The Fall and Rise of Lucy Charlton (16 page)

There was nobody about. Lucy went straight back into the house and picked up the only scarf she possessed, soaked it in water and pushed it over her face, especially her mouth, tying it at the back of her head. She made her way into the building, holding her breath at first as the two small Formby children hurtled towards her, one of them sobbing and the other silent. She guided them outside and gave them into Miss Slater’s care, then went back inside though Miss Slater told her not to.

She shouted Tilda’s name, but heard no reply. She reached the stairs. She was beginning to cough horribly as she was forced to breathe in smoke. Clay was at the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Formby and Tilda behind him.

They went outside, coughing. A crowd had gathered by then and Miss Slater was soon there with big mugs of cold water. Lucy had never been so glad to taste it. She saw, amidst the lights of the sky, Joe large and looming and organizing people in some way.

He saw her and said, ‘Is everybody out?’

‘I don’t think Mr Formby—’

‘Dead drunk somewhere, likely,’ somebody interrupted.

She caught hold of Tilda’s hand. ‘What about your dad?’

Tilda turned away, concerned about her mother and the children. By now there was a line of people with buckets, from the house to the towpath, and every minute they were pouring more water on the fire.

‘Is Mr Formby still in there?’ Joe said.

Behind her she could hear someone say, ‘The bugger’s
likely in some bar sleeping it off,’ but she was not convinced and neither was Joe.

He went to Mrs Formby and asked about her husband. She was only just conscious because of the smoke and Tilda had gone to comfort the children. Without any more hesitating, Joe, with Lucy’s wet scarf for his face and wrapped in a blanket he had upturned a bucket over, plunged back inside while people shrieked that he shouldn’t.

She wanted to go in after him, and every second seemed like forever. After about five endless minutes she decided she had to go in, just as Miss Slater came and got hold of her by the arm.

‘You aren’t going to do something foolish, are you?’ she said.

‘I must—’

‘No, you mustn’t.’

Lucy wanted to say that it would be awful if anything should happen to Joe when Mr Formby likely wasn’t there anyway – and even if he was he was a horrible man not worth saving – but she couldn’t say anything of the kind. Instead she stood and waited as they went on throwing water at the house.

She saw policemen and firemen arguing about what they could do because the towpath wasn’t wide enough for a vehicle.

It was some small eternity later when Joe emerged from the house with something large in his arms, staggering with the weight. People went to him and relieved him of it. He couldn’t stand for the smoke and the fatigue.

Miss Bethany gave him water while other people saw to the huge weight Joe had pulled out. It was Mr Formby. Mrs Formby cried out when she saw him, and her daughter put an arm around her, but Lucy’s attention was elsewhere. She got down onto the cold ground with a soaking wet flannel to put to Joe’s face. His breathing eased and she wrapped the dressing gown around him. He smiled at her, coughing again and then breathing more freely.

Beyond the crowd she could hear Mrs Formby’s voice, wailing, grieving. She left Joe and went over to where the Formby family stood grouped around Mr Formby. There was the doctor, saying how sorry he was. Although she had never liked Mr Formby she thought it must be a poor kind of person who was glad that somebody was dead.

She watched as the men lifted Mr Formby’s body into the Misses Slaters’ house, carrying him upstairs. She wanted to ask them not to put him in her room, but she couldn’t really, because there were only two. She didn’t like to think about the 50 per cent chance that Mr Formby was lying on her recently vacated bed.

She went back to Joe and watched as he recovered, giving him cold drinks of water when he could take them. He coughed and coughed, but eventually stopped, his breathing now easy as he thanked her.

The fire died down with so many people helping so that eventually there was little to do but watch. The doctor came across and insisted on examining Joe and then tried to force Lucy and Joe to hospital, but Lucy told him there was nothing the matter with her and Joe said the same. Lucy was pleased that the fire had not reached further, beyond the stones of
the house, and so the Misses Slaters and the Formbys and she and Joe were able to go inside number three. Lucy started up the fire in the kitchen and they sat around in a state of shock over what had happened.

The two small children, wrapped in blankets which Lucy had taken from the beds, fell asleep as the fire began to warm the room. Tilda sat apart from them, staring beyond the window as though explanations would be found there. Just as Clay went to sit with her there came a knocking on the door. When Lucy opened it a large policeman was outside.

‘I need to ask some questions,’ he said.

‘Won’t it keep until later?’ Lucy said, but he ignored her and pushed past inside. Lucy wished Constable Keane were there.

Everyone looked at him as he stood there, huge in the room.

‘So, who started it?’ he said.

Lucy stared and when there was silence she said, ‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘We found the petrol can round the back.’

Nobody spoke.

‘Must have been one of you lot,’ he said.

‘Why would you think such a thing?’ Lucy said.

Joe got up and went to him. ‘Does this have to be now?’ he said.

The policeman glowered at him. ‘Look, lad,’ he said, ‘this fire was started deliberately and who else would do such a thing in the middle of the night, eh?’

‘I would scarcely believe that any member of a family was going to start a fire with themselves inside the house, don’t you think?’

‘And Mr Formby was not an easy man. Maybe he owed money,’ Lucy said. ‘Maybe he had upset somebody.’

‘Somebody who brought a petrol can and then left it?’

‘It’s no less likely than it was somebody here,’ Joe said.

The policeman looked hard at him. ‘Maybe it was you then. Do you live here with these ladies?’

‘No—’

‘And can you prove where you were?’

‘He wasn’t here,’ Lucy said. ‘He doesn’t live here. He came to help when he saw the fire, like half the rest of the riverside. Now will you please stop throwing stupid accusations at us and go away. You have no right to come in here and do this. We are all in a state of shock. Constable Keane will sort it out.’

‘Constable Keane is not on duty, miss,’ the policeman said. ‘We’ve got that petrol can and I’ll be back. I shall want some answers then.’

‘Edgar will deal with him,’ Lucy said.

*

Joe went off to feed the cats and Lucy had to go to work, it being Monday.

It was later in the morning when Mr Clarence, the man who helped Lucy to man the front desk and dealt with a great deal of the paperwork, came upstairs to the little office where she sometimes worked. He told her that Mr Bainbridge was wanted down at the police station, to see a Mrs Formby.

Mr Bainbridge was in court that morning, but then Mr Clarence said that the message had been urgent. She didn’t know what to think.

‘But I shouldn’t go.’

‘I think one of us should and I’m not leaving the front desk. You know more about these things than I do, and what harm can it do? Besides, it’s work we might get,’ he said in a practical way.

So Lucy went, hurrying down Old Elvet towards the police station, her heart hammering inside her chest. When she got there she went up to the long counter which stretched across the entrance as though they were trying to repel boarders. The uniformed man behind the counter did not stop writing, but Lucy saw it was Constable Keane.

‘I’ve come to see Mrs Formby,’ she announced. ‘She and the rest of us, we had nothing to do with it, you must believe it.’

‘Don’t worry, miss,’ he said, ‘I’m sure it’ll sort. I thought it was Mr Bainbridge who was coming.’

‘I work with him. I gather Mrs Formby asked for him, but he’s in court so I had to come in his place. You will let me see her.’

‘Of course, miss.’ He opened the door beyond the counter which allowed access to the rest of the building and she followed him. The place was bigger than it looked. All the buildings in that area had been made with the idea of the law and how it worked in mind. Had she been alone she might have got lost, but they were soon down in the depths where it was not very light and there were cells on either side. She had the door unlocked and looked inside; a small slight woman sat on the bench there. She looked even smaller than she usually did and so pale that Lucy thought the poor woman would faint. The cell had a window high up, the bench, a bowl of water to wash, a pail for a toilet and a plate where crumbs of some meal were left.

Lucy stepped inside.

‘Oh, Mrs Formby,’ she said, as he locked the door behind her and she listened to his footsteps dying away.

‘They said I could have somebody. I needed help and I remembered Miss Slater saying that you worked for the solicitor, Mr Bainbridge.’ Mrs Formby’s voice quivered and then broke. Lucy gave her time but she didn’t say anything.

‘What happened?’ Lucy said eventually.

Mrs Formby shook her head. ‘I’m sorry to bring you here, Miss Charlton, indeed I wouldn’t have done it – but you’re so kind and I don’t know what to do. They said I killed him and I didn’t. I did nothing of the sort. I really didn’t.’

Lucy made comforting noises. ‘Of course you didn’t. How utterly ridiculous,’ she said in a practical voice that she could see already helped, though still Mrs Formby wept and shook her head.

‘The polis dragged me in here. Can they keep me here, Miss Charlton? Only I don’t like leaving the bairns and Tilda has to go to work. The Misses Slaters will look after them but the little ’uns cried when the polis came and though Clay would have gone for Mr Hardy because we knew he would help, the little ’uns hung onto him after I was taken.’

Lucy reassured her, though she wasn’t quite certain what she would do. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘Mr Bainbridge will sort this out. I know the constable who is on duty very often and he will try and help us – it will be all right.’

She went out and bought Mrs Formby a big rug and a pillow and some decent food and some sweets. She took her books, though she wasn’t sure Mrs Formby wanted these, and a pen and paper in case she remembered anything else
and wanted to write it down. Then she left, promising that Mr Bainbridge would come as soon as he came back from court.

She waited until Edgar Bainbridge came back into the office, then knocked on his door. When he told her to come in she hurriedly reported what she had done.

‘I hope that was the right thing to do.’

‘Of course it was. You didn’t claim to be anything you weren’t and since Mrs Formby had asked for you, you went as a friend. I will go and see her this afternoon. Perhaps you would like to come with me?’

And so that afternoon Lucy went with Edgar when Mrs Formby was due to be questioned by the police. Two very large policemen sat looking important at the table. One of them had a notebook and a pencil in front of him and the other one had already made notes, Lucy could see.

One of the first things they asked was had Mrs Formby bought some petrol.

She looked sceptically at them. ‘Aye,’ she said, ‘for my big shiny motor car.’

The policeman looked at her. ‘This isn’t funny, Mrs Formby.’

‘You would think so if you’d spent any time at all in those cells. I need to get laughs where I can.’

Lucy hadn’t realized that Mrs Formby could be so fierce, but she soon understood why.

‘You took me away from my four bairns without any …’ Mrs Formby paused and then found the right word, ‘… any evidence and did anybody care what happened to them? No, they didn’t. Dragged me out of Miss Slater’s lovely little
house – after all she’s done for us – you did, for no good reason. They will vouch for me and Miss Charlton here too that I never did owt like that, I wouldn’t – I was brought up proper as a good-living woman. I didn’t buy no petrol and I didn’t kill my man if that’s your next question. Even though he was a bugger there was a time when I loved him and I put up with him when he wasn’t. He didn’t have any work, we couldn’t get any help, but we were a family.’

Lucy was very impressed at this long speech, but then she thought about Mrs Formby having several hours in that wretched cell to work out what she was going to say, fired up by the fact that she and her four children were now homeless and the man she had once loved was dead.

‘Mr Ronald Palmer of Esh Garage on the edge of the town has told us that he sold petrol to a woman who resembled you. We had men out early at all the garages in the place,’ the policeman said proudly.

‘Does he now. Who told him to say that, you?’ was her reply. ‘And where did he think I’d got a petrol can from?’ Lucy thought Mrs Formby didn’t really need anybody there, all she needed was an audience. ‘And who on earth would think any mother would put her bairns at risk by setting her own house on fire? She would have to be a queer sort.’

‘Did Mr Palmer give a description?’ Edgar asked.

‘He said she was poor and small and badly dressed with a shawl over her head and dark clothes.’

‘That description fits half the women of Durham,’ Edgar said. ‘If she had a shawl on how did he get a good look at her face?’

The policeman said nothing to that.

‘Do you have other questions?’

‘Where were you, Mrs Formby, earlier that evening?’

‘I was at home with my bairns, like any decent mother would be. I didn’t go and buy no petrol and I didn’t have no money either, so I couldn’t have, could I?’

‘That fire was started deliberately the Fire Chief says and it’s common knowledge that Mr Formby treated his family, especially his wife, badly. Miss Charlton herself came into the police station and said so.’

‘All I said was that it would be helpful if a policeman might take his beat past their house,’ Lucy said.

‘Because he was knocking his wife about.’

‘If you had done something about this and kept a decent watch on Rachel Lane you would have frightened off the kind of people who do such things and you wouldn’t be blaming innocent people now.’