Dream On

by Gilda O'Neill

  Anyway, rather than risk another beating, Ted kept well away from that pair of nutters, dividing his time between ducking and diving in any pub where he thought he could pull a scam and with Shirley in her pigsty of a room in Soho.

  That particular evening, Ted had just left the Three Greyhounds in Greek Street, after selling a slow-talking yokel type – up in London on business for the day – a camera he had earlier ‘found’ in the nearby Coach and Horses. He was now letting himself into Shirley’s room, more than pleased to be fifty bob richer for absolutely no effort whatsoever. But his smile soon faded when he saw Shirley lounging on the bed flicking listlessly through a magazine.

  ‘Why ain’t you out working?’

  ‘I’m tired,’ she answered, flipping over the page.

  ‘Pissed again, you mean.’

  ‘And where would I get the money to spend on booze? You steal every single penny I earn.’ She tossed the magazine aside and leapt to her feet. ‘We don’t all run—’ She shut her mouth as though it were a spring-loaded trap. Christ! She’d nearly let the cat out of the bag about Ginny’s.

  ‘We don’t all run what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Ted swung back his fist and smashed it into her stomach. ‘That’ll teach you to be lippy.’

  Doubled over with pain and gasping to catch her breath, something in Shirley snapped. Sod it, why not? She’d tell the rotten bastard. And maybe it’d get him off her back.

  ‘You think you’re so clever, hitting and punching, and doing poxy little deals, but you haven’t got a clue.’ Still winded, she grasped hold of the bed head to steady herself. ‘You don’t even know about your own wife.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s earning a fortune, that’s what. You’re sleeping in this rat hole and she’s running a club.’

  ‘She’s what?’

  ‘You heard.’

  Ted eyed her suspiciously, he trusted no one, but especially not toms. She was talking shit as usual. Fantasising. Like they all did. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

  Shirley shook her head and laughed wildly. ‘If you can believe it, just for a while – a very short while, mind – I actually didn’t want you leaving me to go back to her. Then, when I couldn’t give a damn who you were with, it was too late. If you’d have found out I’d known, but hadn’t told you, you’d have gone raving mad.’

  He was right, she was making it up. She was rambling like a lunatic. ‘Where is it then, this club?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Shirley lied. ‘You’ll have to ask around.’

  ‘So how come you know about it?’

  ‘I bumped into one of the girls. From the club. She told me,’ she improvised, then added hurriedly, ‘but I didn’t bother with the address. I mean, I’m hardly going to go round and visit her, now am I?’

  Ted was torn. Should he waste precious time beating Shirley until her teeth rattled, or should he set off straight away to find his wife instead? He could certainly do with a few quid, and if Ginny was running a club she must be worth a fortune. And he’d be entitled to his share. He was her husband, after all.

  But then again, Shirley was really getting on his nerves . . .

  Simon pulled the car into the kerb outside the club. ‘Before you get out, Ginny, there’s something—’

  ‘Look, Simon, I thought I made myself clear, I need time to think. I don’t wanna talk, all right?’ Talk? She couldn’t even look at him, she was so angry with herself at what she’d let him do. Maybe it was revenge, a way of getting back at Billy Saunders for leaving her. But whatever the reason, she’d let it happen and wished with all her heart that she hadn’t, because, much as it hurt, she was still in love with Billy.

  ‘Please, Ginny—’

  ‘I’ll talk to you later.’ She grabbed hold of the door handle, but Simon stopped her getting out.

  ‘I’ve gotta open the club.’

  ‘Ginny, please, I know I don’t know the form about these things, but I’d like to give you a little present.’

  ‘Don’t, Simon. Please.’

  ‘I want to.’

  With his free hand, he reached inside his sports jacket and took out his wallet. ‘What’s the rate?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘When Welsh Davey told me about you and the girls, he never mentioned how much—’

  ‘He what!’ Ginny stared at him. ‘Everybody knows what a bloody liar that bastard is.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I never had you down as an idiot, Simon.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t—’

  ‘Leave it, Simon. Do us both a favour.’

  ‘But I swear—’

  ‘I mean it, Simon. Please. Just leave it.’

  ‘Does this mean you won’t see me again?’

  ‘Just go.’

  She grabbed hold of the car doorhandle, but again he stopped her. ‘No, I won’t. Not like this. I’ve been clumsy and stupid, and I’ve insulted you. Promise me you’ll see me again, Ginny. Please.’

  ‘Simon—’

  ‘But I’ve got to see you. And it isn’t just about what happened back there. I told you, Ginny. I think you’re the most wonderful . . .’ He looked away as his eyes filled with tears. ‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Give me another chance.’

  A shudder racked through Ginny’s body. She had to get away. ‘Call me in a few days.’

  As Ginny climbed up the steps of the club, she too began to cry. Was this what it had finally come to? Was it true what they said? No matter how you told yourself you’d got out of it, it was still obvious to everyone what you really were. Once a brass, always a brass.

  She shoved open the door and let the hamper fall from her hand on to the tiled floor.

  If whoring was all she was fit for she might as well do it right this time. Not like she did in Frith Street. She’d put a proper price on herself. Simon seemed a decent enough bloke and it looked like he had a few quid. Maybe when Billy got rid of the clubs, Simon could be her solution. He could give her a decent life; the kind of life she’d dreamed of . . .

  What was the point in kidding herself? Dreams always came to nothing. Just like every other even half-way reasonable thing that ever happened to her, Simon would be snatched away, and she’d be left alone and lonely.

  But then again, what did she have to lose? Certainly not her self-respect; that had been lost long ago – on the day she had been stupid enough to get involved with Ted Martin.

  Chapter 19

  TED WAS SITTING in the prefab, staring unseeingly into the middle distance, drumming his fingers tunelessly against the side of his chair. He’d kill her when she came in. He’d fucking kill her.

  At the sound of a key in the front door he leapt to his feet. As Dilys stepped inside he grabbed her by the arm. She tried to shake free of him, but he held her fast.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you for three days.’ Ted spat the words at her through his teeth, his lips hardly moving. ‘Where the fuck have you been?’

  ‘Not that it’s anything to do with you, but I’ve been out.’

  ‘Out?’ he asked incredulously. ‘But it’s Saturday. You ain’t been here since Wednesday. How can you be out for three days?’

  Dilys raised a cynical eyebrow. ‘I’d have thought that was a question you of all people could answer.’

  ‘That kid in there,’ he went on, his face right up close to hers, ‘she could’ve been dead. And d’you know something else? Her bed was that disgusting I had to go and get her new sheets. New sheets.’

  Dilys laughed scornfully. ‘Why’re you so worried about her all of a sudden? What, turned into some sort of wonderful father, have you? Funny though, you waiting till she’s seven and a half years old before you come over all concerned.’

  ‘You bitch.’

  ‘Look, let’s forget all the old fanny, Ted. What’re you after?’

  Ted wanted to hit her, to knock the smug look right off her face, but he had to play it clever, there
was something he wanted even more – information. He let her go. ‘I wanna know where Ginny is.’

  Dilys laughed again. ‘So, you’ve heard at last, have you? I wondered how long it’d take.’

  Her mocking tone was too much for Ted; he raised his hand ready to knock the laughter out of her. But instead of cringing in fear as she usually did, Dilys turned her back on him and walked casually to the door.

  She stopped, looked over her shoulder at him and said very calmly, ‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Ted.’ Then she yelled in a terrified voice, ‘Chuck! Quick! Help me!’

  Almost before Ted had a chance to realise what was going on, he had been pushed backwards into the sitting-room and was pinned up against the wall, with a hand gripped so tightly round his throat that he could barely breathe.

  ‘Has he upset you, honey?’ asked his captor in a deceptively gentle American accent, as he stared menacingly into Ted’s face.

  ‘No, Chuck. You’re all right. A coward like him could never hurt me. He just frightened me, that’s all.’

  Dilys stepped forward and looked Ted directly in the eye. ‘Let me introduce you to my fiancé, Mr Chuck O’Grady. Handsome, ain’t he? And don’t you just love his uniform? He’s in the American Air Force, ain’t you, Chuck? And d’you know what, Ted, he’s got mates what’re even bigger’n him.’ She giggled girlishly and squeezed Chuck’s massive arm. ‘Can you believe it?’

  ‘What shall I do with him, sweetpea?’

  Ted’s eyes bulged.

  ‘I reckon you should let him go, then we can get going and all. I did intend sorting out a few things first, but seeing as Ted’s here now, I think we can leave it to him.’

  Slowly Chuck released his grip and Ted started coughing and spluttering, and clasping at his throat.

  Dilys ignored the display; she just turned on her heel, took Chuck’s arm and walked with him out to the front door.

  Ted wasn’t going to let her get away with it. He levered himself away from the wall and, finding the breath from somewhere, bellowed after them, ‘She’s got a kid in here, you know.’

  Dilys patted Chuck’s arm. ‘Ignore him, love, he’s barmy. Believe it or not, he’s my best friend’s husband. It’s his little girl I told you about, the one I was minding, remember?’

  Chuck nodded. ‘Poor kid. Do they still neglect her?’

  ‘Yeah. And just ’cos I have her sometimes, to give her a treat like, he thinks he can hang about the place an’ all. Bloody cheek, innit?’ Dilys paused on the doorstep and looked back into the prefab. ‘Don’t expect me back, Ted,’ she shouted.

  Ted was out to the door in a flash. ‘But how about Ginny? How about Susan?’

  Dilys smiled sweetly at her fiancé and kissed him on the end of his nose. ‘You go over to the cab and wait for me, Chuck. I’ll be one minute.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine; go on.’

  She waited for Chuck to get inside the taxi, gave him a reassuring wave, then spun round to face Ted. ‘As for Ginny, you can go and ask any one of them old toms she knocks around with. I’m sure they’ll be only too pleased to help you out if you bung ’em a few bob. And as for Susan, I was gonna take her round your mum’s and leave her there, that’s why I come back here. I reckoned I ought to do something with her. But she’s your bloody kid an’ all. So if you’re so worried, you sort her out.’

  She turned away, stuck her chin in the air and began walking over to the taxi, but she hesitated. ‘By the way, Ted,’ she said, peering haughtily over her shoulder at him, ‘I’ve told the council I don’t need the prefab no more, ’cos I’m going to live with Chuck. We’re getting married, see. This afternoon, as a matter of fact. Romantic, ain’t it? So don’t think you can kip here, will you?’

  She took a single step, then stopped again. ‘Aw, and another thing, that money you had hidden in the back of the maid-saver, don’t bother looking for it. I’ve got it, ’cos I reckon you owe me, Ted Martin.’

  ‘I know, Mum, I know.’ Ted ran his fingers distractedly through his Brylcreemed hair. ‘But I only need you to let us sleep here for a few days, just till I get something proper sorted out.’

  Susan didn’t know why her dad was bothering. She had taken one look at Nellie, who was standing in the kitchen of number 18 Bailey Street with her arms folded belligerently across her aproned chest as though she were guarding the place from invaders, and had known she wasn’t wanted here, just as she didn’t seem to be wanted anywhere. And she was tired and hungry. But then she was nearly always tired and hungry.

  ‘Why can’t she stay over the road with her uncles and them two stuck-up tarts?’

  “Cos Dilys has rowed with them and they don’t wanna know,’ he improvised, covering up the fact he wouldn’t dare go anywhere near the Chivers brothers – well, not without a sawn-off shotgun in one hand and a pickaxe handle in the other, he wouldn’t. ‘Mum, please. Do us this one favour. Like I say, this bit of business tonight, I won’t be no time at all.’

  ‘Leave off, Ted,’ snorted Nellie. ‘As if I can trust you to go out on a Saturday night and only be gone a few hours. I’ve heard all that old toffee before, remember. No time at all you say, then you disappear for days on end.’

  ‘Mum, believe me. I promise on my baby’s life I’ll be back here before you know it. And I’ll see you all right for your trouble. You know that.’

  Softening slightly at the idea of being paid, Nellie jerked her head sideways at the stove. ‘Well, I ain’t doing no cooking or nothing. If you want grub you can go and get some pie and mash if they’re still open, or some fish and taters.’

  ‘You’re a diamond, Mum, thanks.’ Ted pulled out one of his mother’s kitchen chairs and pushed Susan down on to it. ‘You sit there and I’ll go and get something for us all to eat.’

  Nellie glared spitefully at Susan as they both listened to Ted running down the passage. ‘And you can bring me in a quart of light ale from the Albert while you’re at it,’ she hollered after him.

  Ted was in so much of a rush to get out again that he didn’t even stop to wash his hands and face after he had eaten, and he still had grease from the cod and chips around his mouth when he stormed into Shirley’s room.

  ‘Look, Shirley, I’ve had enough old shit today to last me a lifetime, so just save all the crap for the punters. This is me you’re talking to, not some ham bone up from the country. I need to know where that club is. Now are you gonna tell me, or—’

  ‘Or what?’ Shirley blew a slow stream of smoke into the air above her head, propped her cigarette on the mantelpiece and carried on ironing her dress on the makeshift board she had propped across her sink.

  ‘Don’t try and be clever with me, Shirley, I’m warning you. I ain’t very happy at the minute, so you just tell me where I can find Ginny—’

  ‘I’ll tell you something, Ted,’ she butted in again, ‘that Maltese bloke’s been round here looking for you.’

  ‘How d’you mean, looking for me?’

  ‘That so-called fixed fight you told him to put that big stake on – remember?’ She flipped the dress over so that she could iron the back. ‘It turned out it wasn’t fixed at all. It went against you, Ted. And let’s just say your Maltese friend isn’t very happy. He wants money off you, he said. A lot of money. And he wants it soon.’ She picked up her cigarette and took another puff.

  ‘Did you tell him where he could find me?’

  ‘As if I’d do that.’

  Ted spun her round and jabbed his finger into her face. ‘You’d better not have, Shirley, but you better had tell me where that club is.’ He smacked the cigarette out of her hand. ‘Now!’

  ‘Why should I do anything to help you?’

  ‘Because if you don’t, I’m gonna rip that wrinkled old head o’ your’n right off your fucking shoulders.’

  Shirley tried backing away from him, but there wasn’t anywhere to escape to in the cramped, sordid little room. ‘All right, Ted, I was on
ly joking. You know me, always having a laugh. The club’s in Shoreditch. In fact, I’ve got one of her cards right here in my purse.’

  Ginny took a deep breath, then made her way downstairs to the main bar. It was only four days since Simon had taken her to the country. Only four days since they’d . . . Well, since they’d done it. And she had been stupid enough to call him and invite him to her big, jolly, full-of-fun end-of-rationing party. And here she was, going down to meet him, or rather to face him. She must be mad. But it had seemed like a good idea. After all, Simon was going to be her saviour when Billy sold the clubs.

  She sighed loudly to herself. She could only give it a try. Maybe he’d turn out to be different from the others.

  Maybe.

  It was barely half past nine and the club was already full, with most of the customers crowded into the second-floor bar, craning their necks to get a view of the big attraction on the stage.

  Ginny had had a real brazier set up, right in the centre and, as had been stated on the invitations, all the guests were being encouraged to burn their now useless ration books in a celebration of the good times to come. And the biggest joke of the evening – one that had everyone laughing every time they heard it – was that no one in the club had ever had to worry abut rationing anyway. But what the hell, any excuse for a party!

  Someone touched Ginny on the arm and she turned round, flashing her full professional smile.

  It was Simon. ‘Hello, Ginny,’ he said warily. ‘I’m really glad you asked me to come along tonight.’

  Ginny nodded. ‘It’ll make a good story, won’t it? I hope you’ve brought a photographer.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant I’m glad we’re talking.’

  Ginny kept up the smile. ‘So am I.’

  ‘And are we talking?’ asked a woman’s voice.

  Ginny turned round again. This time she was met with the unmistakable sight of Leila, clad in her trade mark emerald green. She had her head on one side and was holding out her arms in a gesture of reconciliation.