Kitty Neale - Sins of the Father

‘Now then, how many times have I told you not to call me sir? I’ll be off in a minute or two, but I noticed that you cleaned my study yesterday. Did you move any papers from my desk?’

‘Oh, no, Mr Bell, I didn’t touch your desk.’

‘Blast, I can’t find them and need them urgently. I’ll have another look.’ He turned on his heels, heading for his study.

Emma went to get cleaning materials. As was her routine, she started with the drawing room. It looked lovely as she walked in, a ray of sun shining through the bay window and alighting on a crystal decanter. The cut glass sparkled in a rainbow of colours, and for a moment she stood mesmerised, but then, giving herself a mental shake, she started work. Alongside the sofa there was a small side table, and on it some papers. Emma glanced at the top sheet, saw it was a letter from a firm of solicitors, and picking them up, took them across to the study.

‘Are these the papers you’re looking for, Mr Bell?’

He came to her side, his eyes lighting up. ‘Well done, Emma,’ he cried and, putting an arm around her shoulder, he briefly hugged her.

Emma immediately stiffened, pulling away as she said, ‘They…they were in the drawing room.’

‘Of course, I was reading through them last night and forgot to return them to the study. Well done for finding them, my dear. Now I must get a move on or I’ll be late for my appointment and as I may not be back today, I’ll leave it to you to lock up as usual.’

Emma nodded, confused by Mr Bell’s familiarity. He had hugged her, called her ‘my dear’, and she wondered what had come over him. Perhaps he was just pleased about the papers, but she left the study relieved that he was going to be out for the rest of the day.

Horace Bell was smiling as he headed for his solicitor’s office. Tom Chambers was playing into his hands, just as he had hoped, the rent unpaid as usual. The more he saw of Emma, the more he desired her, and was growing impatient. Nevertheless, he would have to let the arrears accrue for another few weeks before putting his plan into action.

He passed St Barnabas’ Church, his thoughts still on Emma. It would work, he was sure of it. As before, he was determined that things would be different this time, and in Emma he had found the perfect choice. She was young, meek, innocent, and could be easily moulded.

Horace was on time for his appointment, and after going over the finer points of the deal with his solicitor, he signed the documents, passing over the cheque. Another three houses were now in his hands, and they were in good condition. He’d divide them into flats as usual, and as they were in a better part of Battersea, they’d command more rent.

The next stop was the bank, and after that he’d go round to see Joyce. It had been nearly a week since he’d last seen her, and his loins stirred. Yet he knew when he made love to his mistress, in his imagination, the woman beneath him would be Emma Chambers.

Horace walked down the dimly lit road on a Saturday night, determination in his stride. He knew that Tom Chambers had been trying to avoid him, and when he reached the man’s local, he flung open the door. The dark and gloomy public bar was crowded, men in caps standing at the counter, others sitting at rickety tables, ashtrays overflowing in front of them.

Smoke tainted the air, and as heads turned conversation ceased when Horace walked towards the bar. He knew that in his dark suit, collar and tie, he stood out like a sore thumb, but many of these men were his tenants and he ignored them.

‘Hello, Tom,’ he said as the buzz of conversation started up again.

Tom swung round, immediately defensive. ‘If you’re looking for your rent, I’ll pay you next Friday.’

‘Yes, you said that last week, and the week before. In fact you’re now a further six weeks in arrears.’

Tom hunched over the bar, his voice a hiss: ‘I got laid off again, but I’ve got a job on another site, starting on Monday.’

‘That’s not good enough.’

‘Look, you’ve got Emma working for you and can keep more of her wages.’

‘The rent isn’t Emma’s responsibility, it’s yours, and I’m not prepared to let the arrears mount any further. Either you pay up, or you’ll be evicted.’

‘Don’t say that, Mr Bell. Surely you can give me a bit more time?’

‘No, your time is up.’

‘You can’t put us on the streets. What about the kids?’

He looked at Tom’s pint of ale, unable to hide his disgust. ‘You seem to have money for drink.’

‘I’m only having one. Surely you don’t begrudge me that?’

‘When you owe me a substantial amount of money, I do.’

Tom glanced along the bar, obviously embarrassed that other customers could hear their conversation. He pointed to an empty table in the corner. ‘Can we sit down?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘What can I get you, sir?’ the landlord asked Horace.

‘Just give me a glass of port.’

‘What about you, Tom?’ the publican asked.

Horace ignored Tom’s glance in his direction. If the man wanted another, he could pay for it himself.

‘Not for me,’ Tom said, picking up his half-empty glass. They walked to the table, taking opposite seats.

With a furtive look around, Tom’s voice was little more than a whisper: ‘Please, give me a bit more time. I’ll give you a few bob now and surely we can come to some arrangement about the rest?’

‘We already had an arrangement, one you have failed to keep.’ Horace’s tone hardened. ‘You and I both know that you won’t pay the outstanding rent, and I’m not prepared to give you any further leeway.’

‘Mr Bell, have a heart. I know that things have gone to pot since my wife died, but I’m finding my feet again now. Can’t we work something out?’

This was the opening Horace needed, and, now softening his voice, he said sadly, ‘As you know, I too lost my wife. It’s been nearly three years now.’

‘Then you know what it’s like,’ Tom said eagerly.

‘I still managed to keep my affairs in order,’ Horace snapped. He then sighed heavily. ‘However, I do know how it feels to lose one’s partner in life. In fact, I’ve been considering taking another wife.’

‘I don’t blame you, mate. I’ve got my eye on a nice little widow too.’

‘Have you?’ Horace said, interested despite himself.

‘Yeah, but it’s only been eight months since my wife died and tongues round here would wag something rotten if I took her out.’

‘Rubbish! You’re still a young man and entitled to some comfort.’

‘That’s true, but it ain’t just me. The kids could do with a new mum too. They’re running wild these days and need taking in hand.’

‘Well then, ignore the wagging tongues. Mind you, I have a problem with my choice too. You see, she’s very young.’