by Dilly Court
She had spent the day fuming and fretting, and had not been in the best of humours when her father had breezed into the shop just before closing time. She was now finding it extremely hard to be patient with him.
‘Come along, poppet,’ Billy urged in his most cajoling tone. ‘Surely you could trust your old pa with a stake for the game tonight.’
‘Pa, you said yourself that your luck is out. You’ve already lost a whole shilling so why not give it a rest this evening? Stay home with me, or let’s go out to a music hall. We haven’t done that for ages.’
‘Ha!’ Billy cried triumphantly. ‘So you have got some money.’
‘A little, Pa, but I need to keep that to pay Mr Yapp what I owe him and to buy more stock. I can’t trade if I have nothing to sell.’
‘But I’ll recoup all my losses and you’ll have money to spare. You can buy all the pickles on Yapp’s cart and still have the price of a fish supper. You trust me, don’t you, darling?’
Irene met his appealing gaze with a sinking heart. No matter how much of a fight she put up, she knew that Pa would win in the end. ‘All right, but promise me you won’t lose the lot.’ She put her hand in her pocket and took out a florin.
Billy took it, chortling with delight. ‘There’s a good girl. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ He seized his top hat and cane and made for the door.
‘Pa, you haven’t had any supper.’
‘Don’t worry, my dove. I’ll eat later. Don’t wait up.’ He left the room, taking the bottle of Hollands with him.
She stared at the pie and suddenly her appetite left her. Without her mother to back her up, Irene knew that she was going to have an uphill struggle to keep Pa in line. She listened for the sound of his key in the lock, but all she heard was a dull thud as the door slammed and then there was silence. Sighing, she went downstairs to check and was barely surprised to find that in his hurry to be off Pa had forgotten to lock the door. She was about to do so when Arthur’s father Cuthbert Greenwood barged into the shop, almost knocking her down. ‘Where is he? Where is that scurrilous ne’er-do-well?’
Irene staggered backwards, saving herself from falling by clutching at the newel post. ‘If you mean Arthur, he’s not here.’
‘Then where is he? I’ll warrant you know where I can find him. He didn’t come home last night, and he wasn’t at his workbench this morning.’
‘I don’t know where he is,’ Irene said defiantly. It was not exactly a lie. She only suspected that Arthur had been detained by the police, and even if she had known it for a fact, she would not have admitted it to Mr Greenwood. He was a bad-tempered bully and she had never liked him; moreover, she was certain that the feeling was mutual.
He glowered at her, baring his teeth like an angry bull terrier. ‘I’ll warrant you do know something, young lady. Whenever my boy got himself into trouble in the past, you were always lurking somewhere in the background, so don’t put on that innocent face. Tell me where he is.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’re lying, girl.’
Greenwood’s face flushed to the colour of pickled beetroot and beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. Irene stared at him nervously. If he carried on like this he would have a seizure and she did not want that on her conscience. She moderated her tone in an attempt to calm him. ‘I’m sure Arthur will come home soon. He might even be there now and you’ll find you’ve worried needlessly.’
‘Worried!’ Greenwood spat the word at her. ‘I’m not worried – I’m furious. That blockhead is jeopardising his chances of passing his journeyman’s examination. He ought to be at his bench, practising his craft and not gallivanting about town. Just wait until I get my hands on that young idiot.’ He stormed out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.
Irene went to lock it, but as her fingers closed around the iron key she thought of Arthur. If he had spent last night and the best part of today in the cells, it would only be fair to warn him of what was awaiting him at home. She put on her bonnet and shawl and slipped out into the night, locking the door behind her. The streets were almost deserted now that the banks and businesses had closed. The bootblacks and costermongers were packing up and heading homewards together with a few harassed-looking clerks, who hurried, heads down, as if eager to reach the comfort and safety of home. This was the twilight hour when the bustling commercial heart of the City was lulled to sleep, and before the denizens of the underworld came to life.
She set off at a brisk pace along Cheapside, heading in the direction of the police headquarters in Old Jewry. There was a definite chill in the air and through a thin veil of chimney smoke she could see the stars, softened and blurred, like seed pearls on a bed of black velvet. A ragged old man lurched out of the shadows begging her for money. She was more startled than frightened but she quickened her pace. The man was probably harmless, but she had nothing to give him and she was not taking any chances. She ran the last hundred yards or so to the police station, but she stopped outside to catch her breath and compose herself before she went inside.
The desk sergeant was busy writing something in a large, leather-bound book, and although he must surely be aware of her presence, he did not look up. Irene cleared her throat. ‘Excuse me, Officer.’
He raised his head, giving her a cursory glance. ‘Wait a moment, young lady.’ With maddening calm, he finished what he was doing and then he put his quill pen down. ‘And what can I do for you, miss?’
‘I want to know what’s happened to Arthur Greenwood.’
The sergeant raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Do you now? And what is your business with the person in question? Are you his wife?’
Irene shook her head.
‘His sister, maybe?’
‘Look, mister. All I want to know is what’s happened to my friend Arthur. I think he was brought here last night, but I need to know that he’s all right. If he’s here, I’d like to see him.’
‘That won’t be possible, miss.’
‘Why not?’ A wild vision of Arthur manacled in the hold of a convict ship flashed through Irene’s mind, and she clutched the counter with both hands. ‘What have you done with him? He’s innocent, I tell you.’
‘What’s going on, Sergeant?’ A familiar voice behind her made Irene spin round and she found herself face to face with Inspector Kent. He must have followed her in from the street, but she had been too absorbed in her conversation with the sergeant to notice. He took off his hat, meeting her gaze with a quizzical lift of his eyebrows. ‘Miss Angel, we meet again.’
‘What have you done with Arthur?’ Irene demanded.
‘That’s no way to speak to the inspector,’ the desk sergeant warned. ‘I must ask you to leave, miss.’
‘Or you’ll do what?’ Irene turned to glare at him. ‘Arrest me for asking questions? Is that what you do to innocent members of the public?’
‘Now, young lady …’
Kent raised a gloved hand. ‘It’s all right, sergeant. I’ll deal with this.’ He lifted a hatch in the counter and beckoned Irene to follow him along a narrow, poorly lit corridor. He opened a door at the far end and ushered her into an office lined with bookshelves which were crammed with files. In the middle of the room was a large desk neatly laid out with a silver inkstand, a blotter and two wooden filing trays piled high with documents. A fire burned brightly in the grate and a black marble clock with brass hands and numerals was placed in the exact centre of the mantelshelf. The office was clinically neat and without any personal touch that might have given a clue as to the nature of the man whose domain it was. Irene experienced a sudden desire to move the clock to one side, or to empty one of the filing trays on the floor, but she managed to control the impulse. Kent pulled up a chair and motioned her to take a seat.
She shook her head. ‘I’d rather stand.’
‘As you wish.’ He peeled off his peccary-leather gloves and laid them in his top hat while he shrugged off his heavy greatcoat and hung it on a coat stand
in the corner of the room.
Irene clasped her hands tightly behind her back, watching this well-practised routine with mounting impatience. ‘Look, guv, all I want to know is what’s happened to Arthur. What have you done with him?’
‘Are we speaking of Arthur Greenwood?’ Kent went to stand by the fire, warming his hands.
His casual manner fuelled Irene’s resentment. ‘You ought to know. It was you who arrested an innocent man.’
‘You were both caught in an illegal gambling den.’
‘Then why wasn’t I arrested?’
‘You were doing nothing. He was playing the tables.’
‘Then you are holding him.’
‘Not now. I believe he spent the night in the cells but he was released this afternoon.’
‘Then where is he? What’s happened to him?’
‘No harm has come to your friend. Let’s just say that he is helping me with my enquiries.’
‘And what does that mean?’ He was so maddeningly calm that Irene could have shaken him.
‘It means that in return for receiving certain information, I am prepared to drop all charges.’
Suddenly, it all made sense. ‘You’ve set him to spy on the Sykes gang.’
‘He’s gathering information.’
‘Arthur is a boy,’ she protested. ‘He’s just a boy and the Sykes brothers will have him for breakfast.’
‘I think you underestimate your friend, Miss Angel.’
‘Don’t play games with me, Inspector Kent. Everyone round here knows what happens to a nark if the gang catches him, and it ain’t pretty. You’d have done better to lock Arthur up and throw away the key.’
‘I’m dealing with this personally, and I can assure you that Mr Greenwood will be kept under surveillance at all times. The best you can do for him is to act normally and say nothing of this to anyone, not even your own father – especially your father.’
‘Are you saying that my pa is in with the Sykes gang? Because if you are, then you’re wrong, Inspector. My pa may be a lot of things but he ain’t a gang member and never was.’
‘Then the information I receive from your friend will be crucial in clearing your father of any suspicion that we may have, and you can help in this, Miss Angel.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Me? How?’
‘Since you already know so much, you could act as go-between. It would draw suspicion away from Mr Greenwood and help to clear your father’s name.’
‘Are you asking me to spy on me own flesh and blood?’
‘Not necessarily. If he’s innocent you will be doing him a great service. I’ve been trying to smash the Sykes gang for years, but so far they have evaded the law. I believe that you could be instrumental in obtaining evidence that would lead to their arrest and conviction.’
‘I told you before that my pa has nothing to do with the Sykes brothers, and Arthur don’t go anywhere near them. He’s just a silly boy who likes to gamble.’ The thought of spying on Pa was too horrible to contemplate. Irene shook her head vehemently. ‘No, I won’t do it. You’re asking too much.’
‘I know that your father frequents the gambling hell in Blue Boar Court. He has been followed there on many an occasion and even if he isn’t actually a member of the gang, he knows a great deal about them.’
‘Ask him yourself then. I don’t want nothing to do with this.’
She made for the door, but Kent moved swiftly to bar her way.
‘Don’t be afraid. I will do my utmost to protect your father, Miss Angel. Help me to crush the Sykes gang and you will make London a safer place in which to live.’
‘No. You’ve got the wrong girl, Inspector. I’d never peach on my Pa. Now let me go.’
He stepped aside. ‘You are free to leave if you wish, but I beg you to reconsider.’
‘There’s nothing to think about,’ Irene said, pushing past him. ‘I don’t want nothing to do with any of this, Inspector Kent. I’ve got nothing more to say to you – we’re on different sides, and always will be.’
Chapter Four
THE POLICE STATION and its officers represented everything that she had been brought up to dislike and distrust and Irene could not get away fast enough. She did not stop running until she reached the corner of Cheapside and Wood Street, when a painful stitch caused her to lean against the rough trunk of the plane tree. Holding her side she gasped for breath, but without any warning she was seized from behind and a hand clamped over her mouth.
‘Renie, it’s me.’
At first she thought she was hearing things, but the hoarse whisper certainly sounded like Arthur’s voice and she froze.
‘That’s right, it’s me. I’m taking my hand away so for God’s sake don’t scream.’
She nodded her head and was immediately released. She spun round to face him angrily. ‘Arthur Greenwood, what d’you think you’re playing at? You scared me half to death.’
‘I’m sorry, Renie. I had to make sure you didn’t call out. For all I know, they might be following me.’
‘Who would be following you? I’ve just been down to the police station trying to find out what happened to you.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that.’
‘You’ve got some explaining to do, my lad, and not just to me.’ Irene moved out of the shadows, taking a quick look around to make sure that no one was about, and satisfied that the street was empty except for a couple of hansom cabs which clattered past without stopping, she beckoned to Arthur. ‘Come into the shop. Ma’s gone to Emmie’s and Pa is out.’
Arthur hesitated. ‘Are you sure there’s no one spying on us?’
‘Quite sure, you big baby. Come along.’ Impatient now, Irene went round to the front of the shop and unlocked the door. She went inside and was about to light the gas mantle when Arthur scurried in after her. He closed the door, turning the key in the lock.
‘Don’t put the light on.’
‘For goodness sake, Artie. Stop acting so mysterious and tell me what’s going on.’
He slumped down on the chair, holding his head in his hands. ‘I’m in trouble, Renie. I’m not up to this sort of thing. A bet or two at the tables or the race course is one thing, but getting involved with the Sykes brothers is another matter.’
‘You’d better start from the beginning, Artie. I’ve heard half of it from Inspector Kent, but what exactly has that man forced you into?’
Haltingly at first, but gaining momentum as he related the events of the past twenty-four hours, he told her how he had been carted off in the Black Maria with the rest of the punters from Potter’s club. They had been kept in a cell for what seemed like hours before being taken out and interviewed one by one. It was then that Kent had offered him the choice of being charged with patronising an illegal gaming club, or being allowed to go free if he agreed to infiltrate the Sykes gang and spy on them.
‘I didn’t want my old man to find out about my gambling,’ Arthur said, running his fingers through his already tousled hair.
‘He was here earlier, and he wasn’t too pleased with you then. Gawd knows what he’ll say when you go home and tell him you spent the night in the police cells.’
‘He’ll kill me,’ Arthur said gloomily. ‘And if he don’t, the Sykes brothers will.’
‘I blame Kent for all this. He’s so puffed up with his own self-importance that he thinks he’s God.’
‘I suppose he was only doing his job, and he’s got a point. The Sykes brothers run this neighbourhood, and no one stands up to them.’
‘You can’t take them on single-handed. Kent might have promised you police protection but that’s not going to help if Vic and Wally discover that you’re a copper’s nark.’
‘You’re right, and I think I might have given myself away already,’ Arthur said, rising to his feet and going to the window to peer out into the street. ‘That’s why I came here and didn’t go straight home. I think I was followed, Renie. I went to Blue Boar Court, like Kent
said, but he warned me not to play anything other than a game or two of billiards. I won a pocketful of money and then I saw Billy playing baccarat. He invited me to join them. I know I shouldn’t have, but the temptation was too great and at first I was winning …’ His voice trailed off miserably.
‘Oh, Artie. You blooming idiot.’
‘I know. I should have walked away, kept in the background and done what Kent told me, but I thought I was on a winning streak. Then I started losing, and I tried to get my money back, but I lost even more. I wrote one IOU, and then another. Then Wally turned up, and when he saw what was going on he threw me out. Told me I had to get the money right away or I’d end up at the bottom of the river. It wasn’t meant to happen that way, Renie. What shall I do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Irene said slowly. ‘What a mess.’
‘I was a fool, but it seemed too good a chance to miss. Now I’ve got Wally Sykes on my back as well as Kent.’
‘There’s only one thing for it, Artie. You’ll have to tell your father. He’ll pay up, I’m sure he will.’
‘You don’t know my dad. He’d sooner see me in prison than honour a gambling debt. He’s a puritan when it comes to games of chance and the like.’
‘Then you’ll have to go and tell Kent what happened.’
‘And end up in jail? I can’t, Renie. I’ll just have to leave the country.’
‘Running away won’t solve anything, and we’re not going to cower here in the dark like scared rabbits.’ Irene struck a vesta and lit a candle. ‘I’ll ask my pa what to do. Gawd knows he’s been in enough scrapes in his life and wriggled out of them. He’s well in with the Sykes brothers. Maybe they’ll listen to him and give you a second chance.’