The Girl from the Corner Shop

by Alrene Hughes

  Helen’s heart almost stopped. ‘Oh, Ada, did you tell him I worked for the police?’

  ‘Did I ’eck as like. I weren’t born yesterday. I told him that you’ve already got a good job, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Mark my words, he were after you ’cause you’re a widow.’

  ‘So, he doesn’t know I’m working for the police?’

  Ada shook her head. ‘I give nothing away, me.’

  ‘What did he look like, this man?’

  ‘That’s what I were tellin’ you. I couldn’t place him, but when I woke up this morning it came to me. He were the fella who brought you flowers that time. You know, the ones you put in the bin.’ She was suddenly sheepish. ‘I’m sorry, I seen you put them there and that night I nipped out and pinched them out of your dustbin.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry, Ada, I’m glad you got some pleasure out of them and, you’re right, he was after me.’ So, it was Charles checking up on her and Ada had the sense not to tell him she was in the police. ‘Thank you, Ada, you’re a life saver,’ and she gave her a hug.

  *

  Helen arrived early for work and as she came into the entrance hall she noticed the chandelier was already lit, even though the club would not be open for another hour, and there in the centre of the hall was a pale wooden lectern and on it a leather signing-in book. She felt almost flattered because, like her new clothes, this was for her role as a hostess, greeting the members and guests. Gerry had ordered it, on Carter’s instructions, and he had spent time explaining her duties; greeting customers and signing them in, issuing keys to the girls for guests wishing to use the bedrooms.

  She went through into the bar and was surprised to find there were already half a dozen men there, though not the usual clientele. Anna was in the ladies’ toilets waiting for her; none of the other girls had arrived.

  ‘What’s with the spivs in the bar?’ asked Helen.

  ‘They’re here to unload the lorries. Gerry will send them to wait in the warehouse when the real customers start arriving.’

  ‘What time do you think it’ll all happen?’

  ‘Don’t know exactly, but well after midnight, I think. Either way it’s going to be a long night. You might as well get dressed now and put on your make-up, then I’ll do your hair – Carter’s orders, swept up and sleek. I’ve got some sugar and water to tame the curls.’

  Just before opening time Gerry gathered all the staff together in the bar and spoke to them. ‘There’ll be some special guests at the club tonight and Mr Carter wants you to make sure they have a good time. I’ll let you know who they are.’

  Anna leaned over and whispered in Helen’s ear. ‘They’ll be his contacts waiting for the goods to arrive.’

  ‘But where’s Carter? He’s always here before opening time.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oh, Anna, what if he doesn’t come?’

  ‘He’ll be here. Don’t worry.’

  Soon the club was filling up and Helen was so busy in the entrance hall dealing with customers, that she became absorbed in the new role Carter had given her. Then every so often she would be jolted out of the smiling hostess character by a stab of fear that made her stomach lurch. Within a few hours, the premises would be overrun by police officers and she would be at the heart of it. They would seize the black-market goods and lock everyone inside. It would be a long night sorting out the genuine customers from those responsible for the illegal gaming and the brothel upstairs, not to mention the London mob. But where was Carter? Had he gone to ground? If so, he’d get away scot-free and the thought of that made her blood boil!

  There was nothing she could do but carry on. Then around ten o’clock he came through the door, straight to her desk and she gave him her best smile. ‘Hello, sir, you’re a bit late tonight.’

  ‘I had dinner at the Midland first.’ He stepped back and looked her up and down. ‘You look wonderful, Helen. I’m sure you’ve been turning heads all evening.’

  For a split second she was flattered by his compliment, but she pushed the feeling away. He was a crook and she was determined to see him arrested.

  He went on. ‘How would you like to have a drink with me later? Just the two of us, you know? I’d like to get to know you better.’ He gave her a wink.

  She pretended to be excited. ‘Yes, I’d love that.’ Little did he know there would be no cosy drink, just a cold cell for him in Bootle Street nick.

  *

  He left the desk just as a group of young men arrived in the entrance hall to sign in. They were in good spirits, looking forward to playing poker in the gaming room. Just one more left to sign in and, with a welcome smile, she looked into his face.

  ‘Hello, Helen.’

  She gasped, but couldn’t speak, for there in front of her was Laurence Fitzpatrick.

  He looked bewildered. ‘What are you doing here?’

  She swallowed hard. What could she tell him? That she was masquerading as a hostess in an illegal brothel and gaming club to trap a black-market gang? ‘I can’t talk to you now, Laurence. I’ll explain another time.’

  He was shocked and angry. ‘I’m not going anywhere till you tell me what’s going on.’

  She looked quickly around. Carter had disappeared into the bar but the doorman outside the gaming room was looking directly at her.

  If Laurence caused a scene and broke her cover, the whole operation would be a disaster. How could she explain? At that moment one of the girls appeared at her side to return a bedroom key. Helen took it… now, if she could persuade Laurence… She winked at the doorman, then whispered in Laurence’s ear, ‘This is police work. Don’t make a fuss, just come with me and I’ll tell you what’s going on. Now, smile like you’re happy to see me.’

  She took his arm and led him upstairs, unlocked the door. His eyes widened – there was no mistaking the room’s function. She had only a few minutes to convince him.

  ‘You have to believe me, Laurence. I’m part of a police investigation into the black market, illegal gambling, prostitution and tonight there’ll be a raid on the club. You mustn’t give me away, please.’

  He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. She waited. He looked up and shook his head. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me what you were doing? I’ve been worried sick about you. After that first letter saying you’d gone on a course, I thought it would be a few days, a week, before I heard from you again, but there was nothing. I even went round to your house a few times after work but you were never there.’

  ‘I know, I know, but I couldn’t tell anyone, not even you. You must see that?’

  He sighed. ‘I can’t believe this. You’re in danger, aren’t you.’

  ‘Look, everything has been carefully planned. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘When will I see you again?’

  ‘After the raid – tomorrow, I’ll come to your flat.’

  ‘And what do you want me to do now?’

  ‘You should leave the premises.’

  ‘But I could stay, just in case—’

  ‘No, Laurence, just leave, otherwise you’ll get caught in all the mayhem of a raid.’

  He stood up. ‘I don’t like this at all, Helen,’ and he took her arm. ‘Come with me now. I’ll take you home.’

  She stepped back. ‘No. I’m not going anywhere! I’ll see this through, so help me God.’

  Laurence stared at her, shook his head and left the room.

  She waited a few minutes then followed him down. There was only the doorman outside the gaming room and she had no idea whether Laurence had taken her advice. She resumed her place at the lectern. The clock ticked towards midnight and Helen was on a knife edge. The lorries would be on their way by now and all she could do was wait, but there was comfort in knowing that, just like her, police officers were ready and waiting in their positions. Shortly after midnight, she was surprised to see Carter crossing the entrance hall carrying her coat. ‘Come on
then, let’s go!’ he shouted.

  ‘Go where?’ she asked.

  ‘For that cosy drink I promised you. There’s champagne on ice just waiting for us right now,’ and he held out her coat.

  Helen was thrown into confusion. ‘I thought you meant in the bar after I finish work.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m socialising with the kind of people in there, do you?’ he sneered. ‘I’m taking you somewhere classy, the Midland Hotel. You look so wonderful I want to show you off.’

  ‘But what about—’ She stopped herself just in time.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your special guests.’

  ‘I don’t care about them. I’d rather be with you. Come on now, chop-chop, my car’s outside.’

  She could have rejected him there and then, but it was clear that he had never intended to be in the club when the black-market goods arrived at the warehouse. He’d leave it all to Gerry and the men unloading the lorries. And once he got wind of the raid, as he surely would, he would disappear into the night. She had no choice; it was down to her to make sure that didn’t happen. She had to go with him, but that was all right, because once in the hotel all she had to do was to excuse herself to powder her nose then go straight to the hotel reception and ask them to call the police. She gave him a sultry smile, he helped her on with her coat, and she took his arm. Very soon the club would be raided by dozens of police officers and arrests would be made, while she would be drinking champagne with the man who had planned it all. She just had to hold her nerve.

  *

  There was a half moon, low in the sky, when they left the club together. They crossed the road, he helped her into his sports car and closed the door. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself before he slipped in beside her. The engine roared into life and raced away from the Calico Club up Quay Street, across Deansgate, through Albert Square and up Peter Street. She had pounded the beat on all these streets. But never would she have imagined being in a sports car on her way to the Midland in the company of a London black-marketeer, with the intent to arrest him.

  Chapter 39

  Carter parked in front of the Midland, the best hotel in Manchester, and they walked together under the portico, past the commissionaires, and through the revolving doors. Helen had been there a few times before with Sergeant Duffy, but she stopped and looked around her as though she hadn’t seen such luxury.

  ‘I’ll just get my key,’ he said.

  ‘You’re staying here?’

  ‘Yes, I always do; they look after me very well. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve arranged to have drinks in my room.’

  Her heart stopped. She’d be alone with him, with no chance to contact the station. Worse than that, it was clear he intended to seduce her. How could she have been so stupid?

  ‘But you said we were going to a bar.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Helen, don’t be so coy. You and I both know how this evening ends.’ He put his arm around her waist.

  Her stomach lurched. She had only seconds to decide. Then she remembered the police phone box outside central library across the road.

  She pushed him away. ‘Get off me! I’m not going to your room.’

  He grabbed her by the arm. ‘Sssh, don’t make a scene.’ He looked quickly around. ‘People are staring at us. Come on, we’ll go into the hotel bar; it’s just over there. You can calm down.’

  She deliberately raised her voice. ‘I don’t want to calm down! I’m leaving,’ and she tried to pull her arm away.

  At that moment there was a shout. ‘What the hell’s going on here?’

  And there was Laurence, striding across the foyer towards them. He grabbed Carter by the scruff of his dinner jacket and pulled him away from her. Carter turned and threw a punch at him, but Laurence pushed him so hard he fell backwards.

  ‘Who is he, Helen?’ Laurence shouted.

  ‘He’s the owner of the Calico Club.’

  But now, Carter was on his feet again, shouting at Laurence. ‘Who the hell are you to interfere; this woman is with me!’

  Two commissionaires, having heard all the shouting, rushed towards the men and tried to keep them apart.

  ‘It’s all right, Mr Carter, I’ll sort this out,’ said one of them, while the other was threatening Laurence with calling the police.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ yelled Helen. ‘Quick, call the police!’

  By now another man had joined them. He wore a badge on his lapel that identified him as the night manager and when he spoke it was with authority. ‘I will not have a brawl and a screaming match in my hotel and, rather than call in the police, I suggest you follow me to my office to sort this out.’

  ‘Helen, let’s just leave,’ said Laurence.

  But she shook her head. ‘I have to see this through.’

  The night manager spoke quietly to the commissionaires as though giving instructions. Then he led the way to his office and once inside he asked Carter for his account of what had happened.

  ‘It’s quite simple. I asked this young woman, who is one of my employees, to have a drink with me and, before I know it, she’s demanding money from me. Then this man arrives and assaults me.’

  The night manager gave Helen a long, hard stare. She met his gaze. Then he turned his attention to Laurence. ‘What have you to say about this?’

  ‘I know Helen well. I followed her here to make sure she was safe in the company of this man. I saw him grab her arm; she was shouting for him to let her go. I tried to pull him away, but then he threw a punch at me, so I pushed him to the floor.’

  ‘If you ask me, they’re in cahoots,’ said Carter. ‘I’ve heard of these women in hotels trying to get money out of businessmen by threatening to besmirch their good name.’

  The night manager inclined his head in reply, then he turned to Helen. ‘And now you, miss. May I ask your name?’

  ‘Helen Harrison, sir.’

  ‘Hmm, and what have you to say about all this?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Henry Carter is the brains behind a London black-market syndicate based in the Calico Club—’

  She was interrupted by a roar of laughter from Carter. ‘Oh, for God’s sake! What nonsense.’

  Helen carried on, ‘Tonight, thousands of pounds’ worth of stolen black-market goods will be delivered to his club.’

  Carter turned to the manager. ‘This is ridiculous. I’m a respectable businessman and I’ll have you know that I’ve spent a small fortune in this hotel.’

  ‘I know that, Mr Carter, and we value your custom,’ said the night manager, ‘but I need to write a report for my superiors. I’m sure you understand that. Please go on, Miss Harrison.’

  ‘What Mr Carter doesn’t know, is that there will be a police raid on his premises tonight.’

  Helen saw the fleeting look of shock on Carter’s face.

  ‘For God’s sake, man,’ he shouted, ‘do I look like a spiv?’

  ‘You certainly don’t, sir, and I must admit it does seem far-fetched for a young woman to have knowledge of such things. What have you to say to that, miss?’

  Helen looked Henry Carter in the eye. ‘I’m a woman police auxiliary and I’ve been working as a hostess in your club for a few weeks. I know about the gambling, the brothel and stolen goods, sold on the black market.’

  Now Carter was shouting. ‘Can’t you see she’s lying! Who ever saw a policewoman looking like that? I’m not staying here a moment longer. I’m packing my bags and leaving this cesspit of a city right now.’ He made for the door, but Laurence barred his way. Carter turned to the night manager. ‘I’m telling you, she’s lying. You can’t possibly believe this slut of a girl over me.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can, sir. You see, I recognised her right away in the foyer, even though she wasn’t in uniform. She’s been in the hotel a few times on police business.’

  Helen watched Carter’s eyes widen in fear, then suddenly he made a bolt for the door. Laurence, taken off guard, was pushed aside and Carter was
out of the room, running across the foyer. Just then the revolving door stopped and two police constables came into the foyer, just in time to nab him. And there behind them was a smiling Sergeant Duffy.

  *

  She awoke to the sound of whistling and it was a moment before she remembered that Laurence had stayed with her and, by the mouth-watering smell of bacon cooking, he had found her Sunday morning breakfast treat. She lay there a moment thinking about the events of the previous evening. Everything moved so fast after Carter was apprehended. She and Laurence went back to the station where DC Ken Kershaw was coordinating the raid. There was just enough time for them to explain what had happened at the Midland, before word arrived that the raid had started. She stayed long enough to find out that Anna and the girls were safe and allowed to go free, while the black-marketeers had been identified and arrested. It had been a good night’s work and, best of all, were Sergeant Duffy’s words as she left, ‘I’m so proud of you, girl, you’re a damned good copper.’

  She put on the silk dressing gown that Anna had bought her, and checked her face in the mirror. She looked a bit tired and pale, but inside she felt elated and so grateful that she had come through such a nerve-wracking experience.

  Laurence was standing at the stove, still whistling, and she went to him and put her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For believing in me and having the nous to wait outside the club to watch what happened, when I had told you to go home. Thank God you followed us.’ She laughed. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw you coming across the foyer like a knight in shining armour.’

  He turned and kissed her. ‘Oh, Helen, you were hardly a damsel in distress. Now, go on, sit down, breakfast’s nearly ready.’

  They shared the two slices of bacon and the one egg with plenty of fried bread. ‘How are you this morning, did you sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘Like a log. How was the sofa?’

  ‘A foot too short for my liking.’

  They cleared the table and washed the dishes and Helen asked, ‘What would you like to do today?’