The Mystery at Darwen Bank

By John Mycroft

The Mystery at Darwen Bank is the story, set late in World War II, of a family in Britain who have the good fortune to move into half of a country house.  But it becomes obvious fairly soon that the other half of the house is occupied by a group of people who are not all that desirable, especially because of the language they speak in.

Family life starts to fall apart, furher discoveries lead deeper into the mire..

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Mycroft
• Release date: Apr 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224386666

John Mycroft

John Mycroft is a long-in-the tooth software developer living in North Carolina. Educated at Westcliff High School and Bedford College at the University of London, he spends his time writing, teaching and scribbling the odd bit of software.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was the last day of term and it was hot.  Miss Dunderdale had taken the class of nine year olds into the yard for Greek dancing, and it had caused great mirth by both boys and girls.  The girls giggled at the boys as they attempted to pose like strong men, and the boys had hysterics as they watched the girls twist their forms into what the tired teacher considered were statues of grace.

Miss Dunderdale pushed some stray hairs back into her bun, and sighed as she shepherded them all back into the class room.

All right, Class, one more thing to do before you can go home.  Let me see that you know how to put your gas masks on.

The children groaned and reached for the cardboard boxes hanging from their chairs.

That’s right, take your gas masks out, let me see you know how to use them.

There was a scraping of rubber against cardboard as the nine year olds dragged the hated protection out of the boxes.  Come on, Horrocks, I know you can do it, the teacher called to the boy at the end of the row in front.

Horrocks had been staring at the wall and dreaming.  The picture there was of a knight on his horse saying farewell to his lady.  The title underneath was ‘God Speed’.  It had always puzzled the boy.  What did it mean?  Surely it should be Good Speed he reasoned.  He gazed at the black and white picture and absently scratched at his knees.

Horrocks!

The teacher was losing patience.

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Horrocks had a fear of suffocation and rarely went swimming because of it, a gas mask was even worse.  He pulled the rubbery strap over his hair and winced as it caught in his curls and pulled a face at the strong smell of rubber.  He had already decided that this time he would leave a little gap between the mask and his skin so that he could breathe freely.  It did not occur to him that it would also let in the poisonous gas they were all supposed to protect themselves against.

Horrocks was like any other boy of nine years old and he was as mischievous and as full of fun as his friend Billy.  His hair had a gingery cast and was very curly which he hated, his eyes were of a beautiful blue and when he looked at you they opened wide like saucers.  His mother had insisted that the boy go to private school, even though the money to fund it was in short supply.  Living in Lancashire and attending council school would embed an accent that she knew would give him less of a chance in the world.  The war would be over one day and hopefully Horrocks would be able to choose his work, but not if he had a broad Lancashire accent, she was convinced of that.

It had been a long day and everyone in the room was anxious to go home.  The teacher thought she saw that her charges had complied with her instructions, Horrocks was able to breathe through his gap and then they were told to put the ugly things away.

Horrocks’s friend Billy had a tin to put his mask in.  It was cylindrical and had bright pictures painted on it.  Horrocks longed for one like that.  Instead he had a box, not a lot bigger than the one with dried egg in it that his mother brought home.  He had begged his father for a tin, and the answer was always the same Yes, one of these days.

Horrocks kicked at his satchel then heaved it over his shoulder along with the hated gas mask, picked up a couple of conkers from his desk and joined Billy in the queue for the bus.

The Goodwins and the Spences lived in Deepdale Road not far from the football club.  The two families lived in Edwardian Terraces with large rooms and high ceilings.  With a halfpenny ride to the County Arms and another to the Bus station, they were soon home for tea and for the start of their two months summer holiday. 

The houses in Deepdale were spacious and for the Godwin family they needed to be.  There were seven of them.  Marie, Brian, a pair of teenage twin boys, two older girls and Horrocks.  The Sitting room and Dining room at the front of the house was kept for visitors and Christmas Day, - the only day in the year that there were fires burning there.  Now coal was rationed there was no guarantee that they would have a fire there at all this Christmas.

Down the corridor past the two larger rooms and you came to the kitchen. 

Here was the hub of the house.  There was a range with a yellow tiled surround.  A cat washed itself on the hearth and the family met here for tea every day.  A gate legged table was laid with soup dishes and slices of dry bread.  Almost all of them at times rejected the whale margarine as too fishy and the butter ration was so small that even if the family put all their individual rations together, they would get very little to spread and so it was kept on a slate in the pantry until someone or something special arrived.

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Marie, Horrocks’s mother had the hard job of feeding her five children and a husband who worked in the open air.  All of them seemed ravenous at all times of the day and like most mothers during the war she became a genius at providing a hungry family with something they wanted to eat.  The two girls had grown up before the war had started and remembered food as it used to be.  When they dreamed, they dreamed of butter, coffee, oranges, bananas, food that had become unobtainable.  In fact Horrocks had never seen a banana outside an illustration in a book, and no one could explain the flavour to him.  The twins remembered having bananas and said they were not that wonderful and the boy had to be content with that.  The twins were not identical, but you could tell somehow that they were brothers.  Andrew was the smart one and he had the habit of narrowing his eyes when thinking, making you believe that he was about to laugh.  Paul was the slower one who was quite dreamy and placid.  Horrocks admired Andrew and wanted to be like him, but it was to Paul he went when he needed help of some kind.

Natalie went through the pantry and into the scullery.

Vegetable soup again?  she whispered to her mother.

Can’t be helped, here take these bowls in, tell them to eat plenty of bread.

Marie wiped her forehead with a tired hand and carried more bowls into the kitchen.

Sorry, boys and girls, have plenty of vegetables and not a lot of anything else today.  Eat plenty of bread with it.  It was an old refrain.

Her husband, Brian rubbed his hands together. Our own vegetables so let’s say grace for them.  He closed his eyes and then opened them looking at Horrocks who promptly closed his own.

Dear Lord we thank you for the fruits of the earth and the profits of our business, Amen.

Brian had set up a stall in Preston Market.  He used the produce from his allotment at first and as his sales started to soar, he bought in vegetables from others.  He knew he would be a success in time, if only he had more room to grow more produce.  His sons had left school at 15 and now worked with their father. 

Amen, said Andrew heartily.  He looked up at his father You going to tell them the news?  he asked.

Marie looked up from her soup laying her bread down.  Yes?  she looked at Brian.

Brian was excited.  He spilled his soup and picked up some bread and crumbled it.

We are going into a shop.  He sat back in his chair and looked into the faces of his children.  They looked puzzled.

What do you mean we are going into a shop?  Marie asked pointedly.

I’ve taken a lease on a shop down Fishergate.  He said with a certain amount of glee.  He was very proud of himself.

Without talking about it with me?  Marie looked hurt.

Oh, Marie it was a spur of the moment thing.  The idea came up in conversation and they told me the shop was available and I didn’t want to lose it.

Brian was ambitious.  He wanted to rise in his neighbours’ estimation, he wanted to be known for his successes, he was determined to be someone.

That was the main reason he had married Marie.  Young Marie was not much different from the mother of five.  She was pale skinned, with light brown hair.  Her eyes were a pale blue and her personality was placid.  In fact she gave the impression of a pale watercolour that had been taken down from the wall and had life breathed into it.  Marie’s family were respectable and she had been brought up to follow the same social aspirations.  Marie in her quiet way was as ambitious as Brian and wanted her family to prosper and climb the social ladders she had not been able to.  Natalie was working in a bank in town and Joan was working in the Harris Institute with the curator of the museum.  Sometimes she worked in the libraries, she loved the work and it brought her into contact with educated people and a class she considered higher than her own.  Marie was very proud of her girls.  Horrocks would not have the advantages that the others had now there was a war on, but they paid for him to go to his private school and he would learn to talk properly.  All her efforts were tuned to climbing the social ladder, she was very class conscious.

Brian had got away with not telling Marie about the shop, but he promised to take the family down town on the next day to show them and then escaped down the road to the County Arms.

Got a deal with Arthur about his leeks, he said bouncing down the front steps and onto the pavement.

Horrocks took the bread his father had left and finished it up.

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I haven’t got any jam, can I have some of yours?  he asked Paul.

No, Horrocks, you’ve eaten all yours, you can’t go and take someone else’s. 

I don’t mind, Paul said kindly Go on, but don’t take it all.

Horrocks shuffled around the jam pots on the table to find his brother’s.  They all had their names on the jars so that no one had any excuse to take the wrong one.

Your father seems very excited.  Marie looked at Andrew.

Oh he is, he is.  He’s been jumping around all day.

Have you been to the shop?

Well, I know which one it is, it’s down by the station not far from the allotment.  It makes it much easier to get the vegetables.

Marie nodded and started to clear away the dishes.  It made sense.  He must have had to put his name down for it before someone else bagged it.  She felt a bit hurt though, as though her opinion did not matter at all.

Time for your music practice, Horrocks, she called over her shoulder.

Aw Mum, I’m on holiday, he protested.

Makes no difference, my lad, music isn’t school.  There’s no holiday from that.  The Music Festival is in a month’s time.

Aw—.  Horrocks dragged himself from the table and went to wash his hands in the scullery.  Do I have to go in for it?  He looked at his mother with his big eyes, and it made no difference.

Yes, she said flatly.

Chapter 2

AFTER  the hot day the evening was balmy.  Brian looked at his shooting brake and put the keys back into his pocket.  Petrol coupons were difficult to come by, he would walk.

The smell of warm dust rose from the cobbles in the road and the heat of the sun was thrown off the buildings as he passed.  It seemed strange to see the open gateways where the metal had been taken for the war effort and turned into ammunition.  There had been a gate to every house along the Deepdale Road before the war started.

The only car in the road was one with a sign on the windscreen proclaiming that it belonged to a Doctor.  Brian walked jauntily down Deepdale seeing no one until an army convoy came up from the town.  He supposed they were on their way to Moor Park where the camouflaged tents were being erected.  It would be some time before that part of the park would be used for leisure pursuits again.

Brian was glad the twins were so young, he knew they wanted to join the Air Force and were planning on joining up when they were eighteen.  Their father saw it as his duty to put a stop to that ambition.  As he passed the Royal Infirmary he looked up at the many windows and looked away again.  His father had spent years in that establishment after the first world war.  He had come home shattered, his many injuries contributing to a ruined life.  He was never a well man again and it affected the whole family.  Brian was determined that his sons would not join up and take the risk of coming back crippled for life.  He would make sure they stayed in their reserved occupation growing vegetables for the nation.  He smiled to himself as he passed the sweet shop near the County Arms.  Dummies in the window, just dummies.  No real sweets or chocolate anymore, just mock ups and pictures.  ‘Poor Horrocks!’ he thought for a moment, ‘he has such a sweet tooth.’

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Marie had cleared up, put the beetroot on to boil for the next day’s customers, and settled down by the wireless with her knitting.  She had unravelled several knitted jumpers and cardigans and created enough wool to knit bigger sizes for her sons.  It was a difficult exercise for it involved washing the wool in hanks and drying them so they straightened out from the permanent curl they had acquired, but it saved on clothing coupons.  Since the war started, recycling had become an art.  Nothing was thrown away from old socks to string.  Silver paper which had been collected on balls before the war now was hardly seen at all, and had become precious.  Waste food went into a pig bin and most other articles thrown away that were of no use at all, even for burning on the fire, went into the other dustbin.  There was always just a small amount in that bin.  Ashes from the fire were collected for the allotment.

After Brian had gone out, the family had gathered round the wireless for the six o’clock news.  It was the only time there was a perfect silence in the kitchen.  Even Horrocks was quiet, feeling the seriousness of the moment.

Mum?  he had asked at one time, When the war’s over, will there still be news?

They had all laughed, but it illustrated the supreme importance of the BBC and the news.  It dominated their lives.

* * *

Natalie was getting ready to meet her boyfriend and trailed make up and scarves and coats from the kitchen up the stairs to her bedroom and down again.  Joan sighed heavily and sat down with her mother.

If it takes all that effort to get ready to go to the pictures, I don’t think I’d bother.

Where’s she going?

To the Rialto, ‘The Cross of Lorraine’ I think.

Marie smiled to herself.  She’ll regret it, it’s supposed to be very sad.

Oh well she’ll have Roger to hold her hand!

Oh that one.

A talk about gardening and growing vegetables came on the wireless and Marie who dug for victory every day with the rest of the family,  turned it off until nine o’clock.  She’d had enough talk about vegetables that day.

Joan looked at her mother What do you think about Dad taking a shop?

Marie was counting stitches and could not answer for a moment.

Well, she looked up through the window and onto the wall of the back yard It means we are gaining on the business doesn’t it? We should have more customers down Fishergate than we had at the market.  She started knitting again.  Yes, I think it will be a good thing for people to see we are going up in the world. 

Horrocks had finished his practice and was mooching around the pantry looking for something to chew.

Don’t touch anything Horrocks! We need it all for tomorrow.  His mother called to him.

A snort and a small voice saying ‘Not Fair’ came from the other side of the wall.

Oh him and his ‘not fair’

* * *

Brian reached the junction where the County Arms stood on the corner.  Opposite was the great prison wall.  He had never seen anyone go in or out of the place, but it looked grim enough.  Just outside the pub was the stop where Horrocks waited for his bus every school morning.  It seemed a bleak place. 

Inside was a different matter, it had a large public bar with mirrors that reflected the warm colours of the spirits in their optics.  A polished wooden counter glowed in the electric light that had just been switched on.  Sunset was approaching and even in double summer time it would be getting dark by ten o’clock.

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Brian looked around him.  A couple of soldiers, a woman in uniform of some sort and two old men sitting in the corner.  It was quiet tonight, he reflected.  Arthur was not there, but he knew he would be along.

Half a pint of bitter, mine host! Brian felt expansive.

Half measures don’t go to heaven you know, Peter the barman said and smoothly presented the glass on a coaster.

Brian did not know how many times he had heard him say that.  Peter was becoming a bore.

Seen Arthur?

Peter rubbed at a spot on the counter and looked up.  He was in here earlier, said he was coming back to see someone—you?

Yeah, Got some business to see to.  Then because he could not keep it in any longer, Took a lease on a shop today.

Peter was interested.  Where’s that then?

Down Fishergate, not far from the Station.

Peter looked impressed. That should be good, near your allotment, I wish you all the best, Brian.  he said generously.

Brian grinned at the barman and sipped at his beer.  Taking the family down there tomorrow to have a look at it.  The boys are quite excited.

"And why shouldn’t they be?  Getting on in business is exciting.  I should know, I started in a back room with my father making the beer in the cellar."

Brian laughed.  I’d no idea Peter, well, he looked around the room and gestured with his glass you’ve certainly come up in the world.  Well done.

Thanks, Brian.  Look, here comes Arthur, I’ll leave you to it. 

Arthur was a small man with bandy legs, He looked as though he had been grown out of the soil himself.  He had a large beard that could only be called bushy and it matched the head of hair that seemed to surround his head like a halo.  He wore glasses, but no one was sure whether they were just for show or whether he really needed them.  They perched on the end of his nose and bobbed up and down whenever he spoke.  They were always in danger of falling off, but they never did.

Arthur wore a waistcoat over his braces that he tweaked at odd intervals as though to help the thought process. 

’Art all reet, lad?  he greeted Brian and they shook hands that were hard and calloused.  Growth looks good.

Aye, it is an’ all, Brian dropped into dialect whenever he met Arthur, as though he were a business acquaintance that needed humouring.

Want my leeks doest thou?  Arthur tweaked his braces and accepted a pint that Brian had beckoned out of Peter.

Aye, I need ‘em Arthur, I don’t have enough.

’Appen you’ll ‘ave to grow more then.  Arthur laughed and sipped his beer.

You know I don’t have enough room, I need another allotment.  Brian was genuinely worried about that and grimaced at his drink.

Arthur looked up and wiped the froth from his whiskers and pushed at his spectacles.

Old Tom is giving up tha’ knows.

What, honestly?

Said his back was giving ‘im trouble and the Doc told him to stop gardening and take it easy.

Brian looked at Arthur as though he would like to kiss him.

Why, that would be marvellous - he has a large patch.

Well, too big for ‘im now, I hear.

Where does he live?

Near t’station I think, but Alderman Lytton has it.

Already?

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Aye, with all this dig for Victory business, everyone wants an allotment these days, better get to see ‘im before it goes.

Brian knew where to find Alderman Lytton, he had a son at the same school as Horrocks, maybe he would be lucky.

I’ll get onto it straight away, Arthur, thanks for letting me know.

Arthur looked alarmed.  ’Ere, what about my leeks?

Brian was half way to the door.  He looked over his shoulder,

I’ll take all of ‘em, he yelled.  Fair price mind.  And he was out of the door.

* * *

Alderman Lytton lived opposite the Infirmary in a similar house to the one that the Godwins occupied.  The only differences were that there were pillars on either side of the front door and the Lyttons owned their house whereas the Godwins only rented.

The evening was closing in as Brian reached the front gate of the house and the dying sun struck the door furnishings and shone in his eyes as he rang the bell.

The Alderman himself came to the door and studied Brian’s face for a moment, then remembered who he was.

Ah Mr Godwin, how are you?

I’m fine thank you, but I have something to ask you, well beg you really.  Brian bit his lip and tried not to look anxious.

My goodness, you sound desperate, come on in, come in, the Alderman stepped back to allow Brian to pass him into the vestibule.  Go on through,

The Alderman was a much respected member of Preston council.  He had been assigned the Dig for Victory campaign in the area and although he had not a scrap of land or garden himself, it had become a passionate cause for him.  He travelled around the small towns in the area, lecturing and encouraging householders to dig up their lawns and plant vegetables, keep chickens and generally become as enthusiastic about it all as he was.  His popularity increased as his successes were reported.  Shows which had been popular before the war were resurrected.  Prizes given for the best onions, carrots and marrows.  The competitive spirit had been aroused and of course it was all in a good cause.

Now then, sit down, sit down, the Alderman urged as they walked into the front room.  Brian was surprised by the homeliness of the room.  He had been expecting expensive furniture and large paintings.  The Lytton’s home was simple.  Here and there were ornaments that might have been expensive, but they hardly looked that way.  They looked more like the sort of thing children