An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

It went without saying that she’d keep it to herself there had never been one. Jonah didn’t need to know that bit. People lost babies all the time, didn’t they? Especially early on.

  Lena grinned. She’d also booked out the VIP suite at The Feathers for their engagement party. She hadn’t mentioned this to Jonah yet either. She’d surprise him with that once she’d picked up the invitations she’d ordered from the printers. She couldn’t wait to see the ravenously jealous faces of all the slags at the club once it was announced.

  A very productive morning. Very productive. Things were now more on track than ever.

  All there was left to do was to get her feet under the table at The Feathers so she had some proper clout.

  Eleven

  ‘I THINK I MAY have found who this woman is. Or was.’ Heath leant back in a leather chair in his father’s office, pleased to have got this far so quickly.

  Mike placed his pen down. ‘Really? How on earth have you managed that?’

  Heath grinned. ‘I have my ways...’ He pulled out a couple of pieces of paper from his suit jacket’s inside pocket. ‘I think this...’ Unfolding one of the pieces of paper, he flattened it out on his father’s desk. ‘...is the woman we’re looking for...’

  Mike stared at a printout of a newspaper article dated from June 1964. It was an article on a new cabaret show opening that week at The Feathers club in Soho. A photo accompanying the article showed a line of women dressed in, from what he could tell from the bad reproduction of the article, feathered leotards and headdresses, posed in a fan-shaped line on the stage.

  He frowned. ‘Where did you get this? Which one’s supposed to be her?’

  ‘An archive website. It took a lot of digging, but there’s a lot out there if you know where to look,’ Heath said proudly, pointing to the caption underneath the picture. ‘I presume, from what you said, she’s the one in the middle.’

  Mike squinted at the tiny print:

  Jubilation as new show, Pegasus, launches this Friday, headlined by everyone’s favourite - Faye.

  ‘If you read the rest of the article, you’ll see that it only mentions Faye in passing and only ever by that name, but...’ Heath unfolded the second piece of paper and laid it over the top of the other article. ‘If you look at this one...’

  Mike peered at another article from back in the day. This time January 1965:

  Josene Takes Top Billing at The Feathers

  Clients of the famous Feathers nightclub in Soho have welcomed a new leading lady of the club’s famous cabaret.

  The Feathers was broken hearted to lose Dulcie Adams, affectionally known as Faye, but understood remaining in the club after her husband tragically lost his life was difficult. Now Josene will keep up Faye’s great work which helped to make The Feathers Club into such a star attraction...

  ‘Dulcie Adams...’ Mike whispered. ‘Are you sure?’

  Heath shrugged. ‘As sure as I can be, based on the snippets we’ve got.’

  Mike grinned. ‘This is amazing. Well done! I think if the internet was around in the 1960s, then this woman wouldn’t have got away with it for so long!’

  Heath grinned. ‘But that’s not all...’ He pulled out more paper from his pocket.

  ‘Remember I told you about that Ancestry website? I started looking for Dulcie Adams on there.’ Heath glanced up expecting to see amazement on his father’s face, but instead just saw impatience. Unperturbed, he continued, ‘Based on what you said, I looked for births of someone who became Dulcie Adams from between 1940 to 1950 in London. I picked London as I thought that most likely. I found twenty-six of them and looked into each and every one, but none had children born at the right time.’

  Mike poured both himself and Heath a whisky and listened intently.

  ‘So, I looked further afield.’ Heath took a sip of the whisky and smacked his lips together in appreciation.

  ‘Can you just cut to the chase?’ Mike barked. ‘You really don’t have to tell me the entire story. If you have a point to get to, could you just please get to it?’

  Slightly hurt, Heath looked back at his notes. ‘The Dulcie Adams we want was born in Margate in 1940 to Richard and Lucy Girding. Ancestry shows Dulcie Girding was christened in 1941 – again in Margate. She was present on the 1951 census, living at an address in Margate with her parents and a brother. She was 11 at the time. The next census was in 1961 and she wasn’t on that one, so I continued looking. A Dulcie Girling, aged 20, married a Peter Adams in 1960 in Dalston, Hackney. So, somewhere between 1951 and 1960 she moved to London.’

  Mike sat forward in his chair. ‘Go on...’

  ‘There’s a birth certificate for a Helen Adams – Mother Dulcie, Father – Peter, born 1961 in Dalston and then... wait for it... a death entry for Peter Adams in 1964.’ Heath laid all of the pieces of paper on the desk in front of Mike.

  ‘And this is her?’

  Heath nodded. ‘It must be. This Dulcie Adams went on to have a second child – a Robert Adams, born June 1965 – with the birth registered in Maidenhead.’

  Mike frowned. ‘Maidenhead?’

  ‘Nan said this woman disappeared several months before your father’s death in May 1965 and was pregnant, didn’t she? She must have moved here.’ Heath stabbed his finger at the word ‘Maidenhead’. ‘But,’ he continued, ‘Robert’s birth certificate lists Dulcie as mother but the father is blank.’

  Mike frowned. ‘It would be if the father was dead.’

  ‘This is the Dulcie Adams we’re interested in. It all adds up. This has to be the woman involved with your father and this Robert bloke must be your brother.’

  Mike sat back in the chair. Heath had found this all out from a computer? He glanced at the hated plastic monstrosity on the desk, suddenly feeling a newfound respect for it.

  ‘There’s more...’ Heath beamed, placing another piece of paper in front of his father. ‘The Electoral role shows Dulcie Adams (Widower) at this address.’

  ‘Footlights, Frogmore Road, Maidenhead? And she still lives there?’ Mike asked.

  Heath shrugged. ‘According to the latest electoral role, yes. Unless she’s died very recently.’

  ‘What about the children? Helen, did you say? What about her? And this... this Robert?’ Mike could barely bring himself to utter the name. Robert Adams, who it looked like was his brother... Shit the bed! This was real.

  Heath puffed his chest out proudly. ‘Helen is married to a James Shepherd. No kids as far as I can see. There’s loads to do, but a Google search on ‘Helen Shepherd’ brings up an estate agent in Maidenhead where she’s a partner.’

  Mike frowned. ‘And Robert? What have you found on him?’

  Heath fiddled with the notebook in his lap. ‘Nothing as yet, which is a bit odd. Nothing on the electoral role or Ancestry, apart from his birth and christening.’

  ‘Could be dead?’ Mike suggested, still unable to get his head around the likely conclusion that he’d randomly gained a brother.

  Heath shrugged. ‘I can’t find a death notice, but that doesn’t mean anything. He could have emigrated. I’ve barely touched the sides yet, but where do we go from here? I mean, I could spend months or even years digging around the family tree, but unless I’m mistaken, we want to move on this sooner rather than later, don’t we?’

  Finishing the rest of his drink, Mike nodded. ‘That we do, so being as we’ve got something to work with on the daughter, let’s concentrate on her. She should lead us to the brother if he’s around and ultimately to the mother, Dulcie Adams. I just need to think about how we’re going to go about it.’

  TEAGAN POTTERED AROUND as quietly as possible. She’d been supposed to take Dulcie to her weekly indoor bowls match that she went to once a week, but today she was adamant that she wasn’t going.

  Complaining of a headache, Dulcie had gone for a lie down after lunch, so Teagan had taken the opportunity to do some dusting and cleaning. She’d done all the bannisters so far – well almost... Just this last one o
n the first floor and then all the bannisters in the house would be freshly dusted and polished.

  Sitting down on the top step, Teagan fished her phone from her pocket. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t have it on her during the day, especially when she was working, but she couldn’t resist the temptation.

  She opened the text messages, seeing one from Joe and eagerly opened it:

  Sorry. Been really busy.

  Teagan frowned. Was that it? Not even a kiss?

  She quickly tapped in her reply.

  Is everything alright? Missing you like crazy! Love you xx

  Pressing send, Teagan found she’d discovered the top step of the first floor staircase was another place with a pocket of network coverage. She stared at the phone and within seconds came a reply:

  Any chance you can get out for half an hour?

  Teagan’s heart skipped a beat. She so missed Joe and longed to feel his arms around her. Perhaps she could sneak out later for a few minutes?

  Not right now but will try later. Love you xx

  Teagan waited for a response but there was nothing further. Shoving the phone back in her pocket, she pulled herself to her feet. Walking past Dulcie’s room, she listened at the door, hearing the faint sound of muffled snoring and smiled to herself. Dulcie was tired after all, bless her.

  For want of what to do next, Teagan decided she’d make a start on dusting the sitting room, although the prospect of carefully moving, dusting and replacing the countless ornaments and assorted objects on every level surface didn’t fill her with eagerness, but it needed doing, so do it she must.

  Making her way downstairs she froze hearing noise from below. Heart racing, she reached the ground floor and tentatively crept along the hallway, pausing at each doorway to gauge where the sound was coming from. It was very distinct and definitive.

  A rush of cold flooded over her. It wouldn’t be a burglar in the middle of the day, would it?

  Straining her ears, she pinpointed the noise to be coming from the kitchen. Creeping forwards, she edged towards the half-open door and pressing herself flat against the wall, peered through the gap.

  It was a man! Heart pounding, she remained paralysed against the wall hardly daring to breathe. The man had his back turned as he rifled through a drawer. Indignation flared as she witnessed this person going through Dulcie’s things.

  Wait. Was that Robert? She peered closer. It was Robert! What on earth was he doing?

  Teagan watched Robert move to a cupboard, yank the door open and peer inside. Slamming that door, he moved to another drawer, pulling things out haphazardly and then shoved them back.

  Opening another cupboard, Robert pulled out some paperwork and squinting, ran his eyes over the documents in his hand. Teagan frowned. She had to make her presence known. She couldn’t just stand and watch him, he was Dulcie’s son, for God’s sake.

  Robert swung around as Teagan cleared her throat slightly, his face a mask of surprise, but on seeing Teagan, changed to that of anger. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he barked, shoving the paperwork back in the cupboard.

  Swallowing the urge to ask Robert the same, Teagan smiled, despite the hostile expression on his face. ‘I heard a noise,’ she said. ‘I was worried someone had broken in. Dulcie didn’t mention you were coming round today.’

  ‘Why isn’t she at bowls?’ Robert barked. ‘She always goes to bowls.’

  ‘Dulcie had a headache and didn’t want to go.’ She eyed Robert shutting the cupboard he’d been sifting through. ‘Were you looking for something? I rearranged the kitchen yesterday, so if I know what you’re looking for, then I might be able to help?’

  ‘It’s none of your damn business!’ Robert snarled, stepping forward. ‘This is my house or rather, my mother’s. It’s not up to you to tell me what I can or can’t do.’

  For the first time Teagan noticed just quite how physically unnerving the man was. Sporting a large well-built frame and defined, angry features, Robert was quite intimidating. If she was honest, he scared her a little. She instinctively stepped back. ‘I wasn’t... I mean, I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were...’

  ‘I know what you were doing! Stop making excuses!’ Robert yelled. ‘You shouldn’t be here anyway!’

  Teagan gasped. This man may be Dulcie’s son, but it didn’t mean he had the right to sneak about and insult her. ‘I thought you were a burglar!’

  ‘Burglar? Don’t be absurd! Is Helen here?’

  ‘Helen? No, I’m not expecting her to...’

  ‘You don’t have to be expecting anything! We don’t have to run anything past you. I asked you a simple question.’

  Teagan bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giving this man a piece of her mind. ‘No, she’s not here.’

  ‘She hasn’t dropped anything off for my mother?’ Robert pushed.

  Teagan shook her head. ‘Not as far as I know, no.’

  Robert made that harrumphing sound again as he scowled at her, then stalked past without another word.

  Staring in confusion, Teagan watched Robert stride down the long hallway and leave the house, slamming the door behind him.

  Twelve

  NERO SCREWED UP HIS EYES and inhaled deeply. They’d been here almost half an hour and he was already bored shitless. This was the third time they’d trekked up to Maidenhead, but at least now they knew this was the correct house; the old dear was still on this mortal coil and Helen Shepherd was in regular contact with her mother.

  He glanced at Keith and then at the mounting piles of sandwich packets, empty crisp and chocolate bar wrappers in his usually pristine footwell and scowled. Keith’s gargantuan appetite and the amount of stuff he’d gnawed his way through today had beaten his previous record and had made the car resemble an overflowing rubbish bin which did nothing to help his OCD of tidy motors. It made him twitchy.

  Having to come up and down to Maidenhead also wasn’t doing anything to help the rest of his side of the business either. Keith had already been forced to arrange for some of the other lads to double up with the collection work. Running behind with anything made him uncomfortable.

  Nero glanced at the house. It still looked just as much of a dump as yesterday; the gleaming exterior of the adjacent houses only accentuating what a state it was in.

  Nero wasn’t sure what they were now supposed to be watching for. The instructions had been a tad vague.

  ‘Watch to see if anyone else comes and goes,’ Jonah had barked. ‘We need to see who we can use, aside from Helen Shepherd, to get in the place without resorting to force.’

  Nero sighed. Neither did it help that when they arrived he’d glimpsed the back of a bloke walking near the house – a big, miserable fucker, but he hadn’t seen where the man had come from. It was Keith’s fault. If they hadn’t stopped for more sandwiches they’d have seen where he’d come from.

  It looked like he’d come from the ramshackle place, but he couldn’t be sure. And Nero didn’t like not being sure. Not where Jonah was concerned. And certainly not on this subject. Reporting back with anything that wasn’t one hundred percent certain, in the frame of mind Jonah was in, wasn’t a good idea. People had died for less and he wasn’t going to be one of them. There was too much riding on getting the business with this old bat spot on and they couldn’t afford to fuck it up.

  Jonah had been in a particularly bad mood, considering he was supposed to be getting married. That had been a bit of a shock too.

  Nero shrugged. Although he knew Jonah was shacked up with that Lena bird, he hadn’t thought it to be that serious. That sort of stuff had never been mentioned, which was a bit of surprise, as he’d thought Jonah regarded him as a little more than an employee, considering their long history since teens together. In all honesty, he felt slightly hurt. Why hadn’t this engagement thing been mentioned during one of their chats if it was on the cards, rather than an impersonal invite left at the club reception for him?

  Nero decided to sit tight
a while longer and see what else, if anything, happened. His forehead creased. It wasn’t the sort of neighbourhood likely to have any sudden all-night raves, gun fights or spontaneous drug deals and suspected it wasn’t going to be particularly scintillating viewing.

  Fucking boring in other words.

  But Jonah had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that they needed to wait for the right opportunity to present itself. An opportunity to enable them to get in the house and take the haul back. The sooner that opportunity presented itself, the better.

  ‘Hey up! Who’s this?’ Keith said suddenly.

  Nero looked up, seeing a crappy old Vauxhall making its way up the road, his attention sharpening when it drew to a halt outside the house in question.

  Leaning forwards slightly in their seats to give them a clearer view, Nero and Keith waited and watched.

  TEAGAN HAD SPENT the last twenty five minutes peering through the heavy velvet drapes of the front reception room. With Dulcie still having made no move to come downstairs, she’d taken the opportunity to ask Joe if he could pop around now. It wasn’t her afternoon off, but being as Dulcie was still asleep and she was more than a little shaken and confused over Robert’s sudden appearance and then abrupt departure, she could do with a slice of normality, even if just for ten minutes. And, more to the point, she wanted to see Joe. Really wanted to see him.

  She leant against the velvet curtain, her nose twitching from the dust and seeing Joe’s familiar blue Vauxhall pull up at the bottom of the steps, Teagan ran to the over mantle mirror, hastily checking her hair and makeup. Not anywhere near her absolute best, but she didn’t look bad.

  Quickly moving into the hallway, she pulled open the old heavy door, put the catch on and slipped outside, pulling the door to behind her.

  Her heart fluttered as Joe strode up the steps, still looking as attractive as ever, his wavy blond hair reaching the collar of a checked shirt thrown casually over a tight T-shirt outlining his well-defined physique.