‘Aye.’ Ada nodded. And the memories were all bad. But the madam of this place, Madge Hopkins, might just help them. Tough as the devil’s hobnail boots, old Madge was, but Madge owed her a favour and today was collection day.
Ada took a deep breath and knocked on the door of the house, a series of long and short raps which was a code only the occupants - or prior occupants - knew. After a moment or two a window was raised and a head thrust out. ‘Who is it?’ It was a woman’s voice.
‘That you, Madge?’
There was silence for a moment, and then the voice said, ‘Who’s askin’?’
‘It’s me, Ada. You remember? Ada an’ Dora Burns from a few years back? We want to talk to you, Madge.’
‘Ada? I don’t believe it! Ada an’ Dora Burns? You two skedaddled if I remember right.’
‘Aye, we went down south. Good pickin’s down south.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Well, open the door, lass, an’ I’ll tell you.’
There was a moment’s pause and then the window was slammed shut, and within a minute or two the front door was swinging open. ‘All right, come in.’ Madge peered at them both in the light from the flickering candle she was holding. ‘What’s so important after all these years that you have to raise the house at this time of night?’
Ada and Dora stepped into the narrow hall they remembered from their childhood. They had been made to entertain clients in the rooms upstairs from the age of ten, sometimes as many as half a dozen a night, and they had never expected to be in this house again. Ada shut off her mind from that path and said instead, ‘You remember how I helped you out once, Madge? Eh?’
There was the sound of a door opening above them and Madge shouted, ‘Back into your rooms, the lot of you! This is nowt to do with you,’ before saying in a quieter tone, ‘Aye, I remember. What of it?’
‘You said you owed me, Madge. Well, I need your help now.’
‘By, Ada, it really is you then. You an’ Dora caused a stink when you took off, you know. Duffy went fair mental. The things he was goin’ to do to you both when he caught up with you.’
‘Aye, well he didn’t catch up with us,’ Ada said flatly. And then her tone changed when she said, ‘I saved your bacon that time the money was pinched an’ I saw who took it, now then. You know Duffy’d have taken the loss out of your hide. Well, I need a favour now. Our sister’ - she included the silent Dora in the wave of her hand - ‘he’s took her an’ we want her back. You heard owt?’
‘No, I ain’t, lass, but if I had it’d be more than me life’s worth to say anythin’, you know that. But I haven’t, I swear it. Your sister, you say?’
‘Aye.’
Madge held the candle closer to Ada’s face, staring at her for a good few moments before she said, ‘Look, lass, I don’t know where Duffy’d be but I can put you on to Hubert. He’s your brother, ain’t he? Him an’ Jimmy? Well, he got out of the business a while back, you know that?’ Ada shook her head. ‘Aye, well he did, but Jimmy don’t let no one lay a finger on him. Thinks a bit of him, see, an’ the word is they’re still close. Hubert might know where Jimmy’s livin’, an’ ten to one Patrick’ll be there. The lad works for the locksmith in Brougham Street an’ the locksmith lives over the shop. He’d know where your brother lodges. That’s the best I can do, lass.’
‘Aye. Well thanks, Madge.’
Mr Foster wasn’t overjoyed about being knocked up in the middle of the night; the Turners and their widowed daughter even less so, but by half-past three Hubert and his two sisters were approaching a three-storey house on Ettrick’s Quay in the heart of the East End. Apart from a few fishing boats lying on the cobbles in front of the higgledy-piggledy row of terraced two- and three-storey houses, the quay was quiet, although within the hour it would begin to stir.
It had been a brief but highly emotional reunion between Hubert and his sisters, but he had been adamant that the three of them had to go alone to the house where he knew Jimmy was staying at present. Duffy would have his henchmen close, he’d insisted, and taking anyone else along would just end in a fight which could be dangerous. It was no use trying to break into the house; it was far better he went in alone through the front door and tried to find out where Josie was being held from Jimmy. Ada and Dora must stay out of sight and he’d come to them as soon as he could.
‘I don’t like it, lad.’ Ada could see a hundred things wrong with the plan. ‘They might turn on you.’
Hubert turned to look at them both. How could he explain that somewhere deep inside he had always known this day was going to happen? Oh, not the details of course, or that Josie would be involved like she was, but he’d always felt that Patrick Duffy would force a showdown between him and Jimmy.
Jimmy’s love for his brother had always been a thorn in Duffy’s side, and the older man wouldn’t be content until that thorn was pulled and got rid of. Well, today might be the day or it might not, but he was tired of living in the shadows. Even living and working as he was, he was still living in the shadows because at heart he knew Patrick had the reins on him and could pull them tight at any time.
He wanted to be free. Free to go wherever he chose and say whatever he liked; free to make his own life and to know he could ask a lass to start courting without having to look over his shoulder all the time. A lass like Laura Foster. He knew she liked him and he liked her, more than liked her, but how could he let a nice, innocent young lassie like Laura get involved with him when Duffy was forever lurking in the background?
But after today, when he’d nailed his colours well and truly to the mast, he’d either be free or be dead. Either way he was glad. But he couldn’t tell his sisters that - they’d think he was doolally. Instead he said quietly, ‘Whatever they do, Ada, this is the way to do it.’
‘Aren’t you afeared, lad? Of goin’ agen ’em, I mean?’
Hubert nodded. ‘Aye, I am, but not as much as not going against them, if that makes any sense.’
Ada looked at him, holding his gaze for a moment before she said very softly, ‘It makes sense to me, Hubert lad. It makes sense to me.’
‘Right then.’ Hubert squared his bony shoulders. ‘I’ll go and see what’s what. If Jimmy and Patrick have brought Josie and her husband here, I’ll try and let you know in some way - come to a window or something - and then you can nip and get the others and someone can go for the police. If they aren’t here I’ll try and find out where they are and if she’s with them.’
‘Watch yourself, lad.’
‘I will, Ada, I will.’ Hubert hugged both Ada and Dora before they made themselves scarce, and after waiting a moment he walked to the flaky front door at one side of two narrow windows and knocked loudly.
Chapter Twenty-five
‘What? How do you know Duffy’s got her?’
Prudence had just roused Barney, and although her brother’s eyes had been bleary a moment ago they’d just cleared like magic.
‘It’s a long story but he spoke to me a couple of times, Duffy - oh, ages ago now, and he means to do her harm.’
Barney raked back his ruffled hair, squinting at Prudence and Georgie on the doorstep as he said, ‘He spoke to you? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘She didn’t tell anyone.’ Georgie’s arm had tightened protectively round Prudence’s shoulders. ‘She was scared we’d think less of her. Look, it’s like this; Josie and Oliver didn’t come back from the theatre . . .’ He gave the few facts they knew quickly and clearly, including Ada and Dora’s present mission, and as the full import of the situation turned Barney’s face to thunder, Georgie added, ‘It’s too late for recriminations now, and if Prudence had said anything I doubt it would have altered a thing. Get your togs on, man, and we’ll see what’s happening at Vera’s.’
Duffy, that little snake of a man, had got his hands on Josie. As Barney pulled on his clothes his guts were twisting and his mind was racing. He’d kill him, he’d kill him if he hurt a hair of her head. Dear
God, dear God, do something, anything. For the first time in years he found himself praying frantically. If You save her she can be with Oliver for the rest of her life, I don’t care, only don’t let her be hurt. He wouldn’t want to live if anything happened to her. Duffy. Oh, God, God . . . It felt as if a knife was tearing at his innards.
Gertie was sitting in the carriage with the others when Barney joined them outside, and as he climbed in she said brokenly, ‘Oh Barney, what’ll we do? What’ll we do?’
‘Pray Ada and Dora find out where she is.’ It was Georgie who answered and his voice was grim. ‘In the meantime all we can do is wait to hear something.’
Wait? Barney sat down beside Gertie, twisting his hands together until it was painful. How the hell was he going to sit and do nothing? He’d go stark staring barmy. But Georgie was right, they couldn’t do anything else. She could be anywhere.
‘What . . . what do you think they’ll do to Oliver?’ Gertie murmured tremblingly. ‘He wouldn’t have let them take her without trying to stop them. You . . . you don’t think . . .’ Her voice trailed away and everyone looked at each other, but as the horse began to clip-clop through the silent streets no one said a word.
When Josie surfaced from the thick fog which had blanketed her senses, the first thing she thought was, Oh I feel sick, so sick. She felt if she so much as breathed she would vomit, and she lay absolutely still for some seconds before she opened her eyes.
To her amazement she wasn’t in the big double bed she shared with Oliver in Park Place, and then after one stunned moment it all came rushing back and she jerked into a sitting position, wincing as her head protested at the sudden movement and her stomach rose up into her mouth.
It was all she could do to roll over on the narrow pallet bed she was lying on and empty the contents of her stomach on the dusty floorboards, but afterwards she felt better although by now she’d become aware of Oliver on the other side of the room lying on a similar bed. He was clearly unconscious and making a funny sort of gurgling noise in his throat, but when Josie stumbled across to him he appeared unhurt apart from the massive egg-type lump on the side of his forehead.
Apart from the two pallet beds the small room was quite empty. There was one narrow window which had thick iron bars cemented in it and no curtains, and when she tried the door it was locked. This was a cell.
Josie stood with her back against the door for a few moments as she tried to clear her mind, breathing in slowly and trying to ignore the smell of vomit.
It was a cell, and she didn’t need to ask who had brought them here or why. For the last two weeks she had always had her sisters with her and had been surrounded by a crowd of people most of the time, but tonight had been different. Tonight it had been just Oliver and herself, which meant . . . Which meant Patrick Duffy and probably Jimmy too had been waiting for the right moment to snatch her.
The only light in the small room came from two flickering candles in thin metal holders either side of the windowsill and it was still dark outside, so it couldn’t be many hours since they had been kidnapped. Kidnapped. Josie’s stomach turned over again but she fought the sickness, speaking out loud to herself as she said, ‘No more of that. You’re not hurt and you’ve got your wits about you so think, girl. Think.’ There had to be a way out of this.
She walked over to the window and pulled at each of the bars in turn, trying to see if one of them was loose but it was no use. They were rock solid and the only result was orange rust on her hands.
She still felt muzzy from whatever it was on the pad they had pressed to her nose, and the sweet sickening odour was in her nostrils. She took a handkerchief out of the pocket of her dress and blew her nose, and as the smell cleared she felt better. She would get them out of this, she would. Duffy wouldn’t win.
There was nothing she could use to defend herself in this spartan little cell. Of course she could throw the candlestick holders at whoever opened the door next, but as they were of the cheap tin variety with thin tallow candles already half burned down, they wouldn’t hurt a fly.
She walked across to Oliver again, kneeling at his side and shaking him gently as she said his name over and over. There was no response beyond the sound in the back of his throat, but she sat on the floor by his pallet bed stroking the hair back from his swollen forehead and gazing around the room.
She mustn’t panic, that was the first thing. If she gave in to this feeling which had her wanting to throw herself at the door and batter it with her fists while she screamed out loud, it wouldn’t do any good.
What would they do to her? And what would they do to Oliver? Oh, if he’d just wake up they could fight them together. Somehow they could try and get out.
Josie had no idea how long she sat by the side of Oliver’s bed before she heard a key turning in the door. She sprang to her feet, one hand clutching her throat and the other her middle, and it was like that she faced Patrick Duffy and the two big burly men who stood just behind him.
‘Hello, lass.’
Whatever she had expected it wasn’t the quiet, almost friendly tone in which he addressed her, but somehow, instead of being reassuring it was more terrifying than any ranting and raving. She stared into the face of the man she had loathed all her life but she didn’t speak.
‘I read in them newspapers you wanted to meet up with your brothers again - is that right?’
She raised her head slightly but still said nothing.
‘So I thought, why not help the little lady along? She’s got involved in my affairs in the past, so why not me return the compliment, eh? Eh? What do you think about that then?’
‘I think if there was any justice in the world you would have been sent down the line years ago,’ Josie said shakily.
‘Oh,’ Patrick smiled now, ‘there’s justice in the world all right, but I make me own, darlin’. Yes, I make me own. Take you, for example. I’ve waited a long time for recompense concerning you, but finally it’s come. Now, you want to meet your brothers, I understand. I can help you out with one of ’em at least.’
He motioned with his hands at the men behind him as he spoke the last words, and as Josie watched them approach she straightened her shoulders. When one of them reached out for her she flicked away his hand, saying, ‘I’m quite capable of walking myself, thank you.’
The two men turned as one to look at Duffy who shrugged. ‘Still got some spirit, I see. Well, I like that in a woman meself. All right, leave her be but watch her.’
‘What . . . what about my husband?’
‘I think he’s quite comfortable where he is. Now move.’ As soon as she followed the first man out on to the landing, Josie realised she must be in the attic room of the house, and this was borne out when they went down two sets of stairs to emerge into a well-lit hall. Unlike the little attic room the rest of the house seemed to be furnished, and luxuriously too. A cord carpet covered the stairs and floors, and along with several large gilt-framed mirrors on the walls the hall boasted a couple of highly polished occasional tables. Whoever had said crime didn’t pay hadn’t met Duffy.
‘Thought I’d be livin’ in the sort of muck-heap you came from, I bet.’ Duffy had noticed Josie looking about her. ‘This place don’t look much on the outside - don’t want to attract unwelcome attention from the law now, do we? - but it’s me home and I like things nice.’
Josie said nothing, and her silence seemed to infuriate him because he caught at her arm, swinging her round to face him as he said, ‘There’s things in this house all your fancy pals in London’d be glad to own, I can tell you, an’ I bet I could buy and sell more than a few of ’em several times over.’
She stared at him disdainfully. ‘My mother used to say you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and she was right.’
The slap across her face sent her ricocheting against the wall, and as one of the men sniggered, Duffy said, ‘I’ll silk purse you, me fine lady. Oh aye, I will at that. By the time I’ve finished wit
h you you’ll wish you’d never been born.’ He pushed at her to start walking again, and as she followed the man in front of her they didn’t turn off into any of the rooms leading from the hall but walked right to the end of it. Here a door opened into a large, stone-floored scullery; the man leading them opened another door to their left and Josie saw a row of steep stone steps leading down into a cellar which looked to be lit by several large oil lamps.
‘Get down there unless you want me boot in your backside.’
She had hesitated, but now as Duffy spoke from behind her Josie followed the man in front of her down into what turned out to be a very large room. And in front of her, standing to one side of a chair, was her da. The shock of it took her breath away but almost instantly she realised it couldn’t be her father. The face was too young and the hair was fairer than her da’s had been, but otherwise this person was the spitting image of Bart Burns. ‘Jimmy?’ she said dazedly.
‘Hello, Josie.’ His voice was grim and his face more so. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Aye, yes it has.’ She was trembling so much now that she had to grip the sides of her dress to hide the shaking of her hands. ‘I . . . I’ve been looking for you. You and Hubert.’
‘And now you’ve found me.’ His eyes moved to the side of her face which was burning from Duffy’s blow, and as his gaze went to the man at the back of her, Duffy said, ‘She asked for it. Don’t know when she’s beat, this one, but she’s goin’ to learn pretty quick.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Josie appealed directly to Jimmy’s stony face. ‘You’re my brother!’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t remember that years ago when you sold us all out. You’d have seen Hubert an’ me go down the line, Da an’ all, and because of you he had to get out so quick he couldn’t even let me an’ Hubert know. If it wasn’t for Patrick--’
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