The Girl With No Name (53 page)

‘Albert?’ Dan called. ‘Is that you?’

Albert stopped and peered at him. ‘Dan Federman?’

‘Yes, it’s me. Just been down to look at the house. What’re you doing?’

‘Citizen patrol,’ Albert said. ‘Keeping an eye... you know.’ He glanced round him anxiously as if someone might be watching. ‘Keeping an eye...’

‘Good for you,’ Dan said. Dan knew Albert of old. Not the sharpest tool in the box, Dan’s dad would have said, but no harm in him, no harm at all. ‘Seen anything, have you?’

‘I see lot of things,’ Albert said, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Be ’mazed what I see.’

‘I’m sure I would,’ Dan said, about to move on. ‘Keep up the good work.’

‘Not the only one.’ Albert laid a hand on Dan’s arm as if to stop him going. ‘Bloke looking after your place, ain’t there?’

Dan turned and looked at him. ‘What bloke’s that?’ he said.

‘You know the one,’ Albert said. ‘The one you said could sleep there. Cellar-rat. That’s what he is. Cellar-rat. Lots of those about. He’s all right, your bloke, cos you told him to look after your house. I don’t have to bother with yours.’

‘What’s his name, this bloke?’

Albert screwed up his face, thinking. ‘Don’t know his name. Young feller, dark hair. You know his name, he knows yours. Said Dan Federman asked him to keep an eye... You do know his name.’ A note of doubt crept into the man’s voice and anxious to reassure him, Dan said, ‘Course I do, slipped my mind just for a moment. Thanks for letting me know, Albert.’

‘My job,’ Albert said importantly. ‘Citizen patrol. Keeping an eye... you know.’

Well, thought Dan as he made his way to the bus stop, someone is definitely using the cellar, but who? A young bloke with dark hair. Someone who knows I lived there, who knows me by name.

He couldn’t think of anyone. Probably a squatter who’d heard whose house it was and simply pretended to know him. Nothing he could do about it now, though, so he got the bus and headed back to Liverpool Street.

Back at the Feneton Arms, Dan told Naomi all he’d discovered. She listened with interest to what he’d found in the cellar and she was delighted with the two tins of salmon.

‘Oh, Dan!’ she exclaimed. ‘Tinned salmon. I haven’t seen that since my mother bought it special, when we was courting and you was coming for tea on a Sunday!’

‘Albert says he saw someone coming out of our house,’ Dan said. ‘Young bloke with dark hair who said he knew me.’

‘What about that bloke who turned up looking for Lisa that day? What was his name? The one what went fire-watching with you.’

‘Oh, I know who you mean,’ Dan said. ‘Yes, he had dark hair. Can’t remember his name though, can you?’

‘He was German, wasn’t he? Refugee like poor Lisa.’

‘That’s right. Said he’d come back next night, but he never did.’

‘He stayed the night,’ Naomi reminded him. ‘Slept in the cellar.’

‘You’re right,’ agreed Dan. ‘He did sleep in the cellar... so he’d know it’s there.’

‘Can’t think of his name.’

‘Well, it don’t matter,’ Dan pointed out. ‘We don’t know what happened to him.’

‘Whoever it is,’ Naomi said, ‘is in the black market. Stands to reason, all them tins you saw.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Course he is,’ Naomi said, ‘like every other Tom, Dick and Harry.’

‘Harry! Wasn’t that his name? Harry? Been at school with Lisa?’

‘Yeah, could be. Anyway, if it’s Lisa’s friend I don’t mind so much if he’s sleeping in our cellar, even if he is black market.’

‘Black market, short of two tins of salmon,’ grinned Dan.

‘Yes, well I’ll give one of those to Jen. She’ll enjoy a taste of salmon, too.’

‘Anyway,’ Dan said with a sigh. ‘Short of going there and sitting outside the house until he appears, there’s no way we’re going to catch him at it.’

Dan didn’t know how close he’d been to doing just that. Harry Black had been on his way to Kemble Street that very evening. He had been approaching from the far end of the road when he’d seen someone emerge from one of the houses. Was it number sixty-five? He ducked back behind a wall and watched as the man walked away down the street.

Who was it? Harry wondered, and what had he been doing?

He watched as the man stopped to speak to someone. Harry knew who that was. Citizen Patrol. Barmy, he was, old Citizen Patrol! Harry had seen him several times since their original encounter and had usually managed to avoid him. He wondered if the first man had indeed come out of the Federmans’ house. Could it have been Dan Federman? Were he and his wife hoping to come back to get the house repaired? Just the previous week Harry had seen the woman from opposite with her husband, looking over the house they’d lived in. London hadn’t been bombed for some time. Perhaps people were beginning to think about coming home. Harry hoped the Federmans weren’t. It was useful to have a place to keep his most private stuff. He’d moved to a room near the docks some time ago, registering his new address with the police, so there should be nothing to connect him with Kemble Street if ever anything did go wrong and his stash was discovered.

Citizen Albert continued his patrol and the man moved on. Harry scurried after him, following him not only to the bus stop, but on to Liverpool Street station, watching as he boarded the stopping train to Ipswich. Only once did he get close enough to see the man’s face. It was nearly two years since he’d seen Dan Federman, but Harry was pretty certain that’s who it was.

Having seen him on to the train, Harry headed straight back to Kemble Street and as the twilight began to deepen, he slipped into the dark doorway of sixty-five. Anxious not to show a light, he felt his way through to the cellar door. There he struck a match and by its flickering light saw at once that the door had indeed been opened. As the match burned down to his fingers, he dropped it on the floor and struck another. The door was still wedged, but the wedge was in an entirely different place to where he’d jammed it in. Quickly Harry released the door, jerked it open and stepped through. Once inside, he pulled it closed and, standing on the top step, struck a third match to light his way down the stairs. With the Tilley lamp lit, he inspected the cellar carefully. He knew exactly what should be there and saw two tins of salmon were missing. Nothing else told him that someone had invaded his domain. His stash of cash was still in the space he’d hollowed out under the stairs and he took it out and counted it. Perhaps, he thought as he looked at the roll of notes, it would be better to keep it somewhere else. If Dan Federman decided to go to the police with what he’d discovered in the cellar, they might come and search. It’d be bad enough to lose his goods, but he couldn’t risk losing his money as well. He’d have to find another hiding place, but for the moment he stowed it in an inside trouser pocket.

He’d seen Dan on to the train, so he knew that the police were not on their way just yet, but he decided to take a few of the more portable things with him in case they came to search. After all, tins of food could been left here by anyone, even the Federmans themselves. He turned the mattress over and slid his hand inside the ticking to retrieve a small box containing two brooches and a ring, all of which he’d liberated from a second-floor bedroom on a bomb site. He hadn’t shown them to Mikey yet, indeed, he hadn’t decided who to go to, Mikey or Mr Ing. Neither knew about the other; Harry liked to keep his options open. He looked at the jewellery in the box and reckoned they would certainly fetch a bob or two.

He pocketed the box and turning off the light, made his way back up into the kitchen. Pale moonlight filtered through the window and Harry secured the door again, this time placing the wedge where the intruder had, in case he returned and realised Harry had been back. He waited in the darkness of the doorway, watching the street until he was certain that there was no one to see him leave, then he stepped outside and melted into the night. He wouldn’t come back here for several weeks, he decided, not until he was positive that no one was taking any further interest in the house.

In the meantime, he thought, next weekend I’ll go back to Livingston Road and find Lisa. Maybe take her to the flicks.

As when he’d first met her, back in 1939, he was captivated by her. There was something about her that drew him to her and stayed with him even when she wasn’t there. He’d relegated her to the back of his mind when he thought she was dead – the dead were the dead – but now that he’d found her again, she had crept her way back into his head, slipping into his thoughts when he least expected it.

When he’d found her in the kitchen in Kemble Street and realised who she was, Harry had been shocked at his own reaction. He had watched her face as they had talked in the Hope Street café, seen the tension and the sadness there, but had also seen how she had changed. No longer was she a small, defiant school girl, in gymslip and blouse, with her hair scraped back off her face, fighting against the bullies. She had blossomed into an attractive young woman, her glossy hair framing a heart-shaped face, her mouth full-lipped and generous, her eyes bright and intelligent. When she’d walked beside him he’d been aware of the movement of her body, no longer awkward and a little ungainly, but smooth and agile with an unconscious sway of the hips. The boy, Harry, had been captivated by the girl, Lisa; the young man, Harry, was captivated anew by the young woman, Lisa.

Harry wasn’t new to the charms of women. Since his release from the Isle of Man he’d tasted a few. One old pro had taken him in hand as a favour to Mikey and taught him the pleasures of her trade. He knew women found him attractive and he liked what they did to him, the way they made him feel. But they were simply there for his pleasure; when he finished with them, he never gave them another thought.

Now Lisa kept invading his thoughts and he wasn’t at all sure he liked it. He liked to be in control of himself, his mind and his body, and Lisa was threatening them both. He hadn’t returned to Livingston Road for a couple of weeks, simply to prove to himself that he didn’t need to. She was just another woman, albeit an attractive one, but grown men, like him, didn’t get themselves tied up in knots by a woman.

Despite these good intentions, the following weekend found Harry knocking on the door of the Livingston Road home. It wasn’t Charlotte who opened the door, but a woman Harry had never seen before. She greeted him with a polite smile and said, ‘Can I help you?’

‘Come to see Lisa,’ Harry said. ‘Is she in?’

‘Lisa?’ The woman looked confused. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t got a Lisa here.’

‘But she works here,’ Harry said. And then he remembered. ‘Sorry, I forgot. She’s called Charlotte now.’

The woman’s expression cleared. ‘Charlotte. Yes, of course. If you’d like to wait here, I’ll see if she’s about.’

Harry stood in the hall, waiting. He could hear children’s voices from somewhere deeper in the house, the slam of a door and a shout of laughter. It was Saturday afternoon and the children who lived in the home weren’t at school. Perhaps Lisa wouldn’t be able to come out after all. Harry was about to turn round and leave when Miss Morrison appeared.

‘Hallo,’ she said. ‘I understand you’re looking for Charlotte.’ Then she recognised him and went on, ‘It’s Harry, isn’t it? Charlotte’s friend, Harry? We met before. I’m Caroline Morrison, superintendent of the home.’

‘Yes, miss, I remember,’ Harry said. He gave her a broad smile. He’d learned that women of a certain age liked his smile.

‘Have you come to see Charlotte? Is she expecting you?’

‘No, miss. I mean, yes, I’ve come to see her, but she isn’t expecting me.’

‘I think she’s in the garden with some of the younger children. Do you want to go on out and find her? I’ll show you the way.’

She led the way through the house and out of a side door into the back garden. Harry paused on the doorstep and looked out across the grass to where Lisa was playing ball with some little girls. She was dressed in a simple yellow skirt and white blouse and her hair was tied back with a piece of yellow ribbon. She was laughing as she ran to catch the ball and for a moment Harry simply stared at her, knowing in that moment that he wanted her, wanted her in every way.

Caroline, looking back, caught a glimpse of his face and knew a moment’s apprehension. But she brushed it aside, she was just being stupid... overprotective.

‘Charlotte,’ she called, and Charlotte, turning, saw Harry standing in the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat and then she tossed the ball to the waiting children and ran over to greet him.

‘Harry,’ she cried. ‘I thought you’d forgotten me.’

‘Never, Lisa,’ he said. Then turning to Caroline Morrison he asked, ‘Is Lisa free to meet me later this evening? I can see she’s busy now.’

‘Of course,’ Caroline replied. ‘Once the children have had their tea, she can certainly go out for the evening if she’d like to. Shall we say about seven? I can manage without her after that.’

Charlotte stood looking from one to the other. What about asking me? she thought.

As if reading her thoughts, Harry asked, ‘Will you come, Lisa?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she answered, ‘I’d like to.’

‘I’ll be here at seven, then,’ he said. He smiled at Caroline again, thinking, Better keep her sweet, then turning he walked back through the house and out of the front door. Caroline and Charlotte watched him go, but their thoughts as they did so were entirely different.

Charlotte was thinking, He did come back to see me. He kept his promise.

Caroline was thinking, The more you smile at me, Harry, the less I trust you.

Good as his word, Harry was at the door promptly at seven o’clock. When he rang the bell the door opened immediately and Charlotte came out. She had changed into the green daisy skirt and white blouse she had worn to the midsummer dance and carried a little white clutch bag lent to her by Caroline.

‘Don’t be too late,’ Caroline had warned. ‘You know it’ll be an early start in the morning.’ She had given Charlotte a key, but she decided to wait up for her. She wanted to be sure she was safely home.

Harry reached out and took Charlotte’s hand. ‘Where would you like to go?’ he asked.