Page 49 of The Cursed Writer
Beth stared at the money, then grinned at Harry. ‘Thanks very much. I might take myself on a little jolly to the seaside with this.’
Harry nodded. ‘Good idea. I’m going there myself at the weekend. Brighton, in my case.’
Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘Ain’t we lah-di-dah?’
‘Just visiting a friend.’ She sighed. ‘One who’s got herself into a bit of a mess, actually.’
‘Involving a man, I’ll bet,’ Beth said knowingly. ‘There’s always a man at the bottom of it.’
Harry couldn’t deny it. ‘There is.’
‘In the family way, is she?’ Beth went on. ‘I don’t suppose he wants to marry her.’
‘No,’ Harry agreed absently, her thoughts on how she could persuade Cecily to leave Circus Street. ‘She’s worried about being an unmarried mother. She says even if she moves somewhere new, people will look down on her.’
The other woman shrugged. ‘She’s right, they will. But who says everyone has to know?’
Harry stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Who’s going to tell them?’ Beth asked patiently. ‘I always thought, if I got myself into that particular sort of state, that I’d just nip down the pawnbrokers and buy a cheap ring. Then, if anyone asked, I could just wave my hand around and tell them how my husband had tragically died before he could see our little babe even born.’
Harry turned the idea over in her mind. It was, she had to admit, a simple but brilliant solution. ‘Wouldn’t people suspect?’
‘They might, but what are they going to do? Demand to see my wedding certificate?’ Beth gave her a practical look. ‘People don’t like to talk about death, especially if you can dredge up a few tears.’
Would it work? Harry wondered. And then decided there was no use in speculating. She would simply have to go to Brighton to find out. She smiled at the woman beside her. ‘You’re a marvel, Beth Chamberlain. Simply a marvel.’
Beth snorted, although Harry thought she was secretly pleased. ‘Yeah, yeah. Tell the whole blooming world, why don’t you?’
Saturday dawned bright and clear. After a leisurely breakfast, Harry took the train down to Brighton. The confectioner did not offer her any advice as she passed by, but she barely spared him a glance. She knew her way to Circus Street, and she knew which house she wanted.
‘You.’ Joan’s expression was flat and unwelcoming as she surveyed Harry.
‘Hello,’ Harry said pleasantly. ‘I’ve come to see Cecily. Is she here?’
The woman folded her meaty arms. ‘No.’
Harry drew in a patient breath. ‘I see. Do you know where she is?’
Joan shrugged. ‘No.’
‘Do you know when she will be back?’
She fixed Harry with a defiant look. ‘No.’
Sighing, Harry reached into her bag and withdrew a pound note. ‘I appreciate Cecily is your niece, and a good hard worker, but you must be worried about the burden she’ll be once the baby arrives. She won’t be much use when she’s up all night feeding, will she? Keeping you up too – you know how noisy babies are.’ She held out the money. ‘I’m offering to compensate you. One pound now, if you tell me where she is, and another nine if you let her go.’
The older woman thinned her lips, clearly torn. Harry had calculated the amount with care – ten pounds was a small fortune to a woman in Joan’s situation, more than she could expect to recover from Cecily even after several years of laundry work. She reached out to pluck the note from Harry’s hand. ‘You’ll find her at the Palace Pier.’
And stepping smartly backwards, she shut the door in Harry’s face.
The seafront was busier than it had been during Harry’s last visit. Couples and families were making the most of the sunshine, although there was still a brisk wind blowing in from the sea. The pier jutted out a long way over the water, a confectionery of delicate iron struts and balustrades. There were plenty of people here too, Harry observed as she passed beneath the clock tower that marked the entrance to the pier, and paid the tuppenny toll to enter.
It was hardly surprising the pier was popular. Boards proclaimed the entertainments available for all the family – scooter rides, a rifle range, a children’s playground, reading rooms, a theatre… The list went on and on. All of whichpresented Harry with another problem. How was she to find Cecily Earnshaw among the crowds? She could probably rule out the smoking rooms, and the scooter rides, but the theatre and the Winter Garden were both possibilities. In the end, it turned out to be quite simple. Cecily was in the first place Harry looked – the reading rooms.
She was so engrossed in her book that she did not see Harry approach. It was only when Harry gently cleared her throat that Cecily looked up, and covered her mouth to mask the gasp that escaped her. ‘Miss White,’ she said, once she had recovered herself a little. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again.’
She looked pale, Harry thought. Her belly, covered by the coat she wore, seemed to have expanded further, although it had only been a few days since their last encounter. The dark circles beneath her eyes were more pronounced and her lips were dry and chapped. Even so, she managed to radiate a serenity that attracted more than one passing glance. ‘How have you been, Cecily? May I join you?’
