No Peace for the Wicked

by Pip Granger

  ‘Don’t give us that, Band,’ Sugar told her sweetly. ‘You’ve known about the shortfall for a while now. I’ve told you before that I think Malodorous is more than a tad light-fingered, but you won’t have it. It’s not just money either; bottles are going missing from the storeroom.’

  ‘Anyone could have their fingers in the till.’ Bandy looked and sounded rattled. ‘It doesn’t have to be Malcolm. It could be Peace getting her own back, or Bobby or Elizabeth in need of a little extra.’

  I took in a sharp breath. How dare she?

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Bandy, please.’ Sugar sounded exasperated. ‘Peace was still at school when I first noticed the takings were down. Lizzie wasn’t even working here then, and anyway, she’s as straight as an arrow. Just ask Freddy and Antony if you need proof. And Bobby? Are you mad? We’ve had him for years. Why would he start now, and do you honestly think Pansy’d let him?’ I think it was the first time I’d ever seen Sugar angry, really angry, with Bandy or, indeed, anyone. ‘Anyway, I’ve asked T.C. to look into it.’ He glared at Bandy, then turned to T.C. in appeal. ‘Tell her, T.C.’

  T.C. nodded. ‘It’s true. Sugar has asked me to look into it and I’ve taken certain steps already, but we won’t discuss them here. Walls have ears and so do boozers.’ He was trying hard to keep his attention on Bandy, but I noticed that his eyes kept straying to Cassie’s table, as the noise grew from that quarter. I can’t say that I blamed him. She was looking lovely in a sea-green silk two-piece.

  ‘I don’t remember authorizing any kind of investigation.’ Bandy looked alarmed and her voice had even more of an edge to it. ‘Why don’t you mind your own business for once?’

  ‘Because it is my business. I own a quarter share of this place, in case you’ve forgotten. What’s more, you’re casting suspicion on people I care about, so the sooner the little matter is cleared up, the better for all concerned.’

  Bandy grew louder when she saw that she was cornered. ‘You’ve never liked Malcolm. You’re a jealous sod, Sugar Plum Flaherty, because nobody’ll take an old pervert like you on, well not in public anyway. What person in their right mind would want to be seen with a man in a fucking wig and false tits?’

  ‘I can see the extra classes at charm school paid off handsomely, Band,’ Sugar answered sharply. ‘Don’t take it out on us just because your bloody boyfriend’s pissed off for the evening. Although he’s probably living it up on your booze and your money as usual.’

  Sugar paused for a moment, face pale with rage. Then he remembered his audience and lowered his voice. ‘Correction – our booze and our money – and I, for one, don’t feel I’m getting any satisfaction for my contribution. I get the smelly bastard cluttering up my life, and if I’m right – and I know I am, it’s just up to T.C. to prove it – he’s also stealing from me, and that I will not have!’

  Bandy had her mouth open to reply when Toothy roared across the room. ‘Do hurry up with those drinks. It’s like being trapped in a bloody desert over here.’

  I jumped as I realized I had been standing listening to my employers’ argument with my mouth wide open and my hands full of tray. T.C. grinned sympathetically and relieved me of the tray. ‘I’ll take them over. You might as well start on the refills straight away. If I know that lot, they’ll want topping up very soon.’

  Bandy stood up, glared at Sugar one final time, and swept out of the bar. The minute she left, we all heaved a sigh of relief; Sugar, me and the customers.

  ‘Thank Christ for that,’ said Cassie as the door closed behind Bandy’s black silk back. ‘I thought I was going to have to leave, the woman was such a misery. What the hell’s got into her, Sugar? Love life in the doldrums, is it? She shouldn’t take it so seriously. Love ’em and leave ’em I say, before they can do it to you.’

  Sugar opened his mouth to answer, but Cassie ploughed on. ‘I’ve a couple of men spare, if she feels the need. I don’t think they’re that fussy. Well, they’re certainly not when they have a few drinkies on board. Speaking of drinkies, how about sloshing another gin and it in a glass, Lizzie, and bringing it over here? Make it a double, there’s a dear. Oh, and put it on Neville’s tab.’

  I was about to do as Cassie asked when T.C. drifted up to me. ‘Make it a small one, will you, Lizzie? It looks to me as if she’s been at it all afternoon,’ he whispered. He was so close to me that I could feel the heat from his body against my bare shoulders. I suddenly remembered the feel of his fingertips on my face when he’d been about to kiss me and shivered slightly.

  Once I’d served Cassie’s table with their drinks the place went very quiet for a while. The theatre crowd had drifted away, Bobby, Pansy and Madame Zelda had disappeared around the time Bandy had started getting tetchy and that just left Cassie and her friends, T.C., Sugar and me.

  ‘So, did you see that woman, whatever her name was? The one with the wandering old man?’ Sugar asked T.C. absentmindedly. His mind was obviously still on his row with Bandy. It had been particularly unkind of her to bring up Sugar’s dressing habits, because that evening he was elegant in an evening suit, complete with fancy white shirt, cummerbund and bow tie, to complement my cocktail dress. He said that he didn’t want to let me down by being a scruff. Not that he was ever scruffy, whatever outfit he was wearing. He was such a sweet man and I didn’t like to see him hurt by Bandy’s unkind words.

  T.C. nodded. ‘Yes, it’s all set. As I can’t be in two places at once, Bobby’s going to do some of the watching and Pansy too, if need be. The client understands that I have to hire in help on a job like this, and Bobby’s keen to help.’

  ‘Glad it worked out, T.C. It could be a nice little earner,’ said Sugar vaguely. He cheered up as the Behan brothers turned up with a large group and demanded drinks all round. They kept him busy serving and gossiping and the tension soon eased from his face.

  The rest of the evening was busy and I was run off my feet. Several people told me how lovely I looked in my new dress and I glowed with pride and happiness as I darted between the tables. It was some time before I realized that T.C. had left. I asked Sugar where he’d got to and he nodded towards Cassie’s table. She had gone too.

  ‘Cassie dragged him off about half an hour ago. Neville’s hooter’s way out of joint, ’specially as she’s stiffed him with the bill,’ he told me as he passed on the way to deliver another order to the Behans’ party.

  ‘Carrying a bit of a torch, are you, Lizzie?’ Sylvia’s voice made me start and I felt my face redden.

  I shook my head vehemently. I didn’t want Cassie’s friend gossiping out of turn. T.C. and I had got over our embarrassment, and as I had to see a fair amount of him, I wanted to stay on those easy terms.

  ‘Just as well, dearie, because you’d be batting on a very dodgy wicket with that one. All Cassie’s got to do is bat her eyelashes and reach for his flies and T.C.’s a goner, an absolute goner. Always has been.’

  Sylvia smiled, but her eyes remained watchful. ‘Cassie can’t help herself either. She may have a dozen men on her hook, but it’s always T.C. she goes back to. He must be good in bed or something. He certainly has no money to speak of, and with our Cassie, it’s usually money that talks.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I simply stared at Sylvia for what felt like ages but was probably only moments. She smiled again, still without a trace of humour, and said, ‘Another round of drinks for me and the boys, and make it snappy.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘There’s a good girl.’

  ‘What got into Miss Nasty Knickers over there? What did she say to you to upset you?’ Sugar swiftly cleared his tray of empty glasses and began to put fresh ones on it as I poured them.

  ‘The silly woman seems to think I carry a torch for T.C.,’ I said with as much dignity as I could muster, with my knees wobbling beneath my beautiful dress. ‘Any fool can see that it’s Cassie he wants, even if I did have ideas, which I don’t.’

  It seemed to me at that moment that no matter what anyone did, even dress
me in the most beautiful frock in the entire world, they’d still never be able to turn this particular sow’s ear into a silk purse – however hard they tried. I felt something warm run down my cheek, trickle round to my chin and make a tiny ‘ping’ as it dripped on to the rim of the empty glass I was holding. I felt Sugar’s warm hand take the glass from me and put it on the bar, then he gently dabbed at my tears with the sparkling white linen tea towel we kept for polishing the glasses.

  ‘Don’t drip on your frock, sweetie, it’ll leave wet marks on your silk.’ He leaned closer and whispered in my ear. ‘And that prat T.C. will come to his senses, you’ll see. He’s more than halfway there already. This is just a hiccup, a tiny little hiccup.’

  He pulled back again and grinned his lovely, huge grin and said louder, ‘Now you go home to Peace and I’ll take care of that little bitch Sylvie. It’s time she and the boys buggered off and left me and the Behans and their pals to a nice night of pure Irish whiskey and even purer Irish blarney.’ He patted my shoulder and gave me a little shove towards the door. ‘See you tomorrow, sweetie. Pleasant dreams.’

  I walked slowly up the stairs and put my key quietly into the lock, so as not to wake Peace, then crept in and made ready for bed. Once I’d hung up my dress, I wrapped myself in my velvet dressing gown and tiptoed to Peace’s door. She’d left it slightly ajar and I could hear her breathing softly. I was soothed enough to go to bed and straight to sleep myself.

  14

  Life settled into a rhythm over the next few weeks. Peace and I became used to living together and sorted out the routine that suited us best. Sugar, knowing Bandy better than anyone, picked the day after their very public row in the bar to approach her about letting Peace continue her education at a day school. He also suggested the Saturday job at the cafe.

  ‘She’ll be feeling guilty about letting her mouth get away from her and casting her nasty suspicions everywhere except where they belong,’ Sugar assured Peace and me when he saw us the next day. ‘She’ll want to make amends, mark my words. I’ll catch her the minute she emerges from bed. She’s always at her most fragile then. What with the guilt and the hangover, it’ll be easy. What’s more, if I get between her and her first coffee and fag of the day, she’ll agree to almost anything just to get at them.’

  He was right, too. Sugar had Bandy’s agreement to both plans within minutes of her ungluing her reluctant eyes, or so he told me at our next sewing circle. Neither did it take long to find Peace a place in a day school at Marylebone. Bandy grumbled a bit, but it had no heat in it. Peace had won the battle of the schools, and Sugar and I privately believed that she’d never go back to St Matilda’s, except to pick up her things.

  Getting Bandy’s agreement to Peace’s Saturday job was easy too. Bandy approved of Peace earning some of her own money and taking some responsibility for providing for herself. ‘According to her ladyship, “It’s the Bunyan way,” apparently, “to encourage hard slog in its young,”’ Sugar reported. ‘Only it doesn’t seem to have taken with Band. Well, not lately, anyway,’ he added bitterly.

  So it was settled. Peace started at her new school, and although she was quiet and shy, she managed to make one or two friends almost immediately. She joined the school music and chess clubs, both after-school activities, and that helped a lot.

  Her two favourite friends, Beatrice and Angela, came to tea with us occasionally, and Peace went to tea with them. The girl blossomed. Her solemn little face began to light up with laughter as she giggled and gossiped with her chums and her manner became much more relaxed generally.

  Peace’s friendship with Bubbles Wong also grew steadily, although Bubbles rarely came to tea. When she did, she was very shy and quiet if I stayed in the room, so I tended to serve them up a little something then disappear for an hour or two to let them get on with it. I’d go to visit Madame Zelda, or Maggie and Bert, or perhaps one of the Campanini girls – Gina was my favourite.

  Bubbles would usually thank me very politely before she left, but she always left immediately I returned. The kitchen would be spotless after one of her visits, her mother having taught her well. I know that Peace really appreciated the opportunity to speak her mother tongue and that that was a huge bonus in her new life. She also enjoyed Mrs Wong’s cooking enormously, and would relay what she’d had to me. Not that it meant much, as I’d never eaten Chinese food. Peace was horrified when I told her I had never tasted crispy duck or noodles.

  The following Saturday she came home from work with cooking equipment borrowed from Mrs Wong. She called the strange, dish-shaped pan a ‘wok’ and had a set of bamboo steamers as well. Her bag bulged with strange ingredients that I didn’t recognize. She’d saved some of her earnings especially to buy them.

  ‘Mrs Wong has taught me how to make some of my favourite dishes and I shall make some for you tomorrow,’ Peace told me. ‘It is terrible that you have never tasted Chinese food. I have asked Mr Sugar and Aunt, but Aunt cannot come because she has to go somewhere with Mr Malcolm.’ Peace paused and gave me a sly look. ‘So I asked Mr T.C. when he came into the cafe today, because I know that you like him.’

  Like an idiot, I blushed. ‘Of course I like him,’ I protested, ‘he’s a very nice man. Everybody likes T.C.’

  ‘Yes, that is true, but you like him very much, I think.’ Peace grinned a wicked grin. ‘Very much.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ I asked defensively.

  Peace pretended to think, forefinger to her lips and eyes pointed to heaven, as if for inspiration. ‘Well, let me see …’ She ticked off each of her reasons on her fingers. ‘You go a funny red colour when you see him. You get flustered, too. You always listen carefully when his name comes up in conversations, even if they are not your own. You are always looking towards the door when you are in the cafe, but you stop looking when he comes in.’

  I hadn’t realized I was quite so transparent. It seemed that everyone and his brother or sister knew that I carried a torch for T.C., except the man himself, that is. He’d been friendly enough, but there had not been another attempt to kiss me, or even to be alone with me. And now I had to face the fact that he was seeing Cassie again.

  I tried to be nonchalant, but my pride was injured. ‘Did T.C. accept your invitation?’ I asked at last. I simply had to know.

  ‘Yes he did,’ Peace beamed. ‘But Mr Sugar has cancelled. He has to go somewhere suddenly. He didn’t say where, but I think he goes to meet his lover.’

  ‘Peace!’ I said, a little shocked. ‘What do you know of such things?’

  Peace gave me a withering look. ‘I am not a baby, Aunt Liz, and Mr Sugar did look very happy for a man who was giving up a free dinner.’ Peace paused. ‘He asked me to give you his apologies, but there will be no sewing tomorrow, either.’ She grinned. ‘So you can devote your attention to Mr T.C. exclusively.’

  It turned out to be a very pleasant afternoon. As promised, Peace kept herself in the kitchen and left T.C. and me to chat as we ate. The meal began with tiny bowls of clear soup. Just a very few slices of some kind of cabbage and spring onion, so thin that they were virtually transparent, floated in the tasty liquid. There were also dumplings that we chased around our bowls with chopsticks for ages, until we were helpless with laughter and Peace had to come in and teach us how capture them. I settled for spearing mine. It was very effective as long as I could stop them from slithering about, which I did by using a finger to anchor them.

  ‘That’s cheating, that is,’ T.C. told me, as his dumpling leapt from under his chopstick, shot across the rim of his bowl and landed with a plop on the carpet in front of the gas fire.

  ‘And that’s sloppy,’ I said, popping my dumpling into my mouth, then gasping as I bit into it and steam escaped in a little cloud.

  ‘No, no, no, Aunt Liz, you hold the dumpling between your chopsticks thus,’ Peace explained patiently. ‘Then you bite into it a little, to let the steam escape, then more small bites until it cools and then you eat the rest at onc
e.’ She demonstrated, but the moment she was gone, we each resorted to our favoured method and used our fingers, licking them clean before our tutor could tell us off.

  Those dumplings were delicious. They were stuffed with a spicy mixture I found hard to identify, but T.C. thought was pork. The soup itself had a subtle flavour of good chicken stock, herbs and a very few vegetables. Next came crispy duck, supplied by Mrs Wong already cooked. She, in turn, had got it from her cousin who cooked for the Chinese restaurant that catered for the local Chinese workers. Or so Peace told us. ‘It would have taken a very long time to cook it here and so that is what we did. But I made the sauce and the vegetables,’ Peace told us proudly. ‘And next you will have my special noodles.’

  T.C. and I ate our meal with appreciation. Peace’s cooking was so good, and the blend of flavours and textures was so subtle, it was hard to describe because it was all so new to us. Peace beamed with happiness and pride as she cleared each emptied bowl and listened to our praise and grateful thanks.

  I was a convert to Chinese food and told her so. ‘I’ll be expecting more now that I’ve tasted it, Peace. It’s absolutely delicious. No wonder you haunt Mrs Wong’s table. I would too – if only she’d have me.’

  ‘I second that, Peace,’ said T.C. ‘You’ll make prospective husbands very happy indeed when they find out you can cook like this. You’ll be beating the young hopefuls off with clubs. Beauty and cooking skills are a winning combination.’

  T.C. and I chatted idly about the people we knew as we ate and drank fragrant jasmine tea. Eventually, we got around to the continued thieving from the club till and stockroom.

  ‘He’s a crafty beggar. Nobody’s managed to catch him at it, so now I’ve left some specially marked bottles and the same with some bank notes. We’re going to leave a float of marked notes in the till when it’s not being used during business hours. Then, if and when they begin to disappear, we’ll try to think of some way of checking our main suspect’s sideboard for the bottles and wallet for the lolly,’ T.C. explained.