Perseverance Street (17 page)

It was Thursday – Leeds market day. Lily looked up from the stall at the soldier from last week. The previous day she’d been to see a solicitor about the prospects of either regaining custody of Christopher or at least having some sort of access. It appeared that Auntie Dee was right about the problems her ex-in-laws could create.

‘A real diamond? Really?’

‘Really. I had it valued. It’s worth fifty pounds. But you already knew that, didn’t you? What I don’t understand is why you sold it to me for four quid.’

Lily looked at him, genuinely puzzled. ‘What I don’t understand is why you’d grumble – and why on earth would we do a thing like that? We’re in business to make money.’

He was quite
tall, probably over six feet. His hair was dark brown and quite luxuriant. He’d either been out of the army for some time or they’d relaxed their rules about short haircuts. His build was athletic, probably due to army training. His nose was perhaps larger than average, his ears stuck out a little but, all in all, it was a pleasant face, bordering on handsome but not quite there. His best feature, his blue eyes, were right now boring into her accusingly. Dee was standing nearby, taking it all in. She left the stall, ostensibly to talk to Danny Muldoon. In reality she’d decided to leave this one to Lily.

‘So, did the Beryl like the ring?’ Lily said to him. ‘I assume congratulations are in order.’

‘She didn’t get to see it. I found out, just in time, that she’d been seeing other blokes while I was away. I tackled her about it and she seemed to think she had every right to play the field as she thought I’d been killed.’

‘Why would she think that?’

‘Because I’d been reported as missing in action. I’d actually got a transfer to a special forces unit.’

‘Special forces, you?’

Under any other circumstances this might have sounded like a made-up fantasy concocted by a young man out to impress. But this young man wasn’t out to impress anybody, least of all Lily. She stared at him for a while.

‘Good heavens! You’re telling me the truth, aren’t you?’

He frowned, slightly taken aback. ‘Why would I lie about something like that?’

‘I don’t know. Sorry. But I can maybe understand why Beryl thought you were dead.’

‘There’s a big
difference between being missing and being dead. It’s the difference between loving someone and not loving them. That’s the way I see it. Anyway, she’d apparently been putting it about before my Missing in Action came through. On top of which I realised that I didn’t love her, and I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with her. I’d known her since before I got my call-up. I didn’t know any better back then. I was just a boy.’

‘And now you’re a man.’

‘Well, I have grown up a bit in the last two years or so, enough to know when people aren’t being straight with me. Not quite so green, you might say.’

‘Are you accusing me of not being straight with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, you’re accusing me of charging you four pounds for a fifty-pound ring. Have I got that right?’

‘I’ve been around long enough to know when people are lying to me. It’s a knack I acquired in the forces. It’s saved my life more than once.’

‘Well, I don’t think this knack has saved your life this time. If you want to give me the ring back, I’ll gladly refund your money.’

‘Oh no, I’m not falling for that. There’s something fishy going on here and I want to know what it is.’

Lily was becoming irritated with the young man who didn’t know when he was well off. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘If you think we’re dishonest, report us to the police. If not, clear off and stop wasting my time before I report
you
to the police!’

He stared at her for long moment, as if undecided what to do for the best. Then he gave a slight shake of his head and walked away. Lily was still watching him when Dee reappeared by her side.

‘What was all that about?’

‘I’m not
sure. It was all very confusing. He’s split up with his girlfriend. One minute he’s opening his heart to me, the next minute he’s having a go at me for selling him a fifty-quid ring for four quid.’

‘Fifty quid? Hmm, I paid thirty-five. Was he drunk?’

‘Don’t think so. He thinks he’s rumbled something, only he doesn’t know what. Could be he thinks we’ve got him involved in something dishonest. Beggars belief if you ask me.’

‘Oh, take no notice. All sorts of people think they’ve rumbled us, but they still come back to try their luck. They think they’ve got nothing to lose and a lot to gain, and maybe they’re right.’

Lily glanced in the direction the young man had gone, perhaps hoping he might still be in sight. But he was a damned nuisance and she had other things to think about.

‘Do you think we’ll get any phone calls tonight?’

It was the day the photograph went in the
Craven Herald
. ‘Both photos are on
page two
. Large as life and twice as ugly,’ Henry had confirmed. ‘I’ll stick you a copy in the post tonight.’

‘Henry said that if anyone’s going to ring at all they’ll ring by tomorrow night,’ Dee said. ‘After twenty-four hours it’s fish-and-chip paper.’

‘Twenty-four hours?’ said Lily. ‘That means one of us should be waiting by the telephone.’ She looked at her watch: three-fifteen. ‘Maybe one of us should be there right now.’

‘Damn! That’s a
good point,’ Dee said. ‘We’ll close up now and get back.’

It was three minutes after five when they got in the house. The phone rang at five past.

‘Hello,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘I’m ringing about them photos in t’ paper. D’yer still not know who they are?’

‘As a matter of fact you’re the first to ring about it,’ said Dee. ‘Who am I speaking to?’

‘Me name’s Mrs Rachel Clegg, I live in Ilkley. I think I know who t’ feller is, only when I knew him, which is a year ago, he didn’t have a ’tash, but I’m sure it’s t’ same bloke.’

Dee stuck a thumb up as Lily looked on. ‘Do you know his name and where he lives?’

‘He told me it were Arthur Williams, but I’m pretty certain that’s not his real name. What I do know about him is that he used ter work as a caretaker in a school in Bradford.’

‘Do you know which school?’

‘Yeah, it were
Jubilee Street primary. Phyllis, she’s a neighbour of mine, used to live in Bradford and went to that school. She saw him coming out of our house and she remembered him working there when she were a girl, only she couldn’t remember his name. Anyroad I’ve just shown her this photo from t’ paper and told her the tale – she reckons it’s definitely him.’

‘When you say you’re pretty certain that Arthur Williams is not his real name why would he give you a false one?’

‘Because he’s a bloody wrong ’un, that’s why. I told Phyllis at the time and that’s when she told me she knew him. It’s my guess that he’s done you out of some money and yer trying to track him down. Am I right or am I wrong?’

‘You’re spot on, Rachel. Only it’s not money, it’s something far more valuable. The police won’t help us, so we’re having to be as devious as him.’

‘Yer’ll have your work cut out there, love. He’s a real tricky customer, is Arthur. He got thirty quid from me for a washing machine what I never got delivered. Like I said, it’s about a year ago now. He just knocked on our door one day and asked me if I wanted ter buy a really cheap Bendix washer. He had one in t’ back of his van. He showed me it and told me it were worth seventy quid and if I didn’t believe him I could check up on t’ shop prices. I asked him how much he wanted for it and he said that particular one were sold but if I wanted one he could let me have one for thirty quid cash in advance. He said he needed t’ cash ter give to t’ wholesaler. It all sounded dead right to me, he’s a very convincing bloke.’

‘So I understand,’ said Dee. ‘I gather you gave him the thirty quid and never saw him again.’

‘Well, it were a
couple of weeks later. I did check on t’ shop price and they were selling the same model in Brooke’s in Keighley fer sixty-six pounds fifteen and six pence. I had ter borrow a twenty-five off t’ tally man. At twelve and six a week over twelve months I worked out it’d cost me an extra tenner, which still made t’ washer a bargain at thirty quid – that’s if I’d got t’ bloody thing, which I didn’t. He were supposed ter come back t’ day after I paid him but I never saw hide nor bloody hair of him. I’ve only just finished payin’ off t’ tally man. I had ter take on an extra job ter do it. I tell yer, missis. I’ve had a bloody bad year because o’ that thievin’ sod.’

‘Did you tell the police?’

‘I did, but they didn’t seem all that interested. They just took a few notes and buggered off. Me husband’d go mad if he ever found out – which he won’t. He’s in t’ army and I reckon he’s had enough ter worry about over t’ past year. He’s still over in Belgium or somewhere, sortin’ out displaced persons. God knows when his demob’ll come through.’

‘And you’re sure it’s the man in the photograph?’

‘Well, I drew a tash on t’ photo and it were him all right. If yer find him, I’d like ter know his whereabouts meself. I’ll fettle that thievin’ bugger.’

‘So,’ said Dee, summing it all up. ‘What you know about him is that he worked as a caretaker at Jubilee Street School in Bradford – how long ago will that have been?’

‘Oh …’ said Rachel to herself. ‘How old’s Phyllis now? Coming up ter thirty I reckon. She were only ten years old when she left there, so it’ll be goin’ on twenty years since she knew him.’

‘And do you know
anything else about him? His build, the way he talks, any peculiar mannerisms? I just want to be absolutely certain it’s him. Look, I’ll put you on to my friend. I never actually met him. She’s the one he stole from.’

Lily took the phone and heard Rachel describe Oldroyd: his height, his age, his build, his Yorkshire accent, the cigarettes he smoked, his plausibility. They were both talking about the same man, no question. Lily felt a faint thrill of hope run through her for the first time since Michael’s abduction.

‘D’yer want ter take me details so that if yer do track him down yer can let me know?’ said Rachel.

‘Of course,’ Lily said. ‘In fact we’ll let you know before we let the police know. You’ve been a damn sight more help than them.’

‘D’yer mind if I ask what he stole from yer?’

Lily paused for a long time before saying, ‘My son.’

‘Bloody hell!’ said Rachel.

Lily thanked her, said her goodbye, then looked at Dee. ‘It’s definitely him. We need to go to this Jubilee Street primary school tomorrow.’

‘That’s my girl. You know, there’s a bit of colour coming back to your cheeks and a bit of a spring to your step. Don’t tell me the old Lily Robinson’s on her way back.’

‘I’ll not
be back ’til my boys are.’

The following morning they rode the full half-mile length of Jubilee Street without seeing a school. It was now the middle of July and the weather was warm, even in Bradford. On one side of the road was a plot of waste ground covering an area of maybe two acres. If there had ever been a school on Jubilee Street it had to have been there. Dee pulled into the kerb beside a newsagent’s shop and dismounted. Lily was still sitting on the pillion seat with a look of disappointment on her face.

‘You wait there,’ said Dee, taking off her crash helmet. ‘And don’t look so miserable. No one said it was going to be easy.’

Lily dismounted but
didn’t follow Dee into the shop. Her mood swings were frequent and erratic and her current mood was low. She leaned against the shop window smoking a Capstan and gazing vacantly upwards at the bus cables above. A trolley bus approached, pale blue with a white strip down the middle, advertising Swan Vestas and going to Clayton, its only sound a low hum and the rush of tyres on tarmac. It was full of people, most of whom would not have her troubles. She looked at them with envy. How many of you lot have lost a husband and two sons recently? In the other direction a horse-drawn bin wagon clopped over the cobbles; together it and the tram illustrated the old and the new. Horses had been vanishing from the roads all her life, to be replaced by buses and trams and cars. Too many things were vanishing from her life.

An ice-cream cart attached to the back of a bicycle headed her way. The pedalling vendor called out to her. ‘Want an ice cream, love? Do yer more good than that fag.’

His cheerful words forced out a smile. Her mood took an upward lurch. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stamped on it. He pulled to a halt and opened the back of his cart.

‘I’ll have a tuppenny cornet please.’

‘Tuppenny cornet coming up. Want a strawberry squirt on it?’

‘Please.’

He gave it a squirt of red juice and handed it over. Other customers were arriving to form a queue. ‘See,’ he said, ‘yer’ve brought me luck. Pretty girls always do that.’

Lily smiled at his innocent compliment and retreated back to the shop window. Inside the shop Dee was also in a queue. When it was her turn she asked for a quarter-pound of Mint Imperials.

‘Didn’t there used to be a school on this road – Jubilee Street school?’ she enquired conversationally, as the woman behind the counter weighed out her order on the scales.

‘Bombed in 1941,’ said
the woman. ‘That’ll be sixpence, love.’

Dee handed over a sixpenny piece. ‘I hope it happened at night when the kids weren’t there.’

‘It actually happened on a Saturday night. No one was hurt. I think they only dropped half a dozen bombs on Bradford all through t’ war and that were one of ’em.’

A man behind her in the queue commented, ‘The Nazzies reckoned bombin’ Bradford’d only improve it, so they didn’t bother.’ He chuckled at his joke.

‘Actually,’ said Dee, ‘I knew someone who worked there and I’m trying to track him down, must be twenty years ago now. You don’t know where they all went, do you?’

‘No idea, love, sorry.’

A woman standing in the queue had been listening to the conversation and chipped in: ‘The headmistress took early retirement and took over t’ post office on Canal Street.’

‘Really? Do
you remember her name?’