by Mary Wood
‘Good gracious! You have been thinking about this, haven’t you? Well, it all sounds fine to me, and I can’t tell you how relieved I feel.’
‘Well, that’s good. I tell you what: I’ll put into place what I can, and I’ll try not to bother you too much with the details. But these other ideas you have – well, I suggest you give a lot of thought to them, make your plans, and then Daphne and I will stay over after . . . well, after – you know, old girl – the funeral or memorial service, whichever it is to be.’
‘Charles!’
Daphne’s face was a picture. Laura couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Charles’s matter-of-fact way of dealing with things is just what I need. You know you don’t have to pussyfoot around me.’
Laura took a cigarette from the silver box on the occasional table in front of her and put it in her cigarette holder, before offering the box to Daphne and Charles. They each took one and Charles did the honours lighting them carefully. Laura relaxed back and inhaled deeply. It felt good to talk about the future and to make plans. None of them had done that for so long.
‘Right! That’s settled. Now, how about some refreshment? I don’t know about you ladies, but I could do with a stiff drink. I’ll go and telephone George while you organize that, Laura, and whilst I’m at it, I’ll see if he has any indication of how we are doing over there and if the promised end is in sight.’
Hamilton had left the room after bringing in the drinks tray. Daphne had poured the drinks and they were settled back on the sofa. ‘Laura, whilst Charles isn’t here, I want to talk to you. I too have been thinking about what would happen if this was the outcome of Jeremy rejoining the army. Darling, you have been under so much stress these last few years, ever since you lost little Leonard. You need a break. You’re living on your nerves. Look, in a few weeks when everything is settled, why don’t we go away together? Caroline is always asking us to go and stay with her on her South Sea Island – whatever it’s called – and I think this would be a good time to take her up on that offer. We could stay for three months or so. What do you think?’
Laura didn’t answer for a while. She put her drink down and snuggled back into Daphne’s arms to think. Could she take time out? Daphne’s friend, Lady Caroline Harper, heir to her father’s vast import–export business, owned a beautiful place where sun, white sand, blue sea and tranquillity could be found. But, Laura wondered, if she went there, would she be able to cope with lounging around with nothing to do but think? But then perhaps that’s what she needed to do. Perhaps there was something in giving yourself time. ‘Yes. Yes, Daphne, I will. I will come away with you.’
‘Really? Oh, Laura, I’m so glad! Oh, darling, I can’t believe it. I’ll help you. I’ll look after you.’
‘Now, Daphne, I don’t want you planning to mother me and fuss me – you know I don’t like that – but I need to talk. Talk about everything, get this knot of pain undone, and sometimes I will need to be allowed to be weak and to cry and cry. Oh, Daphne . . .’
11
Hattie Pays the Price
Hattie closed the gate and removed her gloves. The house looked just the same as all the others in the street, where the buildings were tall, three-storeyed dwellings with small enclosed gardens to the front. Half-net curtains shielded its every window, and a sign on the gate pronounced it to be a hostel for young ladies.
The neighbours all knew the real business of the place, but Hattie had a mind that even if they were against it, they’d not cause trouble. Not with Bobby Blackstaff being a loan shark, amongst other even darker dealings that he was mixed up in, and them all being hocked up to their eyeballs in debt to him.
The girls living there each had their own room. Some rooms were more poky than others, as the larger ones had been divided into two. Furnishings were few, but each girl made what she could of her own space. Hattie was proud of hers. She had some good pieces – some of them she’d bought herself, and others were oddments from Arthur that he didn’t need. This had been commented upon, but as the money coming from Arthur was more than that from any other client, Bobby let it go.
Hattie opened the door with confidence. Some of the stealth she’d used when she’d first started looking after Sally two weeks ago had left her. No one had seemed to notice her comings and goings, but she was troubled by the fact that nothing was happening in the quest to find Janey, despite the information she’d provided, and despite Arthur getting his solicitor involved.
Daisy’s door opened as she went up the stairs. ‘Hattie, quick! In here. Come on.’
‘What is it, Daisy? What’re you doing up at this time? You’re not usually around until noon or after.’
‘I’m not the only one up. Shush. Come in quick, lass.’
As soon as they were inside the room, Daisy closed the door and motioned Hattie over to the window. Hattie’s throat tightened at what she saw: Doreen stood out of sight, but for her head which stuck out around the corner, as if she was trying to see without being seen. Seemingly satisfied that no one was around, and not noticing them peeping around the curtain, she suddenly dashed towards the house.
Daisy pulled Hattie away from the window. ‘Quick, she might look up! We don’t want her to see us.’
‘Oh, Daisy, do you reckon she followed me?’
‘Aye, I’m sure on it. She left just after you. I’ve been up most of the night with running out back to the closet, then, come five-ish, I heard someone on the stairs and the front door closing. I looked out me window and saw the back of you go round the corner. You’d only just got out of sight when Doreen appeared and hurried out the gate after you. What took you out so early? Have you been to see Arthur?’
‘No, I look after me mate’s little lass . . . Oh, Daisy, what am I to do?’
‘Well, if that’s all it is you’ve been up to, I don’t see you have owt to worry over. I thought you were at deceiving Bobby, making a bit on the side that he didn’t know of. Anyroad, who is this mate? I didn’t know you had one outside of this house. Well, not since you dropped off seeing Megan.’
Hattie hesitated. She couldn’t tell Daisy – it’d be too dangerous. ‘I’ve got to go, Daisy, but I’ll tell of it some other time. I can’t let Doreen think you know where I’ve been.’
‘But why? I can’t see as Bobby could object to you helping a mate.’
‘Just leave it, Daisy love. I’ve to go. Doreen mustn’t be at thinking you’re involved.’
‘But . . .’
Hattie gave her no time to say anything further. She was through the door and skipping along to her own room just as she heard the door at the bottom of the stairs closing.
Once in her room, she found that her body wouldn’t settle itself. Her stomach churned with fear as she paced up and down. What could she do? What could she do? They’d not believe her if she said that all she was doing was looking out for a mate’s young ’un. Not if they knew her mate was Janey’s mam! Oh God! What if they found out she’d been asking questions of Sergeant Jackson? Or that he’d had meetings with Arthur and Arthur’s solicitor?
One thing gave her hope: the cowardice of Sergeant Jackson. He was likely to be mindful of his own skin, and that’s what would keep her scheming from being found out by any of Bobby’s lot. Thinking about it, it was probably Sergeant Jackson’s cowardice that was holding things up. He’d be afraid to move until he was sure of trapping the whole gang, as he knew he’d be dead if even one of them was left free. Bastard that he was, he deserved to be dead an’ all. Her skin crawled at the thought of lying with him, of how he sweated as he pounded her, and of the things he wanted her to do to him. And for no payment! At least, not for her – it was his payback for favours owed to him by Bobby. But that aside, what sickened her most was how he worked things so as to get a night with her. He’d have her and a few lassies who were getting past it, and who Bobby wanted rid of, arrested. They would be thrown into the cells, but she would be taken to his office to pleasure him. In the morning
the lassies would be up before the magistrates and would end up being sent to a workhouse or, worse, to some prison to rot, and she’d be let free with no charge. There was nothing she could do about it. It just happened to be her that Sergeant Jackson wanted.
The lassies knew how it was for her, and knew how much it hurt her to be the bait that helped Bobby to get rid of the others. They didn’t hold Hattie to blame. In fact, if she knew anything, it was more than a good bet that the sergeant had alerted Bobby to her goings-on, but he’d not say he knew what she was up to. He’d not dare. With Arthur’s solicitor knowing everything, he’d be caught out. No, he’d just hint as to her being seen out and about in the early hours. One day she’d get even with that bloody sod, and in the meantime she’d have to think of something. She’d have to.
A knock on her door made her body stiffen. Opening it and seeing Doreen leaning against the wall, arms folded across her middle and a look of triumph on her face, made the small hope that Hattie had harboured sink.
‘Bobby wants to see you.’
Just that – ‘Bobby wants to see you’ – but it was enough. Enough to strike such fear into her that she broke out in a sweat, but she’d not let Doreen see it. ‘All right, I’ll be up in a minute. I’m just taking off me outdoor things.’
‘I wouldn’t be long, if I were you. He isn’t in a good mood.’ A sickly smile spread across her face and her eyes gleamed maliciously.
Anger replaced some of Hattie’s fear – an anger that urged her to hit out at this vile woman. If she did, she’d not stop beating her until one of them was broken, and that wouldn’t solve anything. But she’d not spare Doreen the lashing of her tongue. ‘Why’s that? Haven’t you been at licking his arse all night then? Because you might as well, as everyone knows you’d do his bidding, no matter what that bidding be. By, Doreen, you’ve been brought low. So low you’re not fit to clean the shit off the closet the rest of us use, and that’s saying sommat!’
Doreen faltered. Her shock at the attack registered on her face, but she recovered quickly. ‘We’ll see about that, shall we, when you’re begging for mercy and I’m watching. We’ll see who’s been brought low then, eh?’
‘So it’s a beating I’m in for, is it? Well, well, and it’d have nowt to do with you snooping in what doesn’t concern you, would it? You’re a bastard, Doreen, a vile bloody bastard!’ As she said this last, Hattie slammed the door in Doreen’s face. The action helped, but as soon as it was shut, she slumped against it.
She knew she hadn’t long; knew it would be worse for her if she kept Bobby waiting. Her mind tried every avenue she could think of that might convince him she didn’t know anything, but in her frantic state she had no answers. She knew in her heart that it was hopeless.
‘Ah, Hattie!’
Bobby’s greeting surprised her. He didn’t seem in a bad mood; he was lounging in an armchair, the like of which she was more used to seeing in Arthur’s house, though it didn’t look out of place with the rest of the furnishings in this light and airy room. She looked at Bobby. His attention seemed to be taken up with cleaning his nails with a long, thin paper-knife. Smoke curled from an ashtray on a polished table next to him. He picked the cigarette up and drew heavily on it. The smoke came out of his mouth and down his nostrils as he spoke, causing his eyes to squint. ‘I hear you are taking a little walk every weekday, Hattie.’
‘I look after me mate’s young ’un whilst she’s at her shift. She lost her man in the war.’ In an instant Hattie decided she couldn’t avoid mentioning the missing child. She knew it would be better if she did, as it would make Bobby think she didn’t know he was involved. ‘Her other young ’un’s gone missing, so she’s in a state.’
‘Gone missing? Well, well.’ He swung his legs to the floor, stood up and moved towards her. She couldn’t think what he was up to. This increased her fear even more. His voice was still smooth and held no malice as he continued, ‘And where do you think she’s gone, this other one?’ His body brushed hers. She thought he intended to walk on towards the window, but without warning he turned, grabbed her hair and yanked her head backwards. The suddenness of his action shocked rather than hurt her, as it wasn’t in keeping with his friendly tone. She could feel his breath fanning her ear as he said, ‘I think you know only too well where she’s gone, Hattie, don’t you, eh?’
She tried to lessen the pain by bending with him as, with her hair coiled around his hand, he started to circle her, tightening his grip and tearing at the roots. Her voice whimpered from her, ‘No, I . . .’
‘Oh, I think yes. I can’t have the likes of you lying to me now, can I?’ With his other hand he grabbed her left arm and twisted it up her back. His face was near hers – so near she could smell him. Smell his perfume, which brought to mind the preference she knew he had for getting his sexual pleasure with men, more than he did with women. It shocked her to think at this moment that she pitied Doreen when Doreen had been instrumental in all of this happening to her.
Just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, Bobby let her go. He walked away from her and picked up his cigarette again. His movements were graceful, yet menacing, like a cat ready to pounce. ‘Well, let me tell you something, Hattie. The first chicken I took from your mate’s nest served me well in making me some good money, and now I’m going to pluck the next one from the same nest, and you’re going to help me to do it.’
‘No!’
‘Oh, yes. I think you will bring the pretty little thing to me. I’m so confident of this that I have already put out the word of her coming, and have a customer waiting. I can’t believe how easy it is all going to be.’
‘No! I’ll not. I’ll not do it!’
‘You have no choice. Bring her here and you live; don’t and you die. It’s as simple as that! Oh, actually,’ he blew his inhaled smoke in her direction, ‘it isn’t that simple, because your death wouldn’t be pleasant or quick.’
He’d moved closer to her again, his expression mocking her. As if on impulse, his hand whipped out and caught hold of hers. Her skin seared with pain as he ground the stub of his cigarette into her arm.
Using all her strength, she pulled away from him. ‘I don’t care what you do to me, you bastard! You’ll not get me to bring Sally here – not ever!’
‘Sally, is it? Pretty name. And I’m a bastard, am I? Well now, whilst we’re on names, let’s see. What was the other one called?’
Again his body reminded her of a cat, as he stretched forward and picked up a bell from the table next to his ashtray. Its tinny peal hung in the air as he said, ‘Hmm, Janey. Yes. “Janey’s me name, sir.” Ha! A treasure. A little treasure! What pleasure she gave. So much that I could charge double for the younger version.’
He was talking as if Janey was dead. She swallowed hard. The implications of his words had taken Hattie’s fear away and cleared her head. She had to think; she had to do something. Something that would save Sally and make Bobby Blackstaff pay!
The door across the room opened. Doreen entered, her satisfied smirk unmasking her inner evil. Bobby spoke to her in a different voice – softer, kinder – confirming the conspiracy between them. ‘Fetch Wally and Doug, please, Doreen my love.’
‘Yes, Bobby.’ Her look in Hattie’s direction came with a raising of her eyebrows as if to say: I told you so.
The gesture didn’t have any impact on Hattie. Her mind soared far above what Doreen felt or did. As plans formed, she knew what she must do. She’d take as much of the beating coming to her as she could bear, and appear broken and ready to do as Bobby bade. Bobby knew her, knew that she had spirit. He’d not believe her if she gave in at the threat of being hurt – he’d suspect that she had a scheme of sorts up her sleeve. Once she was trusted, she’d set something up that would trap them all. Arthur would help her. He’d find a way to keep Sally safe and get this lot their just deserts.
When the door opened again to admit Wally and Doug, her newfound courage all but deserted her. They were brutish, and
had no concerns for the pain of others. She’d heard the screams coming up from the basement when they were at their work, and she’d helped in the nursing of the bloodied and beaten lassies who’d displeased Bobby in some way. Even worse, there’d been times when the screams had stopped suddenly, and the lass being beaten hadn’t come back up the stairs or ever been seen again. Oh God! Could she hold out long enough to convince them?
Bobby gestured towards her with his head. ‘Just until she agrees. I don’t want her dead – not yet. Make it last a few days, if you have to. Only call me if she’s near to death and hasn’t given in. I make the decision on whether she dies or not – is that understood?’
‘Yes, boss.’
Bobby’s tone changed. ‘Now then, Hattie, you are about to find out for yourself just what a bastard I am!’
As the men moved across the room, the fear she’d almost let go of as she’d plotted a way out gripped her in a tight knot once more. Without warning, Wally, the small, fat one, punched her in the stomach, causing her to double over and gasp for breath.
‘Make her holler loud enough for me to hear, boys. I like the sound of pain. And I like my other whores to hear as well. It gives them a lesson.’ Prowling round the room like the animal he was, Bobby had come up close to her once more.
‘Look at the boss when he speaks!’ Doug grabbed her, twisted her arm and yanked her head so that she was looking into Bobby’s evil eyes. She could do nothing. Her stomach cramped with pain and her arm burned. ‘Don’t! Please, don’t.’ No one answered her or even acknowledged that she’d spoken.
‘Try not to mark her face. It hasn’t got a beauty to it, but some of my more useful customers seem to like it. And leave her intact where it matters. She’s good to have a go at, so I’m told. Sample it and let me know what you think – yes, that would be fun. I’ve heard she’ll do anything rather than let her arse take it, so give her some of that – get her ready. You do it, Wally. The size of you will definitely loosen it up. Sergeant Jackson often complains that he can’t get her to let him up there. I think he’d be pleased enough to tell me more of what he knows of her, if he thinks it’s been made ready for him.’