‘Don’t do anything about Mr Druce, will you? The Board are just waiting for an excuse, and if they get to know about his deals and all that it will only come back on me. Where will I stand if he emigrates?’
‘Who tipped Druce off? Was it Trevor Lomas?’
‘No, it was Dixie, the little bitch. She’s been going in and out to Mr Druce a lot behind my back.’
‘Ah well. Take some shorthand dictation, will you, as you’re here?’ He got up and fetched her a notebook and a Biro pen.
‘Dougal, I’m upset.’
‘There’s nothing like work to calm your emotions. After all, you should be working at this moment. Are you ready? Tell me if I’m going too fast:
“Peckham was fun exclamation mark but the day inevitably dawned when I realized that I and my beloved pals at the factory were poles apart full stop The great throbbing heart of London across the river spelt fame comma success comma glamour to me full stop I was always an incurable romantic exclamation mark New para The poignant moment arrived when I bade farewell to my first love full stop Up till now I had had eyes for no others but fate — capital F — had intervened full stop We kissed dot dot dot a shudder went through my frame dot dot dot every fibre of my being spoke of gratitude and grief but the budding genius within me cried out for expression full stop And so we parted for ever full stop New para I felt a grim satisfaction as the cab which bore me and my few poor belongings bowled across Vauxhall Bridge and into the great world — capital G capital W — ahead full stop Yes comma Peckham had been fun exclamation mark” Now, leave a space, please, and —‘
‘What’s all this about?’ Merle said.
‘Don’t fuss, you’re putting me off.’
‘God, if Mr Druce thought I was working in with you, he’d kill me.’
‘Leave a space,’ Dougal said, ‘then a row of dots. That denotes a new section. Now continue. “Throughout all the years of my success I have never forgotten those early comma joyful comma innocent days in Peckham full stop Only the other day I came across the following paragraph in the paper —“ Hand me the paper,’ Dougal said, ‘till I find-the bit.’
She passed him the newspaper. ‘Dougal,’ she said, ‘I’m going.’
‘Surely not till you’ve typed it out for me?’ he said. ‘There isn’t much more to take down.’
He found the paragraph and said, ‘Put this bit in quotation marks. Are you ready? “The excavations on the underground tunnel leading from the police-station yard at Peckham are now nearing completion full stop The tunnel comma formerly used by the nuns of the Order of St Bridget comma stretches roughly six hundred yards from the police station bracket formerly the site of the priory unbracket to Gordon Road and not comma as formerly. supposed comma to Nunhead. Archaeologists have reported some interesting finds and human remains all of which will be removed before the tunnel is open to the public quite shortly full stop end quotes.”‘
‘Is this a police report?’ Merle said. ‘Because if so I don’t want to do it. Dougal. Mr Druce would —‘
‘Only a few more words,’ Dougal said. ‘Ready? New paragraph “When I read the above tears started to my eyes full stop How well did I recall every detail of that station yard two exclamation marks The police in my day were far from —“‘
‘I can’t go on,’ Merle said. ‘This is putting me in a difficult position.’
‘All right, dear,’ Dougal said. He sat up and stroked her long neck till she started to cry.
‘Type it out,’ Dougal said, ‘and forget your troubles. It’s a nice typewriter. You’ll find the paper on the table.’
She sat up to the table and typed from her shorthand notes.
Dougal lay back on his bed. ‘There is no more beautiful sight.’ he said, ‘than to see a fine woman bashing away at a typewriter.’
‘Is Mr Douglas in?’
‘He’s up in his room writing out his reports. He’s busy.’
‘Can I go up?’
‘I’ll see if it’s convenient. But he’s busy. Come inside, please. What name?’
‘Elaine Kent.’
‘Come up,’ Dougal called from the second landing.
‘You may go up,’ Miss Frierne said. ‘Top floor.’ Miss Frierne stood and watched her climbing out of sight.
‘You’ve been putting too much water in the plant,’ Elaine said, feeling the soil round the potted ivy. ‘You should water it once a week only.’
‘People come here to cry,’ Dougal said, ‘which accounts for an excess of moisture in this room.
She took a crumpled brown-paper bag from her shopping basket. They were Dougal’s socks which had been washed and darned.
‘There’s talk going round about you,’ Elaine said. ‘Makes me laugh. They say you’re in the pay of the cops.’
‘What’s funny about it?’
‘Catch the Peckham police boys spending their money on you.’
‘Oh, I would make an excellent informer. I don’t say plain-clothes policeman, exactly, but for gathering information and having no scruples in passing it on you could look farther than me and fare worse.
‘There’s a gang watching out for you,’ Elaine said. ‘So be careful where you go at nights. I shouldn’t go out alone much.’
‘Terrifying, isn’t it? I mean, say this is the street and there’s Trevor over there. And say here’s Collie Gould crossing the road. And young Leslie comes up to me and asks the time and I look at my watch. Then out jumps Trevor with a razor — rip, rip, rip. But Collie whistles loud on his three fingers. Leslie gives me a parting kick where I lie in the gutter and slinks after Trevor away into the black concealing night. Up comes the copper and finds me. The cop takes one look, turns away, and pukes on the pavement. He then with trembling fingers places a whistle to his lips.’
‘Sit down and stop pushing the good furniture about,’ she said.
‘I’ve gone and worked myself up with my blether,’ Dougal said. ‘I feel that frightened.’
‘Leslie was waiting for Mr Willis at five o’clock the day before he went on his holidays. I saw him standing be-hind Mr Willis’s car. So I hung on just to see. And then Mr Willis came out. And then Leslie came forward. And then Leslie said something and Mr. Willis said something. So I walked past. I heard Mr Willis say, “Have you left school?” and Leslie said, “What’s that to you?” and Mr Willis said, “I should want to know a good deal more about you before I took notice of what you say” — or it was something like that, Mr Willis said. And then Mr Willis drove away.
‘Ah well,’ Dougal said, ‘I expect to be leaving here next month. Will you cry when I’m gone?’
‘I’d watch it.’
‘Come on out to the pictures,’ Dougal said, ‘for fine evening though it is I am inclined for a bit of darkness.’ On the way out he picked up a letter postmarked from Grasse. He read it going down the street with Elaine.
Dear Douglas,
We arrived on Saturday night. The weather is perfect and this is quite a pleasant hotel with delightful view. The food is quite good. The people are very pleasant. at least so far! We have had one or two pleasant drives along the coast. Quite frankly, Richard needs a rest. You know yourself how he forces himself and is so conscientious.
Richard is very pleased with the arrangements we came to the other evening. It will be so much better to have someone to support him as there are so many Drovers in the firm now. (I almost think, quite frankly, the firm should be called Drover, Drover, Drover Willis instead of Drover Willis!) I hope you yourself are satisfied with the new arrangements. Richard instructed the accountant before he left about your increase and it will be back-dated from the date of your joining the firm as arranged.
I feel I ought to tell you of an incident which occurred just before we left, although, quite frankly, Richard decided not to mention it to you (in case it put you off!). A young boy in his teens waylaid Richard and told him you were a paid police informer employed apparently to look into the industries of Peckham in case
of irregularities. Of course, Richard took no notice, and as I said to Richard, there would hardly be any reason for the police to suspect any criminal activities at Drover Willis’s! Quite frankly, I thought I would tell you this to put you on your guard, as I feel I can talk to you, Douglas, as to a son. You have obviously made one or two enemies in the course of your research. That is always the trouble, they are so ungrateful. Before the war these boys used to be glad of a meal and a night’s shelter, but now quite frankly…
Dougal put away the letter. ‘I am as melancholy a young man as you might meet on a summer’s day,’ he said to Elaine, ‘and it feels quite nice.’
They came out of the pictures at eight o’clock. Nelly Mahone was outside the pub opposite, declaiming, ‘The words of the double-tongued are as if they were harmless, but they reach even to the inner part of the bowels. Praise be to the Lord, who distinguishes our cause and delivers us from the unjust and deceitful man.
Dougal and Elaine crossed the road. As they passed, Nelly spat on the pavement.
Chapter 9
MERLE COVERDALE said to Trevor Lomas, ‘I’ve only been helping him out with a few private things. He’s good company and he’s different. I don’t have much of a life.’
‘Only a few private things,’ Trevor said. ‘Only just helping him out.’
‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’
‘Typing out his nark information for him.’
‘Look,’ Merle said, ‘he isn’t anything to do with the police. I don’t know where that story started, but it isn’t true.’
‘What’s this private business you do for him?’
‘No business of yours.
‘We got to carve up that boy one of these days,’ Trevor said. ‘D’you want to get carved alongside of him?’
‘Christ, I’m telling you the truth,’ Merle said. ‘It’s only a story he’s writing for someone he calls Cheese that had to do with Peckham in the old days. You don’t understand Dougal. He’s got no harm in him. He’s just different.’
‘Cheese,’ Trevor said. ‘That’s what you go there every Tuesday and every Friday night to work on.’
‘It’s not real cheese,’ Merle said. ‘Cheese is a person, it isn’t the real name.’
‘You don’t say so,’ Trevor said. ‘And what’s the real name?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Lomas, truly.’
‘You won’t go back there,’ Trevor stated.
‘I’ll have to explain to him, then. He’s just a friend, Mr Lomas.’
‘You don’t see him again. Understand. We got plans for him.’
‘Mr Lomas, you’d better go. Mr Druce will be along soon. I don’t want Mr Druce to find you here.’
‘He knows I’m here.’
‘You never told him of me going to Dougal’s, week-nights?’
‘He knows, I said.’
‘It’s you’s the informer, not Dougal.’
‘Re-member. Any more work you do for him’s going to go against you.’
Trevor trod down the stairs from her flat with the same deliberate march as when he had arrived, and she watched him from her window taking Denmark Hill as if he owned it.
Mr Druce arrived twelve minutes later. He took oil his hat and hung it on the peg in her hall. He followed her into the sitting-room and opened the door of the sideboard. He took out some whisky and poured himself a measure, squirting soda into it.
Merle took up her knitting.
‘Want some?’ he said.
‘I’ll have a glass of red wine. I feel I need something red, to buck me up.
He stooped to get the bottle of wine and, opening a drawer, took out the corkscrew.
‘I just had a visitor,’ she said.
He turned to look at her with the corkscrew pointing from his fist.
‘I daresay you know who it was,’ she said.
‘Certainly I do. I sent him.’
‘My private life’s my private life,’ she said. ‘I’ve never interfered with yours. I’ve never come near Mrs Druce though many’s the time I could have felt like telling her a thing or two.’
He handed over her glass of wine. He looked at the label on the bottle. He sat down and took his shoes off. He put on his slippers. He looked at his watch. Merle switched on the television. Neither looked at it. ‘I’ve been greatly taken in by that Scotch fellow. He’s in the pay of the police and of the board of Meadows Meade. He’s been watching me for close on three months and putting in his reports.’
‘No, you’re wrong there,’ Merle said.
‘And you’ve been in with him this last month.’ He pointed his finger at her throat, nearly touching it.
‘You’re wrong there. I’ve only been typing out some stories for him.’
‘What stories?’
‘About Peckham in the old days. It’s about some old lady he knows. You’ve got no damn right to accuse me and send that big tough round here threatening me.’
‘Trevor Lomas,’ Mr Druce said, ‘is in my pay. You’ll do what Trevor suggests. We’re going to run that Dougal Douglas, so-called, out of Peckham with something to remember us by.’
‘I thought you were going to emigrate.’
‘I am.’
‘When?’
‘When it suits me.’
He crossed his legs and attended to the television.
‘I don’t feel like any supper tonight.’ she said.
‘Well, I do.’
She went into the kitchen and made a clatter. She came back crying. ‘I’ve had a rotten life of it.’
‘Not since Dougal Douglas, so-called, joined the firm, from what I hear.’
‘He’s only a friend. You don’t understand him.’
Mr Druce breathed in deeply and looked up at the lampshade as if calling it to witness.
‘You can have a chop with some potatoes and peas,’ she said. ‘I don’t want any.’
She sat down and took up her knitting, weeping upon it.
He leaned forward and tickled her neck. She drew away. He pinched the skin of her long neck, and she screamed.
‘Sh-sh-sh,’ he said, and stroked her neck.
He went to pour himself some more whisky. He turned and looked at her. ‘What have you been up to with Dougal Douglas, so-called?’ he said.
‘Nothing. He’s just a friend. A bit of company for me.’ The corkscrew lay on the sideboard. He lifted an end, let it drop, lifted it, let it drop..
‘I’d better turn the chop,’ she said and went into the kitchen.
He followed her. ‘You gave him information about me,’ he said.
‘No, I’ve told you —‘
‘And you typed his reports to the Board.’
She pushed past him, weeping noisily, to find her handkerchief on the chair.
‘What else was between you and him?’ he said, raising his voice above the roar of the television.
He came towards her with the corkscrew and stabbed it into her long neck nine times, and killed her. Then he took his hat and went home to his wife.
‘Doug dear,’ said Miss Maria Cheeseman.
‘I’m in a state,’ Dougal said, ‘so could you ring off?’
‘Doug, I just wanted to say. You’ve re-written my early years so beautifully. Those new Peckham stories are absolutely sweet. I’m sure you feel, as I feel, that the extra effort was quite worth it. And now the whole book’s perfect, and I’m thrilled.’
‘Thanks,’ said Dougal. ‘I doubt if the new bits were worth all the trouble, but —‘
‘Doug, come over and see me this afternoon.’
‘Sorry, Cheese, I’m in a state. I’m packing. I’m leaving here.’
‘Doug, I’ve got a little gift for you. Just an appreciation—’
‘I’ll ring you back,’ Dougal said. ‘I’ve just remembered I’ve left some milk on the stove.’
‘You’ll let me have your new address, won’t you?’
Dougal went into the kitchen. Miss Frierne was seated at the table, but she
had slipped down in her chair. She seemed to be asleep. One side of her face was askew. Her eyelid fluttered.
Dougal looked round for the gin bottle to measure the extent of Miss Frierne’s collapse. But there was no gin bottle, no bottle at all, no used glass. He took another look at Miss Frierne. Her eyelid fluttered and her lower lip moved on one side of her mouth.
Dougal telephoned to the police to send a doctor. Then he went upstairs and fetched down his luggage comprising his zipper-case, his shiny new brief-case, and his typewriter. The doctor arrived presently and went in to Miss Frierne. ‘A stroke,’ he said.
‘Well, I’ll be off,’ Dougal said.
‘Are you a relative?’
‘No, a tenant. I’m leaving.’
‘Right away?’
‘Yes,’ Dougal said. ‘I was leaving in any case, but I’ve got a definite flaw where illness is concerned.’
‘Has she got any relatives?’
‘No.’
‘I’d better ring the ambulance,’ the doctor said. ‘She’s pretty far gone.’
Dougal walked with his luggage up Rye Lane. In the distance he saw a crowd outside the police-station yard. He joined it, and pressed through with his bags into the yard.
‘Going away?’ said one of the policemen.
‘I’m leaving the district. I thought, from the crowd, there might be some new find in the tunnel.’
The policeman nodded towards the crowd. ‘We’ve just arrested a man in connexion with the murder.’
‘Druce,’ Dougal said.
‘That’s right.’
‘Druce is. the man,’ Dougal said.
‘He’s the chap all right. She might have been left there for days if it hadn’t been for the food burning on the gas. The neighbours thought there was a fire and broke in. The tunnel’s open now, as you see; the steps are in. Official opening on Wednesday. Lights are being fixed now.’
‘Pity I won’t be here. I should have liked to go along the tunnel.’
‘Go down if you like. It’s only six hundred yards. Brings you out at Gordon Road. One of our men is on guard at that point. He’ll know you. Pity not to see it as you’ve taken so much interest.’