A Lesser Evil

  ‘What will you do if you can’t find another flat?’ Clara broke the silence first.

  ‘We’ll stay here until we’ve got enough for a deposit to buy a house,’ Fifi said. ‘That won’t take long once I get back to work.’

  ‘There are some nice new little houses in Horfield,’ Clara said.

  Fifi wondered if that was a suggestion they come back to Bristol. ‘I expect they are the ones Dan was working on,’ she said. ‘It would be lovely to come back and live in Bristol but he couldn’t be sure of getting work there, not like here where they are crying out for skilled bricklayers.’

  ‘I wish you would come back,’ Clara said unexpectedly. ‘Patty and your father miss you.’

  ‘What about you?’ Fifi asked hesitantly.

  ‘Of course I do. It’s not right to have one of my children so far away.’

  ‘And Dan? Would you be prepared to see him as part of our family?’

  ‘I’d try,’ Clara said. ‘I can’t say fairer than that.’

  Fifi’s heart leaped for it seemed as if at last her mother wanted to build bridges. ‘It’s a start,’ she said, and her smile was a joyous one. ‘I’ve missed all of you, and I’ve hated the way it’s been between us. Maybe when the trial is over and we’ve got on our feet again, we can come down to Bristol and give moving back some thought.’

  Clara looked at her reflectively, perhaps surprised her daughter had met her halfway. ‘Now will you tell me about this murder?’ she asked, clearly anxious to move on to safer ground. ‘Maybe if I understood about it all I wouldn’t be so frightened by it. No one I know has ever been a witness to anything like this.’

  It seemed quite ironic to Fifi that she’d been unable to get any of the people she classed as friends around here to discuss the ins and outs of the case, yet her mother was desperately eager to hear it all.

  She could be a good listener when she chose, and Fifi found herself pouring out all the detail, how it had affected her, and the aspects which were still baffling.

  Every now and then Clara would stop her to question something. She winced from time to time at the more graphic descriptions, but she didn’t interrupt with any opinions or snobby remarks.

  ‘It’s been good to talk it over with you,’ Fifi finished up. ‘I really struggled just after it happened. Dan didn’t want to talk about it, and I’d sort of got everything stuck in my head.’

  It was in fact the first heart-to-heart talk she’d ever had with her mother, and it felt good, as though they’d taken a huge leap forward.

  ‘Your father never wants to discuss things either. I think it’s a male thing. Maybe by refusing to talk they think it will go away. But what an ordeal for you, darling! It must have been appalling.’

  ‘I’m well over the worst of it now,’ Fifi said. ‘I just hope to God it really was Alfie and the police can prove it.’

  As Fifi said this, she realized that in fact it was this slim possibility that Alfie was innocent which was causing most of her anxiety. Once she knew for absolute certain that it was him, she felt she’d be able to put it all aside. She admitted as much to her mother.

  ‘It must have been him,’ Clara said firmly. ‘If it was one of those other men at the card game, or one of your neighbours, the police would have found out by now. I bet he’s only trying to muddy the waters by not admitting who was there with him that night. Look at it logically, Fifi, why would anyone else kill her? And how can the couple claim they loved the child if they were prepared to leave her alone in the house while they swanned off to the seaside? They are evil people and they deserve to be hung, drawn and quartered.’

  Fifi made them both a ham sandwich and more tea and at long last Clara began to behave as if she was glad to be there. She helped Fifi finish making the bed and admired the bookcase Dan had found in a junk shop and painted. She even praised the cleanliness of the bathroom after visiting it.

  Clara had to leave and meet her husband about the time Fifi had her hair appointment. She offered to cancel it and go with her mother, but Clara wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘It’s not worth you coming with me for just five minutes with your father, we’ve got to catch the train at five,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You keep your hair appointment, it will make you feel good about yourself tomorrow when the plaster comes off.’

  ‘I feel good just because you came,’ Fifi said, impulsively hugging Clara. ‘I really am sorry I caused you both such distress, I hope we can start again now.’

  Clara took Fifi’s face between her two hands and kissed her forehead, just the way she did when Fifi was a little girl. ‘It was good to see you,’ she said. ‘A mother always worries about her eldest child the most, and perhaps expects too much. You’ll find that out when you have children. I don’t know if I’ll ever really like Dan, but I will promise to try. If he can get a long weekend off work, then come home to see us.’

  On the way to the tube station Fifi felt she had to ask her mother to explain the remark she’d made on the evening of her wedding day.

  ‘Did people really say you should put me in an institution when I was little?’

  Clara blushed. ‘I never meant to tell you that,’ she said. ‘I was angry.’

  ‘But was it true?’

  ‘Yes and no. Child guidance did suggest a special school, but that made me so angry I never took you to them again. But that was the only suggestion, and I’m ashamed I told you in such a nasty way.’

  ‘I must have given you a very hard time,’ Fifi said thoughtfully. A year ago her childhood problems had seemed funny and she’d never seriously considered how worrying it must have been for her parents.

  ‘You couldn’t help it, dear,’ Clara said. ‘Now, don’t let’s bring up any more unpleasant things we’ve said to one another. We need to forgive and forget.’

  They parted at the tube station, where Clara bought a big bunch of flowers which she gave to Fifi. ‘I could see you’d made a great effort to make your flat a real home, that pleased me. Now ring me, and if you haven’t got enough change for the phone I can always ring you back so we can have a chat. I hope the trial won’t be too long off, it must be dragging you down worrying about it. If you want us there to support you, just ask.’

  Fifi’s eyes filled with tears at such sweetness from her mother. ‘Thank you, Mummy,’ she said, feeling like a little girl again. ‘Give Dad, Patty and the boys my love. I feel all hopeful now.’

  That evening Dan listened to Fifi’s jubilant tale about the visit with a wry smirk. ‘It’s nice to see you so happy to be thrown crumbs from the table,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean, “crumbs from the table”?’ she asked indignantly. ‘She was really nice!’

  ‘She had to be to get the lowdown on the murder, and to get in here to inspect the flat. I wouldn’t mind betting that as we speak she’s telling your father that she’s almost persuaded you to come back to Bristol, and once you’re back where you belong it will only be a matter of time before I get the big elbow.’

  ‘Don’t be so nasty,’ Fifi snapped. ‘Can’t you just be glad she’s coming round?’

  ‘No, because I don’t believe it,’ he said. ‘You said yourself she was snotty when she first arrived. She only warmed up once you gave her all the dirt about over the road. You told her that I was fed up with you talking about it, I expect, and she saw that as a chink in the armour.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Fifi said indignantly.

  ‘Okay, we’ll wait and see,’ he said. ‘I bet you get a letter from her in a day or two suggesting you come down alone for a weekend. She’ll dress it up saying she and your father want some time alone with you, or some such excuse.’

  Fifi flounced out of the room into the bedroom. She thought Dan was actually a bit jealous. He probably felt powerful when she had no one but him to turn to.

  She lay on the bed reading a magazine, and Dan didn’t come in for over an hour. When he did, he was grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Who’s a sulky girl
then?’ he taunted her.

  ‘I’m not sulking,’ she said airily, even though she was.

  He caught hold of one of her bare feet and tickled the sole, making her giggle. ‘You aren’t allowed to sulk,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s go down the pub and celebrate the last night of the plaster.’

  ‘What’s to celebrate about that?’ she asked.

  ‘There isn’t much, but you’ve had your hair done and you look pretty, so I’m looking for an excuse to show you off. Besides, we haven’t tuned into the grapevine lately.’

  Fifi found it impossible to be cross with Dan for long. One look at his handsome grinning face, those dark eyes and angular cheekbones and she was putty in his hands.

  ‘Okay then.’ She got up and put on her shoes and some lipstick. ‘But don’t say anything more about my mum or I’ll come straight home.’

  Fifi was laughing as she walked into the pub. Dan had been doing an impersonation of Stan as they walked up the road. He had caught his hangdog expression, the stiff-backed walk and the accent perfectly.

  ‘Nice to see a pretty girl laughing,’ Johnny Milkins said, turning on his bar stool to look at Fifi. ‘Tell us the joke, I could do with a laugh.’

  The pub was very quiet, no more than fifteen or sixteen people in all. But then it was often that way on a Wednesday night.

  ‘Dan was doing an impression of Stan,’ Fifi said. She tugged at Dan’s arm. ‘Go on, do it for Johnny!’

  Dan arranged his face appropriately. ‘I may not go to the Rifleman until all theese bad feelings are gone,’ he said, getting the Polish accent perfectly. Then he walked up to the bar with Stan’s special walk.

  Johnny roared with laughter, his huge belly which slouched over his trousers wobbling like a jelly. ‘You’ve got him to a T,’ he said through his laughter. ‘Can you do anyone else?’

  ‘I could do you, mate, if I had a big enough pillow to stick under my shirt,’ Dan replied.

  Johnny roared again, slapped Dan on the back and insisted on buying him and Fifi a drink.

  Fifi liked Johnny. He was a huge man in every way, well over six feet tall, weighing around twenty stone, and with a personality to match. His hair was going grey but he had masses of it, standing up on end like a thick brush. With his deep, dark tan from working outside, and vivid blue eyes, he was attractive despite his immense bulk.

  He was the man who claimed to have a close friend in the police force and had related the information about the clean sheet covering Angela.

  Dan liked Johnny too, but said a man who wore half of England’s gold reserves around his neck and wrist yet lived in a council flat had to be a bit thick.

  ‘You don’t normally come in here midweek,’ Johnny said, giving Fifi one of his lecherous winks. ‘Special occasion?’

  ‘My plaster’s coming off tomorrow,’ Fifi replied. ‘I can’t wait, it itches underneath. I have to poke a knitting needle up it to scratch it.’

  ‘You’re gonna have to hang that arm out yer window to brown it up,’ Johnny said. ‘My missis broke ’er arm once and I nearly pissed meself when the plaster come off. I said she ought to audition for the Black and White Minstrels.’

  ‘I’ll wear long sleeves,’ Fifi said. ‘Or put gravy browning on it like they did in the war.’

  Over the first drink Johnny entertained them with various funny stories connected with his scaffolding business, including an hilarious one about a man who fell asleep sunbathing in his lunch hour, three floors up, turned over in his sleep and fell off.

  ‘Luckiest man alive,’ Johnny chortled. ‘Fell into a heap of sand. Not a scratch on him.’

  They were on a third drink when Fifi asked Johnny if Frank or Stan had started to come back to the pub yet.

  Both men had stopped coming in after they were hauled in for police questioning. They were not the only ones who’d absented themselves. Mike Skinner from number 7, Ralph Jackson who lived on the top floor of Yvette’s house, and John Bolton at number 13 had not been seen in the pub either. They were all men who had been known to have been at card games at number 11 in the past, and they’d all been pulled in for questioning. None of them had been at the last game, but feelings were running so high about Alfie that any associates of his were not welcome in the pub.

  ‘You haven’t heard about Stan?’ Johnny asked, looking surprised. ‘I thought you must’ve when Dan was taking him off.’

  ‘What about him?’ Fifi asked.

  ‘He’s been taken down the cop shop again.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Fifi exclaimed. ‘Why can’t they leave him alone?’

  ‘A woman over in Brixton reported he’d molested her daughter,’ Johnny said. ‘Seems kosher too. She were seven, same age as Angela. And ’e weren’t at work that morning she died neither. ’E never showed up.’

  Fifi was so shocked she could only stare at Johnny in disbelief.

  ‘Are you sure about this, mate?’ Dan asked, suddenly very serious and ashamed he’d been mimicking the man. ‘I can’t believe that of Stan. His own little girls were gunned down in the war.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Johnny said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘I’d have staked me life on ’im being as straight as a die where kids is concerned. But it looks black fer ’im. He lied about being at work that morning, and he empties the bins around Brixton. Then there’s that stuff him and Frank said about killing one of the kids and making it look like Alfie done it.’

  ‘But that was just a black joke, they weren’t serious,’ Fifi said indignantly.

  ‘No one wants Alfie to swing for it more than me,’ Johnny said, gesticulating with his hands. ‘I ’ates the geezer. The boys up the nick are sure he’d done stuff to all his girls, so no one wants ’im to walk away from this. But if ’e didn’t actually kill Angela, then someone else did. And the Old Bill ’ave got to nab ’im.’

  ‘Of course it was Alfie,’ Dan said impatiently. ‘It’s as plain as the nose on your face.’

  ‘That’s just because you want to believe that,’ Johnny said. ‘We all do.’

  ‘It couldn’t be Stan,’ Fifi said stubbornly. ‘I just know it.’

  ‘I certainly don’t wanna believe Stan is a nonce. It just don’t fit right to me,’ Johnny said. ‘But it could be ’e’s never bin right in the ’ead since ’e lost his wife and kids.’

  ‘Do you know why he didn’t admit he wasn’t at work that morning?’ Dan asked.

  ‘Stan reckons ’e overslept and ’e didn’t own up to it cos another bloke ’ad clocked ’im in. ’E reckons they do it all the time for one another when they’re late, to save ’em getting their money docked. ’E didn’t want anyone to get into trouble for covering for ’im.’

  ‘What time did he get into work then?’ Fifi asked. Her good mood had vanished and the old fear and anxiety were coming back.

  ‘’E joined ’is dustcart around eleven,’ Johnny said.

  Fifi and Dan went home after that drink, both subdued and shocked.

  ‘I don’t, I won’t believe it,’ Dan burst out once they got indoors. ‘Stan’s a decent man.’

  ‘What about the word of the woman in Brixton?’ Fifi said in a small voice. She was remembering all the times Stan had got shopping for her when she first came home from hospital. She found it impossible to believe such a kind man could molest a child, but if he had really done it, perhaps he had another side she and Dan hadn’t seen.

  ‘This information could have come from someone who owes the Muckles a favour,’ Dan said grimly. ‘Or just some hysterical woman who’s remembered seeing Stan playing with her kid. I’ve seen him out in the road talking to kids plenty of times. He’s just a lonely man who likes to see children playing.’

  It was Fifi who lapsed into silence this time, saying nothing while Dan ranted about how he reckoned Alfie had been in the habit of giving the police backhanders, and this was why they were looking for someone else to frame.

  ‘Look at the times he’s got away with stuff that would get an
yone else locked up immediately,’ he said. ‘If it’s Detective Inspector Roper he’s got in his pocket, Alfie could easily get him to pin this on someone else. Stan’s the perfect patsy, he’s a Pole for a start, with no family. Who’s going to stick up for him?’

  Fifi had been brought up to respect the law, and to trust the police to apprehend criminals and bring them to trial. She hadn’t liked Roper much, but she didn’t believe he would take bribes or frame an innocent man, not even to protect himself. Yet she knew Dan was far more worldly-wise than she was, and Roper did seem to be pulling out all the stops to find someone other than Alfie to pin the crime on.

  It was unthinkable that Alfie just might be released without charge. Even if he hadn’t actually killed Angela, he’d treated her and all his children shamefully, and once home again, he’d continue to do so. He would also be wanting revenge against anyone who had spoken out against him. Herself included!

  Fifi left the hospital at noon the following day, feeling like a new woman without the plaster, though just as Johnny had said, her arm did look odd being so white. It was thinner too, and it felt weak; she supposed some of the muscle had wasted while not being used. But it felt so good to be able to stretch out her fingers, to know that she could dress herself quickly again, and cuddle Dan without clonking him on the head!

  As she drew close to Dale Street she spotted Frank going into the pub. She hadn’t as much as caught sight of him for days, but assuming he had come out of his hermit-like state, she thought she would go in too and see how he was.

  After the glare of the sunshine, the pub seemed very gloomy. There was only a handful of people in there, and Frank was at the bar waiting for his pint to be pulled.

  ‘Hello, how nice to see you,’ she said brightly, as if surprised to find him there. ‘I’ve just had the plaster off my arm, so I thought I’d get a drink to celebrate. Let me buy you that pint too.’

  ‘No, you’re all right,’ he said, looking as if he wished she would go away.