Blue Moon (14 page)

‘My God, Bea,’ said Susan Marley, pushing a wisp of grey hair back into her bun, ‘it’s in the paper!’

Bea turned her head away. Ruby got up and shut the front-room door when she heard Susan and May come in. When Nelson’s death happened, she and her mother had decided that, to save distress, they would simply
tell May that Nelson had gone to see Jesus. May let her mother kiss her now, and then she ran to Ruby.

‘Hello, sweetheart. Are you being a good girl for Auntie Susan?’ Susan Marley was no relation, but every child in the street called grown-ups ‘Auntie this’ and ‘Uncle that’.

May nodded. ‘I got all my spellings right at school.’

‘Good for you,’ said Ruby.

Susan Marley was spreading a newspaper over the table and, sure enough, there in column five on the front page was a short piece headed ‘
Drowning at Worthing’
:

‘I’ve never known anybody who had their name in the paper before,’ said Susan.

‘Neither have I,’ said Bea drily.

Although, in May of that year, the new Town Hall had been opened by the stuttering Prince George, with a lavish ceremony including military processions and fireworks, some public meetings were still being held in the old Town Hall. The familiar building at the crossroads between Chapel Road and South Street stood facing the sea. It had stood guard over the town since Victorian times, and had been the place where people
gathered spontaneously in times of trouble and to celebrate coronations and victories in battle. The new Town Hall might have won accolades and prizes, but to the people of Worthing the old Town Hall seemed like a trusted friend.

Jim was waiting when Ruby dashed in from Warnes to change into a long-sleeved black dress, which ended just below her knee. On top she wore a dark-grey coat and a black hat with a tipped brim. Bea was in what would be her funeral outfit: a calf-length black pleated dress with a wide band across the hips. Jim helped her into her black coat with a fur collar and she put on a close-fitting hat with a long black veil. Jim wore a black tie with his only suit.

When they walked up the steps of the Town Hall and in through the front door, they were shown into a room to the left. The chairs were set out in rows, facing a put-up table with a single chair behind it. The usher indicated that the two women should occupy the front-row seats. As she sat down, Bea took a handkerchief from her handbag and scrunched it into her hand in case she needed it, and then pulled the edge of her veil over her face. Ruby took the opportunity to look round every time the doors opened, to acknowledge the friends and neighbours who had turned out. Aunt Vinny had come along with Cousin Lily. The only notable absentee was Susan Marley, who was looking after May. Ruby recognized the faces, although she didn’t know all the names of the local fishermen from the area around the Steyne; and the coxswain of
the lifeboat was there, as well as a couple of policemen. When Albert Longman came into the room he seemed slightly put out to see Ruby sitting with Jim. He glared at Ruby and didn’t respond to her apologetic smile.

At ten-thirty the clock on the front of the old Town Hall struck the half-hour and the coroner walked into the room. He was a nondescript man in a grey suit with grey hair and a grey expression, and began the proceedings by explaining that his name was Dr Thomas Fox-Drayton.

‘A coroner’s court is held,’ he went on, ‘when a death is sudden, unnatural or violent. I shall be considering all the evidence concerning the death at a later date. We have met today for the death to be recorded and we shall reconvene at a later date to be decided, when all necessary investigations have been completed. Has the deceased been formally identified?’

One of the policemen rose. ‘Yes, sir. The deceased has been formally identified as Nelson Eldon Bateman.’

‘In that case,’ said the coroner, ‘the death of Nelson Eldon Bateman is duly recorded, and permission is hereby given for the burial of the said Nelson Eldon Bateman.’ He looked directly at Bea before adding, ‘May I offer you my most sincere condolences, Mrs Bateman. This court is adjourned until Thursday November the twenty-third.’ And with that, he stood up, gathered his papers and left.

There was a buzz of conversation as people stood up to leave, but they waited for Bea and Ruby to go first.
Outside, Jim offered to take them to a tea room, but Bea was anxious to get back home, so they hurried off.

Back home, Ruby put the kettle on. ‘I thought they were going to do it all there and then,’ she said, doing her best to hide her disappointment.

‘The police have to gather all the evidence,’ said Jim.

‘But we know how he died,’ said Bea. ‘He drowned.’

‘The coroner will want to know what he was doing,’ said Jim. ‘If anyone actually saw what happened; if he could have been saved, if a different course of action had been taken – all that sort of thing. It takes time to gather all that information.’

‘But we can go ahead and have the funeral,’ said Ruby, pulling off her hat.

‘That’s right,’ Jim nodded. ‘Do you know a funeral director?’

‘We’ve got a policy with the Co-op,’ said Bea. ‘I’ve already been to see them.’

‘It’s all set for Monday,’ said Ruby.

‘I should like to come, if I may,’ said Jim. ‘I didn’t know Mr Bateman too well, but I should like to pay my respects anyway.’

‘Thank you,’ said Bea. ‘The only person we haven’t told is Percy. I don’t suppose you know where he is?’

Jim shook his head. ‘But I may be able to find out.’

‘Would you?’ said Bea. ‘It doesn’t seem right that he’s not here.’

For a while, the people who had been at the inquest congregated on the Town Hall steps. Few of them talked
about Nelson. They were more interested in the topics of the day: the disastrous fire on the pier; the bad weather and its effect on fishing; and Watkins, the bootmaker in Chesswood Road, who was no good at mending shoes any more, but still charged the earth to do it. Cousin Lily sashayed down the steps, trying to look every inch the film star, and was gratified to turn at least a couple of heads. She had already kissed her mother goodbye in the courtroom. Aunt Vinny was anxious to get back to the laundry where she worked.

As Lily turned the corner to get back to her employer’s in Richmond Road, she was accosted by a man she’d never seen before. ‘Excuse me, Miss.’

He was ordinary-looking, wearing a smart brown suit, and he carried a trilby hat, which he lifted as he spoke. Lily looked him up and down. He was old – at least forty-five – but he was clean-shaven and smelled vaguely of some sort of toilet water. He might have been a perfect stranger, but she wasn’t afraid or concerned. He seemed a respectable person.

‘Am I right in thinking you are a relative of Mrs Bateman?’

‘She’s my auntie,’ said Lily, lowering her eyes and reaching for her handkerchief. ‘It’s so awful what’s happened. I can hardly believe it.’

The man nodded. ‘I am very sorry for your loss.’ He hesitated. ‘I wonder,’ he began again, ‘would you do me the great kindness of delivering a letter to the widow?’

‘A letter?’ said Lily, suddenly curious.

‘I would go myself,’ he said, ‘but I have no wish to intrude.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Lily. ‘I have to go back to my work right now. My employer only gave me an hour off, but I can take it around this evening, if you like.’

‘That would be perfect,’ said the man. He reached into his breast pocket and drew out an envelope. It was fairly flat except for one corner and, when she took it, Lily could feel something slightly bulky inside. She looked up curiously.

‘I hope I can trust you,’ said the man.

‘Oh, absolutely,’ said Lily with a smile. ‘Aunt Bea shall have it tonight.’

He nodded and tipped his hat again. ‘Much obliged,’ he said, making as if to leave, but then he turned back. ‘Tell me, who was that young woman with Bea?’

‘Her daughter,’ said Lily. ‘My cousin Ruby.’

‘Her daughter,’ the man repeated. ‘How old is she?’

‘Same age as me,’ said Lily. ‘Seventeen.’

‘I see,’ he smiled

‘When I see Aunt Bea, who shall I say gave me this letter?’

‘She’ll know,’ he smiled.

CHAPTER 10

The headquarters of the British Union of Fascists was in Warwick Street. Jim had no desire to go there, but he had a sneaky feeling that someone in this place might know Percy’s whereabouts. Percy wasn’t a political person, but following Nelson’s undisguised disapproval of the movement, Jim knew that he harboured desires to join up, just to spite his father.

Jim climbed the steps and opened the door. The receptionist, a rather severe-looking woman with a tight bun, greeted him warmly. At first she obviously thought he wanted to become a member, but when he explained why he had come, he was asked to take a seat. A picture of Sir Oswald Mosley dressed in a military-style uniform dominated the wall opposite. The office was a hive of activity. While he waited, several young men came in, asking to be recruited. Each one was sent down a corridor and Jim didn’t see them again.

Presently an older man came to see him. Dressed entirely in black, with a shirt that buttoned on the shoulder rather than at the neck, the man shook his hand.

‘Drayton,’ he said stiffly. ‘Lemuel Drayton. What can I do for you?’

‘James Searle,’ said Jim. ‘I’m trying to trace a friend of mine, Percy Bateman.’

‘Oh yes?’ When Jim said Percy’s name there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition on Drayton’s face.

‘I think he may have joined the BUF,’ Jim ploughed on. ‘He certainly talked about it.’

Drayton drew in his breath noisily. ‘Anyone coming to us comes of his own free will,’ he said stiffly. ‘This is a free country, and a man can make his own choices.’ He moved his head slightly, and Jim noticed two thickset men coming towards him.

‘I haven’t come here to complain,’ said Jim.

‘Then what have you come for?’ said Drayton in a prickly tone. The heavies stood either side of him now. They said nothing, but their presence was threatening enough.

‘I don’t know if you’ve heard about the fisherman who drowned a few days ago?’ said Jim, eyeing the other two men nervously.

‘What of it?’ said Drayton. ‘It has nothing to do with us.’

‘The man was Percy’s father,’ said Jim. ‘If Percy is here, he needs to be informed.’

The three men deflated. Drayton frowned. ‘A rum do,’ he said, jerking his head again. The other two men stepped back and stood to attention by the wall, their hands clasped together in front of them, staring somewhere in the middle distance.

‘Is he here?’ Jim asked again.

‘No.’

‘But he is a member?’ said Jim.

‘I can’t tell you that,’ said Drayton.

‘But surely …’ Jim began again.

‘I’ll inform the recruiting officer, but the said party might not want to have contact with his family,’ said Drayton. ‘Come back tomorrow.’

‘But under the circumstances …’ Jim started.

‘Tomorrow,’ said Drayton, and with that he and his heavies walked away.

Ruby woke up to the sound of someone moving around. She raised her head from the pillow and saw a light on under her mother’s bedroom door. May was still sleeping soundly, so she slipped out of bed and, pulling an old cardigan around her shoulders, padded quietly to her mother’s room.

‘Are you all right, Mum?’ she said softly as she tapped on the door. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes.’

The room was in chaos. Her mother, dressed only in her nightie, had an overflowing suitcase on the bed and was busy stuffing her father’s things into a pillowcase.

‘Can’t this wait until morning, Mum? It’s the middle of the night.’

Her mother looked at her with wild eyes. ‘I can’t sleep with it in the same room. I want him gone. I can’t bear him in my life a second longer.’ She sat on the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands.

For a second Ruby didn’t know what to do. She knew Bea had led a dog’s life, but until now she had had no idea of the strength of feeling inside her mother. There were times when she’d wished Bea would stand up to Nelson, but she never did. She had misunderstood her mother’s acceptance as a sort of love, but now Ruby could see something entirely different. She put her arms around her mother’s shoulders. They were like ice.

‘Mum, you’re freezing,’ she said. ‘Get back into bed. I’ll do it.’

‘But I can’t sleep,’ Bea said plaintively. She looked around. ‘He’s still here.’ With an angry movement, she pushed a shirt into the pillowcase. ‘His body may be with the undertaker, but I can still smell him.’

‘Then let me help you.’ Ruby got her mother a dressing gown and made her put it on. They made short work of what remained of Nelson’s things, and then Ruby took the suitcase and three pillowcases downstairs and put them in the scullery. She would put aside a few of his best things to sell, and the rest could go in the suitcase to be passed around for the neighbours. Anything too tatty could be used for rags. Someone might as well benefit from his death. It wasn’t much to show for a life; made even less by the sentiment behind getting rid of it. Ruby made some tea, filled the stone hot-water bottle and went back to her mother. Bea was back in bed, but not sleeping. Ruby could see that she was shivering.

‘What are we going to do, Ruby?’

‘I don’t know, Mum,’ said Ruby, wrapping the
hot-water bottle in a piece of blanket and putting it by her mother’s feet, ‘but please, don’t worry. Something will turn up.’

‘Yes, but what?’ said Bea. ‘We don’t have to pay rent, but your job won’t keep the three of us.’

‘I’ll look for a better job,’ said Ruby, ‘or we could take in a lodger.’

‘A lodger?’ cried Bea. ‘But where would we put him?’

‘Let’s talk about it in the morning,’ said Ruby and, indicating the cup on the bedside table, added, ‘Drink your tea.’ She knew her mother wouldn’t like the idea she’d had, and she didn’t want an argument now.

‘No,’ Bea insisted, ‘let’s talk about it now. Where would we put a lodger?’