Yew Tree Gardens (18 page)

‘Why don’t I go myself? I have another matter to attend to in London, so I can kill two birds with one stone.’

Mr Mortlake frowned at him. ‘Well … as long as you don’t approach anyone from this firm or do anything rash. Just check out that there is a firm with this name and that they are doing business.’

‘Give me the details. I’ll leave tomorrow.’

‘While you’re doing that, I’ll write to a friend of mine who has rooms at Lincoln’s Inn and ask him to check Standish’s legal credentials, not to mention those of his partners.’

‘Good.’ Gil was glad to be able to do something for himself, instead of relying on others. He was also eager to help Renie. She’d sounded anxious in her letter. Who was making her life at the Rathleigh a misery? His friend Julia had made him realise how vulnerable young women could be in a world ruled by men. He hoped no one ever attacked that bright-faced young woman in the way they had those poor females in the home for women in distress.

When he got back to Oakdene, Gil explained everything to Walter, including Renie’s plea for help.

The old man smiled at him. ‘There’s my lad. I’m proud of you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re starting to come into your own, not just thinking about yourself. We’ll have you a Member of Parliament one day, or at least on the local council.’

Gil gaped at him. ‘Me? There’s no way I’d go in for that sort of thing. What do I know about running this country? And just think how
Punch
would have a field day about this stupid thing.’ He flapped his left arm at Walter.

‘And think how many people you could help.’

‘I need to help myself first and get rid of Chapman. He’s a blight on this village as well as a nuisance to me. Did you
know the two Dyson brothers have fallen out because of him?’

‘You’ll settle his hash eventually, then things will settle down.’

Gil wished he was half as confident as his friend and mentor. Member of Parliament, indeed! What an idea! As if he was capable of something like that! ‘I’d better go and pack. Do you feel up to a trip to London?’

‘No, lad. I tire too easily these days.’

‘Perhaps we should fetch in the doctor again?’

‘No doctor can cure old age.’ He patted Gil’s hand gently. ‘I’ve had a good life and I’m not in any pain. If I’m lucky, one night I’ll just slip away, but not quite yet, I hope.’

Gil swallowed hard. Old people did die, but oh, he needed Walter still.

‘It’s Horry who should go with you this time. He can drive you to London in the car. Though you’d better get him some decent clothes while you’re up there. He could borrow one of your suits till then. Were you thinking of staying with your parents?’

‘I suppose so.’

Walter chuckled. ‘Why don’t you stay at that hotel, instead? You’ll have far more freedom and you’ll be able to have a look round it, to see if you can get any idea of who’s causing trouble for that nice lass.’

‘As long as my parents don’t find out I’m so close.’

‘Does it matter if they do? You’re not answerable to them any longer.’

The words made Gil pause, seemed to mark an important change in his life. ‘No. I suppose not. I’d better tell Horry, then.’

He stopped in the corridor, feeling different, as if … Yes, as if he’d finally cut the childish ties to his family, the ties that stopped him acting for himself. Some would call it growing up. He smiled, thinking
and about time too.
What a young fool he’d been.

Whistling, he went to find Horry and explain why they were going to London.

‘Um, Walter thinks you should borrow one of my suits. Do you mind? I don’t want you getting treated like a servant in this London hotel.’

Horry looked at him in surprise. ‘But I am a servant!’

‘You’ve also become a friend, I hope. As Walter has. He always has a room next to mine, and I’d like you to do the same.’

Horry flushed and shook Gil’s hand, trying and failing to speak. But there were no words needed for the friendship that was growing between them.

‘Let’s go and see what I’ve got. There are some suits that are a bit too big for me now. They might be just the thing for you. Oh, and a hat. We need Walter to tell us what sort of hat you should wear. Let’s find him.’

Walter sat on the bed while the two young men went through Gil’s clothes. They looked surprisingly alike once they were both dressed in gentleman’s clothing. But these days, you’d never mistake which one was the master.

As they were leaving the dining room that evening, Horry tugged Gil’s sleeve. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Absolutely certain.’

‘You’ll not regret it, I promise you.’

Gil laughed. ‘One day you’ll be famous for designing cars, far richer than me, then it’ll be your turn to be kind to me.’

Horry stood stock-still. ‘How did you know? That I want to design cars – well, the engines, anyway?’

‘I can’t help noticing that you’ve been tinkering with an old engine in your spare time, and making sketches of pieces of machinery. If you need any parts, I’m happy to pay for them. Miss Bennerden left me the house and money on condition I help others, you know. And I find it very satisfying to do that.’

Walter watched them, smiling approvingly.

Gil shot him a quick glance. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think you two ought to be businesslike about it,’ Walter said. ‘Go and see old Mortlake when you’ve sorted out the other stuff and get him to draw up a business agreement between you, then do the thing properly.’

‘Good idea!’ Gil said. ‘We’ll do that.’

Horry swallowed hard. ‘I’ll not cheat you, Mr Rycroft.’

‘I know that. And you should call me Gil from now on, don’t you think?’

Renie woke with a start and lay awake worrying. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Tolson, Judson would have cornered her near the linen cupboards this afternoon. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Hadn’t she made it plain she wanted nothing to do with him?

She remembered the lust in his eyes, and the way he seemed to puff up with pleasure when he upset her – even more so when he hurt her.

He was enjoying the chase, that’s why! He liked hurting people.

She remembered a neighbour’s cat, which always toyed with a mouse for a long time before killing it. She’d wanted
to intervene, but the neighbour had told her to leave things be. The cat was only doing its duty and deserved its fun.

If only she had some way of contacting Nell, she’d leave. Perhaps Gilbert Rycroft would contact her soon. She didn’t know why, but she felt quite sure he’d help her.

Feeling better for taking that decision, she snuggled down in bed. Thank goodness she slept in a dormitory with the other women. She felt safe here, safer than anywhere else in the hotel.

Other people must be aware of what Judson was doing, though perhaps they didn’t know all the details. Didn’t they care? Or were they too worried about their own jobs?

Perhaps they were as afraid of him as she was? Probably.

How could one man make so many people nervous? 

Gil set off the following morning, with a self-conscious Horry, dressed in one of his new suits. He felt a sense of freedom as they drove along the quiet roads. They didn’t say much, but Horry looked happy at the wheel and the car chugged along merrily, as if it too wanted to be out and about.

Once they arrived in London, Gil had to direct Horry. They went to the hotel, booking rooms and leaving the car there, parked in what had been the mews.

Then they had a quick snack in the tea shop at the hotel, before finding a cab driver who was prepared to take them to the rooms of Corson, Standish and Levensworth, then wait for them. That would be easier than Horry trying to find his way round the city.

Horry had wanted to find a motor cab, but Gil insisted on a horse-drawn vehicle. ‘This is one time where we don’t want to attract onlookers if we have to stop.’

He was quite frank with the cab driver. ‘We want to check what these gentlemen are like, whether they’re a reputable firm or not.’

The driver hesitated. ‘That lot aren’t the sort of lawyers toffs like you use, sir.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

‘I know the street. Lots of businesses along it share premises. Nobody’s making a fortune, not if they work there. I take quite a few people to that particular building, though whether it’s to your firm or to one of the others I don’t know. They’re usually people who don’t want their faces to be seen clearly: gentlemen with hats pulled down, ladies with heavy veils. I reckon most of them as work in that building deal in divorces, that’s what I reckon.’

Gil knew about the divorce laws from Julia, that women had to prove both adultery and another serious fault, like cruelty or incest. He didn’t blame people for hiding their faces. It must be very difficult for them.

When they arrived, he suggested the cab driver stop further down the street and put a nosebag on his horse. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll pay you a guinea for your time.’

The man beamed at him. ‘You’re a gentleman, sir.’

Because Gil’s limp attracted attention, Horry got out of the cab and strolled along the street, studying the various premises and their brass plates, some of which would have been the better for a good polishing.

When he came back, Horry stood pretending to talk to their driver but in reality addressed his words to Gil, who had kept out of sight in the cab. ‘There are four firms in that house. Your lot are on the first floor. There’s another lot there too, so they can’t have much space, can they?’

‘Why don’t you go and get a shoeshine from that old fellow on the corner? Ask him about them. Pretend you’re wanting a divorce from a cheating wife.’

Horry glanced down at his ankle boots. ‘Better get a bit of muck on these first, then. I gave ’em a good shine this morning.’ Surreptitiously he scuffed dirt from the gutter over his boots, then grinned. ‘I’ve never had anyone else shine my shoes for me. I’ll feel like a proper toff.’ Straightening his curly-brimmed bowler, he adjusted the jacket of his
three-piece
suit and sauntered off again.

When he came back, he got into the cab. ‘Well, the old guy who did my shoes doesn’t like Standish at all. Says he’s a mean sod. The other two men in his so-called firm have never been seen, if they ever existed, so it’s only Standish, really.’

‘I suppose it sounds better to have several names in a legal firm. Hmm. I don’t think we’ll find out any more without going in to see him.’

‘I could come back later, dressed in my own clothes,’ Horry volunteered. ‘I’ll go into a pub – look, there’s one on the corner – and ask about divorce lawyers. People will talk if I buy them a drink or two – especially if Standish isn’t liked round here.’

‘Good idea. You do that.’

When they went back to the hotel, Gil glimpsed Renie hurrying across the foyer. She saw him and her face lit up for a moment, but the glow faded almost immediately. With a slight shake of her head, she hurried through a door.

Which presumably meant he was not to contact her in public.

Then Gil noticed a burly man dressed in a good suit following her. The fellow’s eyes were on Renie and you couldn’t mistake that look of lust. This had to be the one who was making her life miserable.

He stopped a page. ‘Who’s the man over there, the one just going through the door? He looks familiar. I’m sure I’ve met him somewhere.’

‘That’s Mr Judson, the manager.’ The boy’s voice was toneless, and from the look in his eyes, he didn’t like Judson.

‘I must have been mistaken, then. The fellow I know is called Hepworth. Thanks.’ He gave the lad sixpence, which sent him on his way, whistling cheerfully.

‘I didn’t like the looks of that manager,’ Horry said quietly. ‘I’ve met his sort before. Had to thump one fellow for pestering my cousin.’

Which left Gil with two things to worry about: his own situation and how to help Renie. Even from across the foyer, he could tell she’d lost weight and you couldn’t miss the dark circles under her eyes.

His heart went out to her. If she needed help, he’d do whatever was needed.

Renie stood in the linen cupboard, with the door open a crack, and watched Judson hurry past. When he’d gone, she slipped out and hurried off to see Miss Pilkins.

‘Do you have any jobs where I can work with someone?’ She was beyond pretending now.

‘Please close the door.’ Miss Pilkins waited till she’d done this, then asked, ‘Is it Mr Judson?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s becoming very obvious that he’s pursuing you. I’ve never seen anything as blatant. It’s disgraceful.’

‘I’ve done nothing to encourage him, I promise you.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that. I’ll speak to Mrs Tolson and we’ll see what we can arrange. If you like, you can go
over my accounts with me this afternoon and—’

There was a knock on the door and it opened almost immediately, before Miss Pilkins had time to say ‘Come in.’

Judson stood in the doorway. ‘Irene, I’m sure you have work to do. I need to speak to Miss Pilkins.’

Renie stood up and went towards the door, noticing that the assistant housekeeper was looking apprehensive.

Judson was blocking her way, so Renie stood waiting until he stepped aside. She wasn’t going to touch him if she could help it. The door shut behind her with a bang.

She waited round the corner until she saw him leave the office, then went back to see Miss Pilkins.

The other woman was in tears.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m to stop taking you away from your work. What he really means is to stop protecting you. And the trouble is, I need this job. My mother depends on my wages. She has no other money. I’m sorry, Irene, so very sorry. I daren’t help you, though I
will
mention it to Mrs Tolson next time I see her.’

‘I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.’ Renie walked away, feeling outraged, went to her office and wrote out her resignation there and then. She took it to the manager’s office and gave it to his secretary. ‘Please see that Mr Judson gets this as soon as possible.’

Then she went back to her office and began to get the papers in order for someone else to take over.

She half expected Judson to turn up once he’d had time to read her letter of resignation, but the minutes ticked slowly past and there was no sign of him, or of anyone else. Which was unusual.
An hour later the pageboy delivered an envelope. When she opened it, pieces of paper fell out – her letter of resignation.

Well, she would write another one and hand it to him in the presence of someone else so that he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t received it.

Inevitably her thoughts turned to Gilbert Rycroft. Had he come to the hotel to help her? She hoped so. If Judson caused any more trouble, she was going to beg Gilbert to help her get away at once. She could slip out easily enough, but she didn’t see why she should lose her possessions if Judson tried to stop her. He could claim anything – that she’d stolen something, even.

She didn’t care now whether she got the wages that were owing to her or not. All she wanted to do was leave and never see Judson again.

After a while, she couldn’t bear to sit there any longer and went out into the foyer. There was no one at the desk, so she nipped across and checked the sign-in register to find out Gilbert’s room number. First floor, number eight.

She couldn’t go and see him without people noticing, not yet anyway. But later she’d go and ask him to help her get away. She wanted to leave tonight.

She felt certain Gilbert Rycroft wouldn’t turn away from her.

And she had her savings. Thank goodness she’d been careful!

Gilbert took Horry down for afternoon tea in the café just off the foyer. He knew Horry had an excellent appetite, and he was feeling quite peckish again himself.

As they sat there, people passed by. The pageboy went to and fro at a trot, glancing over his shoulder occasionally, as if he felt someone was watching him.

When they’d finished their tea, Gilbert said he’d go back to his room and have a rest for a while. ‘My leg’s aching.’

‘I’ll take a turn round those gardens outside, if you don’t mind,’ Horry said. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’

‘What time are you leaving this evening? Do you want to have something to eat first?’

‘I’ll go about six, I think, but I’ll find somewhere to eat near the pub. There’s always somewhere in an area like that and maybe they’ll know something about Standish too.’

‘I’ll book a table in the restaurant here, then. I don’t feel like going out.’ Nor did he want to see his parents.

He shared the lift with the pageboy. ‘Running the lift now, are you?’

‘Just while Bob’s at tea, sir.’

The lift shuddered and came to a stop between floors.

‘Has it broken down?’

‘Well, it does this sometimes. If we wait a couple of minutes and try again, it should work. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir.’

‘I don’t mind. I wanted to ask you something privately, anyway. Do you know a young woman called Irene Fuller?’

The pageboy looked at him in surprise. ‘She works here, but I don’t know her well.’ His tone didn’t encourage further confidences.

‘My cousin knows her family and asked me to find out how she is. She didn’t sound happy in her last letter, apparently, and when Julia found I was coming to stay here, she asked me to check on Irene. I saw Irene in the foyer when I arrived, but she was hurrying off somewhere. Could you take a message to her, do you think?’ He pulled out half a crown and flipped the silver coin in the air a couple of times.

The lad hesitated. ‘You’re not … trying to hurt her, are you?’

‘Certainly not. I’m trying to help her. We know something’s wrong.’ He took a risk. ‘
I
think it’s to do with the manager.’

Another silence, then the lad said, ‘She’s a decent girl, sir. It’s not right what he’s doing. I’ll give her your message.’

The lift chose that moment to jerk and start rising again.

‘I won’t write anything down. It might get into the wrong hands and then you’d be in trouble. She knows my name, because we’ve met before. Tell her I’m in room eight and would like a quick word when convenient.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Yes.’

Gil handed over the half-crown, which vanished into the lad’s pocket before the lift doors were even half open.

Renie didn’t come to see him, though, and when Gil went down for his evening meal, there was no sign of the lad to ask if she’d received the message.

Nor was there any sign of the manager.

Just before her day ended, Renie received a note from Miss Pilkins asking her to collect a lady’s spare nightdress, which had mistakenly been left in a suitcase by her maid.

She’d had to fulfil such errands before and she recognised Miss Pilkins’ handwriting, though it wasn’t as neat as usual and must have been written in a hurry. She wished this hadn’t happened just as the daytime workers would be going off duty. Still, it wouldn’t take her more than a few minutes and she could trust Miss Pilkins.

She was careful to check that Judson was nowhere around before she left the foyer and she took the fire escape stairs
down to the basement, an echoing series of plain concrete stairs. This was not only the quickest way, but also would let her hear and see if anyone else was on the stairs following her.

She’d go back a different way. The cleaning staff had shown her at least two other little-used exits from the basements as well, one of which they used to keep dirty linen out of sight of guests. They knew the building better than anyone.

She lit an oil lamp because there was no gas lighting down here, then went into the room where the most valuable luggage was stored. She saw the suitcase that had been described to her, feeling relieved that this errand could be quickly accomplished, because she felt uneasy on her own down here.

As she bent to open the case, the door of the room slammed shut behind her and the key turned in the lock.

Horry had an excellent meal at a chophouse patronised by clerks and decent working men, the sort of hearty food he liked best, if truth be told. Pork chop, heaped-up mashed potatoes and carrots, all covered by a savoury onion gravy, followed by suet currant pudding and custard.

He chose to sit at a long communal table and easily got into conversation with his neighbours, mentioning that his master was looking for a lawyer to help him get a divorce.

‘Wish I could get rid of my old lady!’ one man joked.

‘Wish I had the money to do it. Though I’d not need to then, because if I had money, she’d stop nagging me and life would be a lot easier.’

‘Not married yourself?’ an older man asked Horry.

‘Nah. Who’d have someone with a scarred face like this?’ He pointed to his cheek.

‘I don’t think they look at you much once they’ve got their hooks into you,’ said a gloomy-looking fellow. ‘It’s whether you’re a good breadwinner or not that matters to them. If your master is looking for a divorce lawyer, he could try that Standish fellow on Person Street. I’ve heard he’s a tricky devil and that’s what you need.’