Liverpool Taffy (19 page)

‘Ellen! What’s wrong?’

Ellen looked ghastly. White as a sheet, her striped blouse was done up on the wrong buttons and bunched up under one ear and her coat was cock-eyed. She wore no hat and her yellow hair was wildly windswept, and to Biddy’s horror she saw her friend was wearing slippers; slippers, in the city centre and on a weekday! But Ellen was plainly in a terrible state.

‘Biddy! Oh thank God … can you come? The most awful thing … I can’t explain here … Biddy … can you come – now this minute?’

Miss Whitney’s eyes were like saucers and her mouth had dropped open. She did not speak as Biddy ran out from behind the counter and took her friend in her arms.

‘Calm down, Ellen, just calm down. I’ll come with you, everything will be all right, now we’ll walk quietly down to the river, it’s my dinner-break now anyway … come with me, we’ll sort it all out.’

‘I’m so sorry, madam,’ Miss Whitney was saying to her customer. ‘I don’t know what all that was about but my assistant is a sensible young thing, she’ll calm the gel down. And now, if you would like to try …’

The glass door shut behind them and Ellen began to moan. Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her ashen cheeks.

‘Ellen, what
is
it? Can’t you tell me? How can I help you? Is Mr Bowker ill?’

‘I’m not sure. But I think he is. When I run out ’e was mekin’ the most awful snorin’ noise, ’e didn’t seem to hear me when I asked what were wrong … Bid, you must come back to the flat, if ’e’s ill then I’m in terrible trouble.’

‘All right, though it isn’t your fault if he’s ill,’ Biddy said, submitting to the urgent tugging on her arm. ‘How did you get here?’

‘By taxi. It’s waiting. Do come on!’

‘I’m coming as fast as I can,’ Biddy said patiently. ‘Ah, I can see the taxi … what a good job he waited. We’ll be back there in no time now.’ The girls climbed into the back of the taxi and Ellen said, ‘Shaw’s Alley!’ so briskly and with such decision that Biddy began to hope her friend was coming out of her terrified state, but Ellen would only shake her head and look nervously at the back of the driver’s head when asked questions, so Biddy sat back and waited. They would be at the flat soon enough.

‘Oh, don’t ask questions, Bid, just come an’ tek a look! Tell me ’e’s awright an’ I’ll stop cryin’, you can be sure o’ that. Come on, tek a look.’

Mr Bowker was in the bedroom. He was lying on his back, his grey head on the pillow, his naked body half-covered by the sheet. He looked almost well, almost ordinary, though his expression was stern.

Biddy touched him gently. His flesh was cool, but what else should she expect? He was naked and it was a chilly day. She leaned over him. He did not move and she realised, with a chill, that his chest was not moving either. He did not appear to be breathing.

Beside her, Ellen put a quivering hand on her lover’s shoulder. ‘Ted? Ted, love, it’s Ellie. Are you all right? Oh Ted, I do love you so much, but you mustn’t be ill, you really mustn’t. Tell me you’re all right really … just sleepin’!’

‘Get me the round mirror off your dressing-table,’ Biddy said suddenly. ‘Hurry, Ellen.’

Uncomprehending, Ellen fetched the mirror and handed it to her friend. Biddy took it and held it to Mr Bowker’s lips. After a couple of minutes she looked hard at the mirror. Its bright surface was undimmed.

‘What did you do that for?’ Ellen said, her voice shaking. ‘Oh, Bid, I’m bleedin’ terrified!’

‘You must pull yourself together, dear,’ Biddy said. Her own voice was none too steady. ‘I’m afraid Mr Bowker … oh Ellie, I’m almost certain he’s dead!’

The two girls stared at each other in consternation. What on earth were they going to do? Mr Bowker and Ellen should both have been back at work by now and wherever he had died, he must not be discovered in the flat of one of his employees. Biddy was quite calm enough to realise it, but Ellen suddenly began to weep, tears pouring down her face. She threw herself on the bed, clasping Mr Bowker’s dead body in her arms, smothering his face with kisses.

‘Oh Ted, Ted, don’t leave me, I can’t face it,’ she sobbed. ‘You know ’ow I loved you … you was all I wanted, the money an’ the trips away an’ the pretty clothes didn’t marrer a damn. Come back to your Ellie, don’t leave me!’

‘Darling Ellen, he’s gone and he can’t come back,’ Biddy said, her own eyes filling with tears. ‘But we must be sensible – you must be more than sensible, you must be very brave. Go and get dressed properly, dress slowly and carefully, Ellen, brush your hair, wash your face, and put some make-up on. Don’t you see, we can’t let him be found here, and you’ve got to go back to work and act absolutely normally or we’re lost.’

‘Act normally?
Normally
? When Ted’s dead, when he won’t come ’ome to me no more …’

‘Yes, normally. Unless you want the police, and the most dreadful scandal – why, you might even find yourself in the dock! We don’t know why he died yet, though I’d guess it was a stroke or a heart attack, but whatever it was, love, we can’t let him be found here. Particularly not like this.’

Oh, Bid, I’ll do me best but I’m not meself,’ Ellen said helplessly, the tears still raining down her face. ‘What must I do? Say it agin.’

‘You must go into the kitchen, boil some water, have a good wash and get dressed slowly,’ Biddy said clearly. ‘Dear Ellen, I’m going to dress Mr Bowker whilst you do that, and then you must go to work. No, don’t shake your head at me, I said you’d have to be awfully brave and I meant it. But think of poor Mr Bowker, the scandal, Ellie dear. You wouldn’t want that for him, would you?’

‘There’ll be a scandal when ’is wife finds out ’e owns the flat what I live in,’ Ellen said mournfully, but she wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and gave Biddy a watery smile. ‘I’m ashamed that I can’t ’elp you wi’ Ted, but I’d only break down. I’ll go an’ wash now.’

She left the room. Biddy collected Mr Bowker’s clothes from the chair on which he had laid them and began to dress him. It was unbelievably difficult and several times she was tempted to call Ellen through to help, but each time she resisted the temptation. Hard though it was to push the inanimate limbs into sleeves and trousers, it was better to struggle on alone, and get the job done before Mr Bowker’s limbs began to stiffen, rather than have a hysterical Ellen on her hands.

It was tempting to tell oneself that it would be all right to leave off the underpants, or the front buttoning vest, but Biddy knew they must get everything right so that no one suspected. His sock suspenders and armbands, both objects which Biddy had never come across before, baffled her completely until it occurred to her to ask Ellen what they were. They were diligently put in their right places and then Biddy, who had done most of the task without once fully opening her eyes, looked down at Mr Bowker as he lay, neatly on his back once more, on the bed.

Poor chap! He had been a good husband to a very difficult woman, a good lover and provider to Ellen … he had even been good to Biddy in his way, since he had not turned her out and had always spoken nicely to her. And now he had been mauled about by her inexpert hands – the sock suspenders had been tried, doubtfully, in some unusual spots before it occurred to her to get Ellen’s advice – and would, she supposed vaguely, presently be transported somewhere distant at the dead of night, where he could be respectably discovered in the morning.

‘You ’aven’t ’alf made a mess of ’is ’air,’ an accusing voice behind her said, causing Biddy to jump almost out of her skin. ‘Gimme a comb, for God’s sake.’

It was Ellen, washed, dressed and tidy. Even her eyes looked less swollen, though there was a tell-tale redness about them if anyone had looked closely. Ellen snatched a comb off the dressing-table and tidied Mr Bowker’s hair, then smoothed a small hand down his cheek and round his chin. It was, Biddy thought, the sweetest and gentlest of farewells and it carried with it all the meaning and the love which had been missing when Ellen had cast herself so tempestuously upon her lover’s body earlier.

‘There, my darlin’,’ Ellen said softly. ‘Thank you, dear Father, for the good times, an’ take good care o’ my Ted, ’oo never ’urt nobody.’ She turned away from the bed. Tears glittered in her eyes once more but she smiled resolutely at Biddy. ‘All over now, Bid. What’s to do next, then?’

‘Oh, Ellie, you’re wonderful,’ Biddy said warmly. ‘Go off to work and forget everything. We can’t do much else anyway until … until much later. I’ll finish tidying up here and then I’ll go back to work as well. We’ll come home at the usual time – I’ll tell Miss Whitney and Miss Harborough that you’d gone home and found – found someone had picked the lock and got into the flat. You’d come to get me so’s I could see if anything of mine was missing.’

‘Will that do?’ Ellen asked fearfully. ‘They won’t send for the scuffers or nothin’, will they?’

‘No, because I’ll say that when I got back I realised I must have left the door on the latch and no one had been in at all,’ Biddy said, improvising rapidly and quite astounded by her own capacity to lie at a moment’s notice. ‘I’ll say I flew out in a great rush and left things in a mess, having overslept. Don’t worry, Ellen, that side of it’s easy. Now just you go back to work, there’s a dear.’

‘All right, if you’re sure you can manage,’ Ellen said. ‘I’ll be a bit late, but all they can do is dock me pay. What’ll I say when Mr Bowker doesn’t come back, though?’

‘No one will ask you to say anything, not if he’s been as careful as you say he has,’ Biddy said shrewdly. ‘If they ask you, just shrug and say something a bit cheeky … you know the sort of thing.’

‘Right.’ Ellen was still very pale, but Biddy saw, with considerable relief, that her friend was calm and collected. ‘I’ll go now, then. An’ … thanks, Bid. I’ll never forget what you done for me today.’

Alone in the flat, Biddy tidied up. She was loth to move Mr Bowker but she had said Ellen was to tell people she thought they’d had a break-in. Suppose the lie came true? Suppose someone really did break in, or suppose the window-cleaner came? And looked through the window and saw a fully-dressed corpse lying on the bed?

‘I’m sorry, Mr Bowker, but it’s for the best,’ Biddy said apologetically, pulling him into what looked like a comfortable sleeping position, on his side. She thought about curling him up which would look more natural, but when she tried there was resistance and she
realised he was already stiffening. Best not, then. He would be easier to move straight up than curled over like a dried-up railway sandwich.

Presently, having done everything she felt she should, she locked the flat and hurried back to work. She told Miss Whitney and Miss Harborough the story she had concocted for Ellen and was gratified at the ease with which they swallowed it, Miss Whitney even going so far as to tell her to buy a Yale lock for the door, so that it would automatically lock when shut.

‘It would be worth the money for the peace of mind, Biddy,’ she said rather severely. ‘You lost a good hour’s pay, running off like that.’

‘Sorry, Miss Whitney,’ Biddy said meekly. ‘I’ll mebbe do that – buy a Yale.’

And with the words, the enormity of it all hit her like a blow to the stomach. She had no idea how long it would take, but soon enough the flat would be closed to them and she and Ellen would be homeless. All the months of saving and scheming, all their sweet-making, for she had shown Ellen how to make sweets too, and they had produced quite a lot, was going to be needed at last. Total independance, which she had dreaded, was just around the corner.

‘Come along, Biddy, don’t stand there dreaming; Miss Ryder came in this morning and bought a tea-gown, only it’s a little long in the skirt; she wants four inches off it. And Mrs Bland will have let out those darts for Miss Hetherington of Randolph Street, so if you take the skirt and pick up Miss Hetherington’s dress … you can kill two birds with one stone.’

Shuddering slightly at the thought of killing birds, Biddy took the proffered parcel and set off. It took her most of the afternoon to complete her errands, for Mrs Bland had a gown finished for another customer on the Boulevarde, so one way and another Biddy was kept busy until it was finally time to go home.

She arrived back as dusk was falling and the lamplighter was doing his rounds. She climbed the stairs and entered the flat, feeling her heart sink as she did so. She went into the kitchen, put the kettle on, crossed the hall and opened the bedroom door. For some reason she was deeply disappointed to find that Mr Bowker’s body was still there, though since only she and Ellen knew what had happened, and since Mr Bowker was in no state to walk out on them, heaven knew what she had expected to find.

So. There was to be no miracle, neither had it been a dream or a nightmare and no one had come along and stolen Mr Bowker, or seen him through the window and caused an outcry. Now he was once again her problem. Biddy stood staring down at the bed for a long time, then went back into the kitchen, made the tea, and was drinking her first cup when Ellen clattered up the stairs and into the room. She looked almost her usual self and smiled quite brightly at Biddy.

‘Tea? Lovely. Bid, is ’e … is it …’

‘I haven’t moved him, so he’s still there,’ Biddy said, trying not to sound impatient. After all, Ellen had as much right as she to pray for a miracle. ‘Hush a moment though, Ellen; I’m trying to think of a plan.’

Moments passed. Ellen poured herself a cup of tea and stared into it like a fortune teller into a crystal ball. Biddy continued to think.

At last she heaved a sigh and sat back in her chair. ‘Look, Ellen, they’re going to start wondering as soon as Mr Bowker doesn’t turn up at home tonight; right?’

‘Yeah, I reckon so.’

‘But they won’t start searching, because all men stay out late sometimes, or have appointments, or work over. Would you say that was right too?’

‘I dunno,’ Ellen said doubtfully. ‘I think ’e usually went ’ome straight after work. ‘Is wife weren’t a well woman, and she ’ad a bitter tongue.’

‘Well, there you are, then. If he doesn’t turn up at his usual time everyone will think to themselves,
the poor feller’s got his leg loose and isn’t likely to come running back with his tail down for a few hours
, and they won’t give the matter another thought. Right?’