that is my business and I fail to see what it has to do with you…'

‘We don't want people like you round here,' the woman said. ‘You should take yourself off where you came from – and take your rubbish with you an' all…'

‘Take no notice, Lizzie,' Tilly said. ‘She started being abusive when I caught her trying to sneak out with one of our best hats. She thought I hadn't seen her slip it under her coat while I was serving another customer – but I wasn't born yesterday.'

‘You're no better than 'er,' the woman snarled. ‘You're cheats, the lot of you… charging folk too much fer rubbish…'

She went out as Ed moved towards her, throwing a malicious glance at Tilly before slamming the door.

‘I thought we'd finished with all that nonsense…' Lizzie said anxiously.

‘If Oliver has been up to his tricks again I'll sort him out…'

‘No, Ed,' Lizzie placed a hand on his arm. ‘I think it's time I went round to talk to Harry's uncle myself…'

*

Lizzie took a deep breath before she opened the door to the workroom where she'd begun her training as a milliner and met her first husband; it was sure to bring back memories and she half wished she'd let Ed come in her place.

The workroom was busy, bits of material strewn all over the floor. Lizzie's first job had been to keep the scraps tidy and she frowned because it didn't look the way it had back then. There was an air of neglect about the place, as if no one really cared about what they were doing, and she saw one of the girls chewing as she worked, a half-eaten sandwich on her counter. Bert Oliver wouldn't have put up with that when she worked here.

One of the girls looked up. ‘If yer hopin' fer a job, yer out of luck. We ain't got none.'

‘I'd like to see Mr Oliver please.'

‘In his office,' the man cutting shapes jerked his head. ‘I should warn you, he's in a right mood.'

Lizzie nodded and made her way towards the office she knew so well. When she'd worked here, a trip to the office usually resulted in a telling off – well, this time it was going to be her who was doing the telling off…

She tapped the door but walked in without waiting for an invitation. Harry's uncle was staring at a pile of papers on the desk in front of him and frowning over something. He looked up and she saw the colour drain from his face. For a moment he stared at her in silence, then, ‘What do you want?'

‘When are you going to stop this senseless quarrel?' Lizzie asked. ‘I thought we'd got over it, but now I have a woman screaming abuse at me because I took a soldier back to have supper with me, because he saved my life and I wanted to show my gratitude. I don't know how you even knew about it, because it was only once and my housekeeper was with us all the time. I'm not having an affair with anyone and I was never unfaithful to Harry… and it's not fair to blame me for his death…'

‘I didn't know about the soldier until you told me –but I believe you…'

‘What did you just say?' she asked, taken aback.

‘I believe you, Lizzie. I know you didn't have an affair when you were married to him. Sebastian Winters told me I'd made a mistake…' Bert Oliver met her angry eyes and she noticed with a shock how ill he looked. ‘I'm sorry I started those rumours, Lizzie – but I was angry because you were doing so well and I blamed you for Harry's death… but I know now that it was an accident.'

‘You do?'

‘Yes. I was angry because I thought my boy had killed himself over you…'

‘You weren't the only one who thought he'd done it on purpose,' Lizzie said. ‘That's why Harry's best friend came round after Harry died to tell me not to believe it if I heard he'd committed suicide. He didn't believe Harry would deliberately drive off the road into a tree, even if he was terrified of getting killed on their low-flying missions. I never believed it either. Why would he take his own life when he so much wanted to live?' Lizzie's throat was tight. ‘We weren't as happy as we might have been, but we were trying to sort it out…'

‘Harry was jealous though, wasn't he, Lizzie? I know he was upset about something. He didn't tell me, but I knew when I saw him the last time.'

Lizzie was silent for a moment, then, ‘Do you want the truth – even though you won't like it?'

‘Yes, please,' he said. ‘I'd like to understand, Lizzie.'

Drawing a deep breath, Lizzie started where it really began and told him about the way Harry had gone off alone on their wedding night when she'd told him the truth about being attacked, raped and left for dead as a young girl – and how Harry come back to her a few days later and they'd been happy for a while.

‘I should've told Harry before, given him a chance to call off the wedding, but I didn't know what to do…' Lizzie faltered, then, ‘Harry said he believed me, but he could never get it out of his head that I wasn't a virgin when we married – and when his friend Roger flirted with me that Christmas, Harry drank too much… and, later, at home, he forced me. He hurt me and humiliated me and, afterwards, when he apologized, I told him it would take a while to forgive him. Even though I tried, it didn't work and so he stayed away… but I'd written to him just before he died and asked him to come home, I'd told him I wanted to try again…'

‘Oh my God,' Bert Oliver's face went a shade greyer when she finished, and he sat down heavily in his chair, breathing hard. ‘No wonder he didn't come home – he was ashamed of himself…I'm so sorry, Lizzie…' He clutched at his arm and gave a little moan. ‘My pills…'

Lizzie saw him pull frantically at his desk drawer. She realized that something was wrong and went round, jerking the drawer back as his face contorted with pain and his eyes rolled. He pointed to a little pillbox and she opened it, tipping one of the pills onto the palm of her hand and offering it to him, but even as he reached for it, he gave a cry and keeled over, tipping his chair and falling to the ground. He was jerking, obviously in pain. Lizzie cried out for help and then bent down to try to open his tie and top button.

Someone entered the office and she told them to send for an ambulance. A man's shape appeared beside her; then he grabbed the phone and asked the operator for a number. Lizzie tried putting the pill on Bert's tongue in the hope that it might pull him round, but it just fell out of his mouth as his tongue lopped to one side and saliva dribbled down his chin.

‘It's his heart,' the man told her. ‘He should've packed up after he had the first attack, but he's a stubborn old fool. He was going to sell years ago and then he saw your talent and how his business could grow and he kept it on…'

‘He isn't really old,' Lizzie said, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Only around sixty. It's just that he's had too much work and worry of late…'

She stroked his hair back from his forehead, wishing that she hadn't come. She shouldn't have told him what Harry had done. It had upset him too much and this was the result.

If Harry's uncle died, Lizzie would feel like a murderer.

It seemed ages before the ambulance arrived. The driver told her they were rushed off their feet and apologized, but Lizzie hardly heard him. Harry's uncle had lapsed into a coma and she felt like weeping, because this was the last thing she'd wanted or expected. He might be a silly old fool who had done his best to ruin her business, but she didn't hate him and she didn't want him to die.

‘May I go with him?' she asked and was told she could if she was family.

‘I'm his niece,' Lizzie said though it wasn't quite true. She looked at the man who had called the ambulance. ‘Go round and tell his wife – and tell her I'm going to the hospital with him. The rest of you should carry on with whatever work you're doing, please. Mr Oliver would expect it.'

‘Yes, Mrs Winters.'

Lizzie climbed into the ambulance and sat on the bench provided, leaning forward to hold the sick man's hand as it bumped and jolted its way to the hospital. She prayed that he would recover, because otherwise she was going to feel so guilty…

Beth looked around Bernie's study, her gaze lingering here and there as she tried to discover the most likely hiding place, but she'd searched everywhere and she was beginning to think there was nothing to hide. The only place she hadn't managed to look was in locked drawer of her husband's desk. She hadn't found the key, so Bernie probably kept it in his pocket, perhaps on his watch chain.

Beth decided to try forcing the drawer open. Perhaps she could break the lock carefully so that he wouldn't notice. She picked up the strong paperknife and wedged it into the crack above the drawer, pressing against the metal lock with all her strength. When it wouldn't give, she looked round for something heavy and then banged the knife into the opening as hard as she could. The old wood split, making a crack through the drawer, and Beth gasped in horror because she would never be able to hide that. It made it all the more imperative that she found something to use against him – and soon. She thrust the spike at the end of the knife into the lock itself and turned and heard it crack and finally she was in.

Tentatively opening the drawer, Beth saw some notebooks lying on top of a bulky envelope. She took the books out and opened them, running her finger down columns of figures in the first book and then a list of girls' names in the second. Beth wasn't quite sure if this proved her theory about the brothels, but when she opened the large envelope and saw that it was stuffed with five pound notes, she knew that she'd discovered Bernie's secret hoard of ill-gotten gains. Whatever he was doing, he would never keep so much cash in the desk if it was legally earned. It had to have come from whatever nasty little business he was running on the side.

Beth took everything out and put it on the desk. She had to think fast, because Bernie would be back in an hour or so – and when he saw his desk he was going to be very angry. She came to a hasty decision and stuffed the books and money into the large envelope and wrote her name care of Lizzie's home address. Then she went round the study like a whirlwind, pulling down things from the shelf so that vases smashed and books and papers were strewn everywhere. She did the same in her bedroom and the sitting room, then she grabbed the twins and the money and left the house, swiftly wheeling the pram down the path.

Beth stopped at the post office and sent the letter to Lizzie's house. Her nape tingled with fear. If she wasn't home when Bernie returned, he might just believe that an intruder had broken into the house and taken what was in his desk – and the best way to convince him was to visit her mother and ask her father to take her home later after she'd eaten with her family.

Beth was shaking inside, but she was glad she'd done it. She would let Lizzie know to hold on to the packet for her until she was ready and when she was sure just what it all meant, she might have a hold over Bernie that would force him to let her go…

*

Beth's father drove her home that evening. He'd been surprised but pleased to see her sitting feeding the twins scrambled egg and bread and butter when he got in. He insisted that he would take her home when she pretended she hadn't realized the time and Beth was comforted by his solid bulk beside her on the journey back to her husband's house.

The lights were on in every room as they pulled up and Beth trembled inside. Her father looked at her as he helped her get the children from the van and she opened the front door. He entered with her, gazing about him in a puzzled way as Bernie came charging into the hall, clearly furious.

‘Where the hell have you been?' he demanded and then halted as he saw her father.

‘I went to visit Mum and forgot the time,' Beth said. ‘What's the matter – why are all the lights on?'

‘We've been burgled,' Bernie said grimly. ‘They've made a mess in most of the rooms – and my desk has been ransacked…'

‘You'd better take the children up, love,' Beth's father said, handing the little girl to Beth. ‘I'll help Bernie have a look round and see what damage has been done.'

‘Did they take anything important?' Beth had to ask, though she trembled inside, but her husband seemed to have accepted her excuse.

‘Something important to me,' he said. ‘Money I was puttin' by for a nice holiday for you and the kids – and a few other bits…'

Beth nodded, her heart beating so fast she hardly dared to look at him for fear he should see through her act. Escaping upstairs while her father and Bernie continued to search the house, Beth wondered how long she would get away with her crime and what he would do if he ever discovered what she'd done.

*

Bernie was sullen all evening. He started grumbling at her the minute her father left, accusing her of going out and leaving a window open upstairs. Beth had opened it a crack deliberately, because the thief had to have a way of getting in, and it was better to let him think she'd been careless that have him know that she'd stolen from him. Her husband continued to blame her as he ate the spam fritters and chips with tinned peas that she gave him for his supper; of course that wasn't right either, and Beth expected his temper to get worse as the evening went on, but at nine o'clock he told her he was going out.