Maisie reached into her bag and brought out a notebook. “Mrs. Addens, can you tell me about your husband’s last morning? It was at the end of the first week of August, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was a Friday, August the fourth. I remember it, everything about that day now. It’s as if the news made everything sort of big—do you know what I mean?” She looked at Maisie, as if to see if she shared the experience.
Maisie nodded. “I know very well what you mean, Mrs. Addens—I could describe even the smallest detail about the day my husband died. It’s branded into my memory.”
“I’d been working in the shop—I’ve a job at a haberdashery shop up on Fulham High Street, part-time. I hadn’t long been home, and was sitting down having five minutes to myself with a cup of tea to listen to the news on the wireless, and the police came to the door. I remember, I was thinking about that General Franco—they were saying how he had just declared that he would only answer to God and to history, and he’d set himself up as the ruler of Spain. And after all they’ve gone through, I thought to myself, now they’ve got a dictator in charge. Makes you wonder what’s going to happen to us.” She looked away, fixing her gaze on the garden.
“My father was interested in what goes on in the rest of the world, Miss Dobbs.” Dorothy Addens lifted a cup to her lips. “So we all have opinions in this house.”
Maisie smiled, understanding that the younger woman felt the need to underline her credentials. She wanted Maisie to know that, despite the area in which she was born, she, Dorothy Addens, was an intelligent woman, the daughter of a man who understood the importance of educating oneself.
Maisie turned back to Enid. “What happened then—what did the police say?”
“There was a man from the railway police with them, and someone from the railways board. It was a right little crowd on my doorstep. I thought straightaway that my husband had been killed by a train—one of Frederick’s mates was killed by a loco a few years ago, and another scalded to death by steam. I wondered what had happened. And I couldn’t move. I was stuck to the threshold, but the railway policeman took me by the arm and led me into the parlor, and he sat me down and said that Frederick had been murdered. All these men were sitting in my parlor looking even bigger, uncomfortable perching on the edges of the chairs, while this Detective Chief Inspector told me what had happened. Frederick had been killed outside the station, down an alley not far away. They don’t know what he was doing there, because he didn’t knock off work until six on a Friday, as a rule—unless he had overtime—and it happened at four, or so they think. They told me he had been shot.”
“And who identified the body?”
“One of his mates, a fellow he worked with. Mike Elliot. I couldn’t go to see my husband, on account of what they said were the circumstances, but Dottie—she came home while they were here—she said they were covering it up. And she said it to their faces, told them that the reason we couldn’t see her dad was that it was so bad and they didn’t want to tell us the truth. She can be a terror, can Dottie—if she’s put out, she can get very uppity, and she was uppity with the police. Takes it all in here, you see.” Enid Addens tapped her chest with her hand as she looked at her daughter.
“Mum! I’m all right. Just tell Miss Dobbs what she needs to know—you don’t need to ramble about me.”
Enid gave a half smile. “She wouldn’t have cried in front of them, so her temper started up. That’s how it is with some people. Friend of mine had a dog who was a right growler, showed his teeth to anyone who came up to him, but it was as if his wires had been crossed when he was a pup—that growl was a purr, and all he wanted was a pet. Well, she growled at the police until I sent her off to make a pot of tea. I tell you, Miss Dobbs, I could hear that girl crying her eyes out in the kitchen, and I knew that all she wanted was someone to comfort her—and I couldn’t do it because it was as if I was paralyzed in my chair. The railway policeman—he was a big fellow, looked like a family man—he went out and I heard him say, ‘That’s it, love, get it out of your system, you have a good cry.’”
“He came where he wasn’t wanted. If you remember, Mum, I sent him off packing back to the parlor.” Dottie reached into the pocket of her summer dress and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
“Go outside if you want to do that, Dottie. I have enough trouble with the flue on that stove, without you smoking up the kitchen.”