‘I saw you coming up the street,’ she stage-whispered, beckoning urgently. ‘Get in quick.’
Delia ascended quickly and quietly to Maureen’s flat where, as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she found herself unexpectedly hugged.
‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ Maureen said once she’d released her. ‘I thought you were never coming back. You oughtn’t to be here, though. Rita and the rest have been saying you was working for them Krays all along. I never believed it, though.’
‘What does Stella think about it all?’
‘Dunno. She keeps it all to herself, don’t she?’
‘I think she might have sent Teddy out to where I work now, to check up on me or something.’
‘Fucking Teddy. I hate that bloke. He’s even worse now.’
Delia ought to say something about what Teddy had done to Maureen while he’d been delivering her to Kensington, but there wasn’t time now. Someone would be on the way to get her.
‘I’m sorry for what I said to you when I was leaving.’
‘That’s all right, Dee. I know you were just looking out for me. Thought I’d be in danger. It’s been fine, though.’
There was a knock at the door, brisk and rhythmic.
‘That’ll be Tommy,’ Delia said, ‘come to take me over to see Stella.’ Jemima must have got over there pretty fast, she thought. Maybe she’d had a phone installed at the shop.
‘Jesus—’
‘It’ll be all right.’ Delia wasn’t sure that was true, but there was no running away from this. Before she went to let Tommy in, she said to Maureen, ‘Come where we first met. Day after tomorrow. About ten in the morning. Only if you can. Don’t put anything special on. Dress exactly like you are now.’
Tommy led her into the kitchen at the back of the Lamplighters. Things appeared to be just the same as always. There was a pot of tea on the table, two cups, a sugar bowl and a milk jug. Stella’s smile was narrow and untrustworthy. Tommy left them there together. The boss (she was still that in Delia’s mind) motioned to her to sit opposite.
‘Why’d you run off, then, Delia?’ she asked. There was no hint in her voice of how she might actually feel about it, or that she already knew the answer, but she couldn’t have forgotten that last time in the bar of the Lamplighters, when she had been drunk and afraid. Back when it had looked like everything was coming apart.
‘I was scared about the Richardsons and the Krays,’ Delia said, picking her way carefully through the truth. ‘Didn’t know what was going to happen. Same as everyone else, far as I could tell.’
‘Same as nearly everyone else, you mean. I didn’t run, did I? Nor did Teddy or Tommy. Nor did your friend Maureen. So have you been with Bill Shearsby all this time?’
‘Me and Bill are finished.’
‘Oh yes. I think I heard about all that. Teddy says you’re in Camden now, or thereabouts. Chalk Farm, maybe. Nice respectable barmaid at some pub. The Enterprise, isn’t it?’
Delia nodded, unperturbed by the attempt to throw her off her guard, but the Imps told her that meant it had been Teddy that night, and coming back today had been the right decision, or at least it had been the only possible decision. Stella poured tea for them both, added milk and sugar to Delia’s cup without asking. ‘What’s brought you back, Dee?’
She had prepared a story – a way of framing things that had enough truth in it not to be a lie, and yet would make sense in Stella’s pragmatic, self-interested view of the world.
‘I wanted to put things straight. I heard there’s talk around here that I was involved in what happened to Finlay. So I’ve come to face you myself, let you know I had nothing to do with it.’
‘Well, ain’t that fucking honourable!’ Stella let out a supercilious laugh. ‘You know what I think, Dee? I reckon you were frightened I might send Tommy over to Camden to sort you out. Give you a good hard wallop with his spade.’
‘You’ve always been fair, Stella. I wouldn’t expect you to do a thing like that unless you were sure I deserved it.’
‘So you thought you’d better come over here and smooth things over. Well you’ve nothing to worry about. I’d be a fool to think you knew anything about what Pete was up to.’ She seemed to be absolving Delia of blame; nevertheless, there was still menace in her voice. ‘I ain’t no fool, am I?’
Delia nodded. Deferred. Won. It was all over now. In the end, the Imps had scripted everything perfectly. Soon she could be on her way, once Stella had rewritten the past, explained how nothing had really gone wrong for her after Pete pushed Finlay under the car. How she had been neither drunk nor petrified that night when she and Delia had met alone in the bar of the Lamplighters.
‘Things got sorted out quick,’ she said. ‘There was no need for anyone to go running off. The Krays said they’d had nothing to do with what had happened, and they were just taking care of business for Finlay while he was in the hospital, out of the goodness of their hearts. Load of bullshit of course, but nobody wants a war, do they? So the Richardsons said the Krays could keep the clubs if they bought Finlay out. He took their money and fucked off to Devon with that Maggie.’
‘So it’s all settled, then,’ Delia said, knowing it wasn’t.
Stella gave her a look of contempt. ‘Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, Dee. We both know there’s no fucking way it’s finished between the Krays and the Richardsons. Finlay’s done with, that’s all, lost his nerve. They offered him half what those clubs were worth, and he took it. Nobody gives a shit about him now.’
‘What about you and me, Stella? Is that settled? I can’t carry on hoisting. It ain’t for me anymore. That’s why I went, really. But I’m here now because I didn’t want to leave things wrong between us.’
‘You ain’t touched your char,’ Stella said, stonefaced.
Delia lifted her cup and took a drink. It was a gesture of trust, she supposed, though poison wasn’t Stella’s style. The tea had gone cold and it was far too sweet.
‘One way or another, I’m not coming back after today, Stella. I just wanted to know if there’s anything in The Book I need to clear. To ask you that to your face.’
Stella got out of her seat and came around to Delia’s side of the table. ‘Stand up and give me a hug,’ she said.
Delia did as she was told. Her second embrace in less than an hour, but this was something very different from Maureen’s uncontrolled gesture of affection, and not only because Stella’s body felt so brittle and flimsy.
‘You and me, we go back a long way, don’t we?’ Stella said.
‘Since just after the war. There’s only Lulu been with you longer.’
‘Yeah, and she ran, didn’t she? They all fucking ran when they were scared, and they all came back when they thought it was safe.’ Stella paused to let the subtext sink in, then she said, ‘At least you had the self-respect to stay gone, Dee. You ain’t come back all apologies, pretending everything’s like it was before.’
‘Like I said, I’m just here this one time, to make sure we’re all square.’
Stay or go, Delia had thought when she left – nothing between – and she’d been right. Only she and Maureen had made the smart decisions. The others might think they were safe, but Stella had a score to settle with each of them, sooner or later.
‘Well, there’s nothing in The Book for you to worry about. No debts either way.’ Stella stepped back and looked Delia up and down, assessing not just the woman in front of her, but the value of the history between them. ‘And you say I’ll probably not be seeing you round here again?’
‘Most likely not,’ Delia said, entering into a contract whose terms were a great deal more precise than they sounded.
‘All right then.’
Stella left the room. Delia stood where she was, waited for what would happen next. After a couple of minutes, Teddy came in. She saw right away that Maureen had been right: he was different from before. Watch out for this one, the Imps whispered. He had t
aken on the role of frightener, recently vacated by Itchy Pete.
‘I’m to see you to the station, Dee,’ he said.
He wore the same old greasy suit and overcoat, but Teddy’s new persona was measured and dispassionate. If he had plans for you there’d be nothing personal in it. He walked behind Delia as she made her way out of the pub, and though she was almost certain Stella had decided to let her go, she remained prepared for a sudden shock of pain, a punch to the kidneys, a claw hammer to the back of her head. For the world to go dark and something very bad to begin.
But it didn’t happen. Teddy was simply ensuring she knew she was never to return again, understood what would happen to her if she broke that agreement. Out on the street, he walked alongside her, on the outside by the road, an old-fashioned gentleman offering her his protection. She thought of the double meaning that word had around here, and she decided, the Imps being finally back with her, that there was one last risk she wanted to take.
‘How’s Stella doing?’ she said. ‘After all that with Finlay?’
Teddy’s answer was a reflex. ‘Stella’s tough. Nothing gets to her.’
‘I’m not saying she isn’t,’ Delia took a breath. She was about to pose a question that everybody wondered about, but nobody ever asked. ‘Only I haven’t seen her outside in ever such a long time. You know, now I come to think of it, not since fifty-one, actually, at the Festival of Britain—’
Teddy took hold of Delia’s arm to silence her.
‘You want to be careful, Dee,’ he said. The street was empty, and they both knew that any witnesses would keep what they’d seen to themselves. But Delia guessed he’d been instructed to do her no harm, and she was determined to hear the truth for once. On top of which, she could see how glad Teddy would be to share the burden of his secret, even with someone he had always detested.
‘I’m out of all this,’ she said. ‘You know that. Just tell me if I’m right, Teddy.’
‘Fucking hell, Delia.’ He looked around them, as if he thought Stella might be somehow listening nearby, and she remembered how, only a few months ago, Maureen had made a similar gesture on her way to Barkers. They were all afraid of Stella’s omnipresence, she thought, when in reality—
‘It’s called agoraphobia,’ Teddy said. ‘She can’t go two steps outside the door. Hasn’t even tried for years.’
That part everyone knew really, but Delia thought she understood why.
‘What happened with that army friend of yours, Teddy?’
‘Me and Pete dealt with it,’ he muttered. And that was all he would say.
She left him at the entrance to the station, his eyes on her back as she walked away. Most likely he’d wait until he was sure she would not reappear. Then on his way home to the Lamplighters he’d be round to see Maureen, to take her over to Stella for a little chat. But the boss wouldn’t hurt her, or have her hurt. Delia was almost certain of it. The girl had been loyal, after all.
Teddy and Pete had dealt with it, he’d said. So now Delia knew for sure.
That day in 1951, Teddy was home on leave, and an army pal of his had come to stay with him: a big, confident bloke from Essex. Teddy, Pete, Stella, Delia and a few of the other girls had all gone to the festival together, on the South Bank, out Waterloo way. This soldier had come too, and he’d been particularly friendly with Stella. The pair of them got drunk out of his hip flask, wandered around the festival being vulgar and stupid, laughing at things in the exhibitions – mostly things that weren’t especially funny. Delia hadn’t liked him. He’d seemed like a bully to her.
She’d got a bit drunk herself. The weather was hot, and everything went a little fuzzy. Then at some point Teddy’s army pal wasn’t there anymore, and Stella was distraught. According to Teddy they’d run into some bloke, and this squaddie had gone off with him on an offer of work. Nobody knew the bloke’s name, or what sort of work it was meant to be. That was what Teddy told the military police too, a couple of days later, after the squaddie had been found dead in a back alley, beaten and stabbed.
Two days later, waiting in Kensington Square in the morning, Delia was an image of working-class respectability – some posh household’s cook on her day off, wearing her best Marks and Spencer.
Maureen arrived at ten.
‘We’re going back in Barkers, ain’t we?’ she said. ‘You trying to look like a shopwalker?’
‘I’m playing your mum,’ Delia said.
As instructed, Maureen had on the same cotton skirt and cheap sweater as before in Fenfield.
‘Does Stella know you’re here?’ Delia asked her
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Don’t want you telling her any lies. She send anyone to keep an eye on you?’ She wondered whether Teddy should be here, as he had been the first time. But this was about fixing the past, not reproducing it.
‘Don’t think so. What’s this all about, Dee?’
‘I’ve been on tramlines,’ she said. ‘That day you got caught, the track split off two ways, and we ended up going in the wrong direction. The right way’s been pulling me back bit by bit all this time.’ She put her hands on Maureen’s shoulders. ‘And now here you are. Stella could’ve told you not to come, couldn’t she? But she didn’t. She might not know it exactly, but she’s part of all this too.’
Maureen shook her head. ‘She says she just wants to know what goes on. I’m to tell her all about it when I get back.’
‘Fine. That’s what I’d expect.’
‘If I get back,’ Maureen said gloomily.
‘Last time I only got away because of you. Maybe I’ll have to return the favour, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get caught, whatever happens.’
A beat copper strolled in from Derry Street. It was the same man as last time, Delia was sure. Day after day, for months, he had been making this round, she thought, maybe for years. Last time, all she’d noticed about him was his uniform, his role. Now she saw a man of about her own age, dark-haired, friendly looking.
‘Ladies,’ he said, but not sarcastically; not like he thought they were up to anything. Of course, today they looked respectable. The worst they might be was lost.
‘Constable,’ Delia said, effortlessly unsuspicious. Like she belonged.
‘Nice morning.’
‘Beautiful.’
It was too. She hadn’t even noticed. Bright spring sunshine, a light, warm breeze. The buildings somehow appeared more welcoming than they had been last time. The greenery in the square’s private garden was sleek and glossy.
‘I think I saw you here once before, Miss. About a year ago, maybe?’
‘Yeah,’ Delia said. ‘That’s quite likely.’
‘Live round here, do you? Or visiting a friend?’
‘Just out for a walk. Like you say, it’s a nice morning to go strolling.’
The copper gave her a knowing smile. ‘Well, some of us got no choice when it comes to going for a walk, have we? Nice morning or not.’
‘I suppose that’s true. Still, I bet you’ve got your preferences.’ They were flirting now. Harmlessly passing the time.
‘Oh yes, Miss. Some days it don’t even feel like a job.’ He smiled broadly and raised a single eyebrow, so she’d know exactly what he meant, and then he was on his way.
When he was out of earshot, Maureen said, ‘I thought we were meant to be invisible.’
‘Not today,’ Delia told her. And she explained the plan. Her role in it. Maureen’s.
This time there was to be no reconnoitring for shopwalkers, no hanging around in the Food Halls, no checking to see what the Imps thought about their chances of success, no splitting up. Delia and Maureen took the escalator together, straight to the top of the store, and headed directly for Furs. They passed through Lingerie on the way. No sign there of the fat shopwalker, but Delia was confident he must be around somewhere.
They found the Russian hat, still on display in exactly the same place. The two assistants were still working in
Furs: one junior and one senior. A year ago it had not occurred to Delia that the ages of these two women more or less matched Maureen’s and hers. Now the Imps drew her attention to the parallel, and they told her the shopwalker would be along soon enough. Without him things couldn’t fall back into place. He was needed. He would be here.
The older assistant watched Delia and Maureen carefully. Doubtless, she remembered Maureen’s capture. It was unlikely she often saw such drama here. She muttered something to her junior, who scuttled off in the direction of Electricals. Pleased by this development, Delia lifted the hat from its display pedestal, and placed it carefully on Maureen’s head.
‘Take a look in the mirror.’
There was a full-length one near the counter. Maureen scrutinised herself in it and giggled. The hat was ridiculous; even more so on top of her ordinary clothes.
‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘Does it suit me?’
But she was not talking to Delia. Her question was addressed to the fat shopwalker, who now filled the mirror behind her, red-faced, panting and sweaty. He’d been fetched by the junior salesgirl, and had obviously run all the way. Maureen turned to face him. He stepped back, keeping both women in sight, recessed dots of eyes darting from one to the other.
His voice was wheezy. ‘You want my advice? Try another line of work, girl. Doesn’t look like this one’s doing you a lot of good. State of your face.’
To emphasise his point, he reached forward, as if to put his hand to Maureen’s damaged features. She jerked away from him, and the hat fell to the floor.
‘Don’t you touch me! You got no right!’
Delia picked up the hat and returned it to its display stand. ‘You want to be careful how you talk to customers, Mister.’
‘Customers,’ he snorted. ‘I caught that one a year ago trying to steal this very hat. And we both know what happened the last time I saw you in here.’
Delia addressed the senior sales assistant, keeping her tone deferential and decent. ‘I think this gentleman’s got me confused with someone else, Ma’am.’ Like the cook whose character she had adopted, she pronounced it almost as mum. ‘Today’s the first time I’ve ever come in this store. But I’m sorry to say he’s right about my Maureen here. He did catch her trying to steal from you Ma’am. She’d always been a good girl before. Then she got herself into some bad company, and she had to go to borstal for it.’
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