Without the Moon

by Cathi Unsworth

  Half-cut – drunk. Before 1800 the phrase was “half-shaved” but meant the same thing: a customer too incapacitated to receive the complete treatment from his barber.

  Have it away – steal. See also: Heist/hoist, Hooky.

  Heavy Mob, the – the Flying Squad, the division of the Metropolitan Police set up in 1919 to tackle armed robberies and other serious crime. Originally known as the Mobile Patrol Experiment, the Squad’s nickname came about in 1920 when they purchased two Crossley Tender cars that had previously been the property of the Royal Flying Corps. Latterly, the Heavy Mob would be known as The Sweeney, from the Cockney rhyming slang: Sweeney Todd = Flying Squad.

  Heist or hoist – to lift or steal. From the Naval term “hoisting”, to raise [a flag].

  Hooky – stolen. From the verb hook, euphemistically meaning “to steal”.

  Hostess club – during the 1940s, a drinking establishment in which mugs are encouraged to buy their hostesses non-alcoholic drinks at extortionate prices, the bill then being settled under the threat of violence. Later known as clip joints.

  I can’t be having this mishegas – I must deal with this madness. Yiddish.

  I should cocoa – certainly, I agree. From the Cockney rhyming slang: coffee and cocoa = I should think so.

  In hock – in debt. From the Dutch hok, meaning jail or doghouse.

  In shtuck – in trouble. Eric Partridge defines it thus: “Not Yiddish despite appearances, although probably formed on the Yiddish model of a reduplicated word commencing with a ‘sh’ sound, in which case ‘shtuck’ is a variant of ‘stuck’ (in a difficult situation) UK, 1936.” Perhaps, then, another word of East End origin.

  Iron hoof – male homosexual. From the Cockney rhyming slang, iron hoof = poof.

  Judas hole – the eye-hatch in the door of a spieler or similar illegal establishment.

  Kip – sleep, or a place where one goes to sleep. The OED has it as “mid-18th century (in the sense ‘brothel’), perhaps related to Danish kippe: a tavern”. See also: Shluff.

  Kite – a fraudulent cheque, passed by a kite-flier.

  Klobbiotsch – a card game.

  Knocking shop – brothel. From “knock” meaning to copulate with, from which we also get “knocked-up” meaning pregnant.

  Lamps – eyes, as in the headlamps of cars.

  Lily Law – police. From Polari.

  Linens, the – newspapers. From the Cockney rhyming slang: linen draper = paper.

  Long game – a confidence trick that unfolds over several weeks and involves a team of swindlers working like actors in employing props, costumes and scripted lines. Can also be used analogously to refer to espionage, diplomacy and statecraft.

  LSD – pounds (l.), shillings (s.) and pence (d.) in Old British Money. After the Norman Conquest, the pound was divided into 20 shillings, or 240d. Shillings, commonly individually referred to as “one bob” were further subdivided into halfpennies and farthings, thruppence bits, sixpence or “a tanner”. Two shillings or a florin was known as a “two-bob bit”, two shillings and sixpence “half a crown” and five shillings “a crown”. This system remained until decimalisation in February 1971. It has nothing to do with Lysergic Acid Diethylamide.

  Lughole – ear. From the Cockney rhyming slang: Toby jugs = lugs.

  Lumbered, in lumber – in debt to the police, liable to be sent to prison. Possibly originates from the Lombard family of pawnbrokers, who set up business in London in the 13th century. A “lumber-house” is slang for a pawnbroker’s shop.

  Mazel tov! – Congratulations, good luck. Yiddish.

  Mensch – a good fellow. Yiddish, cognate with German for a human being.

  Mitzvah, a – an act of human kindness. From the Hebrew word for a commandment.

  Moor, the – Dartmoor Prison.

  Mug – a gullible fool. Thieves’ slang dating back to the 19th century.

  Murder bag – a forensics kit used by detectives at crime scenes that was developed by Sir Bernard Spilsbury, in conjunction with Scotland Yard, for his work on the John Hawley Harvey Crippen case in 1910. The kit contained rubber gloves, tweezers, evidence bags, a magnifying glass, compass, ruler and swabs.

  Nippy – a waitress in a Lyons Tea or Corner House, a popular chain of low-cost eateries with stylish interiors that existed in London from 1894 to 1981. The nickname derived from the fast service offered by the female staff.

  Nishte – nothing.

  Nobble – disable, tamper, put the fix in. Often applied to jury tampering, it derives from the expression to nobble a racehorse, i.e. incapacitate it, usually by drugging.

  Old China – friend. From the Cockney rhyming slang: old China plate = mate.

  On the bash – working as a prostitute. A combination of “on a bash”, early 20th century term for a drunken spree, and “getting bashed”, i.e. being beaten up. An expression from the 1930s–1950s that surmises the trials of a working girl’s life.

  On the lam – on the run. From an Old Norse word lamja, meaning to make lame, which when it first appeared in English in the 16th century meant “to beat something soundly”, transmuting into “beating it” meaning making a hasty exit. Its popularity in 20th-century US slang was exported via Hollywood back to its source in Britain.

  On the level – true. Derived from Freemasonry and the tools of stone-cutting, from which we also get “fair and square”, “a square deal” and the allusion “on the square”.

  Peterman – a safe-cracker. The origin of “Peter” as a safe comes from thieves cant as far back as the 17th century, when it meant a trunk or any kind of parcel that required a lock to be broken in order to access its contents – after St Peter, “the rock”.

  Polari – slang used in Britain by show folk, market traders, criminals and the gay subculture. A mash-up of Italian, Lingua Franca, Yiddish, Cockney back-slang and rhyming slang and sailors’ terms, possibly dating back to the 16th century. Strongly associated with Punch and Judy shows and the 1960s BBC radio comedy Round the Horne, which featured Kenneth Williams and Hugh Paddick as Julian and Sandy, “two barristers involved in a criminal practice”.

  Ponce – a man who makes his earnings from a woman. In the 1940s it meant the same as “pimp” means now. A ponce was considered the lowest form of lowlife by the criminals themselves, therefore the word was often used as an insult. From Polari.

  Pony – nonsense, rubbish. From the Cockney rhyming slang: pony and trap = crap.

  Popped his clogs – died. Originating from the north of England, where clogs were working men’s footwear. To “pop” as Anthony Newley fans will know, first meant to pawn, something the working man of the 19th century could ill-afford to do with his shoes, therefore the phrase is imbued with grim irony.

  Put the finger on – identify a felon.

  Put the frighteners on – threaten or intimidate.

  Rabbit – talk incessantly. From Cockney rhyming slang: rabbit and pork = talk.

  Ringed and repainted – the disguise of a stolen car with new number plates and a colour respray.

  Rosie/Rosie Lee – tea. Cockney rhyming slang.

  Scrubs, the – Wormwood Scrubs Prison, which was partially seconded by MI5 at the beginning of WWII.

  Sent down – sent to prison. Originates from the Old Bailey in London, where the remand cells were underneath the court itself.

  Shluff – sleep. Yiddish.

  Shop, to – inform on. The earliest use can be dated to a British police report of 1898. Believed to be derived from the same source as “grass”.

  Shufti, a – look around, reconnoitre. From the Arabic šāfa “try to see”, the word was brought to London in the 1940s by WWII servicemen who had encountered Middle Eastern spivs drawing attention to illicit wares by using the phrase: “Shufti, shufti”.

  Snout – a police informant. Also prison slang for tobacco.

  Spiel – a glib, plausible style of talk, associated with conmen and salesmen. From the German word for a game or play, an ac
tor being a “Schauspieler”, literally a show-player putting on a show for the punters.

  Spieler – a place where an illegal card game is held.

  Spiv – a dealer in black market goods, whose appearance is an affront to the strict clothing regulations imposed in 1940s rationing. A typical spiv would wear a drape jacket, turned up trousers, shiny pointed shoes, a DA (duck’s arse) haircut and a pencil moustache. According to Eric Partridge, its origins are in racetrack slang and certainly our image of the “spiv” concurs with that of the 1930s racetrack gangs such as the Sabinis and the Elephant Boys. See also: Wide boy.

  Steal a lick – appropriate an idea, from the musical meaning of “lick” as a short solo in improvised jazz. The OED’s first usage is from Melody Maker in 1932.

  Sus – to work out a suspect’s motive, or simply to suspect.

  Swell – a fashionably dressed person, first recorded in 1810. By the 1930s, having crossed the Atlantic, it had become an expression of satisfaction to Americans.

  Take stoppo – leave.

  Tic-tac man – a man who calls the odds at a racecourse, via a language of hand signals emphasised by the wearing of white gloves. A common sight at British meets until mobile technology rendered them redundant.

  Tickle, a – a scheme, a wheeze, a criminal enterprise.

  Toerag – a contemptible person. Mid-19th century, originally denoting a rag wrapped around the foot of a tramp or itinerant, coming to mean the person themselves.

  Tomfoolery – jewellery. Cockney rhyming slang.

  Tweedler – a conman working a specific three-man graft known as “The Tweedle”, in which a mug punter is persuaded to spend a lot of gelt on a dodgy diamond ring.

  Ville, the – Pentonville Prison.

  Wide boy – a black-market dealer, a spiv. Robert Westerby’s 1937 novel Wide Boys Never Work first brought the term to the British public’s attention.

  Windmill girls – performers at the Windmill Theatre in Great Windmill Street, Soho, which hit upon the unique formula of presenting nude tableaux vivants – naked, but motionless girls – to escape the rules of the censor between 1932 and 1964. Many prominent British comedians began their careers in this venue, which stayed open throughout WWII and the worst of the Blitz.

  Working girls – prostitutes.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE ON SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The events in this book are based on two real cases which happened within the stated fortnight’s timeframe in February 1942: the crimes of Gordon Frederick Cummins, aka “the Blackout Ripper”, and the unsolved murder of Margaret McArthur on Waterloo Bridge, both of which also came to trial within days of each other in the April of that year. Because this is a fictitious account and I have taken liberties with some of the facts and persons involved, not everybody in the book shares the same names as their counterparts did in real life. As in my previous novel, Bad Penny Blues, based on the unsolved “Jack the Stripper” murders of 1959–65, I think of this rendering as taking place in a parallel universe.

  It was due to the recurring themes of Bad Penny Blues that I began to research the crimes of earlier London “Ripper” Cummins; and also the strange case of medium Helen Duncan, the so-called “Blitz Witch”, who was incarcerated under an obscure seventeenth-century law during WWII. The novel I originally envisioned would have taken place over several years. But an unexpected gift narrowed that focus down to two bloody and bizarre weeks in February 1942.

  Historian Nick Pelling had been gathering information on the Waterloo Bridge murder with the intent of writing an historical account. However, his efforts to find out what had become of the Canadian Cameron Highlander who was tried and acquitted of the murder of Margaret McArthur at the Old Bailey in April 1942 hit a brick wall and stymied his quest. Having read and approved of Bad Penny Blues, thanks to his friendship with my brother, Matthew Unsworth, he generously gave me all he had unearthed in the National Archive and the National Newspaper Archive.

  Nick’s researches had begun with his fascination with the fact that the second Waterloo Bridge, designed by Gilbert Scott, had been under construction for the duration of the war, an undertaking that seems bewildering in hindsight. But John Rennie’s previous Georgian structure had been found to be severely unstable, so London County Council decreed its demolition and the rebuilding of a new bridge in 1937 – and once that was set in motion, they weren’t going to let a little thing like the Luftwaffe halt progress. Despite being hit by bombs, the new bridge was completed in March 1942, two weeks after it had been baptised in Margaret McArthur’s blood.

  Many resonances echoed as I read Nick’s notes: the lyrics to the traditional “London Bridge is Falling Down” and their allusion to “my fair lady” that some claim represents a female sacrifice planted beneath the structure to guarantee its continued stability; the tales told to tourists by Thames river boatmen that Waterloo Bridge is known as The Ladies Bridge because a predominantly female workforce built it during WWII. And the haunting, fictional Waterloo Bridge, Robert E Sherwood’s 1930 play set during WWI that was remade as a film by Mervyn LeRoy in 1940, on a set that resembles Gilbert’s bridge, with Vivien Leigh as the tragic, streetwalking heroine who meets her death so close to where the real Margaret McArthur fell.

  Like Nick, I became haunted by the question: who was the real Margaret McArthur? Little is revealed in the archives, besides that she was Irish, apparently well educated, and her arrest record for soliciting around pubs on the Strand revealed a taste for poetic noms de plume. Charles Beattie, her common-law husband, did come forward to talk to the police, but his interview indicated she had kept much of her previous life hidden from him, too. I have stuck to the facts that are known about the murder – that Margaret was last seen alive in the Hero of Waterloo pub on the Strand, that a GPO cableman heard a furious argument on the bridge and found a drunken Canadian solider whom he escorted off the site. That the Canadian was then seen by a PC rummaging through a woman’s handbag at Waterloo Station and was subsequently picked up in a boarding house in Surrey. Once under arrest, the Canadian requested to see Margaret’s body at the post-mortem and then reacted in horror to it; and when acquitted of her murder, he asked for her handbag back. But the backstory I have fashioned for my fictional Margaret is conjured from my own imagination, inspired by stories told to me by my grandmother-in-law, Frances Meekin, of her home in Donegal and work as a midwife during WWII. My further explanations as to why the man tried for Margaret’s murder was absolved by the jury, despite the police having what appeared to be a strong case against him (and why it may have been that Nick could not follow his trail any further), also come purely from my imagination.

  The sensational case of trainee RAF pilot Gordon Cummins, who savagely despatched four women and attempted to kill at least two more in the week preceding the Waterloo Bridge murder, was successfully solved and the perpetrator hanged by Albert Pierrepoint just prior to an air raid on the given date. I have stuck to the facts of Cummins’s murders, including the airman’s frenzied last night in Piccadilly and Paddington, but I have altered the names of his victims, their friends and family members, as I have imagined backstories for some of them in lieu of recorded fact.

  Simon Read’s In the Dark (Berkley Books, 2006) is an excellent source of the known facts of the Cummins case, taken again from the National Archive and also from the memoirs of the detectives who caught the Blackout Ripper: Edward Greeno’s War on the Underworld (Long John Limited, 1960) and Fred Cherrill’s Cherrill of the Yard (The Popular Book Club, 1955). I also consulted Colin Evans’ The Father of Forensics (Icon Books, 2007) for background on Sir Bernard Spilsbury, who was also essential in bringing Cummins to justice.

  Brilliant men though Cherrill and Spilsbury undoubtedly were, of the three, it was the more wayward Greeno who most fascinated me. Seemingly born on a racecourse, he showed uncommon sympathy for the women killed by Cummins and intuitive understanding of the criminal mind. His memoirs obfuscated his background; I made hi
m into my fictional Ted Greenaway to invent a plausible backstory for an imaginary detective that might help me to better learn the motivations of the man he was based on. The real Greeno did not work on the Margaret McArthur case, though strangely enough, he did bring to justice another murderous Canadian soldier, August Sangret, who killed his girlfriend Pearl Wolfe and buried her body on Hankley Common, Surrey, in October 1942. Greeno’s memoir is further interwoven with one of my favourite sources, Charles Raven’s Underworld Nights (Hulton Press, 1956), often telling what appear to be the same tales from the angle of the criminals Greeno put away. Many of the slang terms used in this novel and its glossary come from these sources.

  Donald Thomas’ An Underworld at War (John Murray, 2003) was the most authoritative and comprehensive book on the subject of criminals, deserters, spivs, racketeers, police, press and civilians in WWII, and how these various factions interconnected. Few Eggs and No Oranges: The Diaries of Vere Hodgson 1940-45 (Persephone Books, 1999), who worked with Winifred Moyes providing assistance to the bombed-out women and children of the capital throughout WWII, was an invaluable daily account of the madness endured by Londoners, as well as an insight into Miss Moyes and her organisation. Barbara Tate’s wonderful West End Girls (Orion, 2010) was a similarly illuminating story of the working girls of 1940s Soho.

  Malcolm Gaskill’s definitive study of Helen Duncan, Hellish Nell: Last of Britain’s Witches (4th Estate, 2001), provided all the details about the ill-fated medium and led me in turn to the formidable form of Hannen Swaffer, the erstwhile Pope of Fleet Street, to whom no biographer has yet to do justice, least of all his sole representative Tom Driberg, whose Swaff: The Life and Times of Hannen Swaffer (Macdonald and Jane’s, 1974) did at least provide a chronology. Readers may find it hardest to believe that a committed Spiritualist and ardent socialist was once Britain’s most popular journalist, but the celebrated status of this Anti-Richard Littlejohn is by no means made up or exaggerated. Similarly, Swaff ’s adversary, Olive Bracewell, is based on the astonishing Violet Van Der Elst, whose campaigns against capital punishment were of the scale described and would eventually rob her of her self-accrued fortune. The Incredible Mrs Van Der Elst by Charles Neilson Gattey (Leslie Frewin, 1972) was my source on an audacious life that I have, if anything, toned down for fear of defying credulity. Meanwhile, James Morton and Gerry Packer’s Gangland Bosses, together with James Morton’s Gangland Soho, provided further connections between Swaffer and his police and underworld pals.