by Sam Michaels
‘He’s gone, Mum. It was quick – he didn’t even know it was coming. They shot him from behind. He wouldn’t have felt a thing. But they warned me. We’ve got to keep it quiet or they’ll come after Sally next, then you.’
His mother sprang from the sofa and began to pound his chest with her fists, crying, ‘No, no,’ over and over. Billy gripped her arms, and held them to her sides, then pulled her close to him as he embraced her. He could feel her body judder as she cried into his chest. He looked over her head and noticed his sisters had come back into the room. Sally’s eyes were wide as she looked at her heartbroken mother, and her brow was creased.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked as his baby sister toddled towards them.
His mother pulled away from him and dashed away her tears, her voice breaking as she said, ‘Come here, love,’ and scooped her daughters to her.
Billy watched with contempt as his mum cuddled his sisters. He hated to see her affections lavished on anyone but him.
‘Your dad’s been… he’s… there’s been a terrible accident…’
Billy impatiently interrupted, ‘Dad’s dead,’ he said coldly, and hid a smile as he watched Sally’s face pale then crumple.
‘How? How did my dad die?’ the girl asked as tears rolled down her cheeks.
His mother looked at him. She wanted him to answer. Yes, this was his verification. His place as head of the household was affirmed in that moment. All that had once belonged to Norman Wilcox was now under his rule, including his sisters, and anyone who dared to defy him would be aptly punished.
*
Molly shivered. She had dressed in several layers, but the cold felt like it was in her bones and the icy wind had numbed her cheeks. Ethel didn’t seem to mind the freezing weather as she ran through the park with Charlotte giggling and chasing behind her. Molly would much rather have been at home with her sisters, but their father was in one of his moods again, and she could tell he was itching for an excuse to lump their mother one.
She thought it would be best if she kept moving to help keep warm, but she had a blister on her heel that had burst and was red raw. She winced in pain with every step. Her second-hand boots were a size too big, but at least they didn’t have holes in the soles and kept her toes dry.
After a further half an hour, she decided to rest her foot and sat on an ornate iron bench. Her nose was running, and water streamed from her eyes. The sky was gradually becoming a darker grey and she knew it would rain soon. They’d have to find shelter, but she daren’t risk taking them home this early. They’d have to hold out until early evening at least – then their father would either be out or in his bed.
Charlotte skipped up to the bench. Her coat was a size too small for her, and she was wearing one of Ethel’s hand-me-down knitted hats, which kept slipping over her eyes.
‘I’m hungry, Molly,’ she moaned.
‘Me too, sweetheart, but we can’t go home yet.’
Ethel ran over. She was wearing their mother’s coat, but her knee was poking through a large hole in her stocking and had turned a purple-blue colour.
‘Charlotte said she’s hungry,’ Ethel said. ‘I am too, but I told her it ain’t time to go home yet. Ain’t that right, Molly?’
‘Yes, Ethel, that’s right,’ Molly answered and forced a smile. ‘Ethel, take Charlotte over to the big oak tree. Do you remember there’s a rope swing that some boys left there last week?’
‘Oh yes,’ Ethel answered, her face animated, ‘Come on, Charlotte, I’ll push you and then you can push me.’
The girls ran off, leaving Molly in awe at her older sister’s childlike demeanour. Apart from Ethel’s womanly body, she acted and played like Charlotte who was just six years old. Ethel would be forever young in her mind, and in some ways, Molly thought it was a blessing. After all, ignorance is bliss. Ethel would never be able to look after herself properly, but Molly would always take care of her.
Her eyes followed her sisters as they darted towards the big oak, then she spotted a familiar figure walking along the path towards them. Her face broke into a wide smile, and she jumped up from the bench.
‘Hello, George, you braved the cold then?’ Molly greeted her friend.
‘Yeah, it’s blinkin’ taters,’ George replied, though Molly thought she looked quite snug in her oversized donkey jacket.
‘I can’t feel my cheeks. The girls are over there playing on a rope swing, but to tell you the truth I’d much rather be at home under me blankets. It’s safer here though, ’cos me dad’s got the right hump today.’
‘At least your dad’s at home. Mine’s been nicked.’
‘Oh, no, George. What for?’
‘Some trumped-up charge. He’s at the station now, but he’ll probably be going to Wandsworth prison tomorrow.’
‘I’m so sorry, that’s awful for you and your gran. Any idea how long he’ll be away?’
‘Dunno, a couple of years, maybe three.’
‘Blimey, George, that’s not good. How will you manage without him?’
‘We ain’t got much choice so we’ll just have to. Actually, I wanted a favour from you.’
‘Anything I can do, I’d be happy to help,’ Molly answered, though she couldn’t think what she could possibly offer George.
‘Tell you what, let’s go back to my place and we’ll talk there. My gran will have the fire going, and being as it’s Sunday, I’ll lay odds on that she’s baked an apple pie.’
Molly’s stomach growled at the thought of apple pie, and she yearned to be inside in the warm. ‘All right,’ she answered, and called her sisters. She liked it at George’s house. It was more welcoming than the dump she lived in. She wasn’t embarrassed about her abode. Theirs was no different from hundreds of Battersea families that lived in similar conditions, or worse. She just wished her dad would leave… forever.
*
‘Gran, it’s only me,’ George called as she opened the front door. ‘Come in,’ she said over her shoulder to Molly and her sisters.
The hallway was chilly, but much warmer than outside, and George immediately noticed the pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread. She led the girls through to the front room and was pleased to find the coal fire roaring and Oppo in an armchair fiddling with the clock from the mantel. ‘Hello. It’s too cold out there so you’ll have to put up with us,’ she said to Oppo, then to Molly, ‘Sit down, make yourself at home,’ and she indicated to the plump green sofa.
Oppo jumped up and placed the clock back where it belonged. George noticed Ethel was looking round the welcoming room with her mouth gaping as usual. The girl always seemed to be in awe whenever she visited the house. Charlotte had tucked herself into the material on Ethel’s coat. She was sucking her thumb and looked shy, but she usually took a few minutes to relax.
‘Would you like some hot milk?’ George asked.
‘Yes please,’ Ethel answered with gusto, and Charlotte nodded.
The door opened again, and Dulcie walked in. Her apron was covered in a light dusting of flour, and she looked surprised to see they had guests. George knew her gran was upset about her dad going to prison, and when the woman was upset, she baked.
‘Hello, girls, you’ve timed that well. I’ve been in the kitchen all morning. There’s enough in there to feed an army. I hope you lot are hungry?’
‘Cor, yeah, we really is,’ Ethel said, grinning widely. Charlotte looked more comfortable now.
‘Come and give me a hand then,’ Dulcie said, and hobbled to the kitchen with the girls in her wake.
‘Would you mind helping gran too?’ George asked Oppo. ‘Only I’d like a quiet word with Molly.’
‘Sure,’ Oppo replied, compliant as usual.
As the door closed behind them, Molly whispered, ‘He’s a bit of all right,’ and giggled.
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ George answered, thinking that Molly was acting very silly.
‘Has he got himself a girlfriend yet?’
‘No, I don
’t think so. Stop drooling over Oppo. Bloody men are more trouble than they’re worth,’ George snapped. She had far more important things on her mind.
‘Sorry. What’s this favour you want from me then?’
George bit her lip as she twisted the ring on her little finger. She knew it was a big ask, but Molly was her friend and she hoped she’d agree. ‘I need you to pinch something for me. Something from where you work.’
‘Like what? There’s nothing much in the factory except matches.’
‘But the matches are made in the factory, ain’t they?’
‘Yes,’ Molly answered, looking confused.
‘I’m glad that woman in your street took a shine to you and taught you to read ’cos I need one of the chemicals. I want you to get me a box of potassium chlorate.’
‘Eh? What do you want that for?’ Molly asked.
‘You don’t need to know, but will you get it for me?’
‘I… I dunno, George. It ain’t that easy. Mr Nelson has the keys to the chemicals store and he brings the stuff out on a trolley every morning, just what we’ll need for the day. If I see a box with that name on, I might be able to shove it up me skirt, but if he catches me…’ Molly trailed off.
‘Don’t put yourself at risk. Only nick it if you’re sure you can get away with it.’
‘Yeah, all right, but what do you want it for?’
‘Let’s just say, them coppers who have got my dad are gonna get a surprise,’ George answered. Her plan was audacious, and it would take a lot of nerve, but she was determined to get her vengeance. She couldn’t get her dad released, but if he was going down, he’d go down with a bang – one that the police would never forget!
26
On Monday morning, George tried to look inconspicuous as she waited outside the factory for Molly. It was still dark, yet the early morning rush to work was in full swing. They’d arranged to meet, but if Molly didn’t show during the next hour, she’d know the girl hadn’t managed to steal the chemicals. Thankfully it wasn’t long before Molly came back through the gates, though George muted a smile when she noticed how oddly her friend was walking.
‘Round ’ere,’ Molly said, and limped into a dark corner. ‘I’ve gotta be quick. I’m only supposed to be going to the bog.’
George followed, then Molly rummaged under her skirt and pulled out a small box of chemicals. ‘That was bloody uncomfortable! I hope you know what you’re doing, George. This stuff can be dangerous,’ Molly said as she handed over the stolen package.
‘Don’t worry, I ain’t stupid.’
Ezzy had a safe cracker working for him, and he’d told George all about how he made explosives to blow open the doors. She had a pretty good idea of what she was doing.
‘Maybe so, but you’re bloody reckless. Whatever it is you’re up to, just be careful. I’ve gotta go, before they notice I’m missing. Good luck, George, see ya later.’
‘Thanks, Molly,’ George said, before Molly dashed off.
She already had sugar, string and matches, and with the potassium chlorate, she now possessed everything she needed.
*
Hilda had always fancied herself as a gangster’s moll rather than a prostitute, and something about Billy Wilcox appealed to her. Joan and the others had said they’d found him creepy and repulsive, but she secretly liked him. Now, she just had to get him to notice her.
Once she was sure the women and Hefty had left on Saturday, she’d sneaked back to the house and unpacked her bag. She’d ignored any punters that knocked on the door during the day and kept the front of the house in darkness in the evening to keep them away.
Now, as the sun rose on this Monday morning, she hoped today would be the day that Billy would come to check on his newly acquired brothel. Oh, she couldn’t wait to tell him all about Joan stealing his money and running off to Aldershot. It was sure to grab his attention, and if she played him well, she hoped he’d reward her by handing the running of the brothel over to her. No more sleeping with the punters. Instead she hoped to be sleeping with just one man – Billy Wilcox. Who knew what that might lead to, she mused. Perhaps even the title of Mrs Hilda Wilcox. Yes, she liked the sound of that. It had a nice air about it, and the name Wilcox was both greatly feared and respected in Battersea.
Hilda sat at her dressing table and finished reddening her lips, then stared intently at her reflection in the mirror and admired her bleached blonde hair. Her drunken mother had drummed it into her that she’d never amount to anything, but she had plans. Big plans, and Billy Wilcox was paramount in them.
As though the woman was in the room, she said, ‘Mother, you want to watch yourself. Billy is going to love me. Oh yes, he’s going to love me all right, and then you’ll need to be careful about what comes out of your disgusting mouth.’
She scraped back her stool and rose to her feet. ‘Can you hear me, Mother?’ she shouted to her room, spinning round.
In her head, she heard her mother’s laboured breathing and raspy voice. ‘I hear you,’ the voice said slowly. ‘I hear you.’
‘Billy killed his father, so if I ask him to, he’d think nothing of getting rid of you,’ she screeched, then her cackling laughter filled the room.
Hilda Murdin was mad. It was inherited, but so far, she’d managed to hide it well. She’d been twelve years old when she’d witnessed her mother set herself alight. Hilda had burnt her hands as she’d tried to pull her screaming baby brother from her mother’s arms, but both had perished in the flames. She’d never forget her brother’s cries. It triggered her insanity, which had recently begun to manifest as the voice of her dead mother. In Hilda’s head, it was real, and she was sure that Billy Wilcox would finally rid her of her spiteful mother once and for all.
*
Billy gently tapped on his mother’s bedroom door. She was normally an early riser and was always up to prepare Sally’s breakfast before school. But this morning it was after eight and there was still no sign of her emerging.
He heard a grunt, and slowly pushed open the door before walking into the darkened room. His mother was in bed with the blankets pulled up under her chin. A sliver of light peeped through a crack in the curtains, and though dim, Billy could see his mother’s eyes were swollen.
‘I’ve brought you a cup of tea,’ he said, placing the cup on a small cupboard by the side of her bed.
The room smelt of his father and there were reminders of him all around. A black suit hung on the front of the wardrobe. His braces were draped over the back of a deep blue velvet covered chair, and his shoes were tucked underneath. The one thing that wasn’t lying around was his father’s belt. That was neatly secured round Billy’s waist.
‘Are Penny and Sally OK?’
‘I’ve told Sally she can have the day off school today, and I’ve given her some toast and jam. She’s keeping an eye on Penny. You don’t have to worry about anything, Mum. I’ll make sure you’re all looked after.’
His mother sat up in the bed and reached out for Billy’s hand. ‘You’re a good son,’ she said.
Billy had never seen his mother’s hair looking dishevelled, or make-up smudged under her eyes. She always appeared immaculate. He found it was quite shocking to see her in this state and he looked away in distaste. ‘You should get up and dressed, Mum. I know it’s hard, but we’ve got to carry on and act like nothing has happened. We don’t want people asking questions. So far, the Pounders have no reason to come after us, so let’s not give them cause to.’
‘What do you mean? Are we in danger?’
‘No, Mum, as long as there are no repercussions for them. That means nobody must ever know they killed my dad. If anyone asks, we’ll say that he’s working away for a while, and in the meantime, I’ll be running the business.’
‘All right, but I can’t face going out today,’ his mother answered, her eyes brimming with tears again.
‘You don’t have to, but you need to talk to Sally and make sure she doesn’t say anything.�
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His mother nodded. Billy kissed her cheek, then picked up the tea, handing it to her. ‘Drink this. I’m off out to sort out the business. I’ll see you tonight.’
Before Billy left the room, he drew open the curtains. The window overlooked the front street. His father’s car was parked outside where he had left it, but no, not his father’s, it was his now. He knew how to drive it, but like his father, he decided he’d have a minder to ferry him round. He considered Hefty, but he had been too much his father’s man, and instead settled on Knuckles. If ever anything turned nasty, he was the perfect muscle to have around.
*
George took a deep breath and tried to calm her shaking hands. She had to be steady for this. She was fully aware of how unstable her home-made explosive device could be, and if something went wrong, the implications didn’t bear thinking about. She had made the bomb by mixing the potassium chlorate with some sugar in a paper bag, and coating a length of string with the mixture. This would be the fuse.
It was ready, and so was she. It had taken all her nerve to come back to the station, but this time, it wasn’t her who was going to be hurt. Though anxious, the right side of her mouth turned upwards at the thought of what she was about to do. This was no more than they deserved, and she hoped her bomb would make an impact.
If she could have, she would have thrown the bag straight into the face of the copper who had used his truncheon on her, but this was the closest she could get to him and it would have to do. It was better than sitting back and doing nothing, letting them get away with it. They’d never know why their station had been blown up, but she would and that was satisfaction enough. She just wished her dad wasn’t in there, though she knew he’d be in the basement and out of harm’s way.
George stood behind a corner on the opposite side of the road from the building. There was no way she was going to back out now. All she had to do was light the string and throw the bag through the main doors. It had seemed so simple when she’d planned it in her head, but now a worrying thought flashed through her mind and she feared getting caught. She couldn’t cope with being back in the cells again and if she did get banged up, what would happen to her gran? She realised if she started worrying about the consequences, she’d never go through with this so quickly told herself to stop being a wimp and returned her focus to the task in hand.