Swansea Girls (9 page)

‘Any of you girls see what happened?’ Roy asked as he escorted them into the storeroom.

‘They were with her, they must have ...’

‘You’ll get your chance to talk later, Joe.’ Roy pointed to a couple of chairs outside the door. ‘But for now, you and your friend sit and behave like good boys until the Black Maria arrives.’

‘I’ve nothing to do with any of this, I didn’t see a thing so I may as well leave you to it,’ Robin slurred, backing towards the door.

‘And you are?’ Roy rested his hand on Robin’s shoulder as he squinted at the piece of paper Brian had handed him after seeing Laurence Murton Davies into the ambulance.

‘Robin Watkin Morgan.’

‘Robin Watkin Morgan, do you know Laurence Murton Davies?’

‘I wouldn’t say know,’ Robin hedged. ‘Joe just happened to be giving both of us a lift, that’s all.’

‘Where to?’

‘Pardon?’ Robin looked at him blankly.

‘You said Joe was giving you a lift. Where was he taking you?’ Roy glanced into the storeroom before closing the door on the girls.

‘Home.’

‘Which is?’

‘Gower Road. My father is Dr Watkin Morgan. You must have heard of him, Constable?’

‘I have.’ Roy set his mouth into a thin hard line. The one thing guaranteed to set his teeth on edge was people trying to intimidate or curry favour with the police by using their position or influence. It annoyed him even more when it wasn’t their own position or name they used and he knew the senior police surgeon, Dr Watkin Morgan, well enough to suspect that he wouldn’t be pleased at the thought of his son cavorting down the Pier, drunk. ‘And Laurence Murton Davies?’

‘What about him?’

‘Is he staying with you?’

‘No.’

‘Then where were you taking him?’ Roy looked at Joe.

‘He came along for the ride. It’s his twenty-first, he’d had one too many ...’

‘Then he was drunk?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Let’s get this straight, Joe, he was in your car. You were giving Robin a lift home and Laurence Murton Davies had come along for the ride, although in your words “he’d had one too many”?’

‘That’s about right,’ Joe agreed sheepishly, realising his explanation sounded ridiculous.

‘So you intended to drive Laurence Murton Davies home afterwards?’

‘I hadn’t thought that far.’

‘Then do some thinking now,’ Roy advised harshly, ‘because that’s your sister in there. And in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s in a bit of a state. From initial appearances it appears to me that your friend Laurence has had something to do with that.’

‘It can’t be Larry. It has to be Jack Clay. Everyone knows what he is.’

‘Constable, as I said, I’m nothing to do with this so if I can get a taxi ...’

‘You can get one from the station, Mr Watkin Morgan. There are one or two points I’m not clear on and you may be just the person to set me straight.’ Walking into the storeroom, Roy closed the door behind him.

‘We’d just got our coats when we heard the row outside, Uncle Roy.’ Lily’s arms were round Helen who was sitting with her face buried in her hands.

‘We only got there a minute or so before you, Mr Williams,’ Judy chipped in.

‘Helen?’ Exasperated by the silence that greeted his question, Roy turned to Katie. ‘Did you see anything?’

‘I saw Helen talking to Jack in the ballroom,’ she ventured courageously, shocked by the blood on Jack’s clothes and Larry’s assertion that her brother had attacked him. She knew better than anyone how wild Jack could be, but she refused to believe him capable of assaulting anyone – even crache in a dinner suit – for no reason.

‘And Helen wasn’t upset then.’

‘She was smiling.’

‘Did any of you girls see Helen leave the dance hall?’

They looked at one another.

‘No,’ Judy answered, ‘but I saw Jack standing at the bar by himself when I went to get my coat.’

‘Which was how long before you went outside?’

Judy looked at Lily. ‘A couple of minutes.’

‘About five,’ Lily concurred.

The manager stuck his head round the door. ‘The Black Maria and car are here.’

Roy ushered the girls through the door and into the back of the car. After asking the officer driving the car to wait, he saw Joe, Robin, Jack and Martin into the Black Maria with Brian.

‘You not coming with us, Roy?’ the driver of the Black Maria asked.

‘No, I’ll bring the girl to the station as soon as I’ve seen the others home. Tell the sergeant I’ll be right behind you.’

‘If anyone should go with Helen, it should be me,’ Joe muttered mutinously.

‘I’ll look after her, Joe.’ Whether Roy had intended to sound critical or not, Joe took his words to mean ‘better than you’.

‘We’re not going to the police station, are we, Mr Williams?’ Katie asked in a small voice as they sped down Mumbles Road towards Swansea.

Roy turned from the front passenger seat and smiled. ‘No, love, I’ll drop you home but you and Lily may have to make statements tomorrow.’

‘Statements ...’

‘It’s nothing to worry about. You just tell me what you saw.’

‘I didn’t see anything that happened outside.’

‘But you did see what happened inside. It will be all right,’ Roy reassured, ‘You can make the statement in our house and your Mam can be there.’

‘My mother will have a fit at the sight of me coming home in a police car.’

‘I’ll explain, Judy.’

‘What about me?’ Helen gasped hoarsely between sobs.

‘I’m sorry, Helen, but you’re going to have to come down to the station with me so we can sort out what happened back there.’

‘My father will kill me.’

‘Oh, I doubt he’ll do that, love,’ Roy reassured.

‘Leastwise, not until you’ve paid for that dress,’ Judy whispered in Helen’s ear as Roy turned back to give the driver directions.

‘We’re well ahead of the time it would have taken you to walk from the train stop,’ Roy murmured as they turned the corner into Carlton Terrace. ‘Right, as yours is the first house, Judy, I’ll see you inside.’

Lily squeezed Helen’s hand in an attempt to comfort her as her uncle walked Judy to her front door. He was inside only a few minutes.

‘Is Judy’s mother angry?’ she asked as he returned.

‘No, love, none of this is your fault. You next, Katie.’

Shaking, Katie crept out of the car and followed him down the steps to her basement.

‘Got your key, love?’

‘Isn’t it in the door, Mr Williams?’

‘It is. Bad practice that, anyone could walk in.’ Knocking loudly, he turned the key and stepped down into the kitchen. Annie was hunched over the table.

‘Annie?’ He blanched as she turned her face to him. It was a raw mass of bloody, beaten flesh, her blood-flecked eyes sunk so deeply into the swollen tissue above her cheekbones he doubted she could see.

‘I – I – fell over, Roy,’ she mumbled thickly. ‘Hit the sink ...’

Walking over to her, he wrapped his arm round her shoulders. She cried out and he saw her right arm hanging purple and limp from her shoulder. ‘Come on, love, I’ll take you to our house.’

‘I can’t – the boys – Ernie –’ She didn’t even ask what he was doing, bringing Katie home.

‘Katie, pack whatever you and your mam need for the night. You’re spending it in our house. Go on, love,’ he prompted when she hesitated.

‘Dad ...’ She didn’t need to say any more.

‘I’ll check.’ Roy walked to the door that led to the passage.

‘He’s out,’ Annie whispered thickly. ‘He woke up and went out. We thought he’d sleep through the night but he didn’t ... and I fell over ...’

‘I know, Annie. You don’t have to tell me how clumsy you are. I’ve seen it since the day you moved into the street.’ Helping her out of the chair, he scooped her into his arms as she fainted.

‘When the ambulance comes you’ll go with Annie, Norah?’

‘If I do that, Roy, who’s going to stay with the girls?’

‘They’re sensible enough. They proved that tonight.’

‘But Ernie ...’

‘I’ll alert the patrols to keep an eye on the place. It might be as well if you warn Lily to keep the door locked and bolted, and at the first sight or sound of Ernie to ring 999, but I doubt he’ll come here, not to a policeman’s house after what he’s done.’

‘And Brian?’

‘Remind Lily to ask who’s there before opening the door.’

‘Roy ...’

‘Sorry, Norah, I’ve got to get to the Griffithses. They’ll want to come down to the station.’

‘That Helen Griffiths,’ Norah began heatedly, ‘she’s nothing but trouble. I’ll not have our Lily ...’

‘We’ll talk about it in the morning, love. Lily and Katie have had enough to cope with for one night. And ring the station before you leave the hospital. I’ll get a car to pick you up and bring you back here.’ Roy stepped over the low wall that separated the Griffithses’ house from theirs and rang the doorbell. He rang it three times before giving up and returning to the car.

‘Do you know where your mam and dad are?’ he asked Helen.

Her sobs had subsided since the other girls had left the car and he couldn’t help thinking that her tears had been more for the benefit of her audience than any injury or shock she’d sustained. ‘Mam’s in the theatre. Dad’s at some old boy thing.’

‘Dynevor School?’

‘I think so.’ She began to cry again at the prospect of seeing her father.

‘That’s being held in the Mackworth Hotel,’ the driver said.

‘We’ll telephone from the station.’ Roy recalled some of the rumours he’d heard about Esme Griffiths as he climbed into the front passenger seat of the car. If they were to be believed, she spent more time in Swansea Little Theatre than she did with her family. The evening’s events had rather borne that out. No mother worthy of the name would have allowed her daughter to go to the Pier in a dress like the one Helen had been wearing. Little wonder the girl was running wild and attracting the wrong kind of attention.

He glanced back at Helen, hunched and miserable on the back seat of the car, and felt an unexpected pang of pity. He’d have a few words with John and Esme Griffiths when they came down to the station. What was the point of having money enough to give your children everything they wanted if you didn’t take the time and trouble to guide them on the right path?

‘Tell us exactly what happened,’ the sergeant barked.

Helen began to cry again, this time softly and quietly.

‘The truth.’ The sergeant looked from the girl to Roy. He was aware he sounded harsh and intimidating but he wasn’t used to questioning young girls. Signalling to Roy to step outside, he closed the door and glanced up and down the corridor to make sure they couldn’t be overheard. ‘Do you think she was raped, Williams?’

‘No, sir. But only because there wasn’t time. The girl’s dress had been ripped off her and Murton Davies’s flies were open when I got there. In my book that makes his intentions obvious. Young Clay told Powell the girl was struggling with Murton Davies when he left the ballroom with the drinks. He also says he saw Murton Davies rip her dress, which suggests Murton Davies had just attacked her.’

‘I phoned the hospital.’

‘Is Murton Davies all right?’

‘Oh, yes. Minor bruises and contusions. He’s also drunk as a lord but then he might as well be one. You have heard of the Murton Davieses?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Roy answered carefully.

‘His father’s already been on the line screaming for his son’s attacker’s blood.’

‘And the girl his son tried to rape?’

‘I’d be very careful who you relate that version of events to, Constable Williams.’

‘His friends admit he was drunk. The girl was screaming and trying to fight him off. Clay saw him tear the girl’s dress. His flies were open. How much more evidence do we need?’

‘Murton Davies’s solicitor is at the hospital. From the boy’s version of events, it appears he and the girl got a little over-amorous, the girl’s dress got caught on his watchstrap and he accidentally ripped it.’

‘You believe that, sir?’

‘I believe in youth and high spirits, and a girl crying rape when she thinks she’s about to be exposed as a tart. We’ll have to wait for the doctor’s report, but there appears to be no real damage done to the girl that I can see, and you know the Murton Davieses. The father’s Grand Master this year. He can call on some pretty strong connections.’

‘That doesn’t alter the facts of the case, sir.’ Roy knew damned well it did, but he wasn’t going to stand by while Jack Clay’s and Helen Griffiths’ more likely version of events were swept aside without a single protest.

‘You know how difficult it is to prove these cases one way or another. Between you and me, if the boy did tear her dress deliberately she would have got no more than she deserved,’ the sergeant pronounced caustically. ‘Parading down the Pier half naked on a Saturday night. Her dress might be in shreds, but by all accounts there wasn’t enough to cover the bits that mattered before it was ripped off her. Has she said anything to you about why she left the ballroom?’

‘Not to me, Sergeant, but Jack Clay mentioned she was hot ...’

‘I bet she was. The Murton Davieses’ solicitor suggested she’s a professional streetwalker.’

‘She’s barely eighteen.’

‘We’ve picked up younger.’

‘I know the girl and her family. They live next door to us.’

‘In Carlton Terrace?’

‘That’s where I live, sir.’ Roy tried not to let his exasperation show. He knew what the sergeant was thinking. No family in Carlton Terrace could possibly rank as consequential in the scheme of Swansea politics or importance as the Murton Davieses.

‘The solicitor also suggested that both the girl and the boy who attacked Murton Davies had been drinking. He said something about smashing glasses over his client.’

‘It appears the girl had one gin and tonic, sir. The boy she was with, Jack Clay, brought out a second and dropped the glass when he went to help her fight off Murton Davies.’

‘Allegedly fight off, Constable. And as he admits he bought her two gin and tonics even if we can’t prove the streetwalker charge, we may get her on drunk and disorderly.’

‘You want me to charge her, sir?’

The sergeant bristled at the disapproval in Roy’s voice. ‘Not yet, but we’ll keep it in mind. I think the best thing we can do from everyone’s point of view is sweep the whole thing under the carpet. I can’t see the Murton Davieses wanting a scandal any more than the girl’s parents or the lad who attacked him. What’s his name?’