Frankie's Manor Read online

  ‘I promise I’ll protect you, Constable.’ She grinned up at him. ‘You just concentrate on buttering her up.’

  Jack bent to kiss the freckled nose. ‘Anything you say, darlin’. She’ll be so buttered up by the time I’ve finished with her, she’ll be able to slide between a two-inch gap without touching the sides.’ Jack gave her an affectionate cuddle, folded his newspaper and drawled, ‘Well, come on, then, lazybones. Get your shoes back on if you want to go to the bandstand, otherwise they’ll be packing up before we get there.’

  ‘I’ll leave them off, thank you. I hate wearing shoes. I’d much rather go about barefoot, especially on grass. You should try it, it’s a wonderful feeling.’

  Tucking her arm through his, Jack remarked, ‘It won’t be so wonderful if you step in some dog’s muck – unless you think that’s a sign of good luck.’

  Undaunted, Rose pulled a face at him, and they strolled lazily across the wide expanse of parkland.

  Ten minutes later they were sprawled on the grass, enjoying the musical effort of the uniformed brass band. All around them, couples and families sat or lay, contentedly savouring their day of leisure.

  Young children raced in and out of the throng of adults, earning sharp rebukes from their parents, yet they were not deterred from their games. For many, Sundays in the park were a blessed relief from their everyday existence, and they relished their brief sojourn with undisguised relish.

  When the sun became too hot, Jack helped Rose to her feet and they went in search of some refreshment. Forsaking the lure of the stone drinking-fountain, they strolled to a nearby pub and sat outside with their drinks.

  Resting her elbows on the wooden table Rose looked across at Jack, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. ‘Well, come on, out with it. You’ve had something on your mind all afternoon. You’d better tell me before you burst with the effort of keeping it to yourself.’

  Jack stared at her in comical dismay. ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘It is to me.’ Suddenly wary, she asked, ‘It’s not bad news, is it, Jack?’

  Jack took a sip of his beer, his face and actions abruptly taking on an air of sheepishness.

  ‘No, no, there’s nothing wrong. In fact you could say it’s good news. I wasn’t gonna say anything until it was certain, but I’m in line for promotion and…’

  Rose squealed in delight. ‘Jack! Oh that’s wonderful, darling. For goodness’ sake, why didn’t you say something before? How long have you known…?’ Her voice began to rise in excitement.

  ‘Whoa, slow down, love.’ Jack cut in hastily, his eyes darting to the other customers, who had begun to stare at the young couple. His cheeks reddening in embarrassment, he added quietly, ‘I haven’t got it yet. There’s half a dozen of us all chasing the same job.’

  A shadow of disappointment fell over Rose’s face. ‘But you deserve to be promoted, Jack. You’ve been in the police force since you left school.’

  Jack laughed ruefully. ‘That’s not how it works, love. Look at my dad. He was still a constable when he died. Though he never wanted to be promoted. All he wanted was to keep the streets safe and help people. Much good it did him.’ A note of deep anger entered his voice, causing Rose’s heart to flip painfully in sympathy.

  She had never met Jack’s parents, yet she felt she had known them through Jack’s constant reminiscences about his past life.

  William Adams, a cheerful, friendly man had died violently on the streets he had walked for over thirty years. Knifed to death by a drunken labourer one Saturday night, over five years ago. Jack had been at home asleep at the time, after just finishing a ten-hour shift. Two plain-clothes officers had come to break the news, their faces drawn in sympathy, and a dark, brooding anger against the drunken lout who had cold-bloodedly murdered one of their own.

  Jack had been devastated. He had loved and admired the gentle, fair-minded man who had been a friend as well as a father. But on hearing the dreadful news his first thoughts had been for his mother. He had fought valiantly to control his grief in order to be strong for her. Yet in the end it was she who had comforted him. Gertie Adams had been a remarkable woman. After her husband’s death, she had thrown herself whole-heartedly into helping others less fortunate than herself, and there were many. It was during one of these missions, while helping a harassed doctor during a difficult birth, that she sustained a simple cut on her hand that had subsequently become infected. She had contracted a fever and died less than a week later. It had all happened very quickly. There had been nothing the doctors could do to save her.

  The loss of his mother so soon after his father had nearly destroyed Jack. The only thing that had kept him going was the memory of his mother’s enormous courage. Not once after her husband’s death had Jack ever heard her complain, and not once had she asked her only son to give up the profession he loved, even though it had been that same profession that had taken her beloved husband’s life. Such was her tremendous character that her strength lingered on after her death, helping Jack to cope on his own and come to terms with the double blow that life had so cruelly dealt him.

  Jack finished his beer with a long swallow. Both his parents had been remarkable people. He had been lucky to have had them. Hardly a day passed when he didn’t think of them and feel the pain of their loss.

  ‘Are you all right, Jack?’ Rose’s voice was soft with compassion. She had never known her father, and had no recollection of her mother, so she couldn’t empathise with Jack over his parents’ deaths. Yet the idea of anything happening to Aunt Mary was unthinkable. To Rose, the gruff, recalcitrant, plain-speaking woman had always been both father and mother to her; she couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Giving a lop-sided grin Jack rose to his feet. ‘Yeah. Just get a bit sentimental now and then. Right! I’m ready when you are.’ He tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow, then bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Mind you, though, I think I might drop in at the station. I’d feel better if my sergeant knew my last known whereabouts – just in case!’

  Ducking the blow aimed at his head, Jack caught Rose’s hand and, with a shout of triumph more in keeping with an ebullient schoolboy than with a police officer in line for promotion, the young couple ran, hand in hand, their delight in each other’s company obvious to all who saw them.

  * * *

  Mary lifted a large baking tray from the oven, shuffled painfully to a nearby wooden surface and thankfully put down her heavy burden. Wiping her perspiring face with the hem of her floral pinafore she leaned back against the sink for support. Gawd! Her legs were killing her. But she’d baked a nice batch of scones and a jam sponge for their tea. All she had to do now was make some sandwiches, then she could put her feet up for a while. She’d found over the years that an hour’s rest with her legs raised on the stool usually helped the swelling subside. She remembered that young doctor Frankie had brought round once when her legs had first started to swell. Bloody quack he’d been. Gout, he’d said she had. Well, she’d told him right enough. Gout was a whore’s disease. She knew all about gout. Look at old Henry VIII. He’d suffered from gout, and everyone knew what a randy old sod he’d been, and a drunkard into the bargain. This last thought sobered her, bringing with it memories of last week. Her head drooped with shame and she banged her swollen knees with her fists. If only she could go back in time and change what had happened.

  What was worse was the suspicion that still lingered in her about Rose. Why was she suddenly so anxious to get married? All that time she’d been going out with Jack Adams, she’d always insisted he was just a good friend. And then, out of the blue, she goes and says she’s thinking of marrying him, then stays at his rooms half the night. Well, what was a body supposed to think? Rose wouldn’t be the first young girl to be caught out and, if that was the case, then the sooner Jack Adams made an honest woman of her the better. She didn’t like the prospect of him becoming part of the family, but what could she do? As for Frankie – he’d go berserk if Rose marr
ied the copper. Worse still, he’d expect Mary to side with him in opposing the marriage. She felt as if she was being torn in two: no matter which way she turned, whatever she did or said, she was going to hurt one of the two people she loved more than life itself.

  The minutes ticked by slowly as Mary sat deep in thought. When the mantel clock struck four, she stared at it as if seeking guidance from it. She had long feared that the day might come when her loyalties would be divided. Now it had arrived, and she knew where her allegiance rested. Frankie would blow his top, and maybe even turn against her for what he would surely see as an act of betrayal, but that was just too bad. Because, after all was said and done, Frankie was a grown man with a life outside this house she knew nothing about – and didn’t want to know about either!

  Her mind raced on. No matter what happened, Rose would always be there for her. Despite what Mary had said about Rose’s mother, she knew deep in her heart that her niece had a strong sense of loyalty and inner strength that her poor departed mother had sorely lacked. And Rose, dear kind-hearted Rosie, would never leave her invalid aunt to care for herself.

  Whereas Frankie! A heartfelt sigh escaped her lips. He had been good to her, oh, yes, he had, no one could say otherwise. He’d been like a son, still was for that matter, but she had to admit she couldn’t depend on him as she did on Rose. Look at this past week. Neither sight nor sound of him, and she might not see him for weeks ahead either. Then he would turn up suddenly, a grin on his handsome face and an armful of presents. He was a character, was her Frankie, but he wasn’t what you could call dependable.

  A sudden niggle of guilt attacked her. Dear God! What was she thinking of? Herself. Weighing up who was more likely to look after her. A sick feeling of shame rose in her throat. ‘But I’m not just thinking of meself,’ she appealed to the empty room, her thick fingers anxiously plucking at the folds in her serge skirt. ‘I think the world of both of ’em, only… But it’s natural I should worry about me future, ain’t it?’

  The silent room offered no solace, but when, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the far wall, slumped in dejection, she sat up straighter and jutted out her chin resolutely. ‘Bugger this,’ she announced fiercely. ‘It don’t matter what happens to me. As long as my Rose is happy, that’s all that matters. And sod what anyone else thinks – including Frankie.’

  Her brave words hung heavily in the air. Yet despite them she knew that if a rift came about she would be heartbroken.

  * * *

  ‘That was lovely, Mary, thanks. I can’t remember the last time I had such a smashing tea.’

  Mary fidgeted on her chair. Ever since they had arrived home, both Rose and Jack had been friendly, especially Jack, who seemed to be going out of his way to ingratiate himself into her good books. Yet in spite of his smiling face and warm words, Mary sensed that he was making the effort for Rose’s sake, and in this she could sympathise with him. She, too, was finding the visit hard work, for despite her best intentions it was impossible to change the way she felt overnight. Yet if she wanted harmony between her and Rose, she would have to get on with her prospective nephew-in-law.

  That didn’t mean she had to sacrifice her principles by fawning all over him, but it wouldn’t kill her to be civil. With this in mind she replied cordially, ‘Thank you, Jack. It’s nice to be appreciated.’

  Painfully aware of her aunt’s feelings, Rose looked to Jack for approval before she said, ‘Auntie, we know this is difficult for you, and we’d like to say how grateful we both are that you’re trying so hard. And we want you to know that we’d like you to live with us after we’re married and—’

  ‘Oh, no. No, I’m not having any of that, me girl,’ Mary cut in brusquely, cheeks reddening. ‘You won’t want an old woman like me hanging around after you’re married. I ain’t gonna be a burden on you, Rose, so you can get that idea out of your head right now.’

  ‘But, Auntie—’ Rose began, but Jack forestalled her.

  ‘You won’t be a burden, Mary. I really would like you to live with us after the wedding. I know you’re not happy with Rose’s choice for a husband, but I love her very much and the only thing that matters to me is making her happy. That’s something I can’t do without your help.’

  ‘I ain’t asking for charity, lad. And I ain’t gonna live with someone on sufferance. I’ve still got me pride, whatever else I’ve lost.’ Mary bristled, her inherent independence temporarily overriding the fear of being left on her own.

  Rose looked at Jack imploringly, and he, knowing he had his work cut out, pushed back his chair and went to Mary’s side. He dropped down on his haunches, looked up at her and said simply, ‘I know it ain’t gonna be easy, Mary, for any of us. But I’m willing to give it me best shot if you are. I don’t expect you to suddenly welcome me into your arms like a long-lost son. All I ask is that you give me a chance. So what d’yer say, Mary. Will you at least think about it?’

  Mary moved uncomfortably on the hard chair and sniffed. ‘All right, I’ll think about it, but I ain’t promising anything,’ she answered, grudgingly. ‘After all, you ain’t exactly given me much time, have you? I mean to say, up till a week ago I never knew Rose was even thinking about getting wed. It came right out of the blue. So you can’t expect me to be cock-a-hoop about it, now can you?’

  ‘No, no, of course not.’ Rose and Jack spoke simultaneously, then broke off and smiled across the table dividing them.

  Mary saw the loving look they exchanged and all the fight went out of her. She dropped her gaze to her lap where her hands were twisting restlessly, and muttered, ‘All right, I’ll give it a try but, like I said before, I ain’t making any promises.’ An immense tiredness was creeping through her limbs, and she felt a great desire to lay her head down and weep.

  Jack’s next words brought new life into her. ‘Thanks, Mary, that’s all we ask.’ Then he gave a shaky laugh. Anyway, it’s not like we’re planning to get married tomorrow, is it?’ He glanced at Rose for confirmation. ‘It’ll be a year at least before we can save enough for the big day. I told Rose today I’ve got a chance at promotion and that’ll mean more money, but nothing’s settled yet. In the meantime we’re gonna be looking round for a bigger house… That’s if it’s all right with you, Mary?’

  Mary’s head jerked up, her tiredness vanishing as if by magic. ‘You ain’t getting married right away?’

  Rose looked at her in puzzlement. ‘No, of course not, Auntie. Why should we rush into it? Ooh… oh, Auntie!’ Mortified, Rose stared at the older woman as the truth of what Mary had feared became clear.

  She came slowly round the table and took her aunt’s hands. ‘We’re not getting married because we have to. We’re getting married because we love each other.’ Relief oozing from her every pore, Mary clutched wildly at Rose, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘Oh, Rose, Rosie love. Oh, I’m sorry, love. I’m sick to me soul that I could’ve thought such a thing about you. I should’ve known you wouldn’t do anything underhand. You’re a good girl, Rosie, always have been. I could cut out me tongue for what I said to you. You’d never get yourself into trouble – you ain’t the type… Oh, Rosie love, can you ever forgive me?’

  Jack shuffled to his feet and stood awkwardly back from the emotional scene. So that was the real reason behind the rift between Rose and Mary. He’d had a suspicion that there was more to it than Rose had admitted. Moving forward he laid a hand on Rose’s shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you two alone, love. It’s all right, I’ll let meself out.’

  Rose nodded absently, her whole attention given to comforting the older woman, and when Jack paused by the door and looked back, he experienced an uncomfortable sense of isolation – of being left out. He had had the same feeling last week, until Rose had turned up on his doorstep. Now it was back with a vengeance, and as he left the terraced house he wondered bleakly if he would ever be included in the close bond that Rose shared with Mary Miller. Or whether she could ever love him li
ke she loved Mary – and the other one!

  When no answer came, Jack, his hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets, walked home dejectedly, all the happiness of the day evaporating into the warm summer-night air.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘’Scuse me, Guv’nor. Sorry to disturb you, but you said to remind you about the time, only it’s getting on for five, an’ you…’ The nervous man stood in the centre of a large, overly ornate room, his gaze studiously averted from the small group of scantily dressed women who were lazing around on plush upholstered chairs and sofas. A few men were sprinkled around, some looking relaxed, others, like himself, uneasy in their surroundings.

  Frankie Buchannon seemed at home on a green velvet couch, one arm draped familiarly around the shoulders of a blonde. He glanced up at the man who had addressed him and appeared to do a double-take, then threw back his head and gave a hearty bellow of laughter. ‘For Gawd’s sake, Fred, sit down and have a drink. You look like you’ve just caught yer missus with the milkman.’

  The man called Fred put one hand to the collar of his starched white shirt in uncomfortable confusion. His three-piece checked suit, like the shirt, was second-hand but good quality, and Fred Green wasn’t used to such finery. But if he wanted to remain on Frankie Buchannon’s pay-roll he would have to get used to wearing clothes like these. And he wanted to remain where he was. There was hardly a man alive in the East End who wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. Fred had been with Frank for over five years now, a goodly proportion of that time having been spent in prison. His last stretch, eighteen months for demanding money with menaces, had finished four months after Frankie’s sentence. The man himself had been waiting outside Wandsworth when Fred had emerged from the Judas gate. Frankie Buchannon was a good governor to work for, even if some of the tasks assigned were not for the faint-hearted. He was generous to his men and their families, and a reasonable man, provided you did as you were told and didn’t ask any questions.