No Peace for the Wicked

by Pip Granger

  Malcolm was hanging around looking helpless – and a bit gormless, it must be said. He really was a useless lump.

  Sugar was behind the bar being philosophical. ‘That is the thought to hang on to, Band. She went of her own free will. Meanwhile, T.C.’s on the job and he has got some results already. If he’s right, she’s only a few miles away.’

  ‘That’s something, at least, Bandy,’ I said. ‘Somewhere to look.’

  ‘Yes, it’s something all right,’ Bobby Bristowe agreed, ‘but it ain’t a whole lot.’

  ‘No,’ said Pansy. ‘How is he going to find out anything from the Chinese people in Limehouse when we can’t find out anything from the Chinese in our own patch?’

  ‘Can’t we go mob-handed and demand to see the girl if she’s there?’ Malcolm asked. Only Sugar thought it was worth a reply.

  ‘Won’t work. They’ve only got to say “No” and what are we going to do? Bash doors down? Ransack homes and businesses? I don’t think so. Have you seen what those lads can do when someone gets on their nerves?’

  Malcolm shook his head.

  ‘No, and you don’t want to. Not if you’re squeamish. Tell him, Band,’ Sugar suggested.

  ‘Dog meat. An angry Triad boss, or even a gang master if the occasion demands, can arrange to have people chopped up into dog meat without turning a hair, lifting a finger or even getting their hands dirty. A word or two is all it takes. I saw it in Hong Kong and frankly, I don’t want to see it again. Normally, they don’t interfere outside of their own set-ups, but if we went barging in where we don’t belong, uninvited, then I expect they’d make an exception.’

  I sat quietly, trying to imagine the scene, then rather wishing I hadn’t. I had heard the same from T.C. who knew about the silent bloodbaths that could take place behind those anonymous blank shop fronts. Just as my imagination was recoiling from the scene, the early evening hush was shattered by someone making an incredibly noisy entrance from the street. A loud voice boomed, footsteps thudded and eventually a large woman – tall and wide – burst through the club doors in a flurry of mackintosh, galoshes and a large rain hat. She stood dripping in the doorway and surveyed the room. Finally, her eyes rested on Bandy and she began to unwind what looked like a mile and a half of violently green scarf from her neck and most of her head. At last she was free, and a ruddy face appeared.

  ‘Hope?’ she boomed at Bandy.

  Bandy’s face set in hard lines. ‘Faith?’ she asked. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Yes, and it would have been longer if you hadn’t cocked up your end of the bargain! Typical of you, I must say. I told Father you’d balls it up and sure enough, you have.’ Faith climbed out of her mackintosh, revealing a baggy tweed suit in a ginger colour that picked up the brick red of her face and made her look like a particularly sturdy carrot.

  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, Bandy?’ Sugar asked in a suspiciously oily voice. Sugar was never oily. Sweet, yes; oily, never!

  ‘If I must,’ Bandy said ungraciously. ‘Faith, this is my partner, Sugar Plum Flaherty. These people here are our friends, Bobby Bristowe, his wife Pansy, Elizabeth Robbins and Malcolm Lamb.’ Bandy paused. ‘This is my sister, Faith Sneddon.’

  Faith eyed Sugar with distaste, even though his mascara was lightly applied – to his own eyelashes and not a yard of falsies, as was sometimes the case – and his nail polish was a clear, natural one. She raised half of her top lip in a small sneer and said, ‘Is he the best you could do?’ as if poor Sugar was not standing there, hearing intact. ‘You’ve always been drawn to the odd ones. You were like that at school. If there was a misfit to be found, you found her.’ She sighed deeply, her bristly ginger chest rising to the occasion. ‘I see you haven’t changed in that respect at least.’

  I heard Pansy mutter, ‘Gawd, she’s a charmer’, and Bobby grunt briefly in agreement.

  Sugar’s smile became oilier. ‘We’ve heard a lot about you, Faith.’

  Up until recently, we hadn’t even known she existed.

  ‘None of it good, I’ll be bound,’ barked Faith.

  ‘On the contrary. Hope has always been most fond in her reminiscences of you.’ He paused just long enough. ‘Distance must have lent enchantment to the view.’

  He turned to Bandy in the astonished hush. ‘Would you like to fill your sister in on the situation, Bandy, or shall we throw her out? I’m sure Bobby will oblige. I’d rather not risk my nails.’

  Bandy smiled a large smile. ‘We’ll tell her the situation, Sugar, then we’ll throw her out at the first sign of any more unpleasantness. Faith, these people are my friends. Show respect when you’re on my property, or leave. The choice is yours.’

  Faith Sneddon eyed us all as if we were something she’d found in her farmyard, but she was slightly more conciliatory than I’d expected. This was a woman used to barging and bludgeoning her way through life. ‘No offence meant, I’m sure,’ was all she said.

  ‘But plenty taken,’ snapped back Sugar, utterly unmollified. ‘I’d hate to see you when you did mean it.’

  ‘Well, cough it up, all of it, then I can get back to the farm.’ Faith obviously realized that the sooner she was put in the picture, the sooner we’d be shot of her and the happier everyone would be.

  Between us, we told her everything that had happened since Peace had disappeared. It didn’t seem possible that it had been just a few days; it felt more like weeks. To give her her due, Faith didn’t interrupt us once, although we interrupted one another quite often.

  We’d just ground to a halt when T.C. appeared. Seconds later, Cassie followed him in, looking radiant, like the cat who had just got her cream, in fact. My heart lurched and I tore my eyes away from them. I liked Cassie well enough, but at that moment, I couldn’t bear to look at her. I sneaked another look at T.C. Was it my imagination, or did he look more hunted than hunter? Or perhaps he simply looked haunted. It was hard to say. Then I began to wonder what on earth I was doing, wishing misery on a friend. I turned my attention firmly back to the Carrot from Northamptonshire.

  She’d focused on her sister. ‘Have you informed Charity?’

  Bandy shook her head. ‘No idea where she is. Last I heard they were in Egypt, but that was a while back now. Those Foreign Office wallahs do move around so.’

  ‘Good. It wouldn’t do to alert her other half to the situation. He knows nothing about Charity’s half-breed bastard. He must never know about her,’ she added icily, making me shiver. She sounded as if she was talking about an unwanted puppy. ‘It’s a good match and Father is adamant: no contact with Charity. That’s why he put you in charge of the brat and me in charge of the money side of things. I take it there’s no possibility that she’s gone to Charity? No chance that she found out who her real mother is?’

  ‘I didn’t tell Peace, if that’s what you mean. She was curious, though, and we had more than one disagreement on the subject. It’s possible, though, that she found out. Perhaps she simply worked it out, who knows? I certainly don’t.’

  ‘But it is a possibility?’ T.C. asked, before the Carrot could get a word in.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ Faith asked belligerently. The woman was more like a damned bulldog than the sheepdog Bandy had described her as.

  ‘I’m looking into Peace’s disappearance,’ T.C. answered mildly.

  ‘Well, to me, it sounds as if my half-witted sister here somehow let the cat out of the bag, and that it is highly probable that the gal would try to hunt her mother down.’

  ‘You make it sound like a bleeding fox hunt!’ Bobby Bristowe burst out. Pansy stroked his arm to quieten him down. ‘Yeah, well, what does she know about anything?’ he muttered, staring down at the floor and allowing her to soothe him. ‘Peace ain’t an animal! At the Home, we all wanted to find our mums. It was only natural.’

  ‘It’s certainly another aspect to look into,’ said T.C. ‘Do you know where her mother is?’

  ‘I do, young man, but I have no intention
of telling you, or any of you. I’ll contact Charity myself and I shall see if the child has turned up there,’ Faith informed him firmly.

  ‘Right you are. You will let us know the outcome? We’ll call off the search if she’s turned up safely at her mother’s,’ T.C. replied, equally firmly.

  ‘Where are you staying?’ Bandy asked her sister, none too graciously.

  ‘Claridges. Father’s usual suite. You can contact me there if there’s any news. But I must get back home in the next day or two. I can’t be wasting my time here.’ Faith stood up and, as abruptly as she had arrived, she left, leaving us stunned in her wake.

  Sugar broke the tension. ‘Well, I can see that charm runs in the family.’ Bandy burst out laughing, closely followed by the rest of us.

  ‘Isn’t anyone going to pour the drinks?’ asked Cassie, unmoved by the merriment around her.

  I sighed and took a quick glance at T.C. It really did seem as if the fact that Peace was still missing had made no impression at all on Cassie and that the next drink really was the only thing that she thought about. For the first time, I began to believe it was possible that T.C. could get over Cassie. After all, it must be very hard, and deeply hurtful, to play second fiddle to a bottle.

  27

  Faith returned to the club the next day and surprised us all by showing a little civility and a touch of humour.

  ‘I’ve had a word with Charity, and the brat, thank God, has not turned up there. Charity’s in a frightful flap in case she does. But then, I gather she’s in a frightful flap about all manner of things. Seems her father-in-law has fallen off his perch and the old family tree lost the older limb, in the form of the brother, in the war. Copped it in France, so Henry’s the heir.

  ‘Terrible shock to his brand new Lordship if he suddenly acquires a Chinese stepdaughter as well. Bit of a facer for the locals too, gentry and yokels alike. Can you imagine?’

  Bandy laughed for the first time that day. ‘Yes, you can hardly slip a “slant-eyed maiden” into English village life without it causing something of a stir. Especially if she’s the by-blow of the lady of the manor. I almost wish I’d told Peace everything, now, and given her a map and the bus fare.’

  For a moment, as they laughed together, you could tell that Faith and Bandy were sisters. Despite their obvious differences, there was the fondness of a long association there, a shared history.

  In my opinion, people underestimate the importance of witnesses to their lives. My mother was friendly with a woman once, who let go of all her friends and family over the years, one after the other. Mother managed to last longer than most, but even she had to go eventually. No one was ever sure why this woman took so much umbrage, but she did. All she had left in the end was a husband she had married late in life. This man could drum up a stream of criticism about anyone who passed even briefly through their lives. I can still hear his awful drone as he poured out his scorn on the human race in general and everyone they’d ever met in particular. I often wondered how she felt when she got older and found that there was no one left to share her memories. It must have been utterly desolate for her.

  Maggie, Bert, Freddy, Antony, Sugar, Bandy, Bobby, Pansy and all my other neighbours and acquaintances could remember Jenny and Sid. They had watched our lives painfully unravel and then had helped me to stitch mine back together again. And they were still helping me now that it was time to change the cut, pattern and fabric of it. And I, in my turn, was more than happy to offer my help whenever they needed it. After all, it was the people of Soho who had taught me the true meaning and value of friendship over the years.

  Faith was taking her leave. ‘There’s not a lot to be done until someone unearths the gal,’ she said tactlessly. Bandy and I shuddered. ‘So, I’m off back to the farm. Keep me posted, Hope, and don’t do what you always do and take your eye off the bloody ball. You’ve always been a slacker. Look at you, you’re not even out of your pyjamas yet.’

  ‘I’ll have you know that they’re not pyjamas,’ Sugar intervened. ‘They’re a stylish little number I designed myself to suit her rather difficult frame. You could do with a little attention in that direction yourself, you know, speaking as a man. What do you think, Antony, Freddy? They’re in the trade, so they know a thing or two about dressing ladies,’ he explained.

  My two employers circled Faith with their fingers to their lips, eyes narrowed, considering. ‘The suit’s too small, that’s the trouble, that’s why she looks lumpy. And the colour! What do you say, Liz?’ Antony asked me.

  Freddy eyed Faith kindly. ‘Liz is our colour expert. Absolute whiz, can match anybody up.’ He paused. ‘Even you.’

  ‘Heather mixture tweeds, with a base of soft colours like pink or, better, mauve. You can get good heather mixture tweeds to go with all kinds of colours. Anything that appears in the slub, really,’ I answered.

  Faith looked down at her ginger chest, then at the group around her. She turned a brighter red and stumped sturdily to the door. ‘What’s a slub when it’s at home? And what do I care what a gaggle of ghastly nancy boys think of me?’ I realized the poor woman was embarrassed. Her voice grew sharp. ‘Keep in touch, Hope, and don’t let that girl anywhere near your sister. Father’s explicit instructions.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, but it’s tricky if I don’t know where she is. It’s possible she’s in Limehouse, and we don’t stand a snowflake’s chance in hell of getting in on the inside there. If the Chinese want to hide her, then they will, and there’s sweet Fanny Adams we can do about it. We’ll have to wait for her to emerge. If it’s her.’

  There was a pregnant pause, then Bandy’s voice took on a guarded note. ‘Either that, or we’ll have to ask for help from her uncle.’

  This stopped Faith’s retreat mid-stride. She lowered her sensible brogue, with the little fans of leather at the ends of the laces, very slowly and looked hard at her sister. ‘You wouldn’t!’ she said firmly.

  ‘What choice do I have, if we can’t find her by other means?’ Bandy asked in a reasonable tone.

  ‘Father would absolutely forbid it,’ Faith urged her sister, eyes still locked on her face. ‘Absolutely and completely. Our association with that family ended many years ago and it is far better to keep it that way.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Better and safer.’

  ‘I agree, but if she’s disappeared into Limehouse it may be the only way to get her out. Anyone but a Chinese would stick out like a sore thumb. What do you suggest?’

  ‘Find someone other than her uncle. Anyone,’ Faith suggested, voice strained.

  ‘Nowadays, that’s easier said than done,’ Bandy told her. ‘Much easier said than done. He’s been in London for some time, you know. His connections are many and wide reaching.’

  The sisters stared at each other, in silent communication, remembering God knew what from their shared past. Then, just as suddenly as she arrived, Faith turned back to the door and left us. We heard her loud footsteps echoing on the stairs and then all was quiet again.

  The moment she was out of earshot, Bandy turned to Sugar with a worried look. ‘She’s right, you know. It wouldn’t do to be caught up in anything that might be going on in the Chinese quarter.’

  Sugar looked pensive for so long, I thought he wasn’t going to speak at all, but finally he heaved a sigh. ‘You could be right. I’ve been trying not to think too hard about that angle. But then I don’t know who her uncle or even her father is. I thought you didn’t know, seeing you were long gone by the time he got your little sister in the pudding club.’

  The rest of us looked at one another in bewilderment. If we were looking for enlightenment, we were to be sadly disappointed.

  ‘Yes, well, best not to discuss it now,’ Bandy said briskly. ‘Let’s wait for our next meeting with T.C. We need to talk it over with him.’ Bandy turned to me. ‘By the way, what the hell is a “slub”, anyway?’

  For a moment she’d lost me, then I remembered I’d been talking about heather mixture tweed
s. ‘It’s the lumpy bits in some kinds of woollen fabrics, gives it a more textured look, something like bouclé, only that’s loops not lumps. It comes from the way they twist the yarn.’ I explained.

  Bandy didn’t look any the wiser, ‘It’s another bloody language, the way you frock-makers speak. Sugar’s just as bad; I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time.’

  Then her face cleared. ‘Ah, here comes some clientele!’ she said with relief as a clatter of high heels and brogues came down the stairs to the club. ‘Boozers. I understand them.’

  28

  That night I found myself submitting to the attentions of one of Freddy and Antony’s friends who, according to Freddy, wielded his scissors ‘like a true artiste. If anyone can do anything about that hair of yours, he can. Ronald is riah shusher to the stars. The only reason he is coming down from the heady heights to do yours is as a special favour to us.’ That and the slap-up three-course meal provided by Antony and Freddy, who loved to cook.

  We decided to put our worries about Peace aside for a few hours and make a night of it. I brought my ‘wayward barnet’ and a bottle of what I was assured was a good wine supplied by the French wine merchant in Old Compton Street. I wouldn’t have known a good wine if I’d drowned in one, so I was glad of his help.

  Freddy and Antony lived above the shop in St Anne’s Court – a lane that only took foot traffic and still had its cobbles and gas lamps, although they’d been converted to electricity after the war – and their flat managed to combine cosiness with elegance, which isn’t easy. Before I went there for the first time, I had been expecting the very latest in interior design, lots of bright plastics and up-to-the-minute fabrics, with blobs of primary colours. I was in for a shock.

  The building was old, Georgian, with high ceilings that boasted beautiful mouldings, and Freddy and Antony had decided to go with it, rather than to try to impose the twentieth century on it.