Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

'I caught them! I caught them red-handed! Look. Just look at that.' She pointed to a pile of coins on the table. Lisa and Margaret looked at each other, mysti fied.

'He's been moonlighting! No wonder he's quite happy to go cleaning windows, he's still drawing his Panel money!

And we've virtually been living on bread and dripping and you were all set to pawn your cross and chain. You sneak ing little, good-for-nothing thief! Give me that money." Before anyone could stop her, Nancy had swept the coins off the table.

You give that back, he earned it!' Maura yelled.

Prove it! Go on, prove it! We'll all go down to the Police Station together so he can swear he earned over two pounds cleaning windows." Maura sat down as Nancy stormed out of the room fol lowed by Lisa.

'If this happens again, Aunt, Margaret said stonily, 'I won't be responsible for Nancy and I won't try to stop her. I never thought anyone could sink so low. You both deserve to go to jail, but Confession will do this time and you can

be sure that Father Morley will hear of this." Uncle Bart got to his feet, his face twisted in an ugly sneer. 'I don't care about any b****y priest and you'll be sorry for this ... all of you!'

'God forgive you! But I don't think I will, and I'm not afraid of your threats.' But as she slammed the door behind her Margaret wondered if Nancy hadn't pushed him too far. Desperate men do desperate things. Then she shrugged. At least the rent would be paid and they would all eat and she wouldn't have to pawn anything and come pay day, they could settle a few more debts.

Margaret was surprised to find how near Walton Park was. She had hurried out of the works entrance and down Rice Lane, calling into the haulage yard on the corner of Parkinson Road. The man in the office there had told her that she had just missed 'the Boss', he'd gone home for lunch.

She was out of breath when she turned into the wide road, lined with trees just bursting into leaf. The houses were big and fairly new, some were four storeys high. Flights of steps led up to the front doors. She would have preferred to have paid the rent to him in his office, being acutely aware that it was not quite the thing to call at his home as a debtor. Margaret looked up the steps to the solid, varnished front door with its gleaming brass knocker in the shape of a lion's head, and decided that it would be better to go around the back to the tradesman's entrance. Before she had time to turn away the door opened and a

woman stood on the step. 'Are you Miss O'Maxwell?' she called.

Margaret nodded.

"Then you're to come in.' She held the door open. Mr Vannin's just come in himself, he saw you through the

library window.' She followed the woman - who by her dress was obvi

ously a servant - into a wide hallway. 'He'll be out in a minute. Wait there.' And with that instruction the woman disappeared along the corridor and through a door at the end.

Margaret looked around. Mr Vannin obviously wasn't short of money, judging by the fine quality of the mahogany hall-stand and the framed prints and the large gilt-framed mirror. Yet there was something lacking about the place and she just couldn't put her finger on it. 'Miss O'Maxwell, I'm sorry to keep you waiting. Would

you come in?' She turned, catching sight of him in the doorway of the library. Thank you. I did call at the yard but they said you'd just left.'

She walked forward and placed an envelope on the top of the leather-topped desk, littered with papers. "There's the rest of the money, just as I promised, and from now on the rent will be paid promptly. If you will just tell me when your man calls, I'll make sure someone is in.' She spoke quietly and confidently, aware that he was watching her closely. It was a relief to be out of his debt. That fact restored much of her pride and took away some of the indignity of their last meeting. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work.'

'Ah, yes, you have obtained a job with the Dunlop

Rubber Company.' She looked at him, openly surprised. Just how did he know that? 'Yes, I work in the office.'

'And your sisters work in the factory."

"Temporarily, until they can obtain better positions. needed some money quickly. My aunt and uncle seemed to be in debt to the whole neighbourhood, but no doubt you know that as well!' Margaret could feel her cheeks

growing hot. 'Miss O'Maxwell, I have a proposition to make you. be interested in doing a little extra work, in

Would you the evenings perhaps?'

'And what kind of work would that be?' Exactly what you are doing now. The business is grow ing and Johnson, my clerk, is getting on and can't cop

with the extra work. I had thought of taking

else as well, but then it occurred to me that a young lady of your obvious abilities could help out.' 'I don't want your charity, thank you. We'll manage quite well!'

'I'm not offering charity. I'm not a charitable man, I'm a business man. I'll pay the same rate as you are paid during the day.'

She stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say. The extra money would be useful, just as long as it wasn't a sense of pity that motivated him. But as she stared at him she thought pity wasn't one of his more obvious traits. 'Wouldn't your wife think it rather strange for a young woman to be coming here during the evenings?"

'I'm a widower.'

'Oh, I'm sorry."

'There would be nothing improper about the arrange ments. I'm often out during the evenings and Mrs Rickard, my housekeeper, will be here. Will you think about it?'

'Yes. Yes, I'll think about it, if I may. Now I really must go or Mr. Chapman will be extremely cross and besides, I hate to be late.' Mr Vannin opened the door and ushered her into the

hall. 'When may I expect your decision?' 'Will Saturday be all right? Shall I call into the office?' 'Saturday will be fine and, please, call here after lunch.

I never work on Saturday afternoons.' As she hurried down the road Margaret pondered the experience. Why on earth should he ask her to work for him? He could have hired a young clerk who'd be only too willing to pore over the long columns of figures and ruin his eyesight for a pittance each week. Why ask her? He was a strange man. Obviously well off, obviously very practical, but now she knew what it was that was missing in that house. It had no Mistress to give it that special individuality. There was no feminine touch. No vases of on someone flowers, no fragrances of lavender or roses. She wondered if he had any children. If he did, they were probably grown up for he must be at least fifty. By the time she reached the works entrance she had made up her mind that she would accept his offer.

They all got off the number seventeen tram outside 'Gregson's Well' public house on the corner of Cobden Street. Facing them was the Hippodrome Theatre on West Derby Road. It was a fine evening and the doors of the pub were open and raucous laughter issued from within.

'I just hope none of that lot will be in the audience!' Nancy stated as they crossed the road. Already she was feeling nervous and edgy.

Lisa had spent nearly an hour sewing the floral spray to the shoulder of the dress and then arranging the ribbon headband around her newly, and successfully, cropped hair, and both her sisters had assured her that she looked as elegant and attractive as any of the women who shopped at Cripps or Sloan's or Miss Drinkwater's.

There was already quite a throng outside the theatre and they had to push their way through to the doors, where Nancy explained that she was a contestant. The doorman gave her directions as to where she would find the dressing rooms, told her to hand her music in to the Stage Manager, and then told the others to buy their tickets in the foyer. With a quick hug each and a whispered 'Good Luck' they left her to find her way backstage.

It was nothing like what she had expected. It was dingy and cold and badly lit. After she had given her music to the Stage Manager, Nancy made her way towards the dressing rooms. They were little more than large cupboards with a mirror and a couple of hooks on the wall and were already crowded. But she pushed her way into one, took off her coat and hung it on top of the other garments. 'Where do you leave your handbag?" she asked a girl who was dressed in a red satin hobble skirt and a black taffeta, low-cut top trimmed with red bows, who was applying rouge to her already ruddy cheeks. You should 'ave left it with yer fella, luv, if yer can

trust im. This lot will pinch anythin' that's not nailed down! You 'aven't done this before 'ave you?' 'Oh, take it with yer then.' The girl peered into the

'No.'

mirror, pouting her lips into a cupid's bow. What do

yer do?'

'Sing.'

'Me, too. What's yer name?' 'Nancy. ReNancy O'Maxwell.'

'I mean yer real name?' 'It is my real name!'

'Oh, I thought it was yer stage name. ReNancy! Never 'eard of that before.'

The discordant sound of a band tuning up wafted along

the corridor, along with the cry of 'Get your numbers

please, Ladies and Gents! Numbers! Numbers!'