McQueen's Agency (3 page)

Molly said that would be no problem.

After the call, she realised it was a problem. There would be no one to stay in the office next week and take messages. What a pity Mary couldn’t start until the end of June.

It meant getting in touch with Jean, one of her friends who had offered to help out if needed and, if other work came in, then it would mean calling on other friends. Molly was suddenly struck with how small her workforce was but until she had built up a steady stream of clients, her finances couldn’t stretch to hiring permanent staff.

Edna and her family lived two flights up in a two-roomed flat. The close was still well lit by the evening sunlight that had emerged after a day of grey drizzle. Molly thought she wouldn’t like to climb these stairs in the dark but maybe it was well lit in the winter.

Billy was in bed, tired out after a busy day in the town, but Edna and her Mum were pleased that work had come in.

Molly explained about the job at Cliff Top House. ‘I’ll do that one, Edna, because I live on the same side of the river and also it doesn’t start until next week. Another job has come in which starts tomorrow and I thought you could take that one on. Molly left the typed sheet with Mr Knox’s details before leaving to make her way to Craig Pier and home. She felt tired and was glad the day was over.

Tomorrow, she would get in touch with Jean about coming into the office next week and she also wondered if Mary might like to come in after school and all day Saturday. She would write her letter tomorrow.

It had been an eventful day and hopefully the start of a successful agency.

Harry Hawkins made his way down the narrow gangplank of the cargo ship and, dodging the many obstacles that lay on the dockside like discarded rubbish, made his way towards the town.

He was in a jubilant mood and still couldn’t believe his good luck. This was his first visit to Dundee and what a bonus it had turned out to be.

He put up the collar of his jacket. It may have been June, the month with the longest day coming up, he thought, but the weather wasn’t summery.

Walking swiftly through the Victoria Arch, he saw the bar at the corner of Dock Street. The City Centre Bar. It was seven o’clock and the bar was very busy.

He managed to get a space and when the barman approached, ordered a double measure of navy rum, straight from the bottle with nothing added.

The alcohol hit his stomach and he felt the warmth spread through him, Aye, there was nothing to beat a nip of rum on the cold nights at sea.

An old man standing next to him noticed his drink.

‘Are you a seaman then?’ he said, nodding towards Harry’s glass, which was almost empty.

Harry was in an expansive mood tonight. He turned to the man and nodded. ‘Aye, I am.’

The old man had pale blue watery eyes that immediately became animated.

‘I’m an old sailor myself. Served with the Merchant Navy for twenty-five years until I retired in 1940. I wanted to stay on but my eyesight wasn’t that great so it was cheerio to the seven seas and back on dry land for me. Are you in the Merchant Navy?’

‘Aye, I am. I’ve been at sea since I was sixteen,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve been knocking around the world ever since. Last year I got a job on some of the big ocean liners as a cabin steward, but now I’m back working on a freight ship. We docked a couple of days ago and leave tomorrow.’

Harry ordered another drink for both of them. He wanted to keep a clear head tonight so this was to be his last.

The old man was in a reminiscent mood.

‘I miss the sea. There’s nothing like the wide open ocean, except maybe when there’s a twenty-foot wave coming towards you. It fair beats living in a wee dark single room in Gellatly Street. Still, I like to go round the docks most days and look at the ships.’ He started to laugh and took a large gulp of his rum.

‘I was just going to say, when I see the ships, I feel like becoming a stowaway. Now is that not a stupid thing for an old man like me? What good would I be on the deck of a ship going through a force ten gale? Let me buy you a drink.’

Harry didn’t want another one but the man had caught the attention of the barman and Harry was dismayed to see it was another double measure. But he was a man who could always hold his drink and wasn’t too bothered.

It was coming up for nine thirty and closing time and he reckoned he had loads of time to get back to the docks.

‘You wouldn’t like to come up and have some supper with me?’ The man sounded hopeful.

Any other time Harry would have jumped at the chance to have a meal that wasn’t cooked on the boat, but he had other plans this evening.

‘I’m sorry, mate, I’m meeting someone and I have to be back on board by eleven. Maybe we’ll bump into one another tomorrow if you come to the dockside. The name’s Harry Hawkins and the boat’s called
The Mary Anne
.’

They were out on the pavement by this time and although it was twilight, there was a mass of dark clouds that made for a bad forecast.

The old man looked at the sky as well. ‘Aye, it’ll be heavy rain before the morning.’ He held out his hand. ‘I’m Tam Burns and it’s been great meeting up with you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Harry watched as he walked up the street. He had no idea where Gellatly Street was but it couldn’t be far away if the old man had walked to this bar.

As he turned away, a small sharp stab of fear hit him. He dismissed it immediately but it still niggled him as he made his way back.

He reached the Victoria Arch when it started to rain, heavy drops that blotted out the surrounding landscape. Harry pulled up his collar and started to run towards the docks.

He muttered under his breath at this turn of events. He could well have done with it being a fine night for his business. What if the person didn’t hang around and wait in this heavy downpour?

Urgency made him run faster and he was nearly out of breath as the lights of the ships came into view.

Just a hundred or so yards to go and then he could get a good night’s sleep. He wasn’t going to be greedy. A few hundred pounds was all he was asking. Enough to let him retire from the hard slog of the freight ships, to maybe settle down somewhere in a nice little house. Maybe here in Dundee, he thought. Then again, maybe not.

He felt the rope around his leg a split second before he plunged into the oily waters. His head hit the concrete wharf and his last thought was of Tam and how he should have taken up his offer of supper.

No one from the ships heard him fall and there were no urgent calls to help a fellow shipmate from drowning.

The ships lay at anchor as the heavy rain battered down on their decks and it looked as if the crews were all below decks. No one saw Harry fall.

One person was abroad that night however. A person who slipped from the deep shadows, peered casually over the silent water then returned the same way they had come …

The following morning saw some sunshine at last. The previous night’s storm had passed and it was going to be a pleasant day.

Tam, along with his faithful Jack Russell terrier, made their way past the Earl Gray dock. He thought he would go and say hello to Harry before he sailed. The place was a hive of activity as cargoes were loaded and unloaded. He soon found
The Mary Anne
and seeing a young lad on deck, he called out,

‘Is Harry Hawkins about?’

The young lad shook his head. ‘He didn’t come back last night and the captain says he’ll sail without him if he isn’t here by dinnertime. Must have got drunk last night and be sleeping it off somewhere.’

Tam couldn’t understand this. Harry had been fine when they had parted company.

‘No lad, he was with me and he left to come back to his ship. He’d had a drink but he was fine.’

The lad shrugged. ‘Well he’s not here now.’

Tam didn’t own a watch but he reckoned it must be half past ten. He would wait here until dinnertime and hope that Harry had returned by then.

He found a vacant spot where he sat down on some discarded boxes and kept the ship in his sight.

Apart from the shouts and commands of the stevedores swarming around the freight, there didn’t seem to be any sign of Harry. Tam then saw a dock official go up the gangway of
The Mary Anne
. Good, he thought, the captain has notified the proper officials about Harry’s disappearance.

The man wasn’t long on board when he reappeared and made his way back along the wharf. A few minutes later the ship was ready to sail.

Tam got stiffly to his feet and made his way towards it. The young lad was overseeing the lifting of the gangway. Tam shouted up. ‘Is there any news?’

The lad looked annoyed at having to stop what he was doing. ‘No, he hasn’t appeared and the captain has notified officials that he’s a missing person.’ He turned his back on Tam and
The Mary Anne
slipped from her mooring on her way back to Rotterdam.

There was nothing else he could do. Tugging gently on Rover’s lead, they walked slowly back. Rover hurried over to the edge of the wharf.

‘What is it?’ said Tam, looking over the edge into the murky water. Rover was sniffing at a stain on the concrete.

Tam’s head was too full of the mystery of Harry’s disappearance to really take much notice.

‘Come away, Rover, it’s just rust from those heavy chains.’

Edna had difficulty finding the house. It lay back from the road, hidden by a high hedge. The garden, which had obviously been well cultivated in a previous life, was overgrown and had a neglected air. The lawn looked as if it had been cut with a pair of rusty shears.

There were some lovely rose bushes but their thorny stems had encroached onto the brick path. Edna was careful to avoid these thorns, as she didn’t want to snag her good pair of nylon stockings. Nylons were very hard to find in the shops and she kept this pair strictly for work.

The house had an imposing look and a solid-looking wooden door. The windows could have done with a good wash as they were dusty and had cobwebs hanging from the frames. However, the bell was loud and clear and was answered almost at once by a youngish looking man, wearing a faded green jumper over a brown checked shirt and thick brown corduroy trousers.

Edna was surprised. She had expected him to be elderly.

He ushered her into a room whose windows overlooked the untidy garden. Edna was dismayed to see the room was every bit as neglected as the garden. There were papers everywhere; on tables, chairs, even on the lovely old grand piano which stood in front of the grimy window.

One desk was reasonably clear and held an ancient looking Imperial typewriter that amused Edna when she saw it. It looked identical to the typewriters she had used in school.

The man shook her hand. ‘I’m John Knox. No relation to the guy in Edinburgh.’ He smiled, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Edna said no, not just now but maybe later. She had brought her sandwiches with her for dinner time, but as she had no idea how long Mr Knox would want her to stay, she decided to play it by ear. This agency work was all new to her and she realised it wouldn’t be like a nine to five job.

‘I’m Edna MGill, from McQueen’s Agency.’

‘Just call me John,’ said the man. ‘Can I call you Edna?’

Edna said that would be fine.

He picked up some papers and put them down again. ‘I’m in such a muddle. I’m writing a text book on engineering and need help with it. If you could take down notes and then type them out that would be a great help.’

Edna smiled. She thought he looked less in a muddle and more in an earthquake or volcanic eruption. She half expected the bundles of papers to topple from their perches. She sat down at the typewriter, pleasantly surprised to see it had been fitted with a new ribbon. She had visualised it all dried up and in shreds.

They soon settled into to a routine where he would dictate and she copied it in her shorthand pad. It was all double Dutch to her with all the technical terms but she was being paid to help, not understand the book.

At twelve o’clock, John said, ‘I normally have something to eat at this time. Will you join me?’

They moved through to a large and airy kitchen, which was spotless, in sharp contrast to the other room.

John must have noticed her expression because he said, ‘I know I’ve let the house go a bit, but I like to keep the kitchen and bathroom clean.’

Confused, Edna dug in her bag and produced her sandwiches while he made a pot of tea.

Now it was his turn to be surprised. ‘Oh, I’ve made some soup, would you like some?’

Edna, who was starving, said she would love some. They sat at the big wooden table and gazed at the back garden that was even more overgrown than the front.

He noticed her gaze. ‘I’m afraid the house and garden have gone a bit to seed. My wife always kept both in tiptop condition. She died a year ago. She kept the house and garden beautiful and also did my typing for me. I miss her very much.’

Edna, who was in the process of biting into a cheese sandwich, put the bread down. She didn’t know what to say.

The afternoon flew by and at five o’clock John said, ‘I think we’ll call it a day. Can you come at the same time tomorrow? I think it might take two or three weeks to get the book finished, if that’s all right with the agency?’

Edna assured him that this was fine, pleased that this job would last as long as two weeks. Hopefully by then the agency would have a lot of work on its books.

Molly was putting the final touches to the rota. Jean would be in the office during the day and Mary had said she would take over at four thirty every evening and all day Saturday. The way was now clear to start at Lamont Antiques on the Monday morning.

On Saturday, Molly watched as Mary coped with the telephone and was pleased to see the girl was proficient. Mary was a quiet, serious girl and Molly was glad she had hired her.

She hadn’t recognised her when she appeared at the door. Instead of the young girl who had been interviewed a week ago, Mary had lost her schoolgirl look. She was dressed in a plain white blouse and black skirt with black court shoes and silk stockings.