Polly's War (45 page)

‘Well just make sure you keep your teeth in while you do it,’ Lucy warned, with a grin.

Tom was fast running out of patience. He’d waited day after day for an opportunity to get Lucy on her own, but the only time he ever spotted her was out with Benny or her mam. They’d all suddenly become bosom pals, much to his disgust. She hadn’t even been collecting the childer from school, lazy tyke, leaving it to Charlie to hobble up the street leaning on his stick, poor blighter.

One of these days, when he got tired of waiting, he might take a stroll up to the school himself, see if he could persuade the teacher to let him take the kids out early, before Charlie arrived. After all, they were his childer. That’d fetch her running back home quick enough, if he had the kids. Tom smiled to himself. He’d more power than she realised. He just hadn’t chosen to exercise it yet. He was too interested in watching the activity that was going on, trying to work out what they were up to.
 

When he’d decided to come back to dear old Blighty, he’d thought he’d be on easy street. He expected to fall back into a job, have a wife eager to do his bidding and children to play at his feet and make him a happy man. Instead there were no decent jobs to be had, save for working for peanuts for his mother-in-law which didn’t appeal one bit. That was finished now, of course, but it was doubtful whether it would ever have got any better despite her big talk and ambitions. Serve her right to be brought down in the world. He’d suffered, so why shouldn’t she have a taste of that too? Polly’d had it easy long enough.

He was sitting in the Queen’s on Gartside Street, since his credit was all used up at The Dog and Duck, enjoying a pint on the slate and wondering if he dare ask for another or whether he would be obliged to use cash. He did have a little money in his pocket but was reluctant to part with it. He was still pondering this vital matter when Hubert Clarke walked in. It wasn’t often you saw him in here, so Tom watched with interest as the councillor bought himself a double whisky and found a quiet corner away from the darts players and the domino brigade. A matter of moments later a second person came in, one who excited some interest for all a respectful silence fell, for surely here was money all togged out in sealskin and shiny straw. The woman looked oddly familiar though he couldn’t quite place her so Tom splashed out on another pint and, keeping well back in his own corner, continued to pay close attention. His interest sharpened when she calmly walked over, bold as you please and seated herself opposite Hubert.

The two appeared to be in deep conversation for several moments, the woman sipping occasionally at a sweet sherry Hubert had procured for her. Then she seemed to shake her head, clip a dreadful fox fur stole in place about her shoulders and, chin set in stubborn determination, walked from the pub. Tom was instantly torn. Should he follow her to see where she went and what she was up to? Or stay here and watch Hubert Clarke? It was all most tantalising.

The decision was made for him when Hubert himself got up and without a glance at those about him, briskly followed the woman. Just before the door swung to, Tom caught a glimpse of the pair of them standing talking on the pavement before turning and walking away together out of sight.

He downed his beer, slammed down the glass, snatched up his cap and followed. Something was going on and he meant to find out what it was.

Minnie led the way along the street with trepidation in her heart, still fearful of discovery. He’d been seriously interested in the watches, she could tell, particularly when she’d told him she had a hundred of each to offer, exactly the same. And she’d seen how his eyes had lit up at sight of the pearls. A sticky moment came when he balked at the price and had interrogated her on the source of her supply. She’d turned huffy, saying she had to respect confidences as she was sure he understood. If he wasn’t interested he needn’t bother, there were plenty of others who were. Then she’d walked out, wondering if she’d blown the whole enterprise. Now he was urging her not to be too hasty, and to give him another chance. Minnie could only suppose that because of those earlier successes, he was willing to trust her and deal again.

So here they were concluding this piece of sensitive business standing outside some solicitor’s house on the corner of Gartside Street. Seemed appropriate somehow.

‘It’s cash on the nail you understand,’ Minnie emphasised, looking him square in the eye so he knew she wasn’t one to mess with. ‘She also explained how she’d prefer it if the goods were collected later in the evening. ‘Perhaps around nine tomorrow night?’ It’d been Benny’s idea to arrange a late collection. By that time there would be fewer people about and it would be dark and more difficult to see what was in the boxes if Ron decided to open one. Even so, it would be risky. This time Hubert would be getting nothing but rubbish for his brass. Minnie felt the strain was beginning to tell on her and wouldn’t she be glad when she could peel off her stockings and soak her sore feet in a bowl of salts. These fancy shoes were killing her.

‘It shall be arranged,’ Hubert agreed, and smiled his most charming smile which almost made her shudder, though she managed to respond in kind.

‘Tomorrow at nine then? Your son will fetch the van to our warehouse, as before?’

Hubert agreed that he would. Minnie nodded. They shook hands on the deal and she departed, a sprightly spring to her step which gave the lie both to her sixty-four years and her aching feet.

It was a crisp cold night down by the canal, a strong smell of tar in the air and the sound of a ship’s hooter echoing somewhere in the distance. Beneath the railway arches a match flared, briefly illuminating the man’s face as he lit a cigarette. He made no attempt to move from his hiding place, which offered an unhindered view of the road leading to where he’d seen the woman go. Knowing it to be a cul-de-sac, he was quite certain that he wouldn’t miss anyone calling to see her, nor her own return trip home. He cupped the cigarette in his hand, to hide its telltale glow and settled down for a long wait.

At the end of the cul-de-sac, by the rented warehouse, Minnie waited, heart in her mouth, ears attuned for the sound of a van’s engine. Somewhere deep in the shadows she knew Benny lay hidden, just in case there was trouble. He wouldn’t show himself unless absolutely necessary but just knowing he was there gave her confidence. She still wore the sealskin coat but had opted for a more workaday hat in the shape of a black felt and dispensed with the fox fur stole as not quite appropriate for the occasion. What she dreaded most was for Hubert himself to turn up. Ron would no doubt take whatever she offered without question but Hubert ... She’d taken some precautions against that unwelcome scenario, but would it be enough?

Minnie sat plaiting her fingers, peering out from time to time into the darkness, lit only by a single light bulb over the warehouse door. Somewhere out in the ink-black night, she heard a sound which made her nerves jitter before realising it was merely the scrape of a barge against the wall as it slipped out into the canal.

‘Have you heard owt yet?’ she hissed into the darkness, worried that her poor hearing might have let her down, and was loudly shushed. Biting her lip Minnie waited, and waited.
 
Nine o’clock came and went and still there was no sign. By quarter past she was wishing she’d brought those pills the doctor had given her for her blood pressure. By half past she was feeling sick and ready to give up. He wasn’t coming. He’d cottoned on to their little scheme. ‘Eeh, this is a rum do,’ she moaned, half to herself. She was, in her own words all of a-flutter by the time she discerned the reassuring sound of a van reversing up the narrow alley to the warehouse door. It’s black shape emerged slowly out of the night mist, halted and then the driver’s door was pushed open and a figure emerged, boots scraping on the slippery setts.

‘Evening, Violet. Thought I’d do this trip meself.’ The familiarity jolted even as her heart sank with misgiving. It was Hubert himself, just as she’d feared. ‘Come inside,’ she bravely offered and her voice sounded surprisingly calm, even cheerful. ‘Take a nip to warm yourself while I get my men to load up.’ This was her main defence strategy so as Minnie preceded him into the cavernous warehouse, she sent up a silent prayer that he would follow.

‘I won’t say no.’

What it was they talked of in the confines of that hired office, she was never afterwards to recall but it took two whiskies and a good deal of banter before there was a tap on the door and she was able to tell him that the van was ready.

‘It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,’ he told her, evidently feeling benevolent as his stomach warmed to the spirits.

Minnie could hardly wait to get him out of the door but gave no sign of this as she smiled benignly up at him, nodding pleasantly. ‘You have the cash?’

‘Indeed.’ He handed her a large parcel which she ripped open and, heart pounding, flicked the notes casually with her thumb.

‘Aren’t you going to count it?’ She knew she should but that would take time and the notes all looked satisfyingly present and correct. Besides, instinct told her that if she showed no trust in him, he would respond in kind and insist on her opening up those boxes of pearls and watches Benny himself had just loaded on to the van. Instead she shoved the packet into the mysterious depths of her leather handbag.

‘I’m sure you and I have no reason not to trust each other, Hubert,’ she said, refilling his glass. ‘Since we’re aiming to do more business in the future.’

‘I’ll drink to that, and more good profits.’
 

Minnie was relieved to see him down this third tot in one, though how he would see to drive after so much lubrication she really couldn’t imagine. Not that she cared if he ended up in the canal. The money was in her bag and tucked firmly under her arm. Still he lingered, gazing upon her with a frown that could only be described as curious.

‘How did you get into this business?’ he enquired. ‘Woman of your class, I mean.’

Thankful she hadn’t consumed as much alcohol as himself, which meant her brain could still register, Minnie told her well-rehearsed and heartrending tale of losing a husband who’d gone down with his ship and her entire family, including two sons, when a bomb flattened her house. ‘So I must make my own way in the world, as most of us have to these days, Hubert,’ she said, offering a rueful smile.

He shook his head sadly, made the usual remarks about the pointlessness of war, which sounded odd coming from one who’d made a small fortune from it.
 
‘You’re still an attractive woman, Violet. Let’s drink to a new future for you, and a new love in your life.’ Yet again she felt compelled to refill his glass though her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he must hear it. When this had gone the way of the first three and still he made no move but stood, swaying slightly, a vague smile upon his bewhiskered face, it was Minnie who pulled open the door, with just a hint of desperation in the gesture. ‘I’ll see you out,’ she encouraged, but Hubert politely and punctiliously insisted he could find his own way.

‘It’s bitter out there. You don’t want to catch your death Violet.’

She continued smiling as he tipped his hat to her and took his leave. Then Minnie’s shaking legs finally gave way and she sat, rather abruptly, upon a handy orange box.

Benny was at her side within seconds and together they counted the money, relieved to find it was correct to the last shilling. Minnie prudently changed out of her ‘disguise’ and locked the door of the warehouse. A figure drew back into the shadows as she emerged from the end of the cul-de-sac, drawing her shawl over her head, with Benny a half step behind her. After no more than a brief glance about them, the pair walked away at speed beneath the bridge and since they were engrossed in their own excited hushed whispers, neither noticed the soft sounds of footsteps fall into place behind them.

Polly was relieved when they both arrived back safe and sound if slightly out of breath. The incriminating items of clothing were now stowed away back in the loft, wrapped in newspaper and stuffed to the bottom of the chest from whence they had come, never again to see the light of day if Minnie had any say in the matter.

‘That’s the last anyone will see of Violet Davenport,’ she finished with no small sense of relief.

It had been a good night’s work, they all agreed, and the bundle of notes felt satisfyingly thick in Polly’s hands. ‘Nowhere near enough to buy back everything we’ve lost but it will at least help to get the business going again, once I’ve paid back what I owe you, Minnie. I still have the name, Pride Carpets, since I managed not to go bankrupt, and the cleaning contracts from the big hotels. They’ll bring their orders back to us just as soon as I get the machines up and running, I’m sure.’ She heard Benny’s groan and smilingly told him that no, she didn’t intend just to stick to carpet cleaning but it was a start, was it not?

Benny, buoyed up by the success of the night’s scheming pulled a cheeky face, saying he’d make sure that’s all it was. But, as agreed, the very next morning he set out to visit every single hotel and boarding house in Manchester and district. It took him several days and when he was done, he returned with the promise of several orders for lengths of new carpet as well as repeat cleaning contracts.

He slapped the orders down on Minnie’s kitchen table. ‘You’d best keep that warehouse on, Mam. We’re going to be busy.’

They all expressed their surprise and due appreciation of Benny’s efforts but Polly had some reservations. ‘If we start throwing money about, taking on premises, buying or hiring machines too soon, won’t Hubert smell a rat? Won’t he guess that it was us who stung him?’