Sefton Road

By W H Hilton

All is not what it seems in the leafy suburbs of Grovesfleet.
The home of Allan Thomas is razed to the ground, leaving behind the remains of two bodies that were burned beyond recognition.
Was it just an unfortunate accident, or a deliberate act of arson?
Could missing neighbour Kevin Williams be responsible for the destruction, or was someone else involved?
Local undertaker George Wright, has found himself in the unlikely role of detective, and is accompanied by June, a resident from Sefton Road, along with Charlie his assistant in the funeral parlour.
His investigations uncover some intriguing facts, especially when a valuable unpublished manuscript turns up and takes him to the other side of the country.
This engaging crime thriller takes some fascinating twists and turns along the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W H Hilton
• Release date: Mar 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310386725

W H Hilton

Hi, I was born way way back in November 1953 in the North West of England; my dad was a coal miner, and my mum a housewife. I have a sister and a brother, plus we had the pleasure of having a foster sister, who my wife and I are still in regular contact with. Academically I never achieved very much, leaving school at 16 with half a dozen middle grade CSE’s (as they were then), however in 1991 I did manage to earn an Advanced Diploma in IT, which from the typing point of view has come in very useful. My working life was extremely varied, ranging from apprentice panel beater to Bar and Hotel management, with periods of self employment in landscape gardening and market trading in between, plus other positions too many to mention. One way or another I’ve always had the ability to get work reasonably quickly and was never out of a job for long. Over the years I’ve also been pretty good at causing friends and relatives to be take aback, like the time that I started courting a lovely young lady, 16 years my junior. (She was 19 and I was 35) This was sometimes remarked upon as; you’re old enough to be her dad. Well, after a 3 week and 6 day friendship, yes that’s right, we started courting on the 10th December 1988, and got married on the 6th January 1989, and to everyone’s surprise, we’ve now been together, very happily and successfully for 26 years, (and they said it wouldn’t last) and have a wonderful 25 year old son. For many years I had the desire to write a novel, and have always thought that there was at least one in me, but never actually sat down to put finger on keyboard and start to type. However, for the last year or so whilst my dear wife has been out at work, I’ve took the plunge and done it. I have now completed my debut publication ‘Sefton Road’, and have started on my next project, which is a series of at least 3 crime novels based in a village on the North Wales coast were I spent a number of years during the early 1970’s. I do hope that you enjoy my first novel and please keep your eyes open for the next offering.

Book preview

Sefton Road

W H Hilton

Copyright © W H Hilton 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

W H Hilton has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

to be identified as the author of this work.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

ASIN: B00Q78UTBY

I would like to thank my darling wife, Anita.

For all her hard work, endeavours, encouragement and patience,

during the writing of this novel.

Please check out my web site at: -

www.whhilton.co.uk

Chapter 1

It was a cold, wet, dank autumn morning, the sort of morning that you wouldn’t step foot out of doors unless you had to, and that just about summed up how George Wright was feeling. The pleasant summer evenings had come to an abrupt end, and a long drawn out winter lay ahead. George had never been lazy, and more often than not, he would embrace quite a jovial personality, but another hour in bed would not have gone amiss. However, being a professional man with a business to run, he would go to work regardless, because he enjoyed his job to the full.

The business had been passed down to him by his father, and from his father before him, so being a third generation funeral director, brought great responsibility. He had a reputation to uphold, and prided himself on giving the deceased the best send-off possible, well; it’s what everybody deserves anyway, isn’t it? He often thought that the deceased looked better dead, than they ever did alive, and the odd relative here and there would often say the same. George loved it when he overheard these comments, it gave him a sense of job satisfaction, knowing they were going on into the next life, looking their best, all primp and preened.

Right Charlie, you can put the lids on those two coffins, in the Windermere and Grasmere suites, there won’t be any viewings now, instructed George, or Mr Wright, as the staff always called him. He was a pleasant man to work for, but wouldn’t stand any nonsense. Having been in the Funeral business all his working life, humping coffins and deceased bodies around, had made him a strong man, but he wasn’t overweight. He had short cropped hair, clean shaven with a ruddy complexion, and was of stocky build, the fact that he was only five foot seven inches in height, from a distance he would look like a small square cube of a man.

Apart from when dealing with family and friends of the deceased, or conducting funerals, those times that he needed to have a solemn or grave look, he always wore a friendly smile on his rounded, red face.

George had no children of his own, and as both he and his wife, Megan, was in their late forties, not likely to have. He had become quite fond of Charlie Foster, and had treated him like his own, even to the point of leaving the business to him when he either retired, or passed away, although, Charlie didn’t actually know this.

George’s mum had died of cancer some fifteen years earlier and, within twelve months his dad had passed away, suffering a severe heart attack; it was then, that George took over the company. They had however, left a good, solid business. His grandfather had bought the Funeral Parlour building outright, so there were no outstanding debts. Originally the property had been a large, end terraced house, with some spare land at the side, on which George’s parents, once they’d inherited the business, had a garage built to house the limousines. Inside the parlour there was a large reception area and two offices, one for Mr Wright, from which to run the company, and one for Jane, the secretary. There were four Chapel of Rest suites, and a room in which the embalming and dressing of the deceased would be performed, in readiness for them being viewed in their coffins. Mr Wright or Charlie would complete the necessary embalming procedures, however, Lewis, one of the pallbearers was also qualified, should the other two not be available.

Mr Wright continued speaking, looking over his half-moon reading glasses. There haven’t been any viewings so far, and I can’t really see anyone coming now, and let’s be honest, there’s not much to look at anyway. After all, suffering ninety five percent disintegration in a house fire, has a habit of doing that to you.

I know I’ve had a few days off, questioned Charlie, but by the sound of it there’s been a lot going on, what have I missed?

He had worked for Mr Wright since leaving school at sixteen, and had been with him for ten years. He was taller, by a couple of inches, not as big built, but just as strong. Even though he was twenty-six years old, didn’t look a much above twenty, so had grown a moustache to give an appearance of maturity. He was a keen and conscientious worker, always trying to please, and replicate Mr Wright’s standards and work ethics. Charlie had a great deal of respect for him, having first known him as a young teenager, when he used to deliver the local evening paper, every week day after school, to his house. On one occasion whilst doing his round, Charlie rode over a nail in the road and punctured his front tyre, Mr Wright, not wanting to see him struggle on foot with a heavy sack of papers, took him round the back of the house, and helped to repair it. That day they got talking, and Charlie explained how he lived with his mum and two older sisters, and that his dad ran off with a Thai woman, when he was just a toddler. He had worked in the merchant navy, a job which took him all over the world, so he was away for long periods of time, which made him a rather absent father, so neither his two older sisters, or Charlie had seen much of him anyway. After their divorce, his dad settled in Thailand, and went on to start a new family, and his mum was left on her own, to bring up the children. Mr Wright felt so sorry hearing Charlie’s story, because he himself had had a very happy childhood, with two loving parents; and Charlie seemed like such a nice young lad, and didn’t deserve to be abandoned by a reckless father.

He had lost track of Charlie for a couple of years, after he had outgrown the paper round, but then he turned up at the Funeral Parlour looking for a job. Mr Wright was in need of another pallbearer, so he advertised in the local Job Centre, and picked four of the best candidates, to come along for an interview. He hadn’t recognised the name at first, but as soon as he realised it was Charlie, he knew he was the right man for the job, and from that day to this, neither of them have ever looked back.

I thought you may have seen the news, replied Mr Wright.

No, do you not remember, replied Charlie, it was my uncle’s sixtieth birthday, and I’ve been down to Tenby in South Wales with my mum, to celebrate with the rest of the family, so I haven’t watched any local television.

Oh yes, sorry, I forgot about that, there’s been so much happening; well …last week there was a house fire on Sefton Road, the house was totally gutted, and two men died. It was dreadful. They could only identify one man, by the name of Jack Freeman, from his signet ring, and an eye witness account from a neighbour, who stopped and spoke to the two men as they were entering the house. The other man, Allan Thomas, he was the man that owned the property, and lived there alone. They could only just manage to identify him; the burn damage was so severe. The fire was so intense they were as good as cremated. Charlie cringed at the thought of what had happened. "Even that new so called genetic fingerprint system, DNA I think it’s called, was inconclusive and couldn’t be relied on completely."

And what did the Police say? said Charlie inquisitively.

They had an investigation and completed all the forensic checks, but the only thing that they could come up with, was that it had been just a very unfortunate accident, caused by a chip pan catching fire. It’s thought that both men had gone upstairs, and before they knew anything about it, the whole house was like an inferno. It seems like they must have put the chip pan on to heat up, and forgot all about it.

Not wise, remarked Charlie.

"They did however; find the remains of two exploded petrol cans, in what was left of an upstairs room, probably the room they were in, and anything within ten yards of those cans would have been blown to bits, including the two men. Poor chaps! Must have been a terrible way to go, it was almost like the house had become their own personal funeral pyre." said Mr Wright as he mulled over the tragic deaths, which those men must have endured.

If Allan Thomas was the man that lived there, who was Jack Freeman? and why the petrol?

The Police have said, continued Mr Wright, that Mr Thomas used to ride motor bikes, and maybe kept the petrol for their use. The other man …Jack Freeman, was a History teacher at Grovesfleet High School, and was an avid reader, with a keen interest in novelists, and was curious about where they got there inspiration from. By all accounts, the house used to belong to Enid Brownlow, the renowned novelist who died in 1956, apparently she wrote all of her novel’s there, and Jack Freeman was a regular visitor to Allan Thomas’, probably researching the lady, and her writings. Mr Wright paused, as he recollected the newspaper reports, which had covered the incident. The only way that the Police could make any identification, was, like I said earlier, they discovered a signet ring with the initials JF inscribed on it. Which would more than likely have been Jack Freeman’s, and on their way into the house, the lady from next door stopped to talk to them, she had spoken to the two men occasionally, in the past.

Were any other houses affected? enquired Charlie.

No. Fortunately it was an old Victorian detached house just like all the others on Sefton Road, otherwise, if it had been a semi-detached or a terraced, like many of the other houses in the area, more people could have been killed, or badly burned.

Both men were aware that Grovesfleet had become quite a large town, having grown considerably from its humble beginnings, as a small, quaint English village, with no more than a few thousand residents. Originally all its amenities comprised of a butcher’s shop and a greengrocer, a solitary pub, the Post Office, and an infant & junior school, only just large enough to cope with the number of pupils. In the centre of town was St Mary’s Church, and on the outskirts, a small Baptist Chapel.

However, in the early 1960’s, a business man spotted an opportunity, and bought a large portion of land on the periphery, and built a number of warehouses, and a metal foundry, for the production of hinges, handles, and all manner of door and cupboard furniture. This was welcomed by all the locals, as it provided jobs and security for everyone that lived in the area. Subsequently the village grew, with more and more houses being constructed to house the workforce, and the High Street also expanding, to cater for the needs of the growing population. Prior to the development of Grovesfleet, the local children had to travel eight miles to the town of Plinsford, in order to continue their High School education, but with all this expansion, two new faculties were built, which solved that problem. Fortunately, the council ensured that all new developments, including a new supermarket, two further pubs, a couple of restaurants, and the new schools, conformed to strict building guidelines, in-keeping with the character and appearance of the old village. Due to Grovesfleet’s growth from a village into a town, the Church also needed to be extended, and more than once. Originally it had been constructed using locally quarried stone and rock, and as the supplier was still unearthing from the same source, was able to supply the exact same materials, therefore ensuring it retained its authentic appearance.

Charlie continued the conversation, How do you know all this Mr Wright, they wouldn’t have gone into so much detail on the news, or in the papers?

Even though they had worked together for ten years, Charlie always called George, Mr Wright out of respect.

I’ve spoken with Mr Davies, who is Jack Freeman’s solicitor, and he has had to look into it, and keep a record of the circumstances, cause, date and place of death, just in case anyone turned up, requiring detailed information about what happened, sometime in the future.

Right. said Charlie, "but does anybody have any idea why they went upstairs, leaving a chip pan on the cooker, you would have thought they’d have had more sense than that?"

The only theory the Police have come up with, is that according to a couple of his neighbours, Allan Thomas was a very private man, who kept himself to himself, but would very occasionally invite one or two people into his house, to show off his prize possession, which was a bookcase that he had purchased with the house, when he bought it, lock stock and barrel. It used to belong to Enid Brownlow, and housed all of her hand written novels, the type of manuscript that she would have sent to her editor to be checked, before they went to the publisher for printing.

Charlie continued to listen intently, not wanting to miss anything.

There were also a number of other books by different authors, and they are surmising, that the two men must have gone to look at this collection of books, when the catastrophe occurred. There doesn’t appear to be any extenuating circumstances, or signs of foul play, and the Police seem to be satisfied, that it was an accident. I think that’s about everything, but if I do remember anything else, I’ll let you know. Anyway, their funerals are at ten thirty this morning; they are both having the same church ceremony, and after transporting them to the cemetery, are being cremated during the same memorial service, so could you just check the body’s, and name plates, and make sure they correspond correctly with each other.

As Charlie went to inspect the coffins, he could hear some chattering coming from the back door. The four pallbearers, Linda the receptionist, and Jane the secretary had just arrived and Mr Wright interrupted them.

Come on now you lot, let’s get a move on; we’ve got a busy day ahead. We’ve got two funerals to organise, and even though they’re joint events, they still need to be carried out, as though they were individual ones. You can talk all you want, once you’ve finished work.

Yes, Mr Wright. said Linda, a petite, attractive young lady, with short blonde hair, who had the look of a school teacher, in a well turned out suit. She always wore a smile and had a pleasant character, never wanting to ruffle any feathers, especially Mr Wrights.

With that, they all started to go about their daily duties. Linda started to check the morning mail, while Jane, who was a year or so older than Linda, and of a bigger build, not quite as pretty but always smartly dressed, went to a filing cabinet, and lifted out the documentation, relating to the two funerals, and started to go through them, checking that all the details were correct. The pallbearers made their way into the garage, and started preparing the cars, ensuring that the hearses would be ready for the coffins, before ten o’clock, which was the time they needed to leave, to be certain that they arrived at the Church on time.

Mr Wright, Charlie and the pallbearers always came to work in black suits, white shirts, and black ties, ready to attend the ceremonies. As and when necessary, they would go into a locker room, situated at the back of the garage, which housed washing facilities, along with metal, lockable wardrobes, and change into other suitable clothes, to do any other small jobs.

About fifteen minutes before they were due to leave for the Church, Mr Wright came out of the parlour, and into the garage, to check that everything was in order. He would complete this ritual before every funeral, as he always said, At this point in the cycle of life and death, everyone is equal, and deserve the same respect and treatment. He checked that the two coffins were in the correct hearse, and the limousines spick and span. Making sure that the pallbearers, along with Charlie and himself, looked smart and professional, as befits the occasion.

Where to Mr Wright? enquired Charlie, as he was the driver of the first hearse. James, one of the pallbearers listened in, as he was to drive the second.

St Mary’s on Cansford Road

Yes I know the place.

He would always double check their destination, due to the fact that they covered such a large area, in and around Grovesfleet, and obviously didn’t want to go to the wrong place.

Mr Wright and Charlie got into the first hearse, James into the second, and the other pallbearers travelled in a saloon car, which was part of the company’s fleet. There had been no request for a further vehicle, as there were no immediate family or friends, to be conveyed to the funerals. They had also been instructed, by both the solicitor and the vicar, to go directly to the church, as there was no need to go via any other address.

On arrival at St Mary’s Church, there were just a few neighbours from Sefton Road, close to where Allan Thomas lived. Mr Sydney Price the Head Master of Grovesfleet High School, where Jack Freeman had worked as a teacher, four of his colleagues, and Mr Davies, his solicitor.

On entering the building, the pallbearers carried in the coffin, containing the remains of Allan Thomas, placed it on the bier needed to support it, and then replicated the procedure, with that of Jack Freeman. The vicar then motioned everyone to sit down, and went through the official ceremony, comprising of the obligatory hymns, and a few minutes, to give some words of condolence. It was only a short service, and once he had finished with the formalities said, Any one wanting to attend the wake, which will be held at Grovesfleet High School, are more than welcome.

A final hymn was being sung, as the pallbearers carried both coffins, in turn, back to their respective hearse. Once everyone was ready, they made their way to the crematorium. On arrival, the two coffins were taken into the Chapel, and laid side by side, ready for cremation. The vicar continued with the required ceremonial duties, and then cremated both coffins, and their contents. Once all was complete, everyone headed back to their cars, and whoever wanted to attend the wake, carried on back to the school for refreshments, which was to be followed by the reading of the will.

Once they’d all reached the school, George Wright, Charlie and the vicar, made their way into the school hall, were a buffet of sandwiches, cakes, coffee and tea, was laid out on two trestle tables. After a few minutes, Mr Davies the solicitor, along with Sydney Price the head master, joined them. A further minute passed when Jack Freemans ex colleagues and a few of Allan Thomas’s neighbours arrived.

Please help yourselves to refreshments; remarked the vicar, there’s plenty to go round. They all began to help themselves.

There wasn’t a great deal of conversation, just the odd mutter and whisper, which is a common occurrence on these occasions, as no one appeared to have much to say.

As soon as everyone had had their fill, the vicar stood up.

I presume that everyone has finished with the buffet, he glanced around the room, no one said a word, so he continued, I must now request that Allan Thomas’s friends and neighbours leave the room, as the will does not concern you. However, I must thank you all for coming, it is much appreciated.

There was a shuffling of chairs, as the mourners not included in the will, slowly made their way out.

When they had left, the vicar stated, I do believe that we’re ready for Mr Davies to read the relevant documents. Should there be any issues not concluded today, or you need further information, Mr Davies will deal with those in his office sometime tomorrow, if you need to make an appointment. He paused for a second, I’ll now hand you over to Mr Davies. He then proceeded to sit down, and with his hand gestured to the solicitor, for him to take the floor.

Mr Davies stood up, opened up a number of documents, and began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming, I’m sure Allan Thomas and Jack Freeman, would have been pleased with the turnout, even though you are but a few. There’s not much I can say about Allan, being a very private man he kept himself to himself, apart from occasionally having neighbours in for coffee. Unfortunately he made no provision for his funeral, and as far as we know, didn’t leave a will. However, as there are no living relatives which we are aware of, the house, not that there’s much left of it, along with the land that it occupied, will be sold, and all funeral costs will be deducted from the sale price. The authorities are checking to see if there are is anything further to add to his estate, and should they discover something, they will then decided, who should be the legal beneficiaries. If no one is entitled to receive from the proceeds, then it will be given to charity. But out of decency, the council have purchased a small urn, and had an inscription engraved on it, with his name, date of birth and death on it.

It reads: - Allan Thomas, September 3rd 1915 – 7th October 1988. Aged 73 years."

He paused to check his notes before continuing.

As for Jack, you all know he was a bit of a loner, and didn’t have many friends; however he did have some colleagues, which he placed value on. So on his behalf may I say thank you. at that point he looked in the direction of the teachers. "Fortunately he did make full provision for his funeral, including the cremation, and the wake. These arrangements were made more than twelve months ago, as he didn’t want to burden anybody else. The only detail that he didn’t provide was the inscription to be engraved on his urn, which will read:-

Jack Freeman, 8th August 1948 – 7th October 1988. Aged 40 years.

He did have, according to hearsay, a brother living abroad; however the authorities have not been able to establish that as fact, so that particular issue will have to be dealt with, as and when anyone turns up, claiming to be this relative."

Now, to his will, Mr Davies cleared his throat.

"Jack didn’t have much, but the little money that was left, after the funeral and cremation expenses, plus the wake and everything else that needed paying for has been settled, there remained £1,473, which he has kindly left to the Grovesfleet High School funds, which I thought was an extremely nice gesture."

To the news of this bequest, Mr Sydney Price, the Head Master remarked, "Yes that is a very generous gift."

In a final letter, continued Mr Davies, which was left along with his will, he say’s that he enjoyed his time as a history teacher at Grovesfleet, and wishes the school, and everyone concerned, the best for the future.

He shuffled a few papers around, and then carried on, As you most probably know, Jack lived in a rented, furnished flat at 76b Grange Avenue, so there is nothing to dispose of regarding the property, there is a television and a music system, still left in the flat, which he states are to remain in there, for the next occupant to enjoy. Now regarding Jack’s ashes. His urn will be buried in the church grave yard, along with the urn’s and caskets of others, that hadn’t specified where they should be scattered, or buried. Allan Thomas’s urn will be dealt with in the same manner. Mr Davies then concluded, Unless anyone has any questions, I believe that is all there is to say, and I will complete any other formalities at my office. Should anyone require any further information, please don’t hesitate to call on me, and I will endeavour to answer all your questions. Thank you once again.

He then sat down, and the vicar stood up requesting a short time of prayer, after which he gave the benediction. Once finished, he reiterated.

Should any one require any further information regarding Jack, please don't hesitate to speak to Mr Davies or myself. And once again, thank you.

As soon as the vicar had stopped speaking, Mr Wright signalled the pallbearers and Charlie, to make their way back to the cars, Right I think its time we all got back to the parlour. he looked at the pallbearers, "As soon as you’ve finished preparing the cars ready for next week, you may as well go home, and enjoy an extra half day’s holiday on me, as there’s nothing more to do today. So have a nice couple of days off, and I’ll see you bright and early on Monday morning."

There was no argument with that, because getting half a day off with pay wasn’t a regular occurrence.

Mr Wright and Charlie returned in the same car, and no sooner had they arrived, when the pallbearers, having finished sorting out the vehicles, left for the weekend. Leaving Linda, Jane, Charlie and himself at the parlour, so Mr Wright thought, it wouldn’t be fair, to keep the two ladies and Charlie working until six o’clock, when he had already let the others go.

Linda, could you go and ask Jane to come into reception for a moment, please?

Certainly.

As she walked down the corridor towards Jane’s office, he had a word with Charlie.

I’m going to give the ladies half a day off as well, but would you please stay on until six o’clock, I’ll pay you overtime, and give you a half day’s holiday, as time off in lieu.

Yes, that would be fine; I’d get more benefit knowing when I was having the time off anyway.

The minute Mr Wright had finished speaking with Charlie; Linda and Jane walked into the room.

As you can see, I’ve let the pallbearers go home early, so you may as well go too, I don’t think there will be much to deal with now, and if there is, I’m sure we can cope. he smiled at the two of them, You two have a nice weekend.

Thanks Mr Wright. was the reply from both of them, See you on Monday.

Being Friday, the last day of the week, there wasn’t much to deal with, and once six o’clock came, Mr Wright and Charlie made sure that everywhere was locked up securely, and as they were leaving, You have a good weekend Charlie, and I’ll see you bright and early on Monday morning.

Yes, you have a good one as well Mr Wright. Charlie then left.

George double checked the front door of the funeral parlour, made his way to his car and drove home.

He had hardly got through the front door when Megan shouted, from the direction of the kitchen.

Tea’s ready George, had a good day love? she must have been hungry, as normally she would let him get in, and at least take his coat off first.

Megan was a dependable woman; George recognised that as soon as they had started going out together. She had come from good stock, which is what his parents had always wanted for their son, a woman who didn’t have any baggage, and who would slot into the family with ease. After a short courtship, it wasn’t long before they were married, bought their first home together, and settled into domesticity. She thought it quite funny at first, having an undertaker for a husband, her friends would pull her leg and make fun of her, but secretly she enjoyed it, it meant she had a bit of attention, which she wasn’t