Nameless

by Jessie Keane

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply towards him. ‘That they’re all the same size lying down,’ he murmured against her mouth, and kissed her.

  Daisy recoiled in surprise. Then she moved back again, finding the contact pleasant . . . really, really nice.

  ‘In here . . .’ he was saying now, tugging her after him through a door. Half-laughing, Daisy fell through the opening with him. He flicked a switch. It was a suite, one of three hundred in the hotel. And it was, clearly, empty.

  ‘How did you know it would be empty?’ she asked him in surprise.

  ‘Stupid. It’s my suite.’

  He was kissing her again. Then he bent and picked her up in his arms. Daisy clung to him, amazed at how strong he was. A builder’s son, she thought, and hot on the heels of that thought came another. That her mother would be appalled if she could see her now. That Pa would be livid. But then, they weren’t here. And she wanted Simon’s kisses, she’d never been kissed before, not properly, like he was kissing her now, this was fun, this was an adventure.

  Having carried her through to the bedroom, he placed her upon the bed as if she was precious, like a porcelain doll. He clicked on the bedside lamp so that the room took on a warm, romantic glow. Then he lay down beside her, his eyes sparkling as he stared into hers.

  ‘See? Now we’re exactly the same height.’

  It was true. Daisy laughed, drink and excitement combining to make her feel reckless, ready for anything.

  ‘Gorgeous, gorgeous Daisy Bray,’ he murmured, trailing kisses over her collarbone. Daisy lay back. This was lovely. It felt so nice, his strong hands upon her. ‘You know, I’ve been wanting this for so long,’ he whispered, his mouth coming back to hers, covering it, invading it.

  ‘I adore you,’ he said, and now his hands were moving inside the tight bodice of her gown and she felt a thrill of sheer eroticism as his fingers grazed against her nipples. ‘Oh, Daisy.’

  Now he was nudging her legs apart, and she felt a tingle of foreboding but also she was so excited, she so wanted to understand things, to not have everything be a mystery to her any more.

  This was what the girls had been whispering about in the dorm late at night. This was the thing that was so unknown, so fascinating. He was fumbling with the front of his trousers, unbuttoning . . . Daisy stared, she wanted to see.

  ‘You ride, don’t you?’ he said, almost panting.

  Daisy was staring, watching his fingers, wanting to know, wanting to see.

  What was he asking that for? Of course she did.

  ‘Yes,’ she said absently. Silly question, surely?

  ‘Then your cherry’s already broken, I expect, and this won’t hurt.’

  And he pulled out his penis. It was very red, and extremely big. She had never seen a naked male penis before. And she had actually expected that Simon’s would be short, like the rest of him; but it was powerful, beautiful, the big vein throbbing up its considerable length. Daisy looked at it and felt not fear but elation. She felt herself almost melt with desire for it.

  ‘It is your first time?’ he was asking, pushing between her legs, moving the flimsy protection of her panties aside.

  She was nodding. Just do it, she thought frantically. She could hear her own breathing coming in feverish little gasps.

  ‘I’ll be careful,’ he said, and placed it so carefully, so very carefully, against her.

  Daisy gave a heave and pushed down, taking it in, her mouth opening in surprise at the size of it. She pushed crazily down, enveloping him, her arms flung above her head in complete abandon.

  ‘Oh, you hot little whore,’ he moaned, half-laughing because he’d been worried about her virginity, about hurting her, when she was so eager, so moist, so completely delicious.

  It was over too quickly, that was all Daisy could think as he thrust and thrust at her. In moments, he was done, slipping away from her. But then he turned her onto her side and touched her smoothly, relentlessly, until pleasure – such startling, unbelievable pleasure – grabbed her whole body and shook it from stem to stern.

  They lay in each other’s arms after that, quietly, and Daisy half-smiled to herself. Now she understood. Now, at last, she knew; she’d finally become a woman. And it was at that precise moment that Aunt Ju flung open the door and hurled herself into the room like a hurricane.

  58

  ‘What we are going to have to do,’ said Vanessa, pacing around the drawing room in the London house, ‘is keep this quiet.’ She stopped and stared hard at her sister-in-law. ‘Cornelius must never know.’

  Daisy sat in the big armchair, feeling as small as a whipped five-year-old. She had never, ever seen her mother so enraged. Vanessa’s anger was whip-like and cold, lashing Daisy’s composure. When her mother turned and looked at her, Daisy felt the full weight of Vanessa’s disapproval and disappointment like a physical blow.

  She shuddered and folded her arms around herself, just praying for this to end. It was two hours since Aunt Ju had burst in on Simon and her. Daisy couldn’t even think about that, what Aunt Ju must have seen before she managed to scramble from the bed, before Simon, blushing scarlet, had staggered to his feet, adjusting his trousers.

  She was still wearing the beautiful yellow Worth dress. But now she felt sullied, embarrassed, not beautiful at all. Aunt Ju was sitting opposite her with a face like thunder, while her mother, in her dressing gown, was marching back and forth in front of her, shooting her daughter looks that curdled Daisy’s soul.

  ‘How could you?’ she kept saying over and over.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Daisy said, time after time.

  ‘Sorry!’ When Daisy said it, it seemed to only infuriate Vanessa all the more. ‘You silly girl! And thank goodness your father isn’t here.’

  Pa was never there. Daisy always missed her father, craved his attention, longed for his big warm presence, but tonight she could see that his absence was a mercy.

  Now Vanessa was shooting black looks at her sister-in-law. ‘And for the love of God, Julianna, what were you thinking, letting her wander off? You were supposed to be looking after her.’

  ‘It isn’t Aunt Ju’s fault,’ said Daisy.

  ‘Shut up, Daisy,’ snapped Vanessa. ‘You’ve done quite enough damage for one night, just keep quiet now.’ She turned to Julianna with a disgusted expression. ‘Had they . . . I mean, had things progressed too far . . . ?’

  Julianna exchanged a look with Daisy. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Oh hell,’ said Vanessa, and slumped down in a chair, burying her face in her hands.

  Daisy sat there looking at the pair of them, judging her. She hated that they were judging her. She knew her mother’s strict moral code; she knew her mother was inclined to be . . . well, not cold exactly, but a touch remote. What she had experienced with Simon had been wonderful, warm, exquisite; and now they were cheapening it, turning it into a sin, something evil, something shameful.

  ‘I should have known something like this would happen,’ said Vanessa, staring at Daisy as if she didn’t even know her. ‘I should have known.’

  ‘Vanessa,’ said Aunt Ju, and there was a warning note in her voice. Daisy heard it, looked at her curiously.

  ‘Bad blood always comes out,’Vanessa went on, still staring at her daughter.

  Bad blood?

  Aunt Ju stood up suddenly. ‘That’s enough, Vanessa,’ she said briskly. ‘She got a bit drunk, that’s all, and did something silly. The poor girl’s suffered enough, and God knows it’s something that happens.’

  Vanessa was staring at her sister-in-law with disgust now.

  ‘Not to me. I would never have shamed my family, disgraced my good name, in such a way.’

  Daisy cringed. ‘I’m sorry . . .’ she murmured hopelessly.

  ‘Look, all I’m saying is that it’s not the end of the world. We’ll deal with it, whatever the outcome.’

  ‘Oh, my God. You think there could be . . . ?’

  ‘Hop
efully not. But we’ll see, won’t we?’

  ‘Oh, Daisy, how could you?’ howled Vanessa, shaking her head. ‘How could you be so stupid?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Vanessa. Enough, now,’ said Julianna.

  ‘If it comes to that, he’ll have to marry her.’

  ‘Now you’re talking rubbish, Vanessa. He’s practically engaged to Breamore’s daughter.’

  Vanessa got wearily to her feet. She stared down at Daisy.

  ‘How could you cheapen yourself like this? I’ve brought you up properly. But it’s true, isn’t it? Bad blood will always out.’

  ‘What do you mean, bad blood?’ Daisy burst out, hurt. ‘I’m your daughter, yours and Pa’s, how can you say a thing like that to me? There’s no “bad blood” in me.’

  Daisy looked from her mother to her aunt in bewilderment. She knew she’d done wrong. Drunk too much and behaved like a fool. But to castigate her like this, talk about her as if she was a slut – she just couldn’t take it.

  ‘No,’ said Aunt Julianna briskly. ‘Of course there isn’t. Now, I think we’re all overtired, and very soon someone is going to say something they really don’t mean.’ She looked pointedly at Vanessa. ‘Let’s just go to bed, forget about it.’

  ‘Forget about it? Are you mad?’ Vanessa was pacing again, her face twisting in agitation. She stopped in front of Daisy, huddled there like a criminal in her armchair. ‘I think it’s best if she stays here in London with you for a while, Julianna. I’ll think of something to tell Cornelius. I’m just . . . I’m just so exasperated I can’t think straight. And you’re right. We’ve all said quite enough.’

  With that, she turned and left the room, slamming the door closed behind her.

  Daisy flinched and shot to her feet. She had never been spoken to like this before. Like she was nothing. A disgrace. A flare of temper rose up in her as she stared at the closed door. Perhaps she had been stupid. But was it the crime of the century? Really?

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Aunt Ju comfortingly, putting an arm round Daisy’s shoulders. ‘She’ll calm down. And hopefully it will all come to nothing.’

  ‘She hates me,’ said Daisy, trembling with anger and hurt.

  ‘It gave her a bit of a shock, that’s all.’ Because she hates sex, thought Julianna. And it’s pretty plain that you don’t. But she didn’t say it out loud. ‘Anyway, it gives us the perfect opportunity to have some fun in the Smoke, just you and me, all girls together. Yes?’

  Daisy shrugged listlessly. All she knew was that her mother was sending her away in disgrace. But then, it wasn’t the first time she had felt the chilly weight of rejection from Vanessa. All through her growing-up, she had tried so hard to please her remote and rather reclusive mother, and she had always come away with the feeling that she had failed her somehow by being lively and hungry for life – that she could never live up to Vanessa’s exacting standards of delicacy and gentility.

  Bad blood. Her mother had hurt her before, but never so much as when she had uttered those two words – like she was a foreigner, an alien. Nothing to do with Vanessa at all.

  ‘All right,’ she sighed. She was being sent into exile, however nicely Aunt Ju tried to dress it up. Boarding school, finishing school, Aunt Ju’s place in London, it was all the same to her. She just had to make the best of it.

  59

  1963

  Kit was enjoying working for Michael Ward; he’d spruced himself up, got two bespoke suits, five shirts, some new shoes from Hobbs and a selection of dark-toned ties. He looked the business now, and Mr Ward was putting work his way on a regular basis. He often went two-handed with Reg, the big white-haired bloke who’d hauled him in from the restaurant. Reg was all right; a sound man, trustworthy.

  So Kit was happy enough and he was beginning to see his old drinking mates for the losers they were as he settled into his job as a breaker. Michael Ward was big news. Like the Richardsons and the Frasers from South London, the Delaneys from Battersea, the Nashes from the Angel, the Krays from Bethnal Green and the Carter mob from Bow, Michael Ward ruled his manor with a rod of iron.

  Michael was ready for anybody and anything. He had an arsenal of weaponry hidden away that staggered Kit the first time he saw it – there were Thompson sub-machine guns, shotguns, hand guns, grenades, swords, knives. He also had close ties to a trading place for guns called Port Road, where dealers traded in war souvenir weaponry – which could easily be converted back into useful life.

  People came to Mr Ward for favours, and he was generous to a fault, helping them out when trouble came their way – on the strict understanding that, should the favour ever need to be returned, then it would be, without question. He paid Kit a hundred pounds one evening and told him to get himself over to an address in Hoxton to do a favour for a man who’d found out his wife was fucking around.

  Kit looked perturbed. ‘I don’t do women, Mr Ward,’ he said.

  Michael Ward looked slightly surprised that someone had just questioned his orders. But he took it well; Kit was only a kid, and a good kid at that; he’d learn. ‘Don’t worry yourself, boy, it’s the bloke who’s down for a caning. Not that you should be worrying too much about her. She’s a right old shagbag, by the sound of it.’

  ‘You don’t want to be so hasty,’ said Reg once they were in the car. ‘Think before you even blink, boy. Mr Ward don’t like having people talk back at him.’

  Reg drove them over there. Kit took the rebuke, because he respected Reg. One thing that Kit had found distinguished Mr Ward’s boys, they all had nice motors and soon, he knew, he would have one too, through one of the car dealers who paid money to the firm.

  For now, he was content. He knocked on the door. When it was opened by a startled-looking chap with crooked teeth, he went straight to work. State of those gnashers, he figured he was doing the geezer a favour anyway, knocking them out.

  ‘You Ted Rowles?’ asked Reg, stepping in behind Kit and closing the door after them.

  The man was on the floor, pleading with Kit not to hit him again. His face was a mass of blood where Kit had right-handed him. It was dripping down the front of his shirt, staining his trousers. He was shaking his head, clutching at his face.

  ‘No! It’s not me.’

  ‘Liar,’ said Kit, reaching down to drag him back to his feet.

  ‘I’m not! I’m not! He’s upstairs,’ he managed to blubber.

  Kit looked up. There was movement at the top of the stairs, a door slammed. ‘Shit,’ said Kit, and shot straight up there.

  ‘See? Hasty. I told you. You never get nowhere if you’re hasty,’ said Reg, following him up at a more leisurely pace.

  60

  Tito was a major face in the East End now. He’d easily shouldered the Maltese out of the way and taken over their manor. He was feared and revered in equal measures, and he had connections as impressive as the biggest and best of the firms that ran the city. He had contacts in the police, and in Parliament. He had Lord Bray in his pocket. He was sorted.

  There was a private party going on in the palatial flat over Tito’s club. Tito’s regular girl Gilda was there, a striking golden-blonde with ocean-green eyes and a taste for gold jewellery, which Tito kept her well supplied in. Gilda jangled when she moved, she was so laden down with gold. She wasn’t wearing much else, at this precise moment. Neither was her pretty brunette friend, who was stroking Cornelius’s hair.

  The spectre of those photos haunted Cornelius. Because of that old bastard Astorre, he had to be nice to Tito, and Tito had asked him here, tonight, because he needed a favour.

  ‘I have an acquaintance who’s in a little trouble with the police . . .’ said Tito, and went on to tell him about the son of a business associate, who had disgraced himself by snorting cocaine and then going on a ridiculous rampage, which he had topped off by urinating in the doorway of a church and then – allegedly – raping a fourteen-year-old girl.

  ‘It’s a bad business,’ said Tito. ‘If only there was so
mething that could be done to rescue the boy from his own folly . . .’

  Cornelius sipped his whisky; it tasted sour all of a sudden. ‘I’ll see to it,’ he said.

  ‘You will?’ Tito’s ice-blue eyes widened in fake surprise.

  ‘I will, of course. As a favour to a friend.’ You blackmailing wop bastard.

  Tito relaxed and smiled.

  ‘You are so good to me,’ he said, indicating the doorway. ‘And in return, look, I will be good to you.’

  Suddenly there was a young man of about eighteen standing there; a very beautiful young man, with long straight black hair falling to his waist, a tanned and chiselled face and soft girlish blue eyes. He saw Tito sitting there and smiled, lifting a hand in greeting. Then his eyes drifted over and rested with interest on big, blond Cornelius.

  ‘Isn’t he perfect?’ asked Tito, beckoning the boy over. ‘Wouldn’t you like to . . . ?’ and Tito laughed, not bothering to complete the sentence.

  The young man approached Cornelius and Tito where they sat, surrounded by half-nude girls, and Gilda. He looked at the girls with disdain, then turned his attention to Tito.

  ‘Sebastian, this is Lord Bray,’ Tito told him.

  The boy nodded coolly to Cornelius, checking him over.

  ‘Cornelius, meet Sebastian. He’s yours for the night, if you want him.’

  Cornelius knew he really shouldn’t. He should be strong, resist temptation. But . . . Sebastian was the most fabulously beautiful creature he had ever seen.

  After that first night, Cornelius met up with Sebastian as often as he could. In between the pressures of work, the dissatisfaction with his home life and the increasing nerviness of Vanessa, who was forever moaning on and on about Daisy (‘She’s impossible, she never does what I tell her, she’s out of control’) Sebastian was a sweet release.

  Vanessa had wanted a child. He had got her a child. His child, too. Not the boy he had desired, of course, but it was far too late now to regret that. In between all that, the soothing balm of Sebastian was something he sought out more and more.