by PR Hilton
He fell silent for a moment, his eyes glanced around the unfamiliar room. Then he continued.
"I enjoyed last night, and no regrets I hope? But where does this leave us?"
He turned his head away from the woman and got up off the bed. He quickly pulled on his clothes, taking them from the floor where they had been hurriedly left the night before. He crossed to the window and took out a cigarette, lighting it as he looked down at the alley beneath. He drew long and hard on the cigarette as he attempted to order his thoughts, which were all over the place. His thoughts were soon flooded with raw emotion as he felt her arms, warm from the bedclothes, wrap around his waist from behind. He half turned to catch a kiss on his cheek, as she drew her finger across his lips to quieten him.
"No regrets, as for where we go from here I don't know. Last night was special, but we're not children and I'll not hold you to do the decent thing. On the other hand, I'd like to see more of you, if you'll let me?"
She reached over and took the lit cigarette from his lips and put it to her own, taking a long deliberate drag, inhaling the harsh smoke into her lungs. She held this and then exhaled the smoke in a long plume, which curled up towards the ceiling.
"Well that's wonderful, listen I'd love to see more of you, a lot more. But look you know I'm going to London. I'm not sure when I can get back down here."
"Well, how about I come to London with you? I need a change and I promise not to get in the way. I could get a room somewhere. Look I know with the bombing it's hard, but none of us are really safe with this war and who can say how long it'll go on for. So can I come, What do you think?"
Harry smiled.
"If you're sure, that would be something else, it really would. As for a room, you know it might work out better if we shared, don't you think?"
Jean both smiled and blushed at the same time.
"Yes that would be marvellous, I just thought you'd have your own flat there."
Harry thought quickly before answering.
"With being out of the country for so long Jean I've no foundation, so I would love to make a nest with you if you'll have me?"
With this, she threw her arms around him.
The week after saw the pair boarding the train for London. Harry looked out of the train window at the city as it fell away, it was soon replaced by countryside. He looked out on the ever changing scenery and couldn't help but wonder at the other lives being lived in the little towns and villages they passed and, of course, there were the big cities with their factory chimneys belching black smoke into the air. All these places were inviting and together only added to his impatience as the train sped along its steel road to London.
Kings Cross station held no surprises, good, or bad for Harry. Jean, however, felt as though she had died and gone to heaven. The sights and sounds that to Royle were commonplace, thrilled her. Amused Harry took Jean's arm and quickened the pace, steering her through the early morning city crowds.
Soon they had left the commuters behind and were standing on Euston Road. With a half smile and a shiver, Royle decided against walking too close to Pentonville. A cold city wind blew across the road, as they crossed and walked along Greys Inn Road toward Holborn. A little later finding themselves thirsty they found a pub on the edge of Russel Square where they had drinks and cold fare. Harry used this quiet time to attempt to put his thoughts in order. He would need to formulate a plan of action if things were to go without a hitch.
It cost most of what Harry had left, but he managed to find a place for them to stay. It wasn't much, but he explained to Jean, that it was only temporary, just until he sorted out his pay and collected other money he was owed. She was happy and agreed, saying she was happy so long as they were together.
Chapter 12
The flat, Harry found for them was a poor excuse for a home, but he reasoned that it would serve its purpose until he could get his hands on some real money. It was over a tobacconist's in Camden Town. He wanted to keep Jean away from Soho, at least until he knew what his next move would be. He at first planned to ditch the girl and move on, but couldn't bring himself to be that heartless. He also couldn't deny that he liked her. When he was with her, everything seemed better and he could sleep again. Despite things being better, always at the back of his mind was Ruth. Where was she and why hadn't she been in contact with anyone. He knew that he needed to come clean with the girl and tell her everything, but he couldn't risk doing that, in case she ran to the law.
Leaving Jean to makes things homely back at the flat, Royle made a quick phone call and then took a bus to Primrose Hill, where a car picked him up within the hour. The car had pulled up sharply and the rear door opened. Without a second thought, Harry had got in the back and laid down flat, as Devon threw a blanket over him. He hadn't noticed who was driving and was surprised when he heard Jenny Crosby speak.
"Good to have you back Harry, welcome home. Sit tight and we'll get you to my place, where we can talk."
Harry had thanked them both and realising the danger his friends were both in, decided to finish the rest of the journey in silence.
When the car stopped, Jones gave Royle a hat and an overcoat, the style of the ones worn by Johnny's minders. They exited the vehicle in silence and quickly made their way up to Jenny's flat. The Reunion was loud and friendly, as Harry answered the barrage of questions put to him by the others. Drinks and cigarettes were plentiful, but all Royle really wanted was something none of them could give him, news of Ruth. The only thing they could tell him was that she had gone out the night before his court appearance, which he already knew and that she had never come back. Johnny had had his people searching and none had brought back so much as a murmur, as to what had happened to her.
Johnny mentioned that on the day she vanished, a woman about her age had been fished out of the river, but that she'd been identified as a girl named Sally Hardacre. Mangusco had gone on to say that the poor tart had been stabbed with her own knife, as she had an empty sheath on her thigh when they found her body. Not only had this remark struck Royle, but he noticed that Jenny had almost dropped her glass. She had recovered quickly and the others hadn't noticed, but she had remained a little distant for some time.
Before too long they had asked where he was staying and the question had hit him hard. Jean came into his thoughts and he lied, without a second thought.
"Over Primrose Hill way. I'm alright I found a little dive, but it'll do me for now, don't want to be seen over this way too much and I don't want any of you being seen with me, it's dangerous for you and I'm just too hot at the moment."
They had argued for a time but understood and knew he was right, no sense in anyone taking unnecessary risks. He had hated the lie and hated the fact that now he was not only stringing Jean along but also his friends. Johnny had waited for a quiet moment and had shoved a package into Harry's overcoat pocket. He had also told Royle to keep the coat and hat, as they were new and in his size. It felt good to be home again and everything would have been perfect, had two women not been constantly on his mind. Ruth, he could do nothing about for now, but Jean, well that was another matter.
They parted in the early evening and Harry had insisted on getting a taxi. He had promised to come to the club the following week. Devon had been very insistent about him going and there appeared to be a shared joke, something which Royle couldn't understand. He decided that time would tell. He had the cab drop him off a good ten minutes walk away and made his way back to his new home. Jean was waiting and flew at him, in a way which reminded him of Ruth, just for a second, and then it was gone. No, he knew it was unkind to compare the two women. He was with Jean and she had thrown up her entire life and followed him and she deserved his full attention and a lot more besides.
Jean Griffiths had spent the hours she had been alone in the dingy little flat, cleaning it from top to bottom. She had even struggled with the ancient stove and managed a stew. They spent a quiet evening and Harry began to relax. She
was an easy companion and chattered happily about anything and everything. Not once during the evening had she complained about the state of the flat or the lack of money and not once had she asked him why he'd gone out and left her to do everything while he had obviously been off drinking. It was an hour after they'd gone to bed when feeling sleepy and in need of a last cigarette, Harry stepped into the main room and looking in his coat pockets for a new packet, came across the bundle Johnny had put there earlier in the evening.
Royle smiled to himself, as he thought ‘Good old Johnny'. Opening up the thick packet, he found two hundred pounds, a book of ration coupons and a revolver with a box of ammunition. Putting the money on the coffee table, he loaded the handgun, almost without thinking. A noise made him look up. Jean stood there.
"Harry, are you coming back to bed?"
Her eyes were on the pistol and her words had slowed down, as she'd finished her question. He flashed her a grim smile and placed the gun on the table top. She backed away slightly and he moved carefully over to her and taking her in his arms, held her gently. He felt her shiver and kissed her, after a moment's hesitation she returned his kiss and he took her back to bed. At the back of his mind, he knew that come the morning, explanations would be needed, but for the moment, they had each other and that would be enough.
Jean had surprised him and not mentioned the gun at all and because of this, it weighed on his mind even heavier. He was up and dressed first and wanted to get out of the flat, but he knew that that was being cowardly. He knew he had to face the woman and try to explain himself to her or fail in the attempt. Instead of running, he made her a cup of tea and took it to her. The way she sat up, as he perched on the edge of the mattress, told him that far from being asleep, she'd been awake for quite some time. She looked up and Royle was surprised to see her smile. Looking at her reminded him of something she had said the night before.
"Last night you called me Harry."
She nodded and sipped her tea.
"I can read, we're not that backward in the Valleys you know."
Picking up a folded newspaper from the nightstand, she tossed it to him.
"Page two, near the bottom. Terrible picture of you, by the way."
Royle swallowed hard and looked down at the article, which detailed his recent escape from Strangeways and his earlier history. Looking up again, he saw that her features were set in a grim expression. His mind raced and no words would come. He was glad when she spoke again.
"Why couldn't you be truthful? I mean was any of it real?"
Royle touched her and she pulled away from him.
"No, you don't stop me with kisses and fancy words. You have hurt me. I know I should be scared, but I'm not. I'm disappointed and upset. I trusted you and you lied to me."
He looked up at her shamefaced and released a long held breath slowly, before speaking.
"I'm sorry. You're right, I should have told you the truth, but I couldn't."
"No, because I was your easy way back here, wasn't I?"
He nodded, as she continued.
"This is just bloody fantastic, me I've burnt my bridges, haven't I? I've nothing to go back for and you won't want me now."
He looked up at her.
"That's it, Jean, I do. Look I know I've not been straight with you and I'm so sorry, I was in an impossible position. Things are different now, I'm different, would you consider starting over?"
"Officer, I knew you were too rough and ready to be an officer. Still that was my fault, I was too quick to dive in with both feet. I was too eager, I wanted London and the bright lights and now all I've got is you."
Harry shook his head slowly.
"There was a woman."
"Isn't there always?"
"No we were together and something happened to her, she disappeared, while I was away. It could be serious, I don't know if she's alive or dead and I need to find her."
"And when you do, what about me?"
He smiled and stroked her arm gently.
"I'm with you now and that's settled, no I just need to find out what happened to her. I have to know if she's alive or dead. After that, I'll be able to settle down with a clean slate. You see we lived together, but it was never really love's young dream. We looked out for each other."
She smiled a little smile.
"Sounds like you were friends."
He nodded looking at her hopefully.
They continued to talk throughout the day and once he started to tell her about his life and his friends, he found he didn't want to stop. He had kept so much in, for so long and it felt like such a relief to get everything out in the open. Jean Griffiths was no shy schoolgirl. She was willing to be a part of his life, with all that entailed. He had been shocked later that morning when he'd seen her pick up the gun and look it over carefully. He had rushed over, only to be stopped with a wave of her hand. She had told him that her parents had been farming folk, before her dad had fallen ill and she had no fear of weapons and had herself, fired both a shotgun and a small calibre rifle, in younger days. Harry had been unsure of how to react to this and had made a joke of it. She was very different to Ruth that he was sure of.
He took her out on the town and bought them both new clothes, something she was very grateful for. He had mentioned getting a better place to live, but she had told him that it was better keeping a low profile if his friends were so publicly known. He had reluctantly agreed.
A few days later he had met up with Jenny in a teashop. He explained about Jean and was more than a little surprised at her reaction. Knowing that she was Ruth's best friend, he had expected angry words and had been shocked that Jenny was pleased for him, saying that time had passed and she had never really thought he and Ruth were that well suited. She asked questions and insisted that he bring Jean to the club with him when he came. Johnny had sent word that he was to take things easy and that they would find a way of easing him back in, but that it would take time. He had given Jenny the address of the flat as they parted, and she had smiled and tucked it away.
After leaving Jenny, he made his way to the East End and drank a strong ale in a little pub called the Gold Lion. Royle sat in a corner beside the toilet doorway and facing the main entrance. Harry liked to be in control of events and not be controlled by them. One of his rules was to never sit in a room with his back to the door. And another was, to always have an exit as close as possible. The man Harry had arranged to meet was late and Royle didn't like it. Meeting strangers was bad at the best of times, but for Harry it was a very stupid and dangerous thing to do. He didn't want to let Jean down, but this was different because this was keeping a promise to pay a debt, a debt which was long overdue.
An ale and a half later and the man appeared. Harry had just lit up a Woodbine and was putting down the matchbox when a shifty looking man in a dirty raincoat pushed open the street door and walked in. Neither man knew the other, yet both recognised something out of place in the other. Their eyes met and Royle nodded his head in a gesture designed to tell the other man to sit down in the vacant chair opposite. The stranger shuffled into a sitting position and mumbled something. Harry looked straight at him.
"I didn't catch that friend?" The man looked up from the beer stained tabletop.
"I didn't say owt."
He returned his gaze to the dirty wooden surface. Harry shook his head and having taken a short drag at his cigarette, addressed the man more directly.
"I thought we had an understanding. Peter the ponce said you had information".
"I might have and then again I might not have."
Without warning, Royle grabbed the man by his thick dirty scarf and dragged him forward with such a force that his face smacked hard into the table, sending the beer glass and the full ashtray crashing to the floor. The man groaned and the pub fell silent and all eyes turned towards them. A woman's voice from behind the bar rang out sharply.
"That's enough Mr, you want to fight, do it outside; otherwise that'
s two drinks you'll be wanting, is that right love?"
Harry smiled to himself.
"And one for yourself."
"Ta dear, don't mind if I do."
The woman walked across and handed a dustpan and brush to the now bleeding scruffy man in the dirty raincoat.
"If you're staying you can clean up after yourself."
The man in front of Royle was groaning and a little blood was pooling beneath his nose; otherwise he looked much the same as before. He looked up at Royle and sniffed, as he picked up the dustpan and brush. Harry headed toward the bar. Paying the middle-aged brunette, he sat back down. The man took the offered beer and took a large mouthful. Harry cleared his throat and spoke again.
"Now where were we?"
"Ruth, was that her name?"
Harry nodded.
"Yes, Ruth Marker, now tell me what you know?"
Hours later found a brooding Harry Royle back at the flat. Harry had Ruth in a little compartment of his mind and that was alright, he could get on with things and know where he stood. Then came that dirty, seedy little man and it had all come flooding back. His mind was all over the place. He had told Jean enough and she had gone out for a walk, to give him breathing space. The idea was for him to think; instead he had sat there brooding. Thanks to the information he had obtained from the seedy man at the pub, at least Harry had something to go on. This didn't ease his mind and just made things worse for him.
He decided to get out and talk to the girls on the street. This had gone on for three long nights. Each night he went in search of answers. It wasn't easy getting anything even close to information from any of them, as they had learned to keep their mouths firmly shut. Too many ponces stood in the shadows, waiting to pass a razor across the cheek of any girl who spoke out of turn or for that matter to anyone taking liberties with their girls unless paid for. Add to this, the fact that very few of the girls spoke more than a little broken English.
Most of the Soho crowd were French girls, brought over with kisses and promises of rich lifestyles in England's glorious capital, only to be beaten and subjected to the choice that was, in fact, no choice. Some tried to run and now and then a girl would turn up face down in the gutter, or in Sally Hardacre's case in the Thames. Harry struck a match, knowing full well that his face would be picked out in the bright glare of the phosphorus flame. Leather shoes creaked in the still night and worn soles shuffled in the alley opposite. A whispered curse drifted just below the cigarette smoke, as Royle pushed his hand into his overcoat pocket and closed his fingers on cold metal.