Hubert hated himself for the trembling in his stomach that was shaking his bowels to water, but his fear didn’t show in his voice when he said, ‘Is that it? Is that the message?’
‘Aye.’
‘Well, you can go back now and say you’ve delivered it, can’t you.’
He saw the two men exchange a glance but they said no more, turning as one and disappearing into the general throng on the corner of Crowtree Road and High Street West. Hubert stood for a moment more outside the pub. He was so sick of the shadow of Patrick Duffy hanging over him. Always, always it was there in the background. Patrick had given him some rope for Jimmy’s sake, but the little Irishman was forever hoping he’d hang himself with it. And Jimmy couldn’t see it. Patrick controlled him like he controlled the rest of his seedy empire that was full of dead men’s bones and rotten to the core.
He hunched his shoulders, shutting his eyes for a moment as though to blot out all the darkness in his head, and then opened them and began to make his way home.
Chapter Twenty-four
Josie opened at the Palace in the middle of August to excellent reviews and packed houses; her popularity being enhanced still more by the fact that she had brought her three sisters with her to Sunderland. It was a kind of family pilgrimage, she told the newspapers who were delighted to print such an unusual story. Her three sisters and herself, along with two brothers, were all that was left of her family as far as she knew, and it would be wonderful if her brothers would contact her now she was here. She had only recently been reunited with two of her sisters whom she hadn’t seen for over ten years; if the lads got in touch as well that would be absolutely wonderful. She wasn’t going to give their names for fear of embarrassing them, but they knew who they were and she just wanted them to know she was waiting for a call.
It was a great story, and when added to her beauty and magnificent voice Josie Burns was the editors’ darling and newspaper sales soared.
It had been two days after she had first taken Oliver to meet Ada and Dora - and that had been the day after their reconciliation - that her two elder sisters had let her know they were coming with her to Sunderland. ‘Lass, if you can treat a lady of the realm the way you did and tell ’em all what’s what, I reckon the least me an’ Dora can do is show the same amount of pluck.’ That had been the way Ada had put it when she had told Josie she and Dora were coming, and Josie hadn’t argued with her.
Oliver had swallowed hard when she had told him of her two elder sisters’ decision, much the same as he had when she had told him of the reappearance of the two women in her life, but in view of recent events he made no objection, either to their presence or to the proposed trip to Sunderland. He had, however, made it clear that regrettably he would have to stay in London for at least the first two weeks due to business, and Josie hadn’t objected to this. All in all he had taken her disclosure about Ada and Dora and her declaration of intent concerning the proposed trip to Sunderland very well, and she knew he was trying hard regarding his gambling too. If two weeks of her sisters and the provinces was all he could manage, then so be it.
Gertie, delighted that all was well with Josie and Oliver again, which couldn’t help but reflect on Anthony and herself, was all encouragement and approval. Josie understood how her youngest sister’s mind worked and could even sympathise to an extent, but Gertie’s attitude during the difficult days of her estrangement from Oliver had taught her a valuable lesson. Their relationship of the past was over - it was on a different footing now - and maybe that was no bad thing, Josie reflected honestly. In the early days Gertie had immersed herself in her sister’s career and life to the exclusion of everything else, and that wasn’t healthy. No, it was better she had found Anthony and the apron strings had been cut. Nevertheless, Gertie’s lack of support at such a crucial time had been a bitter pill to swallow.
The four women were staying at the Grand in two rooms - Ada and Dora in one, and Josie and Gertie in another - and her sisters accompanied her each night to the theatre, which made for some riotous evenings in Josie’s dressing room. Ada and Dora were fascinated by the music hall and some of the eccentric characters it boasted, a couple of whom were at present playing at the Palace. Dora being a born mimic could imitate ‘Lulu and Her Amazing Talking Chimpanzee’ and ‘Cinquevalli, The Human Billiard Table’ to the point where she had the others crying with laughter.
Oliver was due to join Josie in Sunderland the afternoon of her first performance at the Royal, and after she had moved out of the room she had shared with Gertie for two weeks and into one on the floor above which would be hers and Oliver’s, she sat quietly in the reception area of the hotel reading a book and awaiting his arrival. She had thoroughly enjoyed the last fortnight with her sisters; she hadn’t laughed so much in years, not even when she had been working with Lily and then later Nellie, she reflected as her mind wandered from the written page. The late Samuel Butler’s novel The Way of All Flesh was a savage exposure of the oppressions of Victorian family life which Winifred had recommended to her that fateful weekend, but it made for depressing reading in parts and she could only take it in small doses.
The four of them had been so happy but each one of them had had Hubert and Jimmy at the back of their minds, from the number of times the lads’ names had cropped up. Josie knew her sisters had been anxious for her in view of the warning Hubert had given her the last time she had seen him, and she made sure the four of them were always escorted to and from the theatre in the evening, and during the day they went everywhere together on the premise that there was safety in numbers. Not that she thought Duffy would try anything after all this time if she was being truthful.
The four of them had visited Vera a few times, and as Prudence had been at work there had been no awkward moments once the initial introductions had been dealt with. Josie had seen Betty at Vera’s during the middle weekend of the first two weeks, but she hadn’t called in at Betty’s herself in spite of receiving an open invitation. She would not allow herself to dwell on why she didn’t feel able to go and see Barney’s stepmother; she would just not allow her mind to ask questions linked in any way with the man who haunted her dreams night after night.
When Oliver walked through the doors of the hotel she rose immediately and went to his side, and as he kissed her and whispered, ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she smiled her reply.
They had tea at four o’clock with Ada, Dora and Gertie, but her sisters had tactfully said they were tired and wished to stay at the hotel that evening, so Oliver escorted Josie to the Royal and they spent the time in her dressing room together. There was one tricky moment at the beginning of the evening when, after escorting Josie and Oliver to her dressing room which was filled with flowers, the manager asked if she would be prepared to stay on in Sunderland for a few more weeks after she’d finished at the Royal and play the Avenue. The same proprietor owned both theatres. Josie declined, putting forward prior commitments as her excuse, and after he’d left she sent Oliver out to the front of the theatre to buy roast potatoes from the hot potato man, who sold his wares from a funny little contraption that looked like a small steam engine to the queues outside the Royal every evening. They ate the potatoes sprinkled with salt with Josie sitting on Oliver’s knee, burning their fingers in the process, and for the first time in a long while Josie felt everything was going to work out with Oliver. He was trying so hard, she thought fondly as she watched him licking his salty fingers and pretending he had enjoyed the experience.
Josie finished her second performance of the evening with two hits of a few years ago, ‘Mighty Lak’a Rose’ and ‘Just A-wearyin’ for You’, and as she walked off the stage Oliver was waiting for her in the wings like he had done in the old days, and she found her heart gave a little leap at the sight of him.
They walked to the dressing room arm in arm, and once she had changed and was taking off her heavy stage make-up, Oliver came up behind her and gently kissed the nape of her neck.
She turned from their reflection in the mirror, lifting up her lips to him as she whispered, ‘I love you,’ and he held her for a long moment as he kissed her, before murmuring, ‘And I you, my love. I, you. Am I truly forgiven?’
For answer she took his face between her hands and kissed him, something she did rarely. Normally the physical overtures were all on Oliver’s side.
‘I’ll go and make sure the carriage is waiting.’ He grinned at her as he straightened. ‘Come out when you are ready, and don’t worry about doing your hair again; it’s going to be very rumpled before long.’
‘Oh, Oliver.’ She blushed as she dimpled at him, and after she had removed every trace of make-up with cold cream and washed her face, she sat looking at herself for a few seconds before she rose from the stool. Was she wicked, loving two men at the same time, or did lots of women have similar secrets they kept locked in their hearts? Her life could have been different if there had been no Pearl. She and Barney might have married if he hadn’t met someone else before she was old enough, and she could be a mother by now. Her singing would have been kept for bairns’ lullabies and she would never have set foot on a stage. The thought produced a funny little pang in her heart and she jumped to her feet, angry with herself for the momentary weakness after the last days of keeping her mind fully under control.
She walked quickly towards the stage door, answering the ‘good nights’ from other performers with ones of her own, and after Mickey, the young stagehand, opened it for her and pointed to the carriage waiting on the cobbles, she waved to the silhouette of Oliver - resplendent in top hat and tails - inside. ‘Good night, Mickey.’
‘Good night, Miss Burns, an’ thanks for that autograph for me mam. Thinks you’re the tops, she does.’
Josie was still smiling as she climbed into the cab, the horse neighing softly as it flicked its mane in the soft warm August night, and then, as it moved away even before the door was properly shut and she took in the slumped form in a corner of the carriage, she opened her mouth to scream. The man who had been wearing Oliver’s hat had his hand across her mouth and nose before she’d uttered so much as a squeak, however, and as the horse paused further along the street and another dark outline climbed into the carriage, a voice said, ‘I said no undue violence, Harry.’
‘I only hit ’im.’ The voice above Josie’s head was reproachful. ‘He wasn’t about to sit there quietly an’ let her walk into it, not even with a knife to his ribs, so I hit ’im an’ put on his hat.’ This was said in the tone of someone expecting praise, and when none was forthcoming, the voice said again, full of righteous indignation now, ‘I only hit ’im.’
‘All right, all right, you only hit him.’ There was a rustling and then the voice said again, still with the irritable note paramount, ‘Move your hand a fraction, for cryin’ out loud.’
‘Aw, Jimmy man, I’m doin’ me best.’
In the second before the pad of sweet-smelling liquid was pressed over her nose, Josie knew her eyes were staring wide in the blackness. The man holding her was built like a brick wall and there was no hope of even struggling, but at that precise moment she couldn’t have anyway. She was frozen with shock. Jimmy, he had said Jimmy . . . And then, as the fumes from the pad seemed to fill her head she was aware that the carriage had stopped again, and that the driver had climbed down and was saying, ‘You take over the horse now, Harry. I’ll sit inside,’ and as she spiralled into unconsciousness the scream which said ‘Patrick Duffy!’ was only in her mind.
It was gone midnight when an apologetic knock at the door woke Gertie from a deep sleep, but within minutes of speaking to the waiter who was standing in the corridor, Gertie had gone next door and raised her sisters. They were now all sitting downstairs in the night manager’s office, and Ada was saying, ‘We have to call the police, don’t you see? If Oliver had arranged a surprise dinner like this he would never have gone off somewhere else. They must have been abducted.’
‘Miss Burns, I think we are jumping to rather extreme conclusions here.’ The manager was used to dealing with all sorts of eventualities and his voice was very soothing. ‘True, Mr Hogarth did ask us to arrange a champagne dinner for two in their room on Mrs Hogarth’s return from the theatre, and they are undeniably late, but that doesn’t mean any harm has come to them.’
‘What time did he arrange for this meal to start?’ Ada asked forthrightly.
‘Eleven o’clock, madam.’
‘And it’s now twenty past twelve and they’re not back. I suppose he paid handsomely for it too, considering you stop serving at ten?’
‘The gentleman did recompense Chef and others for the inconvenience such a romantic gesture would involve,’ the manager agreed a little stiffly.
‘And you still don’t think it’s strange they’re not back?’ Ada swore, most succinctly, which startled the manager so much he almost fell off his chair. He wasn’t used to hearing profanities from the mouths of ladies staying at his hotel, and certainly not the earthy ones this particular guest had employed.
‘Is there anyone on whom they might have called?’ he asked even more stiffly. ‘Where they may have been delayed perhaps?’
‘Vera?’ Gertie spoke now, looking at her sisters. ‘Maybe we ought to try there before we get the law involved?’
‘I’ll call a cab while you ladies get dressed.’ The three were sitting ensconced in their dressing gowns. ‘And I am sure there is nothing to worry about . . .’
‘Oh no, oh no.’ It was Prudence’s reaction which had caused a silence to fall over the kitchen after Gertie had explained the reason for getting the household up. They were all standing looking at Barney’s sister now; Josie’s three sisters in their coats and hats, and Vera and Horace in their night attire, and it was Vera who said, and sharply, ‘What does that mean - “oh no”? You know summat about this, lass?’
‘No, not about . . . I mean . . . I didn’t think . . . Oh, Vera!’
‘That’s enough of that.’ As Prudence’s voice approached hysteria it was Ada who stepped forward and gave the other woman a swift slap across the face. ‘Tell us what you think you know - and quick.’
‘I don’t know anything, not really.’ Prudence had sunk down on to a hardbacked chair, holding her face. ‘And you’ve no right to hit me.’
‘I’ll knock you into next weekend if you don’t come clean.’ Ada was now every inch the streetwalker of former years who could be as hard as iron when she had to be, and Prudence must have recognised this because she began to talk, and the more she said the paler the other women’s faces became, Horace’s too.
Again there was a silence when Prudence finished speaking, and as everyone - apart from Prudence herself who had her face in her hands and was now sobbing loudly - turned as one to Ada, Josie’s eldest sister stared back at them all before she sat down heavily on a chair which creaked in protest.
‘What are we going to do?’ Gertie’s voice was a whimper. ‘What are we going to do, Ada? I knew we shouldn’t have come back. I told her, I did. But she would go on about finding the lads. She’s never listened to reason--’
‘Don’t start on that road, Gertie.’ It was Dora who spoke and her voice was as hard as Ada’s had been when she’d threatened Prudence. ‘Josie’s in this mess because she crossed Duffy for you in the first place. She rescued you out of it, and she wanted to do the same for the lads, so don’t start blaming her for that unless you want to feel the back of my hand across your mug.’
‘I didn’t mean--’
‘Oh aye you did, you ungrateful little swine, you.’
‘Shut up.’ Ada’s voice was flat but of a quality which brooked no argument. ‘I can’t think with you two going at it. One thing’s for sure, we can’t wait. We’ve got to act now. If Duffy’s got her . . .’ She shook her head. ‘Look, me an’ Dora know one or two people who might know something. We’ll go and ask a few questions, all right?’
‘What’ll I do?’ Gertie asked helplessly.
‘Barney, my brother.’ It was Prudence who spoke, her sobs having diminished to hiccups. ‘He’s always thought a bit of Josie. And Georgie, my young man. He’d help.’
‘All right. Well, you take the carriage an’ pick ’em up in case we come back an’ need ’em, but don’t do anythin’ more until me an’ Dora are back.’ Ada glanced at both Gertie and Prudence as she spoke and both girls nodded obediently. Vera’s face was as white as a sheet, and Ada now said to her, ‘Why don’t you go an’ get dressed, lass, an’ then put the kettle on, eh? It’s going to be a long night an’ a sup tea’ll help.’
It was getting on for two in the morning when Ada and Dora made their way towards a certain house in Fitter’s Row, a street not too far from Northumberland Place. Although the main streets were lit by dim pools of light from the street-lamps, the back lanes and alleys were as black as pitch, but this didn’t worry Ada and Dora. Had it been a Friday or Saturday there might still have been some activity outside a few of the more notorious public houses, but as it was they hardly saw a soul as they hurried along Prospect Row, turning left at South Dock goods station into Thomas Street and round the back of the school into Fitter’s Row.
They came to an innocuous-looking house in the hotchpotch street of tenement buildings, and Dora, who had her handkerchief to her nose to blot out the stench arising from something disgusting lying in the gutter which was made all the more ripe by the warm night, said quietly, ‘By, lass, I remember this house well.’
The Urchin's Song Page 40