Lizzie's War (28 page)

Beth swallowed hard. ‘I think I'd kill him if he ever tried to rape me again,' she said, and met Lizzie's sorrowful eyes. ‘Yes, it was rape, but I know things can be different. I've known love with Mark and whatever foul things Bernie does to me I keep that thought inside…'

Lizzie moved forward to take her in her arms, but Beth stepped back, shaking her head. ‘Don't, Lizzie. If you make me cry, I don't think I shall stop. I'm going home, but remember – if I don't come to the funeral it's because I can't…'

‘Yes, all right.'

Lizzie made no further attempt to comfort her friend, but she was thoughtful after she'd left. Beth's warning lingered at the back of her mind, but even if Bernie was planning more of his nasty little tricks there was nothing she could do. She just wished that Sebastian was home, because it would be good to have someone she could really talk to about things. Ed was a good friend and she knew he was concerned for both her and Beth, but she needed Sebastian. She needed his arms about her and the warmth of his body beside her. She needed to be loved and protected.

*

Beth was upstairs changing Matt's nappy when she heard someone knock at the door and the sound of Bernie's voice as he asked whoever it was through to his study. Matt's bottom was red and sore and she remembered that she had a new pot of cream that the nurse had given her in her shopping bag downstairs – and that would give her an excuse to hear what was going on.

She went softly down the stairs and paused outside her husband's study when she saw the door had been left slightly ajar. It was eavesdropping and she would normally never have thought of spying on anyone, but Bernie needed watching.

‘If you want us to do the job, you'll have to pay us more.'

‘I've already paid you a hundred quid…' Bernie growled.

‘Murder is dangerous work. We want more…'

Beth gasped, putting her hand over her mouth to stop herself betraying herself. Murder was a terrible crime and she could scarcely believe what she was hearing.

‘How much?'

‘Three hundred more.'

‘That's too much!'

‘If you don't pay up, the job is off… you can do your own dirty work.'

‘See to her first and then I'll give you the extra.'

‘Think I was born yesterday? It's up to you – give me the money now or it's off…'

Bernie muttered something Beth couldn't catch it but she'd heard more than enough and it made her feel sick; she moved away quickly, fetching the cream for her son's sore bottom. As she passed the study on her way back she saw the door had been shut.

Up in her room, she heard the back door open and shut and then the heavy tread of Bernie's feet on the stairs. Tensing, Beth waited for the tirade of anger from her husband but it didn't come.

‘I'm going out and I'll be late,' he said. ‘I'll lock the doors and take my key. Don't go to the door to anyone, Beth.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I told you not to,' he said, and then, ‘There are a few people who don't much like me. One of them might decide to pay me a visit, so it's best you don't let anyone in – especially at night.'

‘What have you been doing, Bernie?'

‘Nothing. Keep your mouth shut and you won't come to harm.' He glared at her. ‘You can go to Oliver's funeral if you want – I might come myself if I get the chance.'

Beth didn't answer, just inclined her head. She felt surprised and relieved as he left her and went downstairs, hearing the door shut behind him. She tried to make sense of what she'd heard… had Bernie really been paying someone to commit murder? And what could she do about it if he was?

Lizzie woke with a start. She felt cold as she struggled out of the dream that had held her. For a moment she'd thought it was the old dream, but then she realized that it hadn't been the nightmare that had haunted her for years. Her dream had been of Sebastian and he was in danger.

‘Sebastian… where are you?' Lizzie spoke his name aloud. She felt uneasy and anxious, because the dream had been so very real, and yet she couldn't recall the details.

Glancing at the clock on her bedside, she saw that it was six o'clock in the morning. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, because she would only toss and turn and think about Sebastian. She'd had a dream but it didn't mean anything, and yet Lizzie couldn't shake off the idea that something bad had happened.

It was the day of Bert Oliver's funeral. Lizzie threw back the covers and pulled on her dressing robe. She would go down and make herself a cup of tea; it would be a busy day…

She filled the kettle and set the table for breakfast. Lizzie wished that Beth was still living with her, because she needed to talk and Hatty would only think she was being fanciful. Beth might have understood but her housekeeper was kind, helpful and down to earth and would tell Lizzie it was just a bad dream. Perhaps it was, but Lizzie couldn't help feeling that sense of unease – as if something bad had happened.

‘Please don't let anything happen to Sebastian,' she whispered. ‘Please let him come home to me.'

Lizzie felt as if she wanted to cry but she blinked back the stupid tears. It was just that so much had been going on – things that worried and distressed her – and she needed Sebastian to come back to her. It was such a desperate need at that moment that she hardly knew how to contain her fear and emotion. The war had robbed her of one husband; it mustn't happen again. Yes, she had her daughter and she was doing the work she'd dreamed of, designing beautiful hats. Her money worries were a thing of the past, because with the two showrooms she would have a large and varied business – but what Lizzie had realized lately was that none of it meant anything without love.

‘Oh, Sebastian,' she said, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Please come back to me, my darling. I can't do it without you…'

It was Sebastian who had encouraged her to trust her talent; he'd had so much faith in her and he'd helped her as often as he could. Now she was gaining a reputation for quality and style and he would be proud of her… but she needed him to be here to share her success.

‘Couldn't you sleep?' Hatty asked sympathetically as she came in wearing her comfortable dressing robe. ‘I checked on Betty and she's sleeping soundly – unlike her mother.'

‘It's a big day,' Lizzie said, making the funeral her excuse. ‘I just hope I haven't forgotten anything – or anyone.'

‘I'm sure you haven't,' Hatty reassured her. ‘As you've made a pot of tea, why don't we share it – and then you should go back to bed for an hour or so? No point in tiring yourself out before it starts…'

*

Beth came to the house nice and early so she could accompany them to the church. Lizzie was surprised but pleased to see her and she sat on Lizzie's left side and Aunt Miriam's niece took the seat next to Beth. Lizzie remembered the young woman from her wedding and Harry's funeral and sent her a sad smile. Aunt Miriam was crying silently, but Lizzie had no tears to cry for the man who had once been her boss. Lizzie felt regret and sorrow, but mainly for the woman sitting beside her. Miriam Oliver was going to find things difficult without her husband. Lizzie squeezed her hand, reassuring her, because whatever happened she was going to help take care of her daughter's great-aunt.

After the service they all went back to Miriam's house. It had two large reception rooms and they were crowded with mourners, most of whom were her husband's business friends – some of them former customers of Lizzie's, also Aunt Miriam's niece, her fiancé and other relations. One or two of them looked at her oddly at first, but when they saw the way his widow clung to her they seemed to accept it and came over to speak to Lizzie.

‘I hear Oliver left his workshop to you,' one man said, looking curious. ‘I thought he'd cut off all relations with you after Harry died.'

‘He did for a while,' Lizzie said. ‘But he wanted me to look after things for Aunt Miriam – and of course Betty is his great-niece.'

‘Ah well, yes, I see,' he said. ‘I heard you had some stylish hats for the spring, Mrs Winters – perhaps I'll call in and have a look one day.'

‘I'm sure we'll manage to fit an order in for you if you do,' Lizzie replied. ‘I expect to be very busy this autumn and winter…'

He nodded and moved on to talk to Aunt Miriam, glancing Lizzie's way several times and listening intently to what Bert's widow had to say. Lizzie was talking to Beth but still conscious she was being discussed. Aunt Miriam came over to her soon after he left.

‘Mr Knight was asking all sorts of questions, Lizzie. He seemed to think it odd that Bertie had left the workshops to you, but I told him I couldn't manage them and if they'd been left to me I should have begged you to look after them for me.'

‘They will be good for all of us,' Lizzie said. ‘I meant what I said, Miriam – whatever the will states, I'm giving you a share of the profits.'

‘Well, the solicitor has just arrived so we'll hear what he has to say very shortly, but I'm sure I'm right, because Bertie told me that last day when he seemed better.'

Lizzie nodded, because if Harry's uncle had left her with the responsibility it was going to be hard work, but she would have helped his widow anyway, and perhaps he'd known that… and admitted to himself that he hadn't treated Lizzie fairly.

They gathered in the smaller parlour after the guests had gone; the will was very brief and clear. Apart from leaving a small bequest and the house to his wife, he'd bequeathed everything to Lizzie, with the proviso that she paid the monthly allowance that his wife was accustomed to receiving for her expenses and all the bills on the house, just as Aunt Miriam had said.

‘As you will see when you come to the accounts, the business isn't doing as well as it was before the war, despite the Government contracts – however, there is still a reasonable profit and perhaps you can improve that, Mrs Winters,' the lawyer said, rounding up.

‘I should like to double the amount Aunt Miriam is paid,' Lizzie said, ‘and that is the only way I will accept the bequest.'

The lawyer beamed at her. ‘Well said, Mrs Winters… I am certain the business will stand the increase.'

‘Oh, Lizzie, I don't need it,' Aunt Miriam murmured and dabbed at her eyes. ‘But since you insist – I shall give my niece a hundred pounds when she gets married. I am sure Bert would have done so had I asked.'

‘Of course you must give her whatever you want, and if you need more from the business you have only to ask.'

‘Then all I need to do is to give you this letter from Mr Oliver, Mrs Winters.'

The solicitor wound up the last few items and took his leave.

Later, at her workshops, Ed congratulated her on her new status, confiding that he thought they could double Oliver's profits if Lizzie brought her magic touch to bear.

‘I always thought the business could do better and Oliver let things go recently,' he said. ‘It will need some hard work to get it back on track, but we can do it, Lizzie.'

‘Yes, together,' she agreed. ‘I want to give you a quarter share of the profits from Oliver's, Ed. Once we've paid Aunt Miriam, naturally. You'll retain your share in Lizzie Larch as well, but I'll be trusting you to manage the workshops here for us, Ed.'

‘You don't have to do that,' Ed said gruffly. ‘I've already got my wage – and my share of
Lizzie Larch Hats
…'

‘But I want you to have this as well. I could never have managed without you. I'm going to look for another cutter, and he will help you out here. Once we find him, he can do the Government work and you can continue to cut some of my shapes – in the meantime I'll be doing most of the cutting and Tilly will trim the Lizzie Larch hats. I shall want more staff in the future, but we'll take it slowly for a start,' Lizzie said. ‘If things go well for Beth, I want her to come back to work for me… for herself really, because I want to give her a quarter share of the profits from the workshops here too.'

‘You're a generous woman, Lizzie.'

‘I've been lucky and I have good friends,' Lizzie said. ‘I don't intend to give Beth her share just yet, because the way things stand at the moment Bernie would take it away from her. I'll put her share of the profits away, and one day, if and when she needs it…'

‘Very sensible,' Ed agreed. ‘If Bernie Wright got his hands on her shares, he'd make your life a misery.'

‘There will be nothing in writing yet,' Lizzie said. ‘Beth needs to leave him, but it isn't easy for her…'

‘She came to the funeral but Bernie didn't…I thought he might come to show respect.'

‘I doubt he had the guts to look me in the face,' Lizzie said. ‘Beth suspects he's up to some sort of mischief, Ed. She didn't know more, but she was sure he was planning something evil…'

‘I just hope she's careful, because I wouldn't put anything past that man after what I've been told…' he lowered his voice. ‘He's a bad apple, Lizzie, and no mistake…'

*

Lizzie opened the letter from Harry's uncle when she was alone. The first page dealt with various business items, but on the second a paragraph caught her eye.