No Peace for the Wicked

by Pip Granger

  ‘That’s the tricky bit. Sugar thinks he can get a look in Malcolm’s wallet when he’s otherwise engaged with Bandy, but the sideboard’s more of a challenge. Getting into his flat may not be that easy. Mind you, it helps that Maltese Joe is his landlord. Sugar says he thinks he’ll hand over a master key if he’s approached right.’

  I was intrigued. ‘How have you marked the notes and bottles without being too obvious? Surely if he sees a whole load of notes with pen marks on them or bottles with crosses on, he’ll twig.’

  T.C. nodded. ‘That’s why I used that invisible ink that they sell to kids who want to play French Resistance, British Spies or Sexton Blake or whatever it is kids play nowadays. They sell it in Hamley’s; it shows up if you apply a little acid. Lemon juice will do, and there’s always plenty of that in the bar. I got some invisible ink for Rosie last Christmas, that’s how I know about it. She loved it. All you’ve got to do is rub a little slice of lemon on the top left-hand corner of a suspect note and if the letters “SPF” show up – they’re Sugar’s initials of course – then it’s one of the planted notes. I’ve also written down their serial numbers, just to double-check if we find any of our notes in circulation. If one of them does show up, make a record of who gave it to you, will you? Then pass it on to me. I’ll look into it.’

  I agreed that I would. ‘How do you like being a private eye?’ I teased. T.C. didn’t seem to fit the part somehow. ‘How’s the posh lady’s erring husband?’

  ‘Actually, I don’t mind it at all. As you so rightly said, looking into things was my stock-in-trade, after all. So far, the erring husband is sticking pretty close to home. Maybe he’s got wind of his wife’s interest, or the fling he was having is over, if he was having one that is. Funny thing is, I could swear I’ve seen him before, but I can’t for the life of me think where.’

  T.C. stared at the last piece of crispy duck clenched between his chopsticks. I’d resorted to a knife and fork myself, much to Peace’s disgust. ‘Still, I expect it’ll come to me.’ He grinned, looking just like his daughter for a moment.

  We ate in companionable silence for a while, then he asked, ‘And you, how are things going with you?’

  ‘Very well, thanks. Peace has settled in nicely. She’s made a few friends, including Mrs Wong and her family. She goes there a lot. It must ease her homesickness quite a bit to hear and speak Cantonese and eat childhood foods. I know I find bread and butter pudding a real comfort. My Auntie Elsie used to make it for me specially when I was a kid. What’s your favourite childhood food?’

  ‘Jam roly-poly and custard,’ T.C. answered promptly. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. He was just that kind of man. Once we’d finished our meal, we helped Peace to clear up. Then T.C. escorted her round to the Wongs’ and I was left at a loose end. The flat felt very lonely when they left, and I was forced to do some ironing to take my mind off it. It had been a nice afternoon and it seemed to me that T.C. and I had finally got over all trace of embarrassment in each other’s company, which was a relief. Naturally, I had been itching to ask how his relationship with Cassie was working out, but I didn’t like to appear too interested, in case it led to more uneasiness between us.

  It seemed that Toothy had now taken up with Sylvia. Sylvia said she’d ditched Sharky Finn when she caught him with another woman, but rumour had it that he’d simply drifted out of her grasp as he was wont to do. Nobody could nail Sharky Finn down, not even the wife, children and mother-in-law he was rumoured to have stashed away in Golders Green – or was it Finchley? I was never sure, because nobody had ever actually clapped eyes on them.

  Harry, the man with the glasses, had only been to the club the once. Neville was much more in evidence around Cassie most evenings, according to Sugar, and T.C. didn’t like Neville one little bit. The feeling appeared to be mutual. Neville lacked enthusiasm for T.C., sensing that he was, in fact, his only serious rival for Cassie’s attention. It was a muddle all right. Although I yearned to know quite how T.C. fitted into it, I hadn’t had the nerve to ask him.

  Everyone had their theories, however. Peace, who saw a lot of Rosie when she worked at the cafe, said that Rosie had high hopes that her mother and father might eventually settle down together, but that her Auntie Maggie was much less certain. Maggie believed that T.C. hovered around more out of pity than anything. Madame Zelda agreed and said her crystal ball didn’t suggest that Cassie would end up with T.C., but she would find herself in a mansion ‘out in the sticks somewhere’. Madame Zelda said she’d seen it as clear as day when she was crystal gazing for someone else entirely.

  ‘Poor girl came to hear about her own love life and all I could tune into was Cassie’s. It was bloody annoying, and in the end, I had to give up on the ball and do her tarot instead. I even had to throw in a free palm reading, to make up for the inconvenience.’

  Freddy and Antony were also convinced that T.C.’s interest in Cassie was on the wane. ‘You can tell, ducky, the eyes don’t linger the way they used to. He beats a retreat as soon as the bevvy she’s taken on board begins to show. He almost breaks his leg getting out of there. I’ve seen it, and so has Ant, haven’t you?’ Freddy turned to his friend for corroboration and got it.

  ‘It’s true, Liz dear,’ Antony assured me languidly, ‘there’s none of the lingering looks that used to make him look like a lost puppy.’

  ‘And the sparks do fly from the cove’s heels if Cassie begins to look even the slightest bit the worse for wear. Ant and I think the stream of men gets to him too,’ Freddy told me earnestly. ‘Don’t we, Ant?’

  Antony didn’t manage to speak before Freddy continued. ‘It’s true, sweetie. He couldn’t complain when he was married to Pat. Bugger wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on.’ Freddy’s hand flew to his mouth and his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. Pat had been crippled by creeping paralysis, or multiple sclerosis as I believe it was called. It meant that she spent much of her life in a wheelchair towards the end, and on crutches before that.

  Sugar was convinced that he saw shy interest in T.C.’s eyes when they lit on me, but I have to say I hadn’t noticed it myself and believe me, I was looking. Personally, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow Cassie and T.C. were bound together and it would take more than me to unravel them. Even so, I couldn’t quite extinguish the memory of the almost-kiss and the feelings it had kindled in me, however hard I might have tried to deny them.

  As I ironed my blouse for work that evening, I wished and wished I’d brought the subject of Cassie up, so that I could put myself out of my misery by finding out if there was any hope for me. But I hadn’t. Then another thought occurred to me. I hadn’t felt a feeling as positive as hope since my Jenny had died. Now that I had found it again, perhaps I wasn’t prepared to give it up.

  15

  Relations between Peace and Bandy were much more cordial once Peace was settled into her new routine and home. To begin with, Peace was not as dependent, having made some friends. Being out at school all day helped, too. She was diligent about her work at the cafe as well, and Maggie was very pleased to have taken her on.

  ‘She’s a good little worker, the customers like her, and what’s more, she’s sweet with Rosie,’ Maggie informed me with a large smile. ‘It’s a case of “Peace says this” and “Peace does that” with our Rosie at the moment. She hero-worships her. She follows Peace around like a puppy, and Peace is very good, always taking time with her and treating her like someone of her own age. It’s really sweet. It’s as if Rosie’s found herself a big sister.’

  I noticed that I saw more of Rosie, too, now that she could come to Peace for help with her homework, especially the sums. And Rosie returned the favour by helping Peace with her written English, which sometimes seemed stilted. Had all been well, it would have been Jenny that shared the trials of homework. Although the thought brought a lump to my throat, it didn’t feel as desperate as it once would have done. I was simply glad that Peace and Rosie had each found
a friend, or an honorary sister.

  Peace spent more time out and about once spring came and the evenings began to draw out a bit. She’d meet Bubbles after school and they’d repair to the milk bar for a good gossip and the general chit-chat so loved by adolescent girls and, come to think of it, girls of all ages. There is nothing like having a really good girl or woman friend, because we tell each other all the things we wouldn’t dream of telling our parents or our husbands.

  Occasionally, they’d go to the cinema. We quickly came to an understanding that evenings out were fine as long as certain rules were observed, and they were that she was home by nine on a school night and ten on a Friday or Saturday, and that all homework must be completed to the satisfaction of her teachers. Or else. I don’t think we ever discussed what the ‘or else’ would be, because the occasion never really arose.

  I was mildly surprised the first time Peace missed her weekday curfew. It was only by a quarter of an hour the first time, so I let it go with only a mention. It was more serious the second time: half an hour. I discussed the problem with Maggie, the person I discussed all child-related topics with. I admired the way she’d brought up Rosie, so was happy to receive any tips and hints she might give me.

  ‘Peace has started being late in on a week-night,’ I confided to my friend. ‘Just a couple of times, but still it’s not like her.’

  Maggie grinned knowingly. ‘I think I might know what that’s about,’ she said. ‘She’s got a crush on someone. Rosie let it slip.’

  ‘She never said a word to me.’ I felt just a little put out. After all, we saw each other daily.

  ‘Well, she wouldn’t, would she?’ Maggie laughed. ‘That’s kids for you, once they get past being round your knees that is. The bigger they get, the less you know. Welcome to the club. You’re always the last to know anything – it goes with the job of bringing the little buggers up.’

  ‘What else did Rosie tell you?’ I asked.

  ‘Not a lot.’ Maggie took a sip of her hot tea and thought for a moment. ‘Rosie says Peace thinks he’s gorgeous, but that he hardly noticed she was there at first. Rosie thinks he’s paying a bit more attention now though.’

  ‘What makes her think that?’ I couldn’t help it, I had to know, even if it did make me a terrible snoop. I was, after all, responsible for the girl in a way, even if Bandy was her proper guardian. That’s what I told myself anyway.

  ‘Peace told Rosie that they had met up at the milk bar a few times and gone for walks and things.’

  I felt the stirrings of anxiety at the back of my mind, and then shook myself. There was nothing I could do, especially as I wasn’t supposed to know anything at all about it. Peace had only been late a couple of times and it wasn’t as if she’d rolled in after midnight or anything like that. I decided to keep a discreet eye on her, just the same.

  That Saturday night the usual crowd was in, plus a few theatrical types who came with Freddy and Antony and one or two old wrestling pals of Bobby Bristowe. Bobby, like T.C., had time off from watching the erring husband, because said husband and his wife were at their country seat for a few weeks.

  ‘He’s been as good as gold, anyway,’ said Bobby. ‘My Pansy reckons he’s twigged that his good woman is on to him and he’s keeping his head down for a bit. That’s what Pans reckons.’

  ‘I did see him with that little crowd at the casino, more than once,’ T.C. added thoughtfully, ‘and then there’s another little mob at the Mayfair Club, but I’ve yet to see him single out any one of the females. He always takes a cab home by himself. I reckon if he doesn’t do something soon, we’ll get the order of the boot. I’ve told her more than once that she’s wasting her money, but she seems to think it’s worth it at the moment. I feel a fraud, though, as if I’m taking her money under false pretences.’

  ‘Hold hard there, mate. We do the work, we put in the hours, it ain’t our fault the bugger’s faithful. ’Scuse my French.’ Bobby’s eyes darted around guiltily. His Pansy didn’t like him swearing. When he saw she wasn’t there, he relaxed a little.

  ‘True, true.’ T.C. looked vague. ‘Just the same, I do feel a fraud. The lady said she’d call me if he makes a trip away from the jolly old family seat. So until then, we’re free.’ He didn’t sound very happy about it, though. I think that T.C. had enjoyed being employed, even if he wasn’t that keen on the job. He liked the sense of purpose that work gave to every day. I could understand that, because I liked it too.

  The club suddenly filled up with customers, and I was run off my feet for some considerable time. Sugar was doing duty behind the bar and I was doing the waitressing. Bandy was nowhere to be seen, and neither, thank goodness, was Malcolm. That was another line of inquiry that had dried up almost as soon as T.C. had started to look into it.

  When Sugar, T.C. and I thought about it, we could date the end of the thefts to the night Bandy and Sugar had rowed about it in the bar. Someone must have tipped Malcolm off that he’d been twigged, because they’d stopped dead and to date, hadn’t resumed. Sugar had insisted on paying T.C. for his efforts, saying he’d acted as a damned good deterrent and that he’d saved the bar a bloody sight more money than he’d cost.

  I did notice at one point in the evening that T.C. had left Bobby’s table and drifted over to join Cassie, Toothy, Sylvia and Neville, and my heart sank. Try as I might, I could only keep half an eye on them as I was so busy running between the tables taking orders and delivering them.

  There was a point when I thought that if Cassie draped herself over T.C. any more, he’d be wearing her, but I couldn’t get into a position to read his expression to see if he was enjoying the experience. It was only when I finally sat down for a rest and a drink, that I realized that T.C. had gone and so had Cassie.

  As luck would have it, I caught Sylvia’s eye. She smiled and mouthed, ‘I told you so.’ I looked away hurriedly and felt the colour drain from my face. All of a sudden, I thought I was going to faint, then that I might be sick.

  ‘Here, drink this,’ said Sugar, holding out a glass of water. ‘Are you all right?’ Concern creased his large face. Close up I noticed he was wearing mascara and just a hint of eye shadow, a discreet and tasteful silver grey.

  I took the glass. My hand shook so violently that I sloshed half of it on the floor, narrowly missing my posh frock. After several sips, I began to feel better. ‘I felt a bit faint, that’s all. Probably not enough to eat or something.’

  ‘Well, get off home now, sweetie. I can finish up here. Get yourself a nice sandwich before you turn in.’

  I went upstairs and straight to bed. I tossed and turned, and fell into and out of a fitful sleep that was full of distressing dreams of T.C. and Cassie together. Eventually, my lower sheet wound up in a wrinkled lump that was making sleep more and more impossible. Fed up, I got up to remake my bed.

  Before I returned to bed for another stab at some sleep, I nipped out to the kitchen for a glass of water. It was when I was in the hallway that I became aware that the flat felt very empty. I listened hard, and heard not a sound that wasn’t the building settling or that hadn’t come from the streets. I crept on tiptoe to the spare room and stuck my ear to the door: nothing. I eased the door open a crack and peered into the gloom. There was no reassuring mound under the white counterpane, no sound of the soft breathing and snuffling of a sleeper safely in the land of Nod.

  I turned the light on. A pair of pretty, dark pink silk pyjamas were neatly folded on top of the pale, smooth bed cover. It didn’t look as if Peace had been back since she’d left after breakfast. I walked into the room and looked around, hoping that she’d left me a note. But she hadn’t. I know it was silly, but I looked in the wardrobe and under the bed.

  I walked around the tiny flat, just to make sure she wasn’t sitting quietly in the living room, reading, or on the toilet. But she wasn’t. Still I refused to take it in. I looked again for a note. Peace knew to leave a note if she was going to miss a meal, or be late, or change her day
’s plans. She always left a note. But she hadn’t.

  I think it was then that I began to scream. I couldn’t bear it. Somehow, I had lost another child.

  16

  Sugar was the first to answer my screams. Dimly, I heard him pounding on the flat door. ‘Lizzie, let me in. If you don’t let me in, I’m kicking the door in. Stand back if you don’t want a face full of flying wood.’

  It brought me round. I opened the flat door just in time. Sugar flew in, shoulder first and came to a sudden halt just before he crashed through the living-room door, which was closed.

  ‘Sweetie, what is it?’ He looked around, wild-eyed, for possible assailants, rapists or just plain cat burglars. But he found none of them, just me looking ashen and forlorn in the doorway to Peace’s bedroom.

  I motioned towards the empty room behind me and tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. So I stood aside so that he could see for himself.

  ‘Where’s Peace?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I whispered, then staggered a bit with the effort and had to sit down on the corner of her immaculate bed.

  Sugar stared at the bed, then at me and then back to the bed again. His large hand raked his hair back in his familiar gesture and he looked puzzled, then decisive. ‘Right. You get on the blower in the bar to the cafe. See if she’s there. That’s the last place we know she was supposed to be, it being Saturday. If she’s not there – which she won’t be, otherwise someone would have told you – find out what they know about her plans, if anything.

  ‘Then call Cassie’s place and get T.C. over here toot sweet. I don’t care if he’s on the nest. Tell him if he doesn’t come right now, I’ll be round there to drag him off her. I don’t care, just get him here. We need him.