Read Online Messenger of Truth by Jacqueline Winspear - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jacqueline Winspear
Ads: Link
to her. Even as she slept, she would strain to hear his message.
Four
Maisie and Billy arrived at the office at exactly the same time on the following morning.
“Mornin’, Miss. All right?”
Pulling her scarf down to her chin so that she could be heard, Maisie stamped her feet on the front step, put the key in the lock and pushed open the door. “Yes, thank you very much, Billy. How’s Lizzie?”
Billy closed the door behind him and replied as they made their way upstairs, “Still not well, Miss. Running a bit of a temperature, I’d say, and the poor little mite just spits out ’er food. Doreen bought a bit of brisket yesterday, put it in a soup to go round everybody, and Lizzie wouldn’t even take some of the broth.”
“‘Go round everybody’?” Maisie hung her coat on the hook behind the door, as did Billy. “You make it sound like a tribe!”
“Aw, it’s nothing, Miss, not any more than anyone has to put up with these days.”
Maisie stood in front of Billy’s desk as he placed his notebook on the polished oak surface and reached into his inside jacket pocket for a pencil.
“Is there anything wrong? Look, I know it’s not really my business, but are you stretched a bit?”
Billy would not sit down until Maisie had gone to her desk and taken a seat. He shook his head, then explained, “Doreen and me always thought we were lucky, you know, with a two-up, two-down for just the five of us. Reasonable landlord into the bargain. The nippers’ve got a bedroom, we’ve got a bedroom, and with cold running water, we don’t ’ave to walk down to the pump, not like a lot of ’em round our way.” He reached for the tray, ready to make a pot of tea. “Doing well, I am, thanks to you, so we’ve even been able to afford a few extras—a bit of beef every now and again, a toy each for the kids at Christmas….”
“What’s happened?”
“A few months ago, my brother-in-law—that’s Doreen’s sister’s husband, he’s a carpenter—lost ’is job. It got bad for ’em, they ’ad to move out because there weren’t money for the rent and they were feedin’ their boy and girl on bread and Oxo water—and there’s another one on the way, y’know, making it all the worse for ’em. So, Jim reckoned there’d be work in London, and they turned up wanting somewhere to live. Now they’re sleepin’ in one bedroom, the five of us are in the other, and it’s like sardines, it is. Jim still ’asn’t got work, Doreen’s all but ’ad to build a wall around ’er sewin’ machine to do the dressmaking she’s still got comin’ in, and, to tell you the truth, Miss, it’s a stretch, puttin’ food on the table for nine people every day. Not that Jim’s idle, no, the man’s wearing out what shoe leather’s left on ’is feet walking round all day tryin’ to get work.” Billy shook his head, then moved toward the door.
“No, don’t make tea just yet. Let’s sit down and talk about this.” Maisie nodded toward the table by the window where the case map was laid out. “Come on.”
Billy slumped into the chair alongside Maisie, who was, in fact, somewhat relieved. Only the year before, brought down by the constant lingering pain from his war wounds, Billy’s behavior had become unpredictable, and further investigation had revealed abuse of narcotics—not uncommon among men who had once been inadvertently overdosed on morphine in the dressing stations and casualty clearing stations of the Great War. At least he had not lapsed.
“Are you managing? Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, Miss, I’m managing, it’s just tight, that’s all. My Doreen can make food for five go round ’undred and five, if needs be. It’ll just be better when Jim gets on ’is feet.” He paused. “Poor man fought for ’is country, and now look at what ’e’s bein’ treated like—it’s not good enough, Miss.”
“Billy, have you been in touch with the nurse, to come in to see Lizzie?” asked
Four
Maisie and Billy arrived at the office at exactly the same time on the following morning.
“Mornin’, Miss. All right?”
Pulling her scarf down to her chin so that she could be heard, Maisie stamped her feet on the front step, put the key in the lock and pushed open the door. “Yes, thank you very much, Billy. How’s Lizzie?”
Billy closed the door behind him and replied as they made their way upstairs, “Still not well, Miss. Running a bit of a temperature, I’d say, and the poor little mite just spits out ’er food. Doreen bought a bit of brisket yesterday, put it in a soup to go round everybody, and Lizzie wouldn’t even take some of the broth.”
“‘Go round everybody’?” Maisie hung her coat on the hook behind the door, as did Billy. “You make it sound like a tribe!”
“Aw, it’s nothing, Miss, not any more than anyone has to put up with these days.”
Maisie stood in front of Billy’s desk as he placed his notebook on the polished oak surface and reached into his inside jacket pocket for a pencil.
“Is there anything wrong? Look, I know it’s not really my business, but are you stretched a bit?”
Billy would not sit down until Maisie had gone to her desk and taken a seat. He shook his head, then explained, “Doreen and me always thought we were lucky, you know, with a two-up, two-down for just the five of us. Reasonable landlord into the bargain. The nippers’ve got a bedroom, we’ve got a bedroom, and with cold running water, we don’t ’ave to walk down to the pump, not like a lot of ’em round our way.” He reached for the tray, ready to make a pot of tea. “Doing well, I am, thanks to you, so we’ve even been able to afford a few extras—a bit of beef every now and again, a toy each for the kids at Christmas….”
“What’s happened?”
“A few months ago, my brother-in-law—that’s Doreen’s sister’s husband, he’s a carpenter—lost ’is job. It got bad for ’em, they ’ad to move out because there weren’t money for the rent and they were feedin’ their boy and girl on bread and Oxo water—and there’s another one on the way, y’know, making it all the worse for ’em. So, Jim reckoned there’d be work in London, and they turned up wanting somewhere to live. Now they’re sleepin’ in one bedroom, the five of us are in the other, and it’s like sardines, it is. Jim still ’asn’t got work, Doreen’s all but ’ad to build a wall around ’er sewin’ machine to do the dressmaking she’s still got comin’ in, and, to tell you the truth, Miss, it’s a stretch, puttin’ food on the table for nine people every day. Not that Jim’s idle, no, the man’s wearing out what shoe leather’s left on ’is feet walking round all day tryin’ to get work.” Billy shook his head, then moved toward the door.
“No, don’t make tea just yet. Let’s sit down and talk about this.” Maisie nodded toward the table by the window where the case map was laid out. “Come on.”
Billy slumped into the chair alongside Maisie, who was, in fact, somewhat relieved. Only the year before, brought down by the constant lingering pain from his war wounds, Billy’s behavior had become unpredictable, and further investigation had revealed abuse of narcotics—not uncommon among men who had once been inadvertently overdosed on morphine in the dressing stations and casualty clearing stations of the Great War. At least he had not lapsed.
“Are you managing? Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, Miss, I’m managing, it’s just tight, that’s all. My Doreen can make food for five go round ’undred and five, if needs be. It’ll just be better when Jim gets on ’is feet.” He paused. “Poor man fought for ’is country, and now look at what ’e’s bein’ treated like—it’s not good enough, Miss.”
“Billy, have you been in touch with the nurse, to come in to see Lizzie?” asked
Similar Books
