Lovers Meeting (29 page)

Josie asked her then, ‘Can you read?’ When Rhoda nodded, Josie handed her the statement. Rhoda read it slowly and signed it, shakily but legibly, where Josie indicated. Sammy and Josie signed and dated it as witnesses. Ten minutes later Sammy was able to hail a passing policeman and he took Rhoda and her statement away. Sammy was left comforting Josie, now sick and shivering from reaction, with hot tea. ‘And I put a drop o’ something in it.’

Garbutt entered Packer’s office by way of the back yard. His face was streaked with sweat despite the coldness of the day. Packer stared at him when he burst into the room, at his dishevelled dress and clean-shaven face, but he hastened to do Garbutt’s bidding when he demanded hoarsely, ‘Get that damned woman out of here!’

Packer scurried out to his secretary and told her, ‘You can finish for the day.’ And, inventing a pretext, ‘I’ve had a bet on a horse come up.’ He gave her a half-crown. ‘Go and celebrate and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She leaned against him as she stood. ‘Can’t we celebrate together?’

‘Tomorrow.’ He helped her into her coat and held the door open, bolted it as soon as she had gone. He returned to his office and asked fearfully, ‘What’s wrong?’

Garbutt knew the reason for that fear and snapped bitterly, ‘You don’t need to worry. You won’t be involved – unless they take me. I went after the Miller woman today and that stupid cow, Rhoda, let me down.’ He recounted briefly what had happened at the yard and went on: ‘Rhoda might have the sense to keep her mouth shut, though I doubt it, but the watchman saw everything: old Sammy Allnutt. I remember him –
and he remembers me
! They’ve got my name, description, witnesses, so you’ve got to get me out of the country quick – for your sake as well as mine.’

Packer smuggled Garbutt back to his house in a cab after darkness fell. The solicitor lived alone. His housekeeper came in daily but she had left him a meal and gone before the two men arrived. Packer went out again that evening. He had criminal contacts and Garbutt had money. The arrangements took time and Garbutt had to hide in Packer’s attic each day while the housekeeper cleaned and cooked. But before a week was out he was on a ship bound for Antwerp.

Josie had returned to the Langley house in fear and clutching Charlotte by the hand, reluctant to let the child out of her sight. Sergeant Normanby came to see her that evening to take a statement from her. He agreed with her conclusion that it seemed Garbutt was waging a vendetta against the Langley family. But then he assured her, ‘I reckon Garbutt has run for his life.’

A week later he returned. ‘We’ve been to Garbutt’s house outside o’ London. We thought we’d find all manner of evidence there to incriminate him but the place was clean as a whistle. Not that it matters because it’s a certainty he’ll hang when we get him. We talked to his staff – and they talked to us. None of them had criminal records – till now – but they admitted he paid them a hefty bribe to alibi him and they’ll go down for perjury.’

Then Normanby added, ‘One thing in particular they told us, though, was that Garbutt went across the Channel frequently, for a few days or a week. So it sounds like he had a hiding place waiting for him over there. It’s a certainty he’s over there now and he’ll never come back unless we fetch him.’

Josie slept peacefully that night for the first time in a week, mistakenly relieved and secure.

Garbutt had drawn on his funds in France and gone to ground. But his hatred of the Langley family had now widened and he was vowing vengeance on the Miller woman.

20

May 1909

‘I wish I understood the stars, Captain.’ Adelaide Freebody said it plaintively, but only so Tom Collingwood could hear. There were some ninety diners in the saloon of the
Dorothy Snow
in mid-Atlantic, seated at two long tables spread with thick white damask cloths. Adelaide sat on Tom’s left with her parents on hers, both of them engrossed in conversation with other passengers or ship’s officers. She was tall and shapely with a deal of bosom on display. Now she went on huskily, ‘I stand in the back of the ship every night after dinner and try to work out which is which but I just get mixed up. There sure are a lot of them.’

Tom was sympathetic: ‘There are. So I usually navigate by the sun.’ He had been captain of the
Dorothy Snow
for over five months now and he had grown used to passengers. It helped that he was briefed by the ship’s purser, so he knew that Adelaide was heiress to a fortune, made by her father out of property in New York. Tom’s ship had recently sailed from there, bound for Southampton.

There was a lull in the conversation at his end of the table as Adelaide thought about his answer. A man in his fifties, two places away on Tom’s right, leaned forward to say, ‘I understand this ship will be paying off when she gets to London, Captain.’

Tom replied, ‘That’s so, Mr Harvey. She is to undergo a major refit and after that she will be back on the transatlantic run.’ The purser had told him: ‘Albert Harvey is a big nob in hotels. He has three or four in England and now another two in the States. He makes the crossing two or three times a year on business.’

Now Harvey confirmed, ‘Then I will certainly be using her. She suits me down to the ground.’

Tom nodded in acknowledgment. ‘Thank you.’

Harvey went on, ‘So you will have some time with your family?’

‘Yes, I will. I’m looking forward to it.’

Harvey queried, ‘Children?’

‘A little girl: Charlotte. She’s four years old.’ He sensed Adelaide’s declining interest and grinned to himself. This tactic usually saved him from unwanted advances. But the grin faded when he wondered how things were in the Langley house. Letters occasionally caught up with him. Written by Mrs Miller, they were polite and cheerful, assuring him that all was well, but he wondered if she was keeping her troubles to herself?

He would be glad to be home. It was almost guiltily that he remembered Felicity Blakemore, but of course, he loved her and he was pledged to marry her.

‘Aye, I knew Kitty Duggan years back when her man owned the ship he captained.’ Sammy Allnutt stumped along beside Josie as she strolled around the Langley yard. She had taken to visiting it again after a period when she went in fear of Garbutt returning to attack Charlotte again. Gradually that fear had receded, helped by Sergeant Normanby’s certainty that Garbutt had fled the country. Something drew her back to the yard. Her grandfather, father and uncle had all worked here. And legally it was hers and not Charlotte’s, for what that was worth. Which now and for the foreseeable future was nothing. But she liked to browse in the yard and listen to Sammy’s ‘crack’, his reminiscing about old times in the yard and in Monkwearmouth.

He went on, ‘Why, I’ve lived here all my life except for those few years when I was at sea. And most o’ that time I worked here in Langley’s yard. I knew all the fellers that worked here. And I know what most o’ them are doing now. A lot are still looking for a job but some o’ them are working in other yards on this river. A few got jobs on the Tyne. One feller, that was Varley, the manager, he’s up on the Clyde now.’

Josie knew that, having been instrumental in arranging the job for Harry Varley, but she kept quiet, watched over Charlotte as she played in the deserted yard, and listened to Sammy. He went on, detailing where the former members of staff were now, and Josie committed it all to memory, then recited it again to herself as she walked back to the Langley house. Until Charlotte squealed excitedly, ‘Race you the last bit!’ Josie glanced around to satisfy herself there were no male witnesses, hitched up her skirts and ran.

They arrived at the house, laughing, as Annie wheeled her perambulator up to the kitchen door. Josie asked, ‘Is he asleep?’ She peeped in to see Annie’s baby wide-eyed and awake.

Annie grimaced good-humouredly. ‘Not him, but so long as he sleeps through the night now, I won’t complain.’

Josie grinned. ‘No fear.’ Because she had helped, walking the floor in the night when little Andrew could not get his wind up.

Kitty, making bread, left the dough she was kneading to wipe her hands on her pinny. She came to lift him out of the pram and Charlotte wanted to hold him. Kitty cooed, ‘Nothing wrong wi’ him.’

Josie said drily, ‘Except being spoilt.’

Kitty ignored that. ‘Dan says the chandler’s is going well.’

‘Yes, it is.’

Dan Elkington had jumped at the chance to run it. He and Josie had stocked it with oilskins, sea boots and stockings, jerseys and caps – they had made it an Aladdin’s cave of seafaring wear. Dan kept a lot of his stock on the upper floor where he lived, but as he said, ‘I only sleep here.’ He had a bed and a gas ring to heat water and was content with them. He still came to the Langley house for meals and did odd jobs there.

‘You’ve got your fingers into everything,’ said Kitty, but she was smiling, pleased rather than censorious. Then she went on, lowering her voice, ‘But sometimes you miss what’s going on under your nose.’ And when Josie stared, Kitty explained, with a nod towards Annie who was making a cup of tea and was out of earshot, ‘Her and Dan, they’ve got an understanding.’

Josie had not noticed the signs. True, Dan came around for his meals and was to be found in the kitchen with Annie all evening and every evening. She asked, ‘How long—?’

Kitty chuckled. ‘Weeks ago, I spotted them.’

Josie smiled now, watching Annie. ‘I’m glad.’

‘Don’t get too pleased,’ warned Kitty. ‘They’ll probably give you plenty o’ trouble afore they’re wed. That’s a long way off at the moment.’

‘Why?’ Josie asked.

‘How should I know?’ Kitty replied indignantly. ‘I don’t go poking my nose into other people’s affairs. I just happen to have overheard one or two things, like he wants to get wed now and she wants a place of her own first. But it’s none o’ my business. I think young folks are best left to sort themselves out, like I had to.’ She shot a sidewise glance at Josie. ‘Though there’s some better at it than others.’

This left Josie smiling to herself, puzzled, but then she shrugged off the remark. She would take Kitty’s advice – for the present – and leave the young lovers to fend for themselves, but if Annie or Dan needed help …

As they sat down to tea, Josie told herself she had much to be thankful for. The
Macbeth
was proving profitable and so were the boarding house and the shop run by Iris. Its previous owner had failed because he kept too small a choice of goods and drank his takings. Iris, bright and cheerful and selling the produce brought by the
Macbeth
, was busy all day long.

Josie retired to the office in the evening to write up her accounts. Then she put on her coat and walked down to the river because the
Macbeth
was due to berth. She watched the little ship come plodding in between the piers, smoke curling from her funnel, then walked back to the Langley house. It was in darkness now. She went once more into the office. Some weeks ago she had found a drawer of the desk filled with photograph albums, with posed portraits of the Langleys, starting with William’s parents and carrying on through to Charlotte. There were several of Josie herself, as a baby and as a small child, in her mother’s arms or on her knee. Her mother sat very straight in a chair, her dress carefully arranged. David Langley stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other gripping the lapel of his jacket. Everyone in the photographs stared solemnly at the camera. The most recent of Charlotte appeared to have been taken a year ago. Josie frowned; that would have to be remedied.

One album held photographs of every ship built in the Langley yard, with details of their tonnage. She leafed through it as she had done so often before, absorbed in the sepia-toned pictures, and finally retired to bed when her eyes kept closing. She fell asleep wishing: If only it was possible to open the yard again for Charlotte.

The next day Josie boarded the
Macbeth
to be greeted by Bucko Daniels, the mate, with the news: ‘They’ve taken the skipper to the infirmary.’ Ben Fearon had broken his leg when the
Macbeth
was just twenty-four hours from Sunderland. ‘He just started to climb down the ladder from the bridge but she rolled and he missed his grip on the handrail. He came down like a sack o’ bricks.’

Josie paid the crew then took a tram to the infirmary to comfort Ben Fearon, but all the time she was worrying over the problem now presented. She had contracted to take on another cargo in the
Macbeth
the next day, but where would she find another skipper in that time?

When she walked into the kitchen of the Langley house Kitty Duggan challenged her: ‘What are you so down in the mouth for? I thought you’d be dancing. I would ha’ been at your age.’

Josie looked at her blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’

Kitty jerked her head towards the door leading to the hall and the front of the house. ‘He’s back.’

‘T … Captain Collingwood?’

Kitty said drily, ‘Aye, the big lad.’

Josie said primly, ‘That is good news. I’ll go and see him.’

‘Aye.’ Kitty’s voice followed her as she remembered to walk sedately down the passage. ‘See if he’s brought you back a parrot!’

His kitbag and suitcases were in the hall and the door to the office was open. Josie paused in the doorway. Tom sat in his swivel chair at the desk but Charlotte was on his knee and in full flow: ‘… and Annie’s baby used to cry a lot but he’s all right now. Annie lets me hold him sometimes. She says she doesn’t know where she would have been now if it hadn’t have been for Mrs Miller, in her grave very likely, but Kitty said she shouldn’t say that in front of me though it’s prob’ly true and Mrs Miller seems all right to me but Kitty says she’ll be the better for you—’

Josie cut her short: ‘Really, Charlotte, you must let Captain Collingwood catch his breath.’ Then she scooped up the child from Tom’s knee and fussed over her so she did not have to meet his gaze. ‘Did you have a good voyage? Can we look forward to having you at home for a while?’

He was standing over her now, the height and breadth of him cutting out the light. ‘I’ll be here for some time. The ship has gone into the dockyard for a few weeks for refit. I don’t know whether they’ll want me when she’s ready for sea again.’