Fur Coat, No Knickers

by Anna King

  ‘It’s fer you, lad.’

  His forehead creased in puzzlement Nobby went down the hall and took the phone from Aggie, wondering who could be calling him here. As far as he knew he hadn’t given this number to any of his friends.

  ‘Hello, Nobby Clark here, who’s that?’

  A sinister chuckle came down the line.

  ‘What, forgotten me already, Nobby? Tut, tut, and us such good mates an’ all.’

  A chill went up Nobby’s back as he recognised the voice. Gripping the receiver harder he hissed, ‘What the bleeding hell you playing at, calling me here? And how’d yer get the number, ’cos I never gave it to yer?’

  The voice at the other end of the line sounded amused. ‘Give over, Nobby, it wasn’t hard ter find. There ain’t that many Donnellys in the phone book.’

  Nobby, his voice hard, said, ‘Don’t piss me about, Phil. We made a deal, remember. One job, and our partnership was finished. Well, I kept my part of the deal and—’

  The voice cut in sharply, all trace of humour gone. ‘Yeah, well, things have changed, mate. I don’t know whether yer heard, but our warehouse copped it in the last raid, and we need ter replace what we lost, and quickly. Now, I’ve got a couple of jobs lined up, both on the same night, so yer could look on it as just one more job fer old time’s sake. I wouldn’t ’ave bothered yer, mate, I mean we did make a deal, and I’m a man of me word… usually, but the thing is we need one more man, and you’re the only one I can trust ter keep his mouth shut. So there’s the deal…’

  ‘Oh, no… Oh, no, yer can forget that, Phil. I’m out of all that now. I make enough to keep me comfortable, and that’s just the way I want ter keep it…’

  ‘No! You listen ter me, Nobby. Yer’ll do as yer told, or else. Don’t forget that other job yer did with us. I told yer we needed some insurance on yer before we let yer out of the game, and now we’ve got it. You’re in it up ter yer neck, the same as us. But this’ll definitely be the last one. If we pull this off, none of us need ever worry about money again. We’ll be set fer life, an’ that includes you, Nobby. But if yer gonna try and wriggle outta it, then that insurance I was talking about is gonna get cashed in. Know what I mean, Nobby?’

  His breathing coming in rasping tones, Nobby said grimly, ‘Go on, then. Go ter the coppers. I’d rather take me chances with them than scum like you any day of the week. And one more thing, in case you’ve forgotten, Phil, it works both ways. You grass me up, and by God, you and your brother and that nutter of a cousin of yours will be standing right alongside me at the Old Bailey.’

  A surprised tone entered the gravelly voice at the other end of the line.

  ‘Coppers! Who said anything about the coppers, Nobby? Nah! I was thinking more about that nice bit of skirt you’re so fond of. Gracie, ain’t it? Posh piece by all accounts. Not one ter take kindly to villains hijacking lorries and stashing the proceeds. Then again, I may be wrong. Maybe she knows all about your little deals… Well! Does she, Nobby?’

  Nobby closed his eyes in defeat. Grace wasn’t stupid. She knew he dabbled in the black market, but she had no idea to what extent. And if she ever found out about the hijacking a few months ago…

  Wearily, he said, ‘All right, you bastard. One more. But by Christ, if you pull another fast one, I’ll take me chances with Grace and tell her meself.’

  A hearty laugh came down the phone.

  ‘That’s the spirit, me old mate. I’ll phone yer at home with more details later in the week. By the way, you got a shooter?’

  Nobby’s feet nearly left the ground.

  ‘A shooter? Fer fuck’s sake, Phil! What yer getting me into? Of course I ain’t got a shooter. Who’d yer think I am, Legs Diamond? Now look, I’ll have ter think about this, Phil, I—’

  ‘I’ll be in touch, Nobby.’ Then the line went dead.

  His face ashen, Nobby slowly replaced the receiver, then jumped as he turned to face Aggie. ‘I think you and me have got some talking ter do, son.

  And don’t try any of yer boyish charm on me, ’cos for once I ain’t in the mood.’

  Nodding slowly, Nobby followed Aggie into the sitting room. And after pouring out a glass of brandy for each of them, Nobby began to talk.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Two days later, on the Tuesday before the planned robbery, three letters clattered through the letterbox. Beryl, unable to sleep for worry about her future, was the first one up, and at the sound of the post arriving she almost shot out of the kitchen and into the hall.

  As she feverishly gathered up the envelopes she almost fainted with relief when she saw Donald’s familiar scrawl. There was another envelope identical in design, which was for Vi, and the last was a plain brown official-looking letter addressed to Grace, which Beryl threw back on the mat. Lady Muck could pick up her own mail.

  Beryl hurried back to the warm kitchen and ripped open the envelope, her eyes scanning the scrawled writing, her hopes rising with each word. When she had finished the two-page letter, she felt tears spring to her eyes, but they were tears of relief. Quickly now, she raced up the stairs and into Vi’s bedroom, and without any preamble she shook the sleeping figure awake.

  ‘Vi! Vi, wake up. Look, a letter from Chuck. And I’ve got one from Donald an’ all. Oh, come on, Vi, wake up.’

  Vi, her eyes bleary from lack of sleep, mumbled irritably before struggling up on to her pillows.

  ‘What the bleeding hell you playing at, Beryl? What time is it?’ Glancing at the bedside clock she gave a wail. ‘Are you mad, waking me up at this ungodly hour?’ she said angrily. ‘It’s only seven o’clock. I didn’t get home until three. You’d better have a bloody good reason for waking me up, Beryl.’

  Trembling with excitement, Beryl sat down heavily on the side of the bed and handed Vi’s letter to her, all the time talking excitedly.

  ‘Donald wants me to go to France to join him, until they get their orders to return to the States. Look! He’s sent visas and all sorts of forms, and he said Chuck was sending the same to you.’

  Fully awake now, Vi sat further up in the bed, and as she read Chuck’s letter a flutter of apprehension and fear coursed through her body. It was what she had been waiting for, but now it had arrived, she was suddenly afraid. It was one thing to dream and make plans, it was quite another to bring them to fruition.

  She reached out for the packet of cigarettes on the bedside table and lit up, also handing one to Beryl absently, her mind whirling. This wasn’t the way she had expected it to happen. She had imagined she would go to America when the war was over, which among other things would give her time to bring her nan around to the idea. That was what she was dreading most: telling her nan she was off to the other side of the world.

  Lighting up another cigarette from the first one, she said to Beryl, ‘Look, go and make us some tea, will you, Beryl? I’m still not properly awake yet.’

  Eager to please, Beryl bounded off the bed, her eyes alight with excitement. Pausing at the door she said breathlessly, ‘It’s happening at last, Vi. We’ll soon be outta this dump and living in luxury.’

  Vi looked at the open door, her face showing distaste at Beryl’s eagerness. Since she had discovered the truth about Beryl’s past life, and that she had married Uncle Danny bigamously, Vi had found it harder and harder to remain civil to her so-called sister-in-law, let alone go back to the friendship they had once shared. For a moment she forgot about herself and thought of Danny, and the welcome home he would receive. Not, as he imagined, with a wife and child waiting for him, but the news that he had no wife, and the child he had thought his could have been conceived by any one of a dozen men. That had always puzzled Vi – that Beryl, with all her worldly ways, had got herself caught. Especially all the warnings and advice Beryl had given to her after she’d met Chuck and begun sleeping with him. Then again, everyone was fallible, but never in a million years would she have imagined Beryl getting herself pregnant through sheer carelessness.

  The
truth was, Danny would be better off without Beryl. Her uncle might be a bit of a wally at times, but he deserved better than Beryl, or whatever her real name was. Trouble was, he wouldn’t see it like that, at least not at first. But in time he’d get over it. He’d have to, wouldn’t he, poor sod. Shaking her head, she re-read the letter then lay back on her pillows to think. That she loved Chuck, she had no doubt, but to leave London within the next couple of weeks to stay in a foreign country for goodness knows how long before they could safely travel to the States was another issue entirely. Then there was the small matter of breaking the news to the rest of the family.

  ‘Here we are, a nice cuppa tea.’ Beryl was back with two steaming mugs of tea. ‘I couldn’t find any sugar, but the milkman’s been, thank Gawd… Well! What d’yer think?’

  Sipping slowly at her tea, Vi shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know, Beryl. It’s all a bit sudden, and not like I imagined it would happen.’

  Beryl’s heart took a nosedive at Vi’s lack of enthusiasm. She didn’t lack guts, but she didn’t relish making that journey by herself.

  Swallowing hard, she uttered a false laugh. ‘What d’yer mean, it’s a bit sudden? You was saying only the other day how yer couldn’t wait ter get outta London and be with Chuck. ’Ere, yer ain’t changed yer mind, have yer, Vi? I mean, well, Chuck would be heartbroken if yer said yer wasn’t gonna go out ter be with him.’

  Vi flicked a cursory glance at her so-called sister-in-law. As if Beryl cared about Chuck’s feelings, or anyone’s else’s for that matter. All Beryl cared about was herself. And the truth was that if Vi didn’t go as planned, then Beryl would suffer.

  Desperate to revive Vi’s interest, Beryl held up her letter and continued excitedly, ‘Listen, Donald says the top brass have taken over a chateau on the outskirts of Paris, and there’s enough room for both of us to live in comfort until they’re ready to ship out. And him and Chuck are top brass, ain’t they? So they’ll be able ter pull some strings to get us both to America safely. I don’t know how they’ll wangle it, but that’s their problem, ain’t it? Then there’s the accommodation they’ve found fer us. I mean it ain’t as if they was ordinary GIs offering ter put us up in a crappy old farmhouse fer Gawd knows how long. Oh, come on, Vi, please. Don’t let me down. I can’t go without yer… Well, I could, but I wouldn’t fancy it much on me own. And, like Donald says, with all these bleeding doodlebugs landing wherever it takes their fancy, we could easily cop it. It ain’t safe in London, Vi. We’ve been lucky up ter now. We came through the Blitz, and the other raids, but our luck can’t last for ever. We’ve gotta get out while the going’s good.’ She stared in desperation at the lovely face lying against the pillows, her heart racing, waiting for Vi to say something.

  Replacing her mug on the tray, Vi sighed heavily, her mind going round in circles. Beryl was right in one respect. It wasn’t safe to be in London right now, and maybe if she waited until the war was over it might be too late. But what about the rest of the family? If all this had happened a couple of years back she wouldn’t have hesitated, but things were different now. She had changed. She no longer felt herself to be outside the family circle, but a part of it, and it was a good feeling. She’d grown up a lot during the war. As Grace had pointed out, she was no longer the spoilt, petulant young girl she used to be, with no other thought in her head but having a good time… Oh, Lord! She didn’t know what to do. She had to have time to think, she had to talk it over with someone. Not Beryl, Oh, no! But Grace would listen. She might not condone what Vi planned to do, but she would listen and give a fair and unbiased opinion. Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d talk to Grace. But first she had to get rid of Beryl.

  ‘Look, this has all come as a bit of a shock, Beryl, and I’m still half-asleep. We’ll talk about it more tonight when the others are in bed, all right?’

  Heartened by Vi’s change of attitude, Beryl rose hastily from the bed, saying, ‘Yeah, all right, mate. You have a think about it. And while you’re thinking, have a thought about that chateau. I’ve heard they’re like palaces. We’ll live like royalty.’

  Her head beginning to thump, Vi said wearily, ‘Don’t get too excited about the chateau, Beryl. Now France has been liberated, it’ll be returned to its rightful owner, so we could still end up in that crappy house you were talking about.’

  Laughing gaily, Beryl replied, ‘Nah, yer don’t have ter worry about that, Vi. Donald told me all about it in his letter. It belonged to some Jews who got taken off ter one of the concentration camps over a year ago. They must be all dead by now. Hitler didn’t hang about using those gas chambers, did he? That’s if those stories are true. Anyway, I’ll let yer get some rest, and we’ll have that little chat later.’

  The callousness of Beryl’s remark brought the gorge rising in Vi’s stomach. Stumbling from the bed she just made it to the toilet before throwing up. Shaken, she climbed wearily back into bed, shuffling down as far as she could under the bedclothes, trying to shut out the faceless family who had once occupied the chateau that Beryl was in such a rush to inhabit. But try as she might, she kept seeing a dim outline of a man and woman, the parents, maybe grandparents, and children, grandchildren, all taken away and murdered, for no other fault than being born a Jew.

  Vi burrowed deeper under the bedclothes and closed her eyes. If she did go to France, and if she had to share a home with Beryl for a time, so be it. But once in America, she would make sure she never set eyes on the woman again.

  * * *

  Later on that afternoon, Aggie made a trip to the police station in Mare Street. At first the desk sergeant imagined her to be one of a dozen women coming in with far-fetched stories of spies and traitors in their midst. But once she mentioned the name Davidson his manner instantly changed. Soon she was being interviewed by an inspector, but try as he would, the only information he could get from the old woman was that the Davidsons planned to carry out a major job in the early hours of Thursday morning, on a stretch of road about a mile from the docks. Furthermore, they would be carrying guns. As for where she had obtained this information, Aggie’s lips remained tightly sealed.

  Having said her piece, Aggie made to rise from her chair.

  ‘Just a minute, madam.’ The sergeant placed himself in front of the stout figure. ‘If we could just have your name and address…’

  The look Aggie gave the unfortunate man would, as he told his colleagues later, have stripped paint from the walls quicker than turpentine.

  ‘What do you think, sir?’ the sergeant asked after the formidable figure had left the office. ‘She seemed all there, but you never know these days. And if she is making it up, there’ll be an awful lot of manpower wasted.’

  The inspector, a veteran of thirty years in the force shook his head.

  ‘No! She knows what she’s talking about, all right. Probably someone in her family’s been pulled into it, and she wants the Davidsons stopped before her son or grandson gets hurt.’

  The inspector rubbed his chin thoughtfully then rose to his feet, saying tersely, ‘Come on, Fred. We’ve got a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it, so let’s get moving.’

  * * *

  ‘France, Vi! Oh, no. I mean, I know how much you want to be with Chuck, but couldn’t you wait a while longer? And what about nan? It’ll break her heart, you know it will. Not only Nan, but me and Poll as well. We might never see you again.’

  Tears welled in Grace’s eyes as she stared at her sister across the table in the dimly lit kitchen, and when she saw Vi’s eyes beginning to glisten she reached over and grasped her hand tightly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Vi, I’m being selfish. If that’s what you really want to do, then I’ll help in any way I can. But how on earth are you going to get to France? It’s not like you can just get on a boat and sail across, is it?’

  In answer Vi pushed Chuck’s letter across the table for Grace to read, saying weakly, ‘Chuck and Donald have got it all worked out. Beryl and me will cat
ch a train to Dover, and from there we’ll board an American convoy ship bound for France. They’ve organised all the necessary documentation, and as it’s all been arranged by two of the top brass, as Beryl calls Chuck and Donald, there shouldn’t be any problem.’

  But Grace was far from reassured.

  ‘And what about the German bombers, Vi? They’re always on the look-out for convoy ships. You could be bombed out of the water before you got halfway across the Channel.’

  Vi’s lips twisted in a wan smile.

  ‘Oh, I think we’ll be safe enough, Grace. All convoy ships have heavy escorts and, as Beryl says, we could just as well be killed by a doodlebug if we stay in London. I’m willing to take my chance on the ship if it means being with Chuck.’

  Hiccuping and sniffing, Grace attempted to smile, even though every fibre in her body wanted to scream and beg Vi not to go.

  ‘All right, Vi, it’s your decision, and as you seem to have made up your mind, I won’t stand in your way.’ Forcing a laugh, she added in a quivering voice, At least we’ll get a cheap holiday once a year, once you’re settled in America.’

  Vi gripped Grace’s hand tightly.

  ‘Thanks, Grace, I appreciate it, really I do. And there’s one thing Nan will be pleased about, I’ll be taking the ghastly Beryl with me, though I wouldn’t like to be here when Uncle Danny gets home.’

  Wiping her nose on a clean handkerchief, Grace smiled weakly.

  ‘You’re right there, though Nan’ll miss little Patrick. She’s become quite fond of him, we all have. After all, he didn’t ask to be born, did he, poor little devil, and he’s such a cheerful little soul. He deserves much better than a mother like Beryl.’

  Vi gave an unladylike sniff, her eyes suddenly dropping to the table, unable to meet Grace’s glance.

  ‘I was wondering if you’d… well, if you’d break the news to Nan, only I…’