Let it Shine Read online

  Shocked and dazed, she hobbled across the floor, muttering angrily under her breath, ‘You should never have gone to see her. You’re always upset when you’ve been to that hospital.’

  ‘Daisy! Get out here NOW!’ His voice sailed through the house.

  The maid came rushing into the room. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I were doing the ironing.’

  With his hands behind his back, Peter walked slowly round the trembling girl. ‘Do you want to keep your place in this house, Daisy?’ His voice was calmer now. His manner charming.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Do you carry tales from this house, Daisy?’

  ‘Oh no, sir!’

  ‘And do you recall what I said I would do, should I ever discover you carrying tales?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What did I say, Daisy?’

  Gulping, she trotted out the very words. ‘You said you’d be sure and find some precious thing missing from the house, and then I’d be accused of being the thief. You would see to it that I was thrown in jail, or something worse.’

  ‘You won’t ever forget that, will you?’

  ‘Oh no, sir!’

  The silence was thick as he continued to walk round her, his piercing eyes intent on her terrified expression. Stopping right in front of her, he bent his head to see into her face. ‘Daisy?’

  ‘Yes, sir?’ Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she avoided looking at him.

  ‘Have you seen the state of this room. It’s filthy!’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ When he paused, she gabbled on, ‘I meant to clean it first thing, only Miss Clegg wouldn’t let me in. She told me to leave it, sir, and that’s what I did.’ Shifting her stricken gaze to the door, she told him, ‘She did that, sir. She threw a glass and it hit me, then it broke on the door.’ Turning her face sideways, she showed him the cut right along her cheekbone. ‘She wouldn’t let me in, sir.’ Then, thinking she had said too much, she bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’ll clean it now. I’ll have it shining like a new pin in no time at all.’

  He didn’t answer. Instead he strode out, leaving her quivering in his wake. ‘Mad!’ she muttered, rushing to open a window. ‘They’re both mad as bleedin’ hatters.’

  Upstairs, Ruth heard the front door close behind him. Going to the window, she looked out to see him striding across the road. ‘Miserable git!’ Tipping the bottle to her mouth she took a long swig. ‘Where’s he gone to now, I wonder? Gone to terrorise his tenants into handing over their hard-earned brass, I expect. Can’t even take somebody on to collect the rents, in case they steal a penny or two. Tight-fisted bugger!’ She began to snigger, then she was crying, and feeling sorry for herself. ‘Allus threatening to throw me out, he is,’ she moaned. ‘I’ll tell you summat, though. If he did throw me on the streets, I’d make damned sure I took a bag o’ money with me. I know where he keeps it. He’d never find me, ’cause I’d be away to me mam’s.’ Falling on to the bed, she took another swallow from the bottle. ‘Never mind him finding me,’ she chuckled, ‘I don’t think even I could find where the old cow lives now. Allus moving on, moving on. I’ll find her if I have to, though. I allus have before.’

  Returning to the window, she watched Peter turn the corner at the bottom of the street. ‘Hey, Mr High and Mighty Big Mouth Williams! I’ve got enough on you to send you to the bloody gallows.’ Stopping to think, she realised the serious position she could be in, should she go running to the police. Who would they believe… the housekeeper or the property dealer? Ruth had no illusions. ‘Some way or another, it’d be me swinging from them gallows, not him.’ She knew that for sure.

  She pressed her nose to the window, as if seeking some kind of cold comfort. ‘You’d best get yourself a plan, Ruth Clegg,’ she slurred. ‘’Cause as soon as he knows you’re carrying his kid, he’ll want you out on the streets, never to lay eyes on you again.’ That was the sorry truth of it all.

  * * *

  Over the following week, Ruth Clegg used her available spare time to try to track down her mother. She had no other family, and nowhere to go if Peter should decide he wanted shut of her; and with his child in her belly, there was every chance that might happen sooner rather than later.

  Whichever way it turned out, she had no intention of leaving without filling her pockets from his secret hoard. It was a deadly risk, she knew, but one she would have to take because, even though she carried his child, there’d be no money coming her way from that miserly bastard!

  Come the weekend, she had found someone who might lead her to her mother. Having exhausted most avenues, she decided to try a street in Preston where her mam had lived a few years ago after Ruth had left home.

  The old man in the corner shop recalled her straight away. ‘A bonny, wild thing she were an’ all,’ he said, laughing. ‘Most of us have grown quieter over the years, but not her. She’s still got the devil of a temper, has your mam. Must be that red hair you both have. By! I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of her, I can tell you.’

  ‘Do you know where she went when she moved from this street?’

  Concentrating hard, he shook his head, then he paused, and now he was wondering. ‘I might at that. Yes, let me think now.’ A moment or two of casting his mind back, and he remembered. ‘She took up with this fella – sad kinda bloke, they said – fell out with his son and became a bit of a vagabond.’

  ‘But where did they go from here?’

  Lapsing into concentration again, he scratched his head. ‘Top end o’ Blackburn, they said – a place called Mill Hill, but o’ course I can’t swear on it.’ Pleased with himself so far, he took a small ledger out of the drawer and put it on the counter. ‘There’s something in here… let me see now.’ He put on his spectacles and flicked through the pages. ‘I don’t normally give tick,’ he said sternly, ‘but I bent the rules for your mam – for both of them, in fact. They neither of them went into town to shop.’ He grinned. ‘Seems they were too tied up in each other to want to move out the house.’

  When his remark was met with stony silence, he cleared his throat and scanned the pages, ‘Ah! Here we are.’ Swinging the book round, he let her read it.

  Ruth wasn’t sure. ‘This is a Freda Morris,’ she said, puzzled. ‘That’s not my mam. Her name were Clegg.’

  ‘Aye, well, that were the name she went under when she lived here in Preston. Freda Morris.’ He prodded the page with his finger. ‘The bloke’s name should be there an’ all.’ Ruth followed the line along. ‘Ernie,’ she read. ‘Ernie Fellowes.’

  ‘That’s the one.’ Taking the book, he scanned the page, scrutinising the figures there. ‘By my reckoning, they still owe me one and sixpence.’

  Ruth glanced up at the big old clock over the counter. ‘My God! Is that the time?’

  Following her glance, the old man nodded his head. ‘That’s right, lass,’ he said. ‘Half-past five, that’s what it says.’

  When he turned round, she was already out the door and going at some fast pace towards the tram-stop. ‘Like mother, like daughter!’ he sighed. ‘There goes my one and sixpence!’ And he ran a pen right through the page.

  * * *

  Looking in the mirror, Peter Williams struggled to arrange his tie. ‘That’s twice you’ve been late back,’ he grumbled. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ From the corner of his eye he watched her pacing the floor. ‘What’s wrong with you, woman? Stand still, for God’s sake! You’re making me dizzy!’

  Coming to a halt she smiled at him through the mirror. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You’ve been out every day this week.’ He was not a man to miss even the smallest detail. ‘Late back Wednesday and again today. What’s more, you’re wearing too much rouge to my liking.’ Suspicion flooded his mind. ‘You’re not hiding anything from me, are you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean. You’ve no reason to be suspicious of me, and well you know it.’ She was well versed in sounding hurt.

  Having finished at the mirror, he came across
the hallway to where she was standing. ‘If I thought you had another man behind my back, I’d have to deal with him. You know I’m capable of it.’

  Stroking his face she smiled up at him. ‘That was a clever move,’ she murmured. ‘You got him to do the job, then smothered him and took your money back.’

  Clapping his hand over her mouth he silenced her. ‘Walls have ears!’ he warned.

  Releasing herself, she reassured him, ‘There’s only you and me here. Daisy’s in the yard, hanging out the washing.’

  Smiling wickedly, he put his hand up her skirt and through her knicker leg, making her gasp with pleasure. ‘You wouldn’t carry on behind my back, would you?’

  ‘You know I wouldn’t.’

  He played with her for a while, rousing himself. ‘I’d best be gone!’ As abruptly as he had thrust his hand up, he drew it down. ‘There’s money waiting to be collected.’

  ‘If you hadn’t put your helper in hospital, you wouldn’t have it all to do yourself.’

  ‘He stole from me.’ His face darkened. ‘Nobody does that to me!’

  ‘Find somebody who’s honest,’ she said indifferently, ‘then you wouldn’t have to get out so early of a morning.’

  ‘Easier said than done. They’re all rogues when it comes to other people’s money. No, I’ll do my own collecting from now on.’

  ‘So, you’d rather have money than me, is that it?’

  ‘Of course!’

  And try as she might, she couldn’t change his mind.

  Convinced she was up to something, he had a warning for her. ‘If I ever found out you were two-timing me, I’d have to teach you the same lesson I taught him.’

  ‘I’m not two-timing you.’ Christ, he was stupid. She was pregnant by him, and he hadn’t noticed yet.

  ‘You’d be thrown out, with nothing but the clothes you stand up in,’ he warned her.

  ‘There’s no other man,’ she protested. ‘There’s only you, Peter. I don’t want anybody else.’

  ‘Hmh!’ Pursing his lips, he took stock of her, quietly nodding with satisfaction. ‘That smack across the head the other night seems to have brought you to your senses.’

  ‘Really?’ There were times when she hated him.

  ‘I mean, look around here.’ Propelling her backwards into the drawing room, he gestured widely. ‘Not an empty bottle in sight, and everything in its place.’ Pointing to the side-table, he sneered, ‘There’s even a bowl of flowers on the table. My God, Ruth! You’re such a cunning bitch, I can’t help but wonder what you’re up to.’

  ‘I’m keeping a good house for you,’ she smiled knowingly. ‘After all, it’s what you pay me for.’

  His cold eyes raked her face. ‘Something tells me you’re not to be trusted.’

  When she reached out to embrace him, he stepped back a pace, and was quickly gone. Left behind, Ruth couldn’t rest. She walked to the window then back to the fireplace, now to the door, and back again, as if she’d forgotten something, but didn’t know quite what.

  Suddenly she went rushing out of the room and straight into young Daisy, who squealed with fright. ‘Oh miss, yer nearly gave me a heart attack!’ Clutching her chest she leaned on the wall to catch her breath.

  ‘Stand up, you stupid girl!’

  Daisy stood up straight as a ramrod. ‘Yes, miss.’ She had felt the weight of Ruth Clegg’s fist several times – and it was not a pleasant experience. ‘Sorry, miss.’

  ‘I’m going out now. I may not be back for a while.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Secretly, she wished the pair of them would go out and never bloomin’ well come back!

  ‘When the master returns – whatever time that may be – I want you to tell him I’ve only just that minute gone out. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Daisy nodded. ‘You’re going out now,’ she repeated, ‘only when the master comes back, even if it’s ten o’clock tonight, I’m to say you’ve only that minute gone out.’

  ‘And you’re to say that I’ve just gone for a quick breath of air – is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Daisy’s imagination ran riot. A breath of air, my arse! she thought. More likely you’re meeting some bloke for a bit o’ tomfoolery, ’cause he didn’t ’ave yer in his bed last night. Ever vigilant, Daisy kept account of what the couple got up to, in case the information might come in handy some day.

  ‘Remember what I said, Daisy,’ Ruth rapped out, seeing the maid’s attention wandering. ‘Keep it in mind and don’t open your mouth before you think what you’re saying.’

  ‘No, miss.’ She got all flustered. ‘I mean yes, miss.’

  ‘Or I may have to look for someone who can do as I ask.’

  ‘I understand, miss.’

  ‘Good. Now be about your business. Go on, girl!’

  While Daisy scurried away, Ruth took herself upstairs to get ready. She decided to look her splendid best. ‘It’s been a long time since she last saw yer,’ she muttered, throwing this and that out of the wardrobe. ‘The last time you an’ her were together you fought like cat and dog. You never got on, and you never will, and now you’re thinking of going back to grovel at her feet.’

  She sighed, long and hard. ‘That hard-faced bugger might take you in and she might not, but one thing’s for certain, if she does take you in, she’ll make you suffer first, then she’ll want every penny in your purse.’ She chuckled. ‘So she won’t have to know what I’ve got in my purse, will she, eh?’ A surge of anger coloured her thinking. ‘All the same, I want her to know how well I’ve done. She said I’d never amount to anything, but she’s wrong. I’ve got fine clothes and a few bits of decent jewellery, and what with the odd guinea I’ve been stealing away from that bastard, it all adds up to a tidy little haul.’ Taking a long crimson dress out of the wardrobe, she flung it aside. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll be wanting that where I’m going.’ But she had worn it time and again, when they’d acted the lady and gent and sat at the table to be waited on by Daisy. Still, better to be alive and wearing sack cloth, than to be dead in a crimson dress.

  She paused a moment, filled with all kinds of regrets. ‘I had intended taking him for a damned sight more, but what with him having his own sister murdered, then killing the man he sent to do his dirty work… By! I daren’t think what he’d do to me if he took a mind.’ The idea of being burnt alive or smothered to death was so terrifying, she sat on the bed and gave herself a minute to think about what she was doing.

  ‘You’re stealing his money,’ she said aloud, ‘and you know how he’d repay you for that, if he ever found out. That poor young fella he had working for him was beaten senseless, before being left for dead in some dirty old alley.’

  The truth was, Peter Williams was capable of anything and everything. ‘Even his own mother isn’t safe.’

  Realising the danger she herself might be in, she summed up the total of her sins. ‘I’ve lived in his house and slept in his bed, and now I’ve got myself with child – the very thing he told me not to do. I might have got rid, but I didn’t realise till it were too late. And now I’m stealing his precious money, and looking to go into hiding so he can’t get his evil hands on me.’ It was a catalogue of errors, which sent the shivers down her back.

  But she decided, ‘I’m not like all the others though. I know what he’s done, and I could shop him to the police tomorrow, if I had a mind. If he ever finds me, I’ll remind him of that.’ On the other hand, knowing all that was small comfort. She decided it was best not to tell her mam too much about him. Otherwise, if he found her there, like as not he’d have the whole bleedin’ place set afire, with all of them in it!

  After washing and putting on clean underwear, she brushed her hair until it shone like gold. Her long, auburn hair was the one feature of which she had always been proud. There had been a time when she enjoyed Peter running his hands through it, but not any more. Not since she knew those same hands had smothered a man to death.

  Some short time later
, looking stunning in a brown, close-fitting costume and matching court shoes with high, chunky heels, she went to the kitchen and reminded Daisy, ‘Don’t forget what I told you.’

  ‘No, miss.’ Kneeling over her mop-bucket, Daisy drew her hand out of the soapy water and rubbed her nose, leaving a blob of soap-suds clinging to her nose-end. ‘I’ve not forgot.’

  ‘Think on it, then. If you let me down, I’ll swing for you.’ Trying not to laugh, she told the hapless girl, ‘Wipe your nose. You look like a clown.’

  With that she turned away and in a minute was out of the house and down the street. Behind her, mimicking Ruth to perfection, Daisy strutted about the kitchen on her tippy-toes. ‘Think on now, Daisy,’ she said, in her best voice. ‘Let me down and I’ll swing for you.’ Giving the bucket a kick, she promised sourly, ‘If I wasn’t so bleedin’ scared, I’d give the police enough to get the pair of youse put in clink where you belong!’ Another possibility had often crossed her mind. ‘Mind you, I could demand enough money from Peter Williams to set meself up for the rest of my life.’

  When somewhere in that old house a floorboard creaked, she swung round in terror, one hand clapped over her mouth. When she realised that it was nothing, she sat down in the chair, trembling with fright. ‘Oh, you silly, silly girl, Daisy Morgan. When will you learn to keep your mouth shut!’ Resuming her work, she sang at the top of her voice; anything to shut out the dangerous thoughts. She mustn’t speak of them again; she mustn’t listen at doors or peep through keyholes. Because she, like Ruth, already knew far too much for her own good.

  * * *

  Freda Morris was in the back scullery washing out her smalls, when the knock came on the front door. Swinging round, she stood, momentarily petrified, as she wondered what to do. A moment later and the knock came again, this time more determined. ‘That bloody Ernie’s never here when he’s needed!’ Like a thief in the night, she made her way along the passage where she sneaked into the front parlour and lifting the curtains, peeped out to the front door.