The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow (29 page)

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Authors: Maureen Reynolds

BOOK: The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow
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There was also a big change in Connie’s shop and she now let me run the business from early morning to three o’clock in the afternoon when she would take over for the evening papers. It was a suitable arrangement for us both and it gave me some extra wages. I was now able to save some money every week in Lily’s art college fund. It was a big help not having to pay any rent but this would all change when Maddie had her baby. Surely then they would want to move back to their own home?

I said as much to Maddie on one of my visits. It was a bad day for her as it turned out. She lay on the couch, pale and tired-looking. Her hair was still shining but she had dark circles under her eyes and she seemed to have lost her sparkle. But she was still able to chat to me. ‘I’m really lucky, Ann, I get my sickness first thing in the morning and not like poor Rosie who had it all the time. That’s why I can’t understand being ill like this because I didn’t feel as bad when I was expecting Daniel. It’s worse on some days, like today.’

I got ready to leave as I didn’t want to tire her out. She was at home alone because her mother was at a Red Cross meeting and Hattie was due in later. But, before I left, I broached the subject of her flat. ‘Lily and I had better get packing, Maddie. You’ll be wanting to move in before the new baby comes.’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so, Ann. We’ll think about moving when the baby comes and Danny has his shop up and running. I’m not due till next June so we have plenty of time to get our problems with Daniel resolved.’ She didn’t sound very sure.

I tried not to let my relief show. Houses were still hard to get even although the Corporation had started to build prefabs at Glamis Road and Blackshade. I would have loved one of these compact houses but they were only being allocated to families. Lily and I were a family but I was minus one huge sticking point – a husband.

Life still continued to be a struggle. I had to juggle work with standing in long queues for food. Once a week, I also had to do Granny’s washing as well as our own. Lily was a big help. She normally cleaned the flat every Saturday and she helped out with Granny and Bella’s shopping.

Bella had fallen on the pavement and injured her wrist. It wasn’t broken thankfully but it was still too sore to carry her message bag. I met up with her at the Overgate and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw her sling. It would have supported a two-storey building.

Strangely enough, for such a seasoned old hypochondriac as her, she was reluctant to mention her fall. ‘You see, Nan, I had on these shoes with slippery soles and the pavement was wet. One minute I was standing and the next I was sitting on my backside. A couple of young laddies helped me up but I’m fine now,’ she said.

Granny wondered if she had been drinking from her medicine bottle but she normally only did this in the house or at the Overgate. So nothing was said and that had to be a first as far as Bella went. For years, she had been spouting about all her imagined ailments and now, when she’d had a genuine accident, she seemed to want it hushed up. It was a queer world we were all living in.

I was so tired at night that I fell into the bed settee and was asleep within minutes. Lily had a lot of homework to do and I realised she would soon be away from home – both her and Joy. This made me so sad but, in some perverse way, I was also glad that she would be out in the wide world and be independent.

Then the grocer shop on the corner of Perth Road and Step Row offered her a few hours’ work on Saturday afternoons and she was over the moon at the thought of having her own money.

I went in one day and she was behind the counter. Wearing a long white apron and a serious expression, she was serving a small woman with two children.

‘And how are you, Mrs Smith? Are your husband fine and the children?’ She gazed at the two small toddlers who were standing wide-eyed at this white-clad apparition.

Mrs Smith chatted back and explained her lack of sugar coupons. ‘My man likes three spoonfuls of sugar in his tea, Lily, and I’m a bit ahead with the coupons. I’ve tried putting condensed milk in his tea and that helps a bit but he still needs two spoonfuls.’

Lily nodded sagely as if she also had this problem with a sweet-toothed husband and she went off with the ration card to the owner. Unfortunately he wasn’t as accommodating as Lily and he warned Mrs Smith that her husband had better curtail his sugary tea in future or until the rationing ended.

Mrs Smith passed me as she left the shop with her two toddlers. She bent down to speak to them. ‘What a pity Lily doesn’t own this shop! She kens what I’m speaking about – no’ like the crabbit man that owns it.’

I had to laugh afterwards. Lily had this chatty manner and she always sympathised with all the women and their lack of coupons. Much to the owner’s annoyance, I imagined.

Still, she was able to open her post office account and place her wages in it. It was her art college fund, she said.

Years later I was to remember these months as a peaceful hiatus, a calm before the storm – or storms as it turned out.

As with all the biggest storms, it started quietly enough. I was leaving Danny’s shop one late afternoon when I saw Margot again. She looked distracted and she didn’t see me so, on impulse, I decided to follow her. I had a half-formed idea as to what her destination was and I was proved right. She made straight for the warehouse.

I hung about the lane, skulking like some third-rate spy. Thirty minutes later, she reappeared and hurried up the narrow lane that led to Dock Street. It went through my mind then and I was surprised I hadn’t thought of it before – I could maybe follow her to where she was staying.

Keeping a good bit behind her, I decided to keep following her. She walked quickly up the Nethergate and my heart beat more quickly when we passed Mr Portland’s studio. I thought about Kathleen.

Margot obviously didn’t know I was behind her because she never once looked furtively behind her or even stopped to look in any shop window. This was obviously one lady with a lot on her mind.

By now, we were at Perth Road and I was becoming more puzzled. Where was she going? Then, as if in answer to my unspoken question, she turned up the short path of a large house. I was taken aback. Surely this wasn’t her house? I knew I couldn’t go any closer in case she saw me from a window but I made a mental note to come back again later that night.

I was annoyed to realise how near she was staying to us at Roseangle. It was a miracle I hadn’t met her on more occasions.

I made up my mind to visit Dad and Rosie that night after seeing what I could find out about Margot’s house. Fortunately Lily had a lot of homework that night and she was happy to stay at home and wade through it.

I tried to sound casual. ‘I’m just away to see Rosie and Jay. I’ll not be long.’

I set off up the street. It had turned out to be a misty night but quite mild for the time of year. I was grateful for the cover as I could walk silently up to the house and look to see if there were any names on the door. After that, it would be time for Dad. I knew I would have to get him on his own – at least to begin with as there was no point in upsetting Rosie at this stage.

I pulled the collar of my coat up over my ears like Ingrid Bergman in
Casablanca
and hurried towards the house. Quietly opening the gate, I walked up the short path. There were a few lights in the upstairs windows but the lower windows all had their curtains pulled.

The street seemed to be deserted but, now and again, a ghostly figure walked past. Perhaps because I was feeling guilty, I assumed these people would view me with suspicion but they merely hurried past, too intent on their own business to notice mine.

When I reached the door, I saw the sign. It was a small plaque on the wall that stated this grand house was ‘The Greenside Hotel’. So Margot was living in a hotel … That should have meant her visit wasn’t permanent but she had been in Dundee for some considerable time. I tried to remember the first time I had seen her, but the sound of footsteps behind the closed door made me run down the path and through the gate.

As I hurried up the Hilltown, my mind was in a whirl. Margot must have a large sum of money to be able to stay in a hotel for months.

I reached Dad’s close and was making my way up the stairs when a stranger came up behind me. I was suddenly afraid but he merely smiled as he passed me. I couldn’t make out his features in the dim gas-lit staircase. That’s why it was such a surprise to see him at Dad’s door. Rosie answered his knock and the look of surprise on her face when she saw she had two visitors was almost comical.

The man asked after Dad and Rosie and I went inside to get him. She gave me a quizzical look when Dad went to the door and we strained our ears to try and catch some of the conversation.

Then Dad came back into the room with the stranger who apologised to Rosie for calling so late.

‘What can I do for you Mr …?’ asked Dad.

‘My name is Victor Jones,’ he said.

We all gazed at him with apprehension. He was well dressed in a dark woollen suit and a cream-coloured raincoat. He placed his hat and gloves on his lap and surveyed his small audience. Jay, thankfully, was in his bed.

I was holding my breath and I couldn’t think why.

Victor Jones hesitated for a moment before making up his mind. His voice was cultured and his accent hard to place. One thing was clear – he wasn’t from Scotland.

He confirmed so at once. ‘I’ve just arrived from Portsmouth, Mr Neill,’ he announced.

Afterwards, I thought he must think we were all goldfishes with our open mouths as we gaped at him.

‘Portsmouth?’ said Dad, in a puzzled tone, while Rosie and I merely looked blankly at each other.

‘Yes but I have business to do here in Dundee. In fact, I was hoping to visit sooner but the deal I’m involved in hasn’t moved as fast as I would have liked – all these wartime restrictions.’ He gave Dad a nervous and embarrassed glance. ‘My visit is about someone you used to know – your ex-wife Margot Neill.’

Rosie gasped out loud and Dad gave her a concerned look. I sat like a wooden statue. As the saying went, a whole can of worms was about to be opened up.

Dad looked puzzled again. ‘Margot?’

Mr Jones nodded.

‘Well, I’ll make one thing clear, Mr Jones. Although I was married to Margot, it was a bigamous marriage on her part and I haven’t seen her since she left years ago.’

I gave a loud gasp and Dad gave me a sharp look.

Mr Jones sighed. ‘My interest in her is this. I married her in Portsmouth two years ago but it wasn’t a happy marriage. I gave her a job in my Edinburgh branch a year ago and now the auditors have discovered she’s embezzled five thousand pounds from the firm and I want to find her.’

Rosie said bitterly, ‘I bet you do.’

Dad turned to his visitor, his face a picture of innocence. I was struck by his cool handling of this revelation. He had been meeting Margot secretly for months and now he sat there like a man without a guilty secret in his whole body. I couldn’t remember him ever being such a good actor but perhaps Margot had been giving him lessons.

‘Why do you think she’s in Dundee?’ I asked.

‘I employed a private investigator and he tracked her movements here. Also I found papers she left behind when she disappeared. They had this address and one in Edinburgh. There was also a hotel bill made out for a Mr and Mrs Neill with a hand-written note on it which said, “Our honeymoon hotel”.’

Dad looked embarrassed. ‘I wrote that when I paid it, Mr Jones.’

He looked at Rosie but she turned away.

‘Call me Victor,’ he said. ‘I only want to find her to get a divorce. I certainly won’t prosecute her.’

Rosie said bitterly, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if she married you bigamously as well, Victor. She seems to make a business of it. And as for your money … well, I reckon you’ll never see it again.’

‘I’m not worried about that, Mrs Neill. I just want to face her and ask why she had to embezzle the money in the first place. It’s not as if she didn’t get enough money during our short marriage. Even though we were separated, I let her run my Edinburgh branch and she had a good salary.’

Dad, no doubt worried by Rosie’s bitter tone, said, ‘There never seems to be enough money for Margot. She has to have more and more. It’s the way she is.’

‘Yes,’ said Rosie, ‘a ruddy crook.’

Victor didn’t want any tea and he stood up to leave. ‘If you do hear from her, please let me know.’ He handed over a small card with his name and address printed in gold lettering.

Very classy, I thought. Trust Margot to marry into a classy life. What a puzzle she was.

As he walked his visitor to the door, Dad said, ‘You’re the second husband I’ve had at the door looking for her.’

For the first time since he arrived, Victor looked nonplussed. ‘The second husband? How many has she had?’

Rosie answered for Dad. ‘God only knows. At least two before Johnny and who knows how many since then?’

As Victor left, he was shaking his head. I wondered if he was wondering about the gullibility of these Scottish men who had been fooled but, there again, he was also a victim of the infamous Margot. A sophisticated, wealthy man of the world from the prosperous south of England, he’d been taken in and robbed by a pretty face and a good line in clothes and charm.

At the door I quietly asked Dad for a quick word. He gave me a surprised look but called back to Rosie, ‘I’ll walk down the stairs with Ann and get some cigarettes. I’ll not be a minute.’

When we were out of earshot of the house, I rounded on him. ‘That was a great display of innocence, Dad.’

He gave me a blank stare. ‘What innocence?’

‘When you told Victor that you hadn’t seen Margot since she left you years ago.’

‘That was the truth – I haven’t seen her.’

For a brief moment, I could have sworn he was telling the truth but I had seen her with my own eyes.

‘Dad, I’ve seen Margot coming out of the warehouse at least three times over the last year.’

For the second time that night, he gave me a sharp look. ‘Margot? Coming out of the warehouse? When was this?’

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