Her Father's Daughter

by June Tate

  George Coleman walked over and Sandy held up Victoria’s hand. ‘Take a look at this!’

  Coleman saw the ring and smiled broadly. ‘How marvellous! I always hoped you’d end up with Captain Chapman, he’s a fine fellow, I’m sure you’ll be very happy.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

  Victoria finished her coffee then went to her office to catch up on the paperwork that needed her attention. That evening there was a large business party to be catered for in the dining room and Victoria was kept busy for some time, so she didn’t see Johnny Daniels arrive. Nor did she see George Coleman walk over to him.

  ‘Miss Teglia got herself engaged this weekend in London,’ he told him, ‘so any plans you had for making a move on her, young man, have just gone down the tubes!’ He walked away grinning to himself.

  Johnny was devastated. Just then, Victoria emerged from the dining room and he looked at her left hand and saw the ring she was wearing.

  He walked over to her, picked up her hand and angrily asked, ‘How could you do such a thing? He’s not the man for you and you know it!’

  Before she could speak, he caught hold of the back of her head by her hair and kissed her roughly, almost bruising her lips as he did so. Then he walked out of the club.

  Eleven

  Victoria was stunned. She had been surprised to see Johnny striding towards her and even more surprised by his reaction. It was the ferocity in him that had shocked her. Her head felt sore from his grip and her mouth tender from the onslaught of his kiss.

  George hurried over having seen what had happened. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes, honestly.’

  ‘I’ll bar him from the club,’ George declared. ‘He can’t behave like that and get away with it!’

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ Victoria said quickly. ‘He’ll soon get used to the idea that I’m engaged; let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill.’

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Coleman was not happy.

  ‘Yes, I mean it.’

  He walked away, convinced she’d made a big mistake. Young Daniels didn’t like to lose, and he felt sure the young man wouldn’t stand by and do nothing. As far as he was concerned, Daniels was besotted with her and that wasn’t a good thing, especially now she was engaged to another man. He’d watch the young shaver closely in future.

  Johnny was outside sitting in his car, fuming. He was so sure that Victoria Teglia had feelings for him; he knew the way she responded to his kisses. Was she running scared? Was that why she’d got herself engaged? Jesus! He’d cut himself off from his family for her, for God’s sake! He puffed on his cigarette and thought. He knew women and he was certain that, handled with care, he could change things – given time. This was the first woman of the many he’d know that he really wanted – and she would be his. About that, he was determined.

  Pat Daniels was on a train headed for Scotland with a couple of his henchmen. The Scottish laird had not come up with the cash that was due and Daniels wasn’t having it. It would be the money or the books – and a chastisement into the bargain. No one treated him this way and got away with it.

  The train drew into Edinburgh station and the men alighted. Through his underworld connections, Pat knew there would be a white van waiting for him in a nearby garage, filled with illegal petrol, enough for his needs. He carried a bag and placed it in the back of the van, then, armed with a map, drove out of the city.

  It was dark when they arrived at their destination. There were no street lights here to show the way, which suited their plans of arriving unseen. They drove slowly and quietly up a long drive, parking the van in a shrubbery well hidden from view, and crept towards the castle, its turrets visible against the sky when the moon appeared suddenly from behind a cloud.

  From the bag, Pat withdrew a couple of baseball bats he’d purloined from the Americans during the war, handed them to his men, then, taking a handgun, he loaded it before they set off towards the building.

  There were no curtains drawn at the windows and so they were able to see inside those rooms that were lit. The men crept along and carefully peered into them all, trying to familiarize themselves with the layout of the interior. Sitting at the table, in what was obviously the dining room, was the man they were looking for and a woman, both drinking coffee. The men then crept around the back of the building to look for a way in and arrived at the door leading to the kitchen. Through a small window they could observe three members of staff who were clearing away the remnants of the evening meal and obviously preparing to leave the building. The men hid themselves and waited.

  About an hour later the staff left, chatting away together, climbing on bicycles left by the wall, unaware they were being watched. When they were well down the drive, the men made for the kitchen door which was still unlocked and let themselves inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

  On the wall was a series of bells, each marked with the name of the room each bell served. Pat nodded to his men and they all quietly left the kitchen, keeping close to the walls, and made their way towards a room where the beam of light under the door was visible and where they heard voices.

  Suddenly the door opened and the men dived for cover into a nearby alcove.

  ‘I’m going up now, I’m tired. You come when you’re ready,’ a female voice said. The men heard footsteps going away from them towards what they hoped were the stairs. Then there was silence.

  Pat waited, then stepped out from the alcove, looked around and, nodding to his men, made his way to the room and the door, which was now ajar. He pushed it open just a fraction to allow him to look inside. Sitting in an easy chair by the fire was the laird, smoking his pipe and reading a paper. Pat stepped silently inside, his men following behind and closing the door.

  Taking the revolver from his coat pocket, Pat spoke. ‘Good evening.’

  With a startled look, the Scotsman turned round. ‘What the . . .’ He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the raised gun.

  ‘I’ve come for my money!’ declared Pat. ‘I told you I would, I gave you time to pay and you chose to ignore me. Very foolish, very foolish.’

  Donald MacCulloch stared at the weapon. ‘Don’t be stupid, man!’

  ‘It’s you who has been stupid! Did you honestly think you could welch on me?’ Pat was livid.

  The man went to rise.

  ‘Sit still!’

  He did as he was told. ‘You can have your money,’ he spluttered.

  ‘Do you have it in the house?’ asked Daniels.

  ‘Och no, do you think I keep that much money lying about?’

  ‘But no doubt the books are in the library?’ Pat had seen such a room listed above one of the bells in the kitchen.

  The man looked watchful. ‘No, they’re not there.’

  You’re lying, thought the Londoner. ‘Let’s go take a look shall we? And don’t get clever or believe me I’ll blow your bloody brains out!’

  The menace in his voice was such that the other man rose carefully from his chair and walked towards the door.

  ‘Don’t think of calling for your wife either, not unless you want to have to arrange a funeral.’

  The laird led them into a room lined with bookcases filled with books and with a look of triumph said, ‘Well, here’s the library.’

  Daniels saw the look and smirked. ‘You think we are an ignorant shower who have no idea about such treasures, don’t you? Well let me tell you something you arrogant bastard, these men are probably as knowledgeable as you. They specialize in antique books, that’s why we’re so successful. We all have our own special field.’ He nodded to his men, who started searching the bookshelves. Meantime, Pat pushed his victim into a chair, holding the revolver to his head.

  Half an hour later, they found what they were looking for and removed two books.

  ‘But I’ve already paid you half the money for those!’ argued MacCulloch.

  ‘Of course you have, but you were late coming up with the
rest of the money so these will cover the interest on the late payment.’ Pat laughed at the angry expression on the other man’s face.

  ‘Find anything else?’ he asked one of his men.

  ‘Yes, guv, another first edition.’

  Pat looked at the book and then the fireplace. He threw a lighter at the man and said, ‘You know what to do.’

  The laird let out a cry of anguish as he realized what was about to happen. Daniels cuffed him round the head with the butt of his gun. ‘Shut up!’ Blood trickled down the man’s cheek.

  ‘You can’t destroy that book, it would be sacrilege!’ the Scot cried.

  ‘Really?’ Pat nodded to his man who held the book open, flicked the lighter and held it to the pages, watching them burn, then he threw it into the fireplace until all that was left was the smouldering cover.

  ‘I’ll make you pay for this, Daniels,’ MacCulloch threatened.

  The villain laughed. ‘What you going to do, call the police and report a burglary of stolen goods? I don’t think so.’

  Donald MacCulloch’s expression was filled with hatred. ‘For you, all this is just about money! You know the cost of everything and the value of nothing.’ He glanced into the fireplace at his ruined book then back at Daniels. ‘I pity you.’

  ‘You, pity me?’ Pat looked at him and grinned. ‘Don’t you come the high and mighty with me! You are prepared to break the law to accumulate this precious collection. That makes you just as much a villain as I am. The only difference between us is you’re an educated man with inherited wealth. But that’s not enough for you, is it? No, you’re a greedy man. Not content with what you have, you want even more! Which one of us should really be pitied?’ I know what I am, but you . . .’ He looked round at the paintings of the man’s ancestors. ‘You besmirch their name!’

  His men were getting restless and one of them spoke. ‘We should go, guv.’

  Daniels glanced at his watch, then turned to his victim. ‘You make sure you keep your mouth tightly shut or I’ll come back and, next time, I’ll burn down your bloody castle!’ He strode from the room followed by his two men.

  They quickly walked to the van, climbed in and drove away.

  ‘Do you think he’ll keep shtum?’ asked one.

  ‘What choice does he have?’ Daniels laughed. ‘Would you, in his position, let the police know you’ve been buying books that were stolen? Of course not. No, we’ve nothing to concern ourselves about on that score.’

  ‘What will you do with the two books?’ asked the other.

  ‘We’ll hang on to them until we find another buyer. We’re on a win-win situation. We have half the money he paid us and the books which we can resell. Not bad when you think about it!’ Daniels smiled to himself, satisfied with the night’s work.

  Sandy was coming to the end of his week’s holiday. He’d so enjoyed being back in Southampton and realized just how much the place meant to him. Now he’d decided to move back as soon as possible. He’d found a couple of flats that were for rent if his plan materialized. Not in the upmarket part of town, oh no, that wasn’t for him at all. He needed to be around the dock area, the places he was familiar with, where he felt at home. He wandered into The Lord Roberts in Canal Walk. It was one of the pubs in which, in the bad old days, Lily used to sing and he played the piano. He ordered a half of bitter and stood talking to the barman.

  The bar became busy and Sandy moved over to a small table. Nearby, two men sat drinking. They were dressed in grey utility suits, but even so, they looked a little coarse and rough. Bet they’re up to no good, Sandy thought to himself as he finished his drink and left the pub.

  He walked back towards Bernard Street and the club. He stopped off at a small cafe and had a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He didn’t want to bother Victoria’s chef who would be busy with the lunchtime trade. He’d have a snooze this afternoon, ready for his last night, before returning to London in the morning. He’d pop along and see Lily and Luke before he left.

  But sitting in the bar of the club later that evening, his plans changed. To his great surprise, the two men he’d seen in The Lord Roberts earlier in the day now wandered into the bar and asked to speak to the owner.

  Sandy’s eyes narrowed as he watched them. He knew that tonight was George Coleman’s night off, which was a worry because he was sure that these two were trouble. He heard the barman telling the men that Miss Teglia would be there in a little while and the men said they would wait and sat down, eyeing up the place with great interest. Quickly, Sandy made his way to Victoria’s office, praying the door wouldn’t be locked. He let out a sigh of relief when he turned the handle and the door opened. He walked over to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

  Fifteen minutes later, Victoria entered the front door and was waylaid by the barman who pointed to the two men. She walked over to them. They both stood up.

  ‘Good evening gentlemen, you wanted to see me?’

  ‘Nice place you have here,’ said one of them.

  Victoria eyed them suspiciously. ‘What can I do for you?’

  The taller of the two took over. ‘We’ve heard how well this club is doing,’ he said, ‘but in this part of town aren’t you worried that you might have some trouble?’

  ‘I have a doorman who looks after that for me, thank you.’ She eyed them up and down. ‘I’m rather surprised he let you in,’ she sharply remarked. ‘I trust you’re not hoping to become members?’

  ‘Now Miss Teglia, that’s not very friendly when we are here to offer our services.’

  ‘What can you offer me that I could possibly want?’ she asked coldly.

  ‘Protection, that’s our business. We make sure that no one who’s undesirable bothers you.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, gentlemen, thank you.’ Johnny Daniels stood beside Victoria and placed an arm around her shoulders. ‘I have Miss Teglia’s well being in hand and that of her club. My name is Johnny Daniels, Pat Daniels’ son. I’m sure the name is familiar to you both.’

  Their attitude changed immediately.

  ‘Right, sorry, Miss Teglia, it seems that we have been misinformed. We won’t need to bother you again; we can see you are well taken care of.’ They hurried away.

  ‘Johnny! Where did you come from?’

  ‘Sandy called me; he said you may be in trouble. Here, come and sit down, you look a bit pale.’ He called for the barman to bring over a brandy. ‘Here, drink this.’

  At that moment, Sandy walked over. ‘You all right, darling?’

  She caught hold of his arm. ‘Thanks, I wasn’t sure quite what was going to happen next. There was no way I would have anything to do with those two. Who the hell are they?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Johnny, ‘but I aim to find out.’

  Victoria looked concerned. ‘Please, don’t. I can’t thank you enough for stepping in like that.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Wouldn’t you know that it was the night that George wasn’t here?’

  ‘That was the idea, I expect,’ said Johnny. ‘This call was planned.’ He shook his head. ‘I need to know who is behind this. I’ve never seen either of them before.’

  ‘Please don’t get involved, Johnny,’ she pleaded. ‘You said you had no part of that kind of life, don’t start now.’

  He smiled softly at her. ‘I do believe you care a little, Victoria, and that makes me very happy.’

  She looked at him and realized that she did care – perhaps a little too much.

  Twelve

  Johnny stayed with Victoria for the rest of the evening. She had been shaken by the visitation of the two thugs. Not for one moment had she even thought that such an encounter might have occurred inside her club. Yes, Bernard Street was not the most salubrious part of town but it had been the site of the old club and times had changed . . . or so she thought, but what had her mother said about people crawling out of the woodwork? It appeared she was correct in her assumption, but, until now, all had been well.

  The door
man explained that the two men had said they had business with her which was why he’d allowed them to enter the building.

  ‘I did keep an eye on them, Miss Teglia, but they just sat down quietly and waited for you, so I wasn’t too worried at the time. Then you arrived.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she assured him, ‘they won’t be calling again, but if you should see them hanging about . . .’

  ‘Don’t you fret miss; I’ll soon send them on their way.’

  Johnny sat listening to his explanation but said nothing. He knew of the various villains in the area through his background, but these had taken him by surprise. He hadn’t heard of any protection racket being run here and he wondered if someone new had moved in. Well, he’d make it his business to find out. He’d have to do this on his own because there was no way he’d ask his father for information. Besides, there was someone he knew in Southampton who’d once dealt with his father who would know all about the local gangs. In a dockland there were always those who could make a living through nefarious ways. Those who, now the war was over, would have to look for new means to supplement their income.

  The next morning, Johnny made his way to a small tailor’s shop near the Ditches, hidden away in a dingy back street. The bell above the door tinkled as he entered. An elderly rotund man with stooped shoulders walked out of the back room and peered at Johnny over his glasses, perched on the end of a slightly hooked nose.

  ‘Good morning, Solly.’

  ‘My life . . . its young Johnny Daniels, isn’t it?’

  Johnny chuckled and held out his hand. ‘How are you, you old devil? It’s been a while.’

  The tailor took his hand and shook it. Then he stroked the material of Johnny’s suit. ‘Nice bit of schmatte.’

  Laughing, Johnny said, ‘You never change.’

  Solly looked him up and down. ‘I see you have a decent tailor, you should have come to me. I heard you were in town now. How’s business? Here, sit down, sit down.’ He removed a bale of cloth from a chair and then sat on one opposite.