by RJ Hunter
"I can see that you're polite, and well turned out, Pauline, I like that." Said, Mrs. Lake, running a keen eye over Pauline. "Lots of girls come into this type of work with the wrong attitude. In order to gain respect, you have to earn it. I shall expect you to be courteous and civil to the clients at all times, is that clear?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lake, I have had some experience working behind the bar at the students club."
Mrs. Lake couldn't help laughing. "Pauline, nothing could be more different! But I can see something in you. When can you start?"
At thirty five, Claire Lake saw herself as a good judge of character, especially when it came to hiring new hostesses. She could spot the freeloaders from a mile off, and prided herself on the honesty and integrity of her girls. Her husband, Walter, an alcoholic had now taken a back seat in managing the club, and was more than happy to leave things in the hands of his capable wife, even though the club had been losing money lately, and had slipped down the pecking order in favour of some of its rivals.
Claire was a tall, attractive woman, with a short black bob. Her slender, toned, figure was a testament to keeping herself in good shape, despite the many temptations to enjoy the rich food, and fine wine which were always readily available on the premises.
Frank hadn't realised at the time, that by undertaking these menial driving jobs, he was on the brink of starting one of London's most successful mini-cab companies.
Pauline would usually act as an intermediary, and would arrange for her husband to ferry the clients home, or to restaurants, especially after they'd had a few drinks too many. They soon became used to Frank, and started to trust him with other duties, like running business errands, or driving their wives around on shopping trips. Frank soon found that his charm was working wonders, and he was able to treat himself to a couple of new hand-stitched suits.
Claire had been suitably impressed with Frank, and had given her permission for him to continue on a trial basis, to see how things worked out. His relationship with Pauline had also softened significantly by this stage, and he actually began to treat her as a human being at times. Maybe it was because he now appeared to have a purpose, or it was because he had just grown used to Pauline being around. Frank even started to take an interest in his daughter. He began taking Tina out to the park, and would often bring her toys and dolls home to play with. Pauline was delighted and looked forward to the future with optimism, now she was finally turning things around with her newly-acquired husband.
In a comparatively short space of time, Frank had enough cash to trade in his ageing car, and buy a white Mercedes Benz. From then on, he never looked back, but still he was impatient and longed to buy more cars, employ some drivers, and get out of the cramped flat they were living in. This was where Mr. Bloom entered the equation.
Having narrowly escaped the Nazis during the second world war, with most of his wealth intact, Abraham Bloom played his hand cautiously. He had opened a modest jewellery shop in Golders Green, where he specialised in buying and selling unusual pieces from around the world for those that could afford them. He had a reliable network of contacts, and could supply his clients with anything, from a sapphire engagement ring to a diamond-studded, platinum tiara. Much of his business was concluded away from the shop, often during the evenings at his client's homes, or in local hotels. For reasons of his own, Bloom preferred to deal only in cash, and trusted very few.
One evening each week, the elderly man would make a habit of coming into the club, whether he had business or not. He never encouraged any of the hostesses to socialise with him, and would sit alone, at a secluded table, smoking a cigar and consuming several large cognacs before setting off to visit a mysterious lady friend.
Pauline knew he must have been well tipsy by the time he left, but he certainly never showed it, and always behaved impeccably. As the months passed, Mr. Bloom became quite fond of Pauline, and would look out for her to serve him. Pauline found she enjoyed the pleasant and enlightening conversation of the well-educated old Jewish gentleman, and they soon became friends. In fact, he had developed quite a crush on Pauline, who was now in her mid twenties, and would give her little items of jewellery from the small case, which was always at his side. The gifts were certainly not anything of particularly high value, but they were different, and far more interesting than anything she had seen in the shops. Sometimes, when there was no-one around, he would open the case and show her some of his finest pieces, and tell her how they could all belong to her - if she became his wife.
"Abraham, you are so sweet, but I love my husband. Anyway, don't you already have a lady friend?"
The old man chuckled, and upon leaving would often produce a crisp, £5 note from his bulging wallet, and present it to Pauline, as a tip, which was more than generous in 1966.
During these times, when Frank's rages were not quite so much of a problem, Pauline liked to see if there were any signs of jealousy from her husband.
"At least my boyfriend at the club likes me enough to give me presents!" She remarked, admiring the pretty gold earrings in the mirror.
Frank would usually just sneer, and generally treat her with contempt. It was only after she had mentioned the old gentleman's wealth, and the fact that he carried much of it around in his case, that finally, Frank began to take a keen interest.
"So what's actually in this case, your decomposing friend carries around with him?" He asked one evening, with a calculating glint in his eye.
"Several thousand pounds, I'd say, but the jewellery is probably worth much more. I'll see if I can get him to use your car service. I'm sure he'd agree, if I recommended you, Frank." Beamed Pauline, delighted that she was finally helping her husband into meaningful employment.
It didn't turn out be a difficult thing to arrange. The following week, Mr. Bloom had arrived at the club in high spirits. He insisted on buying Pauline a drink, which was acceptable in those days, and excitedly began to tell her how he had just sold an antique, diamond ring to a very discerning client. The old man was glowing, and Pauline listened intently as he described the magnificent house where he'd conducted his lucrative deal.
"It's been a fantastic week, my petal. I'm sure it's you who brings me such good fortune, you are my lucky omen, Pauline!" Laughed the experienced jeweller, as he downed another cognac.
"No, Mr. Bloom, on the contrary, you create your own fortune. You must be a very talented salesman?"
He smiled warmly, and reached across to clasp her hand, which he examined in great detail, noticing its general lack of adornments.
"What's this, such beautiful, delicate hands, and nothing to compliment them? I want you to come to my shop. You can choose anything I have. Pauline, please say you will, it'll make a foolish old man very happy."
Pauline was quite taken aback by this show of generosity.
"I've never met such a kind, good-hearted man as you, Mr. Bloom. But, I think it would be wrong of me to accept." She replied, trying her best to be diplomatic. "However, there is something I did want to ask you?"
He agreed immediately to allow Frank to drive him, and Pauline was delighted. Some time later, as she took a tray out to the kitchen with a broad smile on her face, Claire cornered her when there was no-one else around.
"I've been watching you and Mr. Bloom." She said, backing Pauline up against a wall. "Don't forget what I told you when you first came here, Pauline."
"It's purely innocent, Mrs. Lake. I wont disappoint you."
"No, that's right, Pauline, you certainly wont disappoint me." Smirked the older woman, as she suddenly kissed Pauline on the side of her neck, and ran her hand over her breast.
Pauline was aghast, and quickly pulled herself away, before going back out into the public area of the club. However, she struggled to concentrate on her work, and made an excuse to leave early.
Even Abraham Bloom was impressed when he saw Frank, dressed immaculately in a dark suit and standing next to the gleaming, white Mercedes.
&nbs
p; "You have a wonderful, charming and beautiful wife, young man, I hope you appreciate her?" He remarked, easing himself into the back of Frank's car. "Do you know Battersea Bridge, the Chelsea side?"
"Yes, I know it well," replied Frank casually, immediately taking a dislike to his passenger.
"Good, then, let's be on our way. I'll show you exactly where to drop me when we get closer."
However, Mr. Bloom, never reached his destination. He was found early the next morning, face-down in the River Thames, just a half mile from his destination.
It had been a profitable night's work for Frank, even though he had ruined his suit and a perfectly good pair of shoes during the proceedings. He had been surprised by the old man's reluctance to meet his maker, and even after a savage blow to the head with a brick, Mr. Bloom still managed to twitch a fair bit. The only downside to the evening was Bloom's missing keys. Frank must have searched every pocket for them, as he waded knee-deep in the water and mud at the river's edge. He finally had to assume that they had somehow ended up at the bottom of the river during the struggle. It was a big disappointment to Frank, now he would have to settle with just the jeweller's case, and not the contents of his shop, as he'd hoped.
He had waited for Pauline to get back first, so that she could send her mother home after babysitting. He was pleased to find that she was in the shower, as he crept in through the house. After quickly changing out of his damp suit, he poured himself a large whiskey to calm his nerves, before forcing open the case.
Pauline came down ten minutes later. She had been troubled by Claire's approach, but put it behind her once she was back home. The first thing she saw as she walked into the living room was Mr. Bloom's case on the table.
"What have you done with him?" She screamed at Frank, glaring at him, her head swathed in a towel.
"There was a bit of an accident, that's all. These things happen. Don't worry the police wont come around here."
"What do you mean, an accident? That's his case you're trying to force open. Answer me, Frank. What have you done?"
He ignored her, and putting the drill down, took up a crow bar, which he used to violently wrench the lock open.
"He's dead. He had a fall, but now we're rich!"
"You killed him didn't you? You've murdered that harmless, little old man." Gasped Pauline.
"Listen, there's plenty more old people around. Besides, he would have wanted you to have all this, Pauline. He liked you, remember!"
She put her hands up to her face, no longer able to look at the bundles of cash and jewellery, sitting there on the living room table.
"He trusted me, Frank." She wept, "He trusted me."
"Well, that just goes to show, you shouldn't go around trusting women who work in nightclubs!" He smirked, examining an emerald brooch.
"We've got to go to the police, Frank. We must hand all this over. You can still say it was a tragic accident."
"Listen, I dropped him off where he wanted. He was drunk and must have fallen into the river. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it."
"No, Frank, I don't believe you, you're lying."
Frank picked up the drill, and moved menacingly towards Pauline. She backed away, terrified of what he might do. He reached around and grabbed the towel at the back of her head, then, pulling her down, he thrust the drill bit into her mouth.
"You're in this too, you bitch!" He snarled, "Let's not forget that it was you who set it up in the first place." Removing the drill from her mouth, he then pushed her violently to the floor, where he kicked her hard in the abdomen.
Fearing further violence, and in excruciating pain, Pauline somehow summoned the strength to crawl towards the door. It was then, she felt hands touching her shoulders, but they were gentle, soft hands, and so tiny that Pauline dared reach up to hold them. She opened her eyes, and looked up to see her daughter standing before her.
"Tina, please - you must go back to bed. Mummy will be up soon to tuck you in." Pleaded Pauline, desperate to keep the child out of harm's way.
"Look, Tina, lot's of toys - come and see!" Called out Frank, scooping up a handful of glittering jewellery.
Tina immediately left her mother and ran excitedly over to the table.
As she stood on a chair, not knowing which item to touch first, Frank placed the old man's personal effects, and anything of no apparent value, back inside the damaged case, which he would dispose of later that evening.
Sally was ecstatic when William had given her the news. She immediately bundled the children into the car, and went to have a look herself.
"I can't believe it William, it's finally up for sale!" She gasped, gazing up at the empty house excitedly. "We had better put in an offer straight away!"
"Don't worry, I've already done it," he replied, smiling. "It's been accepted!"
It was the autumn of 1967, when Sally and William moved into The Birches, following the birth of their second daughter, Penny, during the so-called, summer of love. They had moved to Sally's home town of Twickenham, after she had sat her finals, and left Falcondale with a first class, joint honours degree in English and Classics. William was very impressed, since he had only just managed to pass with a second in his chosen subjects. Possibly, having to attend Frank's court case so close to sitting his finals, and the temporary break up with Sally may have affected him. But surprisingly, William was unconcerned, and had been more than eager to move to London, where he felt there would be numerous opportunities for him to make a name for himself.
Initially, the couple had rented a modest two-bedroom flat in East Twickenham, just a short distance from Richmond Ice Rink. At the time renting seemed a sensible idea, rather than leap straight in and buy a place, not quite knowing where their future incomes were going to come from.
William teamed up with a childhood friend from Canada, called Jeremy, who had recently moved to the UK. They began to buy up dilapidated old shops in prominent areas of London, gave them a bit of a psychedelic face lift, then converted them into profit-making souvenir shops. It wasn't exactly what William had planned to do, but he found the challenge each property presented to his artistic capabilities, very exhilarating. Added to this, Jeremy appeared to have the Midas touch where it came to getting funds to invest in the renovation of the numerous properties. They soon found they were making a substantial living, and after a while, no longer needed help from the banks, even though their careers could be considered precarious.
At the time, Carnaby Street was rapidly becoming the fashion centre of the world, and was attracting millions of visitors each year. One small shop, they had opened, in the centre of the street was already bringing in more profit in one day, than some of the other shops could make in a week.
While William had been reaping the benefits of full-blown capitalism, Sally had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Nothing could have prepared her for the task of looking after a baby and two toddlers, hell-bent on getting into as much mischief as possible. During those early days, help wasn't exactly forthcoming. Certainly, Sally's parents looked in, but their visits were few and far-between, and would never involve the offer of assistance in any shape or form. It was similar to her own childhood days, when she had felt unloved and was only born in the first place out of some misguided sense of duty. Although, they would never admit it, Sally's parents had hoped their only daughter could have gone on to meet someone of considerable status, possibly even titled. Now, to see her at such a young age, stretched to the limit and surrounded by chaos, only served to remind them, that perhaps, they had failed somewhere along the line themselves. Soon Sally began to dread the visits, feeling she was obliged to have the flat looking completely spotless, and totally devoid of any signs of habitation by young children.
Sally also had quite a strained relationship with William's parents, especially his mother Joan. Although, William's mother was always civil to Sally, and had been more than generous in the past, there was an invisible barrier between the two women, wh
ich neither of them seemed prepared to cross. Sally had always assumed this was due entirely to her short engagement to William, along with the conception of their first child, Jonathan before the wedding date. However, there were other reasons. William had married Sally without asking for his parent's blessing, and worse still, they had gone ahead with the small, unassuming ceremony in a registry office without inviting them, or indeed, Sally's parents. Both, William and Sally did apologise profusely later, when they realised how much sadness their selfish actions had caused. They were forgiven of course, but by then the damage had been done. Joan's resentment at being deprived of attending her oldest son's wedding would never truly disappear. It was only after Sally had borne a child that she began to understand about the special bond that exists between a mother and her first born child.
Lizzie, however, would drive down from Gloucester on a frequent basis, and stay over. It was these visits that Sally looked forward to the most. They gave her the chance to talk to another woman on her own wavelength, but more importantly, Lizzie's visits kept her sane. Once Jonathan and Laura were potty trained, Sally began to send them to nursery. At first, she missed them desperately, and wondered how she could fill these new expanses of time that were appearing in her life. It was an innocent remark, she made to Lizzie one day, about being bored that ultimately led to a dramatic change, not only in Sally's life, but in William's and Lizzie's too.