‘How are you, Maureen?’
‘I’m bearing up, Father Cleary.’
‘Have you been saying your prayers?’
‘I say them night and day.’
‘At a stroke,’ he said, ‘you lost five good friends. It’s a heavy cross to bear. As the survivor, you have responsibilities to the other families. Have you been in touch with any of them?’
‘Agnes’s mother — that’s Mrs Radcliffe — called here but I don’t feel that it’s right for me to visit any of the other parents. They might not wish to see me.’
‘I can’t see why you should think that. You could offer solace.’ She looked doubtful. ‘You could, Maureen. For one thing, you could give them precious details of what happened at the party. It might give them a modicum of cheer to know that their daughters died while they were happy. There might even be last words you can remember some of them saying. It would be something for parents to hold on to.’
Maureen shuddered inwardly. She was dreading a meeting with the families of the victims. Even the conversation with Sadie Radcliffe had been a trial for her. Others might not be in as forgiving a mood as Agnes Collier’s mother. Yet she had to face them all sooner or later. The inquest was imminent and so were the funerals. If they did indeed all take place on the same day, she’d be spared the agony of having to attend all five separately and of being under intense scrutiny at successive events. From purely selfish motives, she hoped that the collective burial would take place at the cemetery. Her ordeal would be over in one fell swoop and the fact that so many people would attend meant that she’d be largely hidden in such a massive crowd.
Father Cleary leant forward to take her hands and look into her eyes.
‘What’s troubling you, my child?’ he asked, softly.
‘Everything.’
‘I fancy that there’s something in particular.’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I just have this feeling all the time.’
‘What sort of feeling?’
‘It’s difficult to explain, Father. I keep thinking how … unworthy I am.’
‘You must never think that, Maureen.’
‘I can’t help it. As soon as I wake up, it’s still there.’
‘And is there no special reason for this sense of guilt?’ She lowered her head. ‘I asked you a question, Maureen.’
She met his gaze. ‘There’s no special reason, Father Cleary.’
But there was a distinct tremble in her voice.
It fell to Joe Keedy to apprise Sadie Radcliffe of the latest development in the case. Marmion had already told Jonah Jenks and Neil Beresford about their new suspect, and he’d planned to go on to the homes of Reuben Harte and Brian Ingles. That left only Agnes Collier’s mother unaccounted for so Keedy paid her a visit. Having just put the baby down for a sleep, she spoke in a whisper as she hustled him into the house. Only when she’d closed the living room door behind them did she talk in her normal voice. Unsurprisingly, she looked harried and careworn.
Keedy told her about the identification of Herbert Wylie as a suspect.
‘I’ve heard that name before,’ she recalled.
‘Do you remember what was said about him, Mrs Radcliffe?’
‘No, not really — it was one time when Maureen had called on Agnes. They were talking about the men they worked with and that name cropped up. It was something to do with the football team. Yes, that’s it,’ she decided. ‘Neither of them liked him. He used to turn up when Maureen and the others played in a match. He didn’t really have any interest in watching the game.’
‘A lot of men are like that, I’m afraid,’ said Keedy. ‘The opportunity of watching attractive young women running around in shorts is too good to miss for some of them.’
‘The person that Wylie was watching was Enid Jenks.’
‘I didn’t know that she was part of the team.’
‘She wasn’t, Sergeant, but she liked to support them now and again. That all stopped when this strange man kept turning up to stare at her.’
‘Did you overhear your daughter saying anything else about him?’
‘Only that she felt sorry for Enid,’ said Sadie, ‘because she didn’t really know what to do. Agnes was married so the men steered clear of her. And the few that didn’t got the cold shoulder. Agnes was very friendly with the men at the factory but that was as far as it went. Enid — at least, this is what I gathered — had no idea how to handle them. That’s why she was frightened of this man you mentioned.’
‘His name will be in the national newspapers tomorrow.’
‘Are you going to say why you want him caught?’
‘No,’ replied Keedy. ‘It’s just a general request for the public to keep their eyes peeled. What you’ve told me about Wylie ties in with what we already know. He persecuted Enid Jenks but her name will be kept out of the newspapers. We don’t want to cause her father any undue embarrassment.’
‘Does he know that you’re on this man’s tail?’
‘Oh, yes — Inspector Marmion went to tell him in person.’
‘In a way, it’s his fault — Mr Jenks, I mean.’
‘I’m not sure that I follow you.’
‘Well, I’m only going on what Agnes told me, of course,’ said Sadie, ‘but it seems that Enid wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend. Her father made her spend all her time and energy on her music. He cut her off from the world. That’s unhealthy.’
‘I agree, Mrs Radcliffe.’
‘Enid just didn’t know how to cope with men.’
As she expanded on her theme, Keedy could see that she’d taken a close interest in her daughter’s friends. Of the other four victims, she knew them all by name and character traits. Sadie had anecdotes about each one of them. But she’d clearly done more than catch the odd reference to Enid Jenks. She talked so knowledgeably about her that Keedy suspected she’d eavesdropped on conversations between Agnes and Maureen Quinn. When she was describing Florrie Duncan’s pre-eminence in the group, she remembered something.
‘Her parents called to see me,’ she said.
‘I’m surprised they were ready to venture out of their home,’ said Keedy. ‘When we visited them, Mr Ingles wasn’t really prepared to talk to us.’
‘I couldn’t stop him talking.’
‘And you say that his wife was with him?’
‘Yes, I don’t know how they found out my address but they did somehow. They came to discuss this offer we’ve had from the factory. To be more exact,’ she said, ‘they were here to push me into accepting it.’
‘How did you react?’
‘In fact, I’d more or less decided that I’d go along with the idea so there was no real argument. But I was upset, Sergeant. I can make up my own mind without having them telling me what to do. Agnes used to say how bossy Mr Ingles could be.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘And there was something else as well.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was as if they were doing me a favour by coming here,’ she said, resentfully. ‘The pair of them talked down to me.’
‘They had no call to do that, Mrs Radcliffe.’
She adopted a combative stance. ‘I won’t stand for it. I don’t care how big their house is, they’ve got no right to treat people like that. Next time that Brian Ingles comes anywhere near me, I’ll shut the front door in his face. As for the daughter they’re so proud of,’ she went on, harshly, ‘I could tell them a few things about Florrie that would wipe the smiles off their faces.’
‘Really?’ said Keedy. ‘What sort of things, Mrs Radcliffe?’
The longer he stayed, the more Harvey Marmion was learning about the five victims of the explosion. Brian Ingles and Reuben Harte had reached the stage of open competition, each one boasting about the achievements of their respective daughters and talking about the unfulfilled dreams of the women. It was not only Florrie Duncan and Jean Harte who were revealed in greater detail, the three women who’d died with them also came into sharper focus. Maureen Quinn was not omitted. Both men described her as being on the fringe of the group, popular by dint of her skill as a goalkeeper but never a leading figure. Ingles called her immature while Harte considered her to be rather sly without actually being able to justify his claim. What both men did agree was that the six of them were natural allies and that their mutual friendship gave them a sense of belonging to an elite group.