by Mary Wood
This worried Molly, as Ruby would get into trouble if she was found to be mixing with Peggy’s girls. Eva feared the girls might leave her to go and work for Peggy, if they found out how much better they were treated there. They got plenty to eat and were kept clean. Which is more than could be said for Eva’s street girls.
‘Trixie gets me the odd punter, if she’s got too many waiting. Or, if they won’t have me, she gives me some of her pickings, so I don’t come back empty-handed. But me trade’s picked up a bit since you took me in hand.’
Molly didn’t know whether to be pleased about this or not. But a part of her felt glad that Ruby’s lot had improved. She loved Ruby like a sister. She reminded Molly of Hettie. Abrupt in her manner, kind and a salt-of-the-earth type.
The queue outside the Victoria Palace Theatre for tickets to the matinee of Me and My Girl stretched around the corner. Being early, Eva and Molly were near the front. They’d been into the cinema, but had come out after half an hour of the film. Molly had been uncomfortable on the bench seats, which had very little padding. During the part of the film they’d seen, her attention had been taken trying to pluck up the courage to broach the subject of her disappearance from home, in an effort to find out if David had ever called round to her house, asking for her. As the conversation between her and Eva had dried up, she took all of her courage in both hands, though she dreaded the answer. ‘Does anyone ask where I’ve gone to, Eva? Y’know, like Foggy, or some of me neighbours? Or does me dad ever ask after how I am?’
Trying to look as if her question was just idle curiosity, Molly looked up at the grey stone building, concentrating her gaze on the pillared balcony, then bending her head backwards, so that she could study the dome on top of the building.
‘Yer dad does ask and he says a couple of the neighbours have, but he tells them you went off without telling him, but he’s since heard from you and you’re in the forces. He’s coming to terms with what happened now, and enjoys the odd bit extra that I give him from your earnings. Gives him a bit to spend with the bookie’s runner.’
Molly was surprised by how much this hurt. But what Eva said next turned the hurt into a deep pain. ‘Last time I saw him, yer dad said sommat about a fella calling round your house, asking about yer. Who would that be? You never said you had any friends, other than that Hettie.’
David! Molly almost said his name out loud. She hoped nothing of what she felt showed in her face.
‘He were in uniform. Air force, your dad said.’
‘What did me dad tell him?’ It took all her effort to keep the trembling of her body from her voice.
‘Dunno. Why? Who were he?’
‘No one special’ – only my life. ‘He was caught up in the same bomb attack as me and Hettie. He told me he was in the forces, and that he’d look me up one day to make sure I was all right. I gave him me address.’ Changing the subject, she made herself sound disinterested. ‘I’m tired, Eva, and I’m hurting all over. Can we come to see this show another time? I just want to go to bed.’
‘Bleedin’ hell, Molly. I’ve wanted to see this for ages.’
‘Well, why don’t you? I’ll go back on me own. You can trust me. I’ll be truthful with you. I would go off, if I had some money and somewhere to go, but I’ve got neither. All I can do is go back.’
‘You bleedin’ do go off and I’m telling yer, that Ruby as yer so fond of will cop it. One move from you as to leaving me, and she’s dead! You’re me best earner, and yer know too much.’
‘Christ, you’re an evil woman, Eva.’
‘And don’t you forget it. Now, I’m at least going to get tickets while I’m here, so we can come another time. We’ll go back, once I have them. On the way we’ll call in at that new place I told yer of. See what yer think. I’ve put in an offer for it, but it were as bleedin’ low as I dared go. I’m nervous now, and I need someone with a bit of intelligence to tell me if I should up me offer.’
This was the last thing Molly wanted to do. The soreness of her body had been joined by the pain of missing David and renewed fear of the trap she was in.
She tried to concentrate on David. So he is now in the air force. Probably he’ll still be in training, but where? Why hadn’t she asked him more about it? But then, what use would knowing be to her; she’d known where he lived, but had never contacted him. She could have done. Ruby would have posted a letter. But she’d had to think of David’s safety, and she still had to. Eva’s gang was capable of anything.
Once Eva had purchased tickets for the following week, her mood changed a little. ‘I’m looking forward to that, and I bet you are, an’ all. Right, come on. We’ll get a cab. If we can bleedin’ find one.’
The journey in the green-and-black Morris cab was far from comfortable, but the mile and a half they had to travel was done in a relatively short time, and Molly was glad of the respite when they stopped off at the office of the agents who were handling the sale of the building Eva was interested in.
Ebury Street in Chelsea looked just as sad as the rest of London. Burnt-out shells of buildings still bled water. Some of the leaks, Molly imagined, were from the firefighters’ attempts to douse the fires, others from broken pipes. Debris danced in the gutters as the wind flicked charred paper along.
The building they now stood in front of looked forlorn. Its windows were smashed, and some of its window frames blew backwards and forwards in the wind. At any moment the precarious screws or hinges holding them could give way and turn them into dangerous missiles.
‘Well, what d’yer think, then?’
What Molly thought was that the intention to turn this once-beautiful house into a brothel-cum-illegal-gambling-and-drinking-house was despicable, but she didn’t express this. She looked up and down the street. She knew this area was near the King’s Road, a busy thoroughfare, although for Eva’s trade punters would travel to wherever and wouldn’t care if it was in the middle of a desert. ‘I like the look of it, but it needs a lot of work.’
‘Not as much as you’d think. What you can see is blast damage, but the rooms are all intact, and the structure is safe. The owners have even left all the furniture, and I can tell yer, a lot of it is classy stuff. The agent told me it’s Georgian. It’d look good and give a good impression of me club. The nobs like that sort of thing. That’s if there’s any of it left. Bleedin’ looters could have been in. Come on, let’s take a look.’
Once inside, Molly felt a sense of sadness. Water ran down the walls, leaving the beautiful mahogany furniture standing an inch deep. High ceilings with decorated cornices gave an air of grandeur, and the doors were heavy and ornate. ‘Did the agent say your offer had been accepted?’
‘No. They want a few more bleedin’ hundred quid.’
‘Pay it. I don’t know what the amount is, but if you were happy with your first offer and they only want a bit more, I’d go for it and get this place dried out and secured as quick as you can. Else everything will be ruined.’
‘Right. That’s all I wanted to ’ear. We’ll call back there, drop off the keys, pay a deposit and get the agent to get workmen in, pronto. I’m on the up, Molly. And you can come with me. You can be me manager. You’ve got brains.’
The walls of Molly’s nightmare closed further in on her.
‘You’re not saying much.’
‘I told you, Eva, I’m tired and in pain.’ How Eva could even think of discussing business with her, when she’d been instrumental in selling her to a sadist who had inflicted so much pain on her, Molly didn’t know. She did know that she’d had enough. Sucking up to Eva hadn’t helped. It had only drawn her in deeper and given Eva fancy ideas. It was time to take her destiny into her own hands – she had enough money now. The time had come for her and Ruby to get away.
They hadn’t been back at the brothel long when Molly stiffened with fear. Eva’s screeches came to her as she lay on her bed. ‘I’ll kill the bleeder!’
Somehow Molly knew Eva was talking about her.
Footsteps stomped along the landing, coming towards the dormitory. The door flew open. Eva stood there, her face screwed up with evil. In her hand she held Molly’s tea-caddy. ‘You bitch! You’ve been stealing from me.’
Molly stared into the piercing eyes. Smudged with mascara, they gave Eva the look of the monster she was. A sense of doom weighed down Molly’s heart.
Her terror deepened as Gus pushed past Eva. ‘You slut, you!’ His hand grabbed her and yanked her off the bed. Unable to get her footing, she landed on the floor. ‘Get up.’ A vicious kick sank into her kidneys, taking Molly’s breath from her. An indescribable pain creased her. ‘I said, get up!’ Once more Gus yanked at her, almost pulling her arm from her socket. ‘Yer going ter pay fer this. No one crosses Eva.’
‘And that Ruby, an’ all. She must have known. I want her to get it as well, Gus.’
This forced Molly to find her voice. ‘No! No, please. Please. Ruby didn’t know – no one did.’
As Gus shoved Molly towards the door, a shadowy figure jumped back into the first boudoir. She thought she knew who it was, but what she heard as she was shoved into the second boudoir confirmed it. ‘Now, will you let me have another girl, Eva? You wouldn’t have known, if I hadn’t told you that I saw her put ten into her gown.’
‘You can have that bleedin’ Ruby just as soon as I locate her. And do what yer like with her. Don’t worry about me warnings about not going too far. Have yer fun. I don’t care if I have a bleedin’ body to get rid of. But you’ll still pay, and as much as you gave to that bitch. Only from now on, all punters hand their money in to me or Gus.’
Molly heard no more. She’d been sure the hairbrush-man hadn’t seen her take the money. But even if he had, how did they find her tin?
The answer lay in a look from Delilah, a bitch of a girl who hadn’t liked Molly taking more than her fair share of those she considered the ‘best’ punters. She sidled out of the second boudoir, gave a satisfied smirk towards Molly and let out a little giggle. She must have overheard a conversation between me and Ruby.
Gus pushed Delilah out of the way as he manhandled Molly into the room. Once he’d kicked the door closed, he threw her onto the bed.
‘First, yer going to have a taste of a real man.’
Molly didn’t fight. What would it matter? She’d just look on it as servicing another punter. They were all different, but however Gus liked to do it, she could take it.
Undressed, he lived up to what she’d first heard about how big he was. None that she’d had could match him. His weight crushed her while he tried to enter her, but once he’d achieved that, he lifted himself and looked down at her. ‘You’re good.’ His words went into a moan as he began to thrust at her.
Molly tried to block out the pain he was causing her bruised body.
When he stopped for a moment, she wondered why. She turned her head to look at him. His face twisted into a scowl and his hand whipped her cheek. ‘Don’t just fucking lie there, bitch! Give me what yer give the punters. I’ve heard yer moaning and screaming out.’
Afraid of what he might do, Molly arched her back in pretence. She moaned as she did so. She could act out pleasure. She’d done so many times. Thankfully, he just seemed to want normal sex. Nothing fetishistic. Well, she could give him that, couldn’t she? Any whore could give him that. And that’s what I am. A whore. A nobody.
12
Lucinda
Chasing Elusive Happiness
Lucinda waited as the operator tried to put her through. She’d received an urgent hand-delivered message that her editor wanted to speak to her. It seemed she’d missed two calls from him. This hadn’t surprised her as she’d been out walking as often as she could, trying to make sense of everything, seeking a tiredness from the exercise that would make her sleep. And even when she’d been in, she’d ignored the telephone, thinking it might be Flo or Roland and she’d have to lie to them.
At last she heard the American drawl of her boss at the Daily News, one of London’s most popular papers. ‘Lucinda! Great to hear from you. How are you? Feeling a whole lot better, I hope. Have you made your mind up about taking the correspondent’s job?’
Lucinda bit her lip. Everything in her screamed against her doing this, and yet she knew that common sense couldn’t win over what her heart desired of her.
Making her voice sound as normal and decisive as it usually did, she answered, ‘Yes. I would love to do it. When do I go?’
‘Is tomorrow too soon?’
Her heart jolted. No time was too soon, but could she really just run out on Flo and Roland? She heard herself answer, ‘No, that’ll be fine. Where and when?’
‘I knew you’d say yes, so in anticipation I had all of your papers prepared. And I’ve got press clearance for you with both the English and German governments, and that phoney government in the South of France. That’s where you will go initially – just the other side of Paris to Vichy. You will stay there for a week, before you are to join the forces in Belgium. Though be careful of the Germans; they say they will give you press immunity, but they don’t play fair. Dickie Peterson was taken in last week as a suspected spy. We haven’t heard anything of him since. But we’re onto it. And that’s why we need you out there. Things are happening that are not being reported on. You’ll fly out in a supply plane. It’ll be a bit hairy, as they’re carrying cargo for the Resistance workers. You may have to jump if they can’t land. You’ve parachuted before, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I told you. Me and a few others from university took a course. It was all for fun, but I enjoyed it and did a few jumps.’
She felt momentary fear for her unborn child, but she knew that things rarely went wrong on a jump and there should be little or no risk if it went smoothly. She had excelled in her training and had perfected the landing; in the end, it had felt no different from rolling on the grass, and never jarred or bruised her. Yes, I’ll take the chance . . . I have to. ‘I’ll set it up, then. You’ll only have a makeshift seat next to whatever it is they’re carrying. There’ll be a camera on board for you. I want pictures of the drop. So take all that you can, then leave the camera on board to be delivered back to me. We’ll decide what we can get clearance to use. Get over to Harwell in Berkshire, wherever that is. You’ll pick up your papers at the post office and report to the commander on the air base there. Everything you need will already be at the base waiting for you. And good luck.’
‘Before you go: how do I get news back to you?’
‘There’ll be other correspondents with you to show you the ropes, and the Resistance will take you to the world news office. The army will also be part of the chain. They take the film and your written report to the airfields and make sure they are loaded onto the transporters coming back to Britain. There’s various means.’
As she replaced the receiver, Lucinda had a moment when the deceit she intended to practise – not only on her dear brother and friends, but also on the newspaper – gave her a feeling of intense shame. But she had to do this. There was no other way she could get to France. Flo would explain why she’d gone. Along with Roland and Simon she would find a way of covering for her absence. Now all she had to do was write a note for Flo and Roland.
Flo had found that she hadn’t as much time off as she’d first thought, and so Roland was coming down to London instead of Flo and herself going to Leeds. The plan was for them all to meet here in her apartment on Saturday. Guilt visited her as she wrote that she’d taken a job in France. She didn’t say that she wasn’t intending to return.
With her only experience of flying being in a small aircraft, from which she and a few other students from Cambridge engaged in the sport of parachuting, Lucinda wasn’t sure if the sick feeling she was experiencing was air sickness or due to her pregnancy. But cramped up as she was, sitting between two huge bales of she-knew-not-what, she had the devil’s own job to keep from vomiting.
The pilot had kept up a running commentary about where they were, so
she knew they were over France. ‘In five minutes we will be landing, ma’am. You know that you will be met by Resistance workers, I presume?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, get your parachute ready to put on, just in case. And don’t be alarmed, for whichever way you reach the earth, the resistance workers will grab you and hurry you into the bushes. Extreme secrecy is their thing. If we’re able to land, we need you to go down the chute as quickly as you can. We will then take off and drop the cargo from the air, as we can’t stay on the ground long enough to unload manually. So please do everything with the utmost speed. No hesitation. Understood?’
‘Understood.’
A few minutes later Lucinda wanted to scream that she hadn’t understood they would have to dodge enemy fire. The ack-ack of ground-fire terrified her, as did seeing what looked like sparks shooting past the window.
The shout of, ‘Gunner, north-west twenty-nine degrees: fire!’ had Lucinda cowering and covering her ears. She bit hard on her lip, as terror streaked through her. After a moment she saw an almighty explosion on the ground beneath them. The pilot’s shout of joy brought a small amount of relief to her.
‘You did it! Well done, gunner. By the looks of things, the Resistance are engaging what’s left of the unit. We’ll have to turn back.’
‘No. Please, I have to get down there.’
‘You can’t parachute from this height – we would be dropping you into unknown territory. Good God, woman, you could land anywhere.’
‘Well, now that the Germans have been stopped, surely we could at least get over the landing strip and I can jump there. I have experience. I used to parachute for sport, when up at Cambridge, and carried out a lot of jumps.’
The pilot was silent for a moment. She could see his bent head; he was scrutinizing the terrain below. Probably checking whether the activity was still going on. His radio crackled. A French voice came over the air. It appeared to be from the men on the ground. The second pilot left his seat and tuned in. Lucinda couldn’t understand a word, even though she spoke excellent French. She assumed it was coded.