by Millie Gray
*
When at last Stella arrived home in Edinburgh, she went straight to the flat in Goldenacre. She truly believed all she had to do was settle in there until the lease of Castle View was up and she could take over the house again. The house and the flat in Goldenacre were the main assets that her mother and herself now had. Loose change was something neither of them had much of.
Of course, she would need to think of a story to tell her boys. They would have to know why she and their dad had parted company. She didn’t wish to burden them with the truth, but what if they heard it from someone else? Having been with the in-crowd in Malaysia, she knew how a dig in the dirt was what some people revelled in. Nothing the mob liked better than kicking a dog when it was down.
Telling the boys the truth, she thought, would be her first priority, but when her mother opened the door her heart sank.
‘Mum,’ she gasped, as she allowed her suitcase to drop from her hand. ‘What’s wrong? Where is your old bright and breezy self?’
Moira Wise just shrugged before motioning to her daughter to follow her into the lounge. She then sat down on the couch and, as she bent over, she wrung her hands. ‘Stella, my dear, just when you need me to be strong for you, I require you to be a stalwart for me.’
Stella was now sitting down beside her mother. Instinctively, she put one arm around her mother’s shoulders and, with her free hand, she lifted her mother’s head up. ‘I will be as strong as you need me to be. Now, don’t spare me. Tell me the truth. Exactly what is the problem?’
Biting on her lip, Moira nodded. ‘Pancreatic cancer,’ she whispered.
Stella was shocked. She knew it was a death sentence. ‘How long?’ she managed to ask, not really wishing to know.
‘At the most three months. I know you won’t believe me but I was going to ask you to come home and be with me until . . .’
‘I’m here now. And everything else will be put on hold until . . .’
*
Tenderly Stella cared for her mother. There was lots of reminiscing and laughing. Mother and daughter made every precious moment count. The only thing they did not count was the days. These days were days of wine and roses. Both accepted that like all wine and roses days there would not be many, but nevertheless they were precious. They were days where the word goodbye would not be mentioned, but in reality they were days of goodbye and thank you. Treasured days that Stella would need to see her through.
Two weeks after her mother’s funeral Stella decided to call on the gentleman who was renting Castle View. The term of agreement was up three months ago, however the rental continued to be paid. Because of her mother’s illness the arrangement seemed to suit both the renter and Stella. That was then, but now Stella wished to take possession of her family home and put it on the market.
After ringing the doorbell Stella stood back before turning around to look at the gardens that her mother and father had once taken such pride in. Well, she thought, that is something that will have to change before the sale of the house. Why oh why, she thought, has the agent, who was supposed to see that the property was well maintained, allowed my parents’ garden to become so overgrown and sad?
She heard a voice behind her. ‘Do you have an appointment? If you don’t, could I say that Mr Nowak doesn’t take on lassies that knock on the door.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look, hen, he’s got enough hookers. So you will just have to peddle your wares elsewhere.’
The woman, obviously a cleaner, was about to shut the door when Stella jumped over the threshold.
‘Look, whatever your name is, I am no hooker. I am Stella Wise, and I own this establishment, so you go and get Mr Nowak immediately.’
‘Are you for real?’
‘I certainly am. And while I am at it, don’t turn up for work here tomorrow because I will have taken my house back into my possession and you and Mr Nowak will both be looking for jobs.’
Five minutes elapsed before Mr Nowak presented himself.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I have a contract from my cousin which states that I can keep the rental of this house for another six months.’
‘That right. Well, I have a will from my mother that states I, and nobody else, owns this house and your cousin’s lease has expired. So, sir, you either vacate the property now, or I summon the police. And while I am at it, who gave you permission to use this house as a brothel?’
‘Look, lady, there are twelve letting bedrooms – what else would you do with such a property?’
‘That, sir, is a decision for me. Now, you have the telephone number of the agents?’
He nodded.
‘Good. Now, could I suggest that you ring them and ask that they clarify the situation to you? And when you have done that, please depart from my premises.’
Mr Nowak laughed. ‘I sure will get clarification for you. Until I speak to the agents, take a seat and then I will throw you out.’
But Mr Nowak wasn’t laughing as he slowly replaced the telephone receiver. ‘It would appear that you have the law on your side. Tell you what I propose – how about you and I have a refreshment and a business chat?’
‘No! I have nothing further I wish to say to you other than please vacate my home and right now at that.’
‘Don’t be so hasty, madam. This wee business here is a gold mine. I could cut you in for a slice of the profit.’
Stella snorted. Rage engulfed her. Why on earth would she wish to have anything to do with this vile, unprincipled man? Truth was, she didn’t wish to spend another minute in his company.
‘Sir,’ she hissed, ‘I will not be leaving here today, but you will pack up your belongings and go. If you do not, I will contact the Vice Squad. I will, I assure you, advise them what has been going on and have them not only remove you from my house but also charge you with living off immoral earnings.’
‘Vice Squad?’ His uproarious cackle echoed around the room. ‘Well, you do just that. And be sure to ask for Sergeant Price because he is the one that sorts that side of things out for me!’
Stella was back-footed. Was this man saying that the police knew what was going on here and that for a pay-off they turned a blind eye? She drew in a few long breaths. Keep calm, she told herself. This is your property and he has to go.
‘That may be so,’ she managed, with conviction, ‘but you are on my property and I have rights, so please leave or I will summon the police.’
As it turned out, Mr Nowak was no match for Stella. An hour later, after a few frantic phone calls, the gentleman was packing his bags.
*
To Stella’s dismay, throwing Mr Nowak out turned out to be the easiest thing she had to do that day. To her annoyance, she spent the evening explaining to the gawdy ladies who turned up on the doorstep that their services were no longer required. With the exception of none, this information led to the girls spitting out a barrage of abuse at Stella. Three were so incensed that Stella thought she was in danger of being physically assaulted.
If the annoyance of the women was difficult for her to deal with, it was nothing to the pure malice from a few of the gentlemen callers.
The news that Castle View had reverted to a dwelling house got around fast. By the third day Stella was no longer dealing with irate or disappointed girls or their punters.
By late afternoon that day she was feeling pleased that she had got things sorted out. This feeling of elation, however, was dealt a chilling blast when her eldest son, Jamie, breezed in and announced that he had been accepted to continue his arts degree in one of the east coast of America’s universities.
‘Why?’ she asked.
He huffed and snorted. ‘Because, Mum, the stink of Dad is holding me back.’
‘Jamie, don’t be silly. It is true that your father made a few silly mistakes, but he is hardly Dick Turpin. Besides, what he did in Malaysia cannot affect you and Lewis here in Scotland.’
‘It does. And how.’
‘It can’t,’ replied Stella, who did not wish to concede that her sons’ futures would be affected by what their father had done.
‘For the young people I am studying with, it makes no difference. But their parents tell them that I am not to be invited into their homes. Weekend house parties and celebrations are not for us.’
Stella knew that Jamie must have thought long and hard about going to America. To be truthful, it was probably for the best. She also accepted that Lewis would follow him. So, thanks to Rob, she not only lost her way of life but she was also to be punished with the loss of her sons. America would be the place where they would make their home. But even so, they would need financial support. Rob was just two steps out of prison and she had never worked, so what could she be employed at now to provide for her boys? Money, money, money: that was what she urgently required. But where was she going to find that kind of money? She could do some training and then get a job, but Jamie was leaving this month. In the end, she had no choice. Only the sale of a property would release the necessary cash.
Jamie, having got his mum to agree to more than he thought possible, rose to leave. ‘Mum,’ he said as he pulled her into an embrace, ‘I knew that somehow you would come up trumps. That you, being you, the best mum in the world, would find a way to finance Lewis and me going to America.’
Stella breathed in deeply. She couldn’t quite believe she had agreed to sell one of her homes to finance her sons’ initial years in America. She raised her head and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Off you go now. And Jamie, I will take care of you and Lewis and provide all you require. I am so sorry that you two boys are paying such a high price for your dad’s mistakes.’
The door had just closed on Jamie when Stella sank down on an old comfortable armchair. Yes, she thought, I have agreed to sell one of my homes, but this house, where I was raised and was so happy as a child, I do so wish to keep. The flat in Goldenacre Gardens was pleasant enough, but it would not finance one of her boys qualifying, never mind both of them.
Dusk was falling. She should get up and close the drawing-room curtains, but somehow she lacked the enthusiasm to do even that. It was the stringent sound of the doorbell ringing that broke into her apathy. Thinking that perhaps Jamie had forgotten something, she opened the door with a fixed smile on her face. However, when she discovered that the caller was none other than Madge Snodgrass, whose name changed to the slightly more alluring Jasmine when she was working, her smile slipped.
‘Now, I have already informed you that you and your like are no longer welcome here,’ Stella began, clipping each word. ‘And, as a matter of fact, as from today, the house is going on the market.’
‘The house is going up for sale?’
‘It certainly is.’ Madge looked puzzled at Stella’s news. ‘And before you say another word I simply cannot afford to keep it.’
‘Look here, Mrs Wise, let me come in and talk to you.’
Stella felt it was a mistake, but she stood aside and allowed Madge to enter. When they reached the drawing room Stella, being well mannered, indicated to Madge that she should take a seat.
Madge sat down. Her head sank forward. Ever so slowly she raised her head to look directly into Stella’s eyes. ‘Now, please let me finish before you shoot me down in flames,’ she uttered. Stella nodded. ‘We . . . that is . . . the top six of us that were working here . . . have had a meeting. As a result of that I am here as the spokeswoman of our group.’ Madge paused.
Stella bowed her head so that Madge would not see that she was smiling. Her amusement was for the fact that Madge had just confirmed what she already thought. Yes, even among the ladies of her trade, there was a hierarchy – and she was informing her that the women she represented were top in that pecking order.
‘We have an interesting proposal to put to you.’
The words had just left Madge’s mouth when Stella’s head shot up. ‘You wish to what?’
‘Put an interesting and very profitable proposal to you.’
‘Such as?’
‘The business carried out here provided a gold mine for that bloke you rented this house to. So we thought, why don’t we get you to carry on the service we provide and divvy up the profits between us?’
Stella was dumbfounded into silence. Only short gasps escaped her.
‘Mind you,’ Madge continued, ‘as you have no experience in the business, and let’s face it you are a bit long in the teeth to be starting now, we will run the actual business for you . . . naturally for a better slice of the cake.’
‘Is that so? Well, I can advise you I have no intention of allowing you to talk me into continuing your sordid trade here and me becoming your madam! Allow me to repeat . . . this house is going up for sale. So could I suggest that you negotiate your ever-so-tempting offer with the new owner?’
The doorbell sounded again. Stella heard the door open before Jamie called out, ‘Mum, nothing to worry about, it’s only me. Forgot, I did . . .’ He was now in the drawing room and realised that his mother had company. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. Mum, could I speak to you in the hall?’
Stella rose and followed Jamie out of the room. Closing the door behind her, Stella then looked quizzically at her son. ‘Mum,’ he haltingly began, ‘I should have asked if it was possible that you could give me an advance to help me buy some new clothes and for travelling expenses.’ She nodded her assent. ‘America is going to be just so great for Lewis and me. Clean off all Dad’s dirt.’ He hesitated before giving her a hug. ‘I do realise that it will be so expensive for you . . . possibly wipe out all your free cash. But that’s you, Mum; you always put Lewis and me before yourself.’
Jamie grabbed for his forgotten hat and then Stella watched him sprint up the path; a young man full of the confidence that by tomorrow his mum would have the ready cash for him.
Stella then leaned against the portal and thought.
Having reached her resolve, she returned to the lounge. As soon as she entered Madge rose. ‘I’ll be off then,’ she said.
‘Wait, Madge, or should I call you Jasmine. It would appear that I will have to lay my principles aside and agree to your proposal.’
*
So, much to her chagrin, Stella allowed Castle View to continue as a house of ill-repute. But it should be remembered that, like all mothers, Stella had put the welfare of her children first and her reputation second.
She allowed a month to pass while she watched the ladies’ every move. Then slowly but surely, she took over the management of the business. The girls knew better conditions. First, they saw a rise in what they earned. Then they were encouraged to save part of their earnings for any time they were not able to work. They also had regular health checks. Only problem for them was Stella discouraged them from sharing their earnings with a man, be him husband or pimp.
To accomplish all she had rewarded her girls with, the clients too saw a hefty increase in what they paid. As Stella informed them, ‘I provide, not through myself, but through my ladies, who have chosen that way of life, a first-rate service. A service that obviously is lacking for you at home or elsewhere! And if you desire, I will even provide you with a nightcap before you leave our company.’
Quickly, the years passed. Madge had become romantically involved with one of her clients, on his part anyway. He had an ailing wife and when she died he decided to make an honest woman of Madge. Everybody was thrilled for her. Not only did she get a ring on her finger but also the comforts of a middle-class life. Madge’s departure meant that Stella had to promote one of the ten girls, as there was now a night manager vacancy. She chose Marigold, who would turn out to be an even better manager for her than Madge had been.
The only drawback was that Stella, in her second year in business, had earned herself a criminal record. She was furious. She and her girls were, on occasion – when the council required money, she deemed – summoned to court and fined heftily, in the girls’ case, for being prostitutes, and, in her case,
living off immoral earnings. Yet the men who paid for sex were exempt. She thought this grossly unfair. She also objected to the girls never being able to get a job outside the trade. No way could their criminal record be expunged. Oh yes, no one would employ them even to serve up fish and chips.
FIFTEEN
It wasn’t until she became aware of Kirsten asking if she was all right that Stella realised that, while Kirsten had been consulting a solicitor, she had been reminiscing for going on two hours.
‘Sorry, Kirsten, as you age you catnap,’ she lied. ‘Now, how did you get on?’
‘It would seem that I will have no problem getting a divorce on the grounds of desertion. Mr Dobbie, the solicitor who will handle my case, is very confident. I have just to leave it in his hands and he will contact me when he’s got everything finalised. Quite positive he was about everything. Even the hefty cost. But it will be money well spent to be rid of Duncan. Now, would you like a cup of tea? By the way, thank you for giving me the time to get it all sorted. If there is ever anything I can do to repay you just ask.’
‘No repayment required.’ Stella beamed. ‘Well done, you.’
*
But two days later when Kirsten arrived for work Stella seemed a bit upset. ‘Problem?’ Kirsten asked.
‘Yes. But I am sure you will be able to help me out.’
‘What is it?’ Kirsten said, feeling suddenly panicked.
‘Don’t look so alarmed. It’s nothing for us to worry about. Sad as it is, Marigold’s mother becoming terminally ill is not unexpected. However, as you know, tonight is my Conservative Party meeting and I have to be in attendance. Next time round we must make sure we elect a Conservative government.’ Kirsten was about to ask why, but Stella raised her hand to silence her. ‘Your Labour lot always wish to take everything into public ownership. I bet you they would even try it with my business.’
Kirsten had to stifle a giggle, as she imagined the girls all being in a union of sex sellers and given fair and reasonable conditions of employment. Trying to control her laughter, she uttered, ‘So you think our Labour government will be in power for a while?’