by Pip Granger
‘Well, I’ve heard it called some things,’ I said, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the washing up. I felt the heat start in my neck and rise steadily until my face was burning brightly. I didn’t know what had got into me, besides relief that is; I usually wouldn’t be so rude. I stumbled on: ‘But I’ve never heard it called a snake watch before.’
‘Don’t you believe me?’ T.C. sounded a little hurt.
‘How can I? The woman is gorgeous, you’ve loved her for years and years and now you’re free, why shouldn’t you rush back to her?’ It seemed a reasonable question to me, but then I hadn’t reckoned on his response. When I finally took a peek at him, I realized with horror that he was crying silently.
I didn’t know what to say, so I dried my hands, sat down quietly and said nothing, trying hard to pretend that I hadn’t noticed. I had never seen a man cry before, except Uncle Cyril at his friend’s funeral, and that didn’t count: they’d come through the trenches together. Uncle Cyril had been lumbered with looking after me for an afternoon, so he’d taken me along to his old comrade’s ‘do’. He hadn’t troubled to mention it was to be a funeral. As my aunt said, he always knew how to show a girl a good time. T.C. spoke at last, his voice dreamy with memory.
‘Cassie was such a live wire. Always so full of life.’ He sighed, his eyes grew unbearably sad and I thought the tears must start again, but they stopped at his long lashes. ‘And it was so different at home. Poor Pat. We knew what was in store there, and it wasn’t a lot of fun. Obviously, it was far worse for her. She was the one losing the battle by a little bit every day. It was remorseless, and she was so brave …’
His voice drifted off and he was quiet for so long, I thought he’d finished, but he hadn’t. ‘It was Pat’s idea, you know. “Take a mistress,” she said. She’d been saying it for years, ever since that side of things, you know …’
He paused again, the memory painful. ‘She told me I was a young man, had natural urges, all that. I just laughed at her, told her not to be daft. She was my wife.’ He stopped again, then whispered, ‘She was my wife’, as if that explained everything. And I suppose that it did.
‘So what changed your mind?’
T.C. came back from the bleak place. ‘Cassandra did. She was so gorgeous.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘You could say she swept me off my feet.’
‘But is it completely over now?’ I asked tentatively, just to make absolutely sure. Nobody could ever accuse me of being overburdened with confidence. Although T.C. had said he loved me, that had been on the lean-to roof when he was about to go into God knew what.
Part of me, the bit that had been likened to a mantelpiece, a plank and a cow by my husband Sid, had been nagging away at me ever since, telling me that people said all sorts of things in the heat of battle. The other part, the part that was thoroughly enjoying having her ear and neck nuzzled from time to time during the conversation, knew that his affair with Cassie was long dead, and was appalled that I needed to ask.
T.C. gave me a little squeeze and kissed my ear. ‘Yes, it’s over now, although we’ll always have a history between us. And there’s Rosie too, she’ll be another connection. I hope you can cope with that?’ It was his turn to feel insecure.
I said that I thought I could, and we stayed quiet for a while.
A little later, after we’d cleared Bandy’s kitchen of washing up, we moved downstairs to my living room where we enjoyed a cuddle on the settee and moved on to other topics. We exchanged a little of our histories, the way new couples do.
‘Where were you born?’ I asked him, hungry for every little detail. I tried to imagine him as a young boy, which was easy: a picture of a rather more masculine version of Rosie came to mind.
‘On the borders of West Hampstead and Kilburn, at number twenty-three Garlinge Road,’ he answered. ‘And before you ask, my dad was a printer in Fleet Street and my mum was a housewife.’
‘I see,’ I said, trying to sound like Sherlock Holmes. ‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’
‘I had an older brother, Peter, who bought it over France in ’forty-three. He flew Spitfires. And I have a younger sister Margaret, who married an Aussie and lives in Sydney. Mags and Jim have two kids, Terry and Theresa. So I’m a proud uncle twice over.’ He beamed. ‘How about you?’
‘No, no one like that. Our lot didn’t go in for having children for some reason. Of course, some of the aunts never married. It was the shortage of men when they were young, what with the Great War and the Spanish flu after it, there simply weren’t enough men to go round.’
‘So you were a one and only. Were you a lonely kid?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, especially as I wasn’t allowed to play with the other children in my street.’ T.C. raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘They didn’t belong to the right church, and anyway, they were “common”, according to Mum. It never seemed to occur to her that we were common, too, seeing as we lived there as well.’
T.C. nuzzled my neck and whispered, ‘Well, you can play with me all you like’ as he moved in to kiss me again, long and hard.
He coughed as we came up for air. ‘Time I went home I think, before I start to take liberties.’ He disentangled himself and stood up abruptly. ‘Better not to rush things,’ he said gruffly. ‘We have all the time in the world to take things steadily.’
I was reluctant to let him go, but I was also aware that the last twenty-four hours, with all its highs, lows and downright frightening moments, had really taken their toll. I wasn’t sure that there was a single muscle in my body that didn’t hurt from all the exertion. I needed a long, hot bath before Peace’s welcome home bash that night and I thought he probably did too. ‘You’ll be back for the party tonight?’ I asked.
‘Try and keep me away,’ he laughed. ‘But I’ve got to go home, clean up and get out of this bloody shirt. I can’t get used to this open-neck thing.’ T.C. flapped the floppy collar of Sugar’s shirt. ‘I’m definitely a tie man myself.’
37
The party that night was a small, intimate affair that managed to upset all the serious drinkers of the locality, because Bandy and Sugar decided to close the club to everyone except a select band of invited guests. It was safer that way. Bobby Bristowe’s wrestling pals were deputed to man the door and to keep out anyone out who wasn’t on Bandy and Sugar’s brief list.
I went to town on getting ready, with Peace’s help. I wore my posh frock and full make-up, and my hair was set beautifully by my young friend. I was getting better at this dressing-up business. Peace looked lovely in a Chinese silk outfit in a shade of olive green that would have looked awful on me, but with Peace’s colouring, looked stunning. And rather sophisticated too, which I expect was the effect she was after, seeing that she wanted to impress on everyone her readiness to enter into matrimony. The outfit had woven into the fabric a pattern of peonies that was so subtle it only showed up when the light struck it in a certain way.
Although she’d said very little on the subject, I gathered that the meeting with Mrs Wong had gone better than either she or Lucky had anticipated. Mrs Wong was probably simply relieved to have the couple home safely. She had refused to be drawn on the question of the hoped-for marriage of her son, beyond saying that she would consult an astrologer to cast their horoscopes to see if they were suited or not. I was fascinated. I hadn’t known about the astrological aspects of a betrothal.
‘We have deeply offended the Chinese custom already,’ explained Peace. ‘It is very wrong to elope. Marriages are arranged by a matchmaker and the two families. When they all agree, the astrologer is consulted. Sometimes, in traditional families, a couple do not even meet until the betrothal feast. I do not think I would like that,’ she said earnestly, but then, she was very young and madly in love.
Personally, I could see some sense in such parental involvement. Experience was not to be sneezed at. If I hadn’t ignored my family’s opinion of Sid, I might have been saved a very unhappy marriage. But then there would have be
en no Jenny …
‘Mrs Wong thought that Lucky may be forgiven for running away with me, because my parents are unknown and anyway, I am half “ghost” – that is what some Chinese people call foreigners.’ Peace smiled at me in the mirror as she wound another roller in my hair. ‘So I have no face to save as far as a lot of Chinese people are concerned.’
I thought that the same sentiments, more or less, would be held by a lot of English people. Luckily, few of them lived in Soho, stone-throwing not being that wise for people living in glass houses. Soho was made up of misfits and we all rubbed along together pretty well for the most part.
‘How did Bandy take the news?’ I asked. Peace had said very little about her private reunion with Bandy beyond the fact that she, too, had been nicer than Peace had dreamed she would be.
‘She said that she personally had no objection to our marriage, but that she first had to consult with the Bunyan family and my Chinese family also.’ Peace paused with a roller in her hand and a faraway look in her eye. ‘She still will not tell me who my parents are. It is most annoying. But Aunt is very firm, she says she must consult with the families first, that she needs their permission to break such a long-held secret, even to me. Or, perhaps, especially to me,’ she finished sadly.
We talked of other things for a while, and finally we were both ready to make our appearance downstairs where everyone had gathered to welcome Peace back into our midst and to reassure her that she was a valued member of our little clan. It was a message she badly needed to hear, or so Sugar, Bandy, T.C. and I thought. The poor girl had felt so unloved and so unwanted for most of her life, and we were determined to change that if we could. We walked in single file down the stairs, me in front. When I reached the club door, it was closed, but I could hear the murmur of voices on the other side of it.
I coughed – the signal to Sugar to throw open the doors – and stepped back, so that Peace would be first in. The doors flew open to reveal Bandy and Sugar grinning like two Cheshire cats, arms flung wide in welcome, and as one the entire company assembled behind them roared, ‘Welcome home, Peace!’ Then the throng gathered around the delighted, but utterly bewildered girl to welcome her more personally.
Rosie was first in: she simply launched herself at her friend, flung her arms around her and danced a little jig of pure delight and relief. ‘You’re back, we’ve missed you, I’ve missed you ever so much. Everyone’s missed you,’ she shouted.
‘Hear, hear!’ Bert echoed solemnly.
‘Too true. Best little Saturday girl we ever had.’ Maggie smiled.
‘But she’s the only Saturday girl we’ve ever had,’ Rosie protested and everyone laughed, including an overwhelmed Peace.
Bobby and Pansy shyly presented the guest of honour with a posy of flowers they’d had made up by Cissie at the market. Freddy and Antony presented her with an IOU for the frock of her choice to be made at her convenience. The Campaninis had come bearing food for the party and piled it up on the tables for people to help themselves. T.C. simply gave her a speechless hug and then came over to join me. ‘You look lovely, Lizzie,’ he whispered in my ear, as he slipped his arm around my waist, thus announcing to the entire company that we were now a couple.
I thought I’d die of happiness right there and then, but stood up fairly well to the scrutiny and smiled proudly at people’s knowing looks. But I blushed like mad under my make-up.
It was a good evening and towards the end of it, Lucky and Mrs Wong put in an appearance and were welcomed by one and all. Poor Mrs Wong, she looked so shy and lost, despite the fact that everyone knew her from the cafe and there wasn’t a stranger in the room.
Malcolm wasn’t there, I noticed. I wondered, briefly, if anyone had invited him before my attention was drawn elsewhere.
It was only when the party broke up, quite early as these things go, in deference to the exhausting and frightening time Peace, Lucky and their friends and families had endured, that we heard that Mrs Wong had passed on a message from Brilliant to Sugar in a quiet moment.
‘My friend has asked to meet you tomorrow,’ Sugar said as he, Peace, T.C. and I enjoyed a cup of cocoa and Bandy enjoyed another gin. The other guests had left and we were not far off making for our beds. Once again, we had guards to make sure we were safe. I wondered if we were being just a little over-protective, but bowed to Bandy and T.C.’s superior knowledge of Triads and their activities.
‘It depends what they wanted Peace for in the first place,’ T.C. explained as he kissed me goodnight. ‘They may stop at nothing to get her back, in which case the situation is extremely dangerous. But I’ll be upstairs again, Sugar and Bobby are bedding down in your living room and there’s the odd wrestler in a sleeping bag here and there in the building. It’ll be hard to break in unchallenged. You should be all right.’
I was reassured, but couldn’t help wondering why T.C. was so determined to sleep in Sugar’s room. I didn’t ask; I suspected it had something to do with protecting my reputation.
I felt a warm glow. I’d got myself a real smasher and a thoroughly decent man. Even Mother might have approved.
38
The next morning, much refreshed, I got up and had breakfast with Peace and set off in good time. I was to meet Brilliant Chang in the perfume department at Selfridges at ten, and wanted to nip into work to pick out an outfit from my brand new clothes, which I’d been told had arrived, thanks to Freddy and Antony and their lovely friend, the buyer.
Although I was on full alert for any unknown Chinese men loitering with intent, or worse, approaching me on the street, I was also amazingly happy and light of heart and step. Reason suggested if there were any lurking men, they’d pounce on Peace, not me, and Peace was surrounded by all-in wrestlers, Bandy, Sugar and T.C., so I thought she was about as safe as we could make her. Her long-term safety was more of a problem, and I had been carefully coached by Sugar, Bandy and T.C. to approach Brilliant on the subject.
‘Brilliant’s seriously connected in the Triad pecking order,’ Sugar reminded us. ‘She’s the one to make the approaches to, and she’ll deal with the powers that be for us. Never underestimate Brilliant.’ Sugar smiled a faraway smile. ‘If anyone can swing Peace’s continued safety and future happiness, Brilliant can,’ he said proudly.
I was also to bring up the subject of Peace being allowed to marry and how to go about arranging that to the satisfaction of the Chinese branch of her family. The couple already had Mrs Wong’s provisional agreement, depending on their horoscopes and the prevailing attitude of the local Chinese community. Mrs Wong was desperate not to offend anyone, particularly the Changs.
As I walked through the shop door, Antony whipped a leather suitcase on to the counter and flung the lid open. ‘Feast your eyes on this lot, my dear Elizabeth.’
It took Freddy, Antony and me a while to decide just what I should wear to my meeting with Brilliant. ‘The dirty pink cashmere jumper then,’ said Freddy, standing back, finger to lips and eyes half closed in contemplation, ‘and the navy skirt. But it needs something to lift it. That neck’s a bit severe. What do you think, Ant?’
‘For a start, Freddy dear, I don’t think you should call a perfectly respectable shade of dusky pink, “dirty”. You’ll put the lady off.’ Antony smiled. ‘But I think you’re right about the neck. Are there any scarves in the case?’
We searched, but there wasn’t one suitable and there also wasn’t time to run one up from some silk from the stock. ‘We haven’t the time to hem the edges,’ said Freddy. ‘You can’t go out with ragged edges.’
‘I’ve got it!’ Antony shouted from his workroom. He returned to the shop holding up a necklace made up of three strings of beautifully shimmering pearls. They looked almost real in the shop lights. We kept a small stock of costume jewellery – tiaras, earrings, necklaces and brooches – so that the customers could get an idea of what sort of thing went well with their dresses. Antony clasped the necklace around my neck, then he and Freddy stood
back to admire the effect.
‘Just the thing, Ant. Moves the whole outfit up from nice to classy. Classic and classy – you can’t go wrong. All you need now is a touch of powder on your nose and a spot of lipstick to finish off. The black shoes and bag will do. So will the gloves.’
Antony held my coat out for me, and put forward his opinion while he was at it. ‘Your coat’s a disgrace, but you can whip it off as you go through the door and carry it over your arm.’
‘I wish you’d tell us who you’re meeting. Must be important, to go to all this trouble. Future mother-in-law by any chance?’ Freddy asked, brows raised to reveal eyes sparkling with curiosity.
It was so hard to keep Brilliant’s existence a secret from my bosses, especially as they loved good gossip and I actually had some for a change, but I simply couldn’t break my promise, so I smiled what I hoped was an enigmatic smile and buzzed off quickly before I got the third degree.
I arrived a little early and waited beside the Chanel range as instructed. I had thought Sugar might put in an appearance as well, but he was being careful. Too many ‘accidental’ meetings would look unnatural, should anybody be watching Brilliant.
She was a little late, and I spent my time trying some of the perfumes that I couldn’t afford to buy. I was rather taken with Chanel No. 5, until I realized that a single bottle would cost several weeks’ rent, and my chapel upbringing was appalled. It was at that moment that Brilliant arrived, all smiles and apologies for being late.
‘I am so sorry. There has been a bit of a flap. A family member is causing difficulties – as usual,’ she explained ruefully. ‘It seems that most families have one such member, yes?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m afraid that in my family, I’m the one.’ I smiled shyly; Brilliant put me in the shade, even in my finery. Perhaps that was why she was called Brilliant. Maybe she put everyone in the shade, even her troublesome relatives.