by Helen Spring
'Safer?' Anna was mystified.
'More secure,' he corrected himself. 'I would like Jennie to be protected from all the noise and bustle of the city, and if they have children there is space here.'
'It's a very nice area they have chosen,' Anna reassured him, 'And I have a complaint of my own. I understand that it is due to your influence that I have lost Jennie from the business.'
Vittorio smiled. 'It was the only concession they made to me, Jennie giving up work,' he said. 'The only point I won!'
'It wasn't a battle surely?' Anna said. From the look on his face she saw that it had been exactly that.
'On that point I would never give way,' Vittorio said. 'Married ladies do not work when their husbands can support them. It's not right. It would be a disgrace.'
'What about me?' Anna asked. 'Am I a disgrace?'
'Certainly not. But you are a New Yorker, not Italian.'
'No, I'm not. I'm an immigrant from England. And Vittorio, remember this. Jennie is not Italian either.'
He smiled ruefully. 'I'll do my best. Shall we go back?'
Anna took his arm and a few moments later as they left the rose garden they saw that a large number of guests had gathered on the terrace. There seemed to be some sort of commotion, with everyone talking at once. Clancy extricated himself from the throng and came down the terrace steps towards them.
'There ye are darlin'. There's terrible news. The Lusitania has been sunk by a German submarine. She was off the coast of Ireland, so she was. Twelve hundred souls drowned, many of them were women and children.'
'Oh, how dreadful!' Anna was aghast.
Vittorio was quick to agree. 'And on our happy day too,' he said sadly, 'It is most distressing. I expect like me, you are glad to be out of Europe Mr.Sullivan, so this dreadful war does not affect us so directly.'
'I'm not so sure of that,' Clancy said grimly. 'A hundred and twenty eight of the passengers were American citizens. This may be what was needed to make President Wilson decide to take America into the war.'
~
President Wilson stopped short of declaring war, but in the aftermath of the public outcry he issued a strong warning to Germany, as well as initiating what was called a "preparedness campaign" at home.
For Anna and Clancy however, the war in Europe came suddenly near. Only three weeks after the wedding Anna arrived home to find Lottie looking anxious.
'What is it Lottie?' The two women had grown so close that Anna noticed immediately if Lottie was troubled.
'Oh, it's nothing I'm sure, you know me, always looking for trouble before it's here...' Lottie fussed, as she carried a tray of tea into the drawing room.
'Goodness, what service! You had tea ready I can see...'
It was then that Anna noticed the letter on the tea tray, and picked it up with an expression of delight. 'Oh look! It's from Will...' Her expression changed suddenly and she stared at Lottie with apprehension.
'Oh Lottie... I had a letter from Will last week.'
'I know my dear.' Lottie said. 'I've been able to think of nothing else since it came. I know he only writes about once a month.'
The two women stared at each other, the envelope trembling slightly in Anna's hand.
'Best open it,' Lottie said. 'It's probably nothing much.'
Anna sat down and slowly opened the letter. She knew the contents before she read it, because unlike Will's normal letters it was only a page, written hastily in the familiar copperplate handwriting. Anna let the page flutter to the floor, and Lottie picked it up and read it quickly.
Lottie bent and kissed Anna, feeling her heart clench as if in a vice. The face Anna turned towards her was white and stunned, full of pathetic pleading. 'Not our Billy, oh no dear Lord... not our Billy...'
'I'll telephone Mr. Sullivan,' Lottie said.
Half an hour later, rocked in Clancy's arms, Anna cried, 'It can't be true, it can't. We didn't even know he was in Gallipoli...'
'I know darlin', but in wartime, they can't tell you where the soldiers are going...'
'I read about it Clancy! I read about the landings at Seddel-Bahr... and the terrible loss of life there... and I didn't know... I didn't know Billy was one of them...' Anna's voice was an anguished wail.
'I know. It takes a long time for news to get through... and then Will had to let us know...'
'Poor Will and Mary! Oh Clancy, I must go home for the funeral...'
Clancy rocked her gently. 'Hush, darlin', hush...'
'I must book a passage...'
'No, darlin'. Quiet now, you don't have to go anywhere...'
'But I must...'
'No darlin'.' Clancy looked into her brimming eyes with compassion. 'I'm not allowing you anywhere near the Atlantic with those German subs about... and anyway...' Clancy hated himself but finished the sentence quietly, 'There isn't going to be any funeral darlin', not for Billy, not for a lot of our boys.'
She stared at him a moment, not comprehending, and then he watched her crumple, become smaller somehow, and she said wonderingly, 'Vittorio... Vittorio Vetti... he said rituals are important. He was right.' A thought struck her and she raised a tear stained face to him. 'Oh Clancy! We were at the wedding... enjoying that lovely day... and our Billy was already dead!'
'You mustn't think of it like that darlin'. It's the war, that's all, it turns everything upside down...'
His words did not help. Anna's brain held on to the image of a small cheeky boy, running down the ginnel at Sandley Heath, to visit the corner shop for a pennyworth of Hudson's soap and a ha'penny blue. 'And a bag o'boilers from your rich auntie,' she whispered, before her grief broke and she sobbed her misery into Clancy's shoulder. Clancy did all he could, but she would not be comforted.
~
The traffic was heavy at the end of the working day and Clancy sat in the back of the car, fuming at the delay. After a hectic afternoon he had been about to leave for home, when the telephone call from a downtown delicatessen had sent him in the opposite direction to deal with what was described as an emergency. What kind of emergency was not clear. The manager had seemed almost incoherent, insisting only that Mr. Sullivan must come right away. It was amazing how problems seemed to arise when Joe Kowalski was on holiday. Clancy recalled that the manager of the deli, a man called Hopkins, had been with the company for several years. Surely he should have been able to cope until Joe came back from visiting his sister? It was particularly annoying to be delayed tonight, because for the first time since Billy's death Anna had agreed to accompany him out to dinner.
Reaching the delicatessen at last, Clancy's temper was not improved by seeing the shutters down and the shop closed. Telling his chauffeur to park around the corner, he alighted and angrily rattled the door.
'That'll do you no good,' said a poor looking woman with a scarf around her head, who was standing in the doorway. 'I've been knockin' five minutes and 'e won't open, although 'e's in there. I seen 'im lookin' out.'
Clancy rattled the door again, and as he did so it was opened a few inches and Mr. Hopkins peered out.
'Oh it's you Mr. Sullivan, thank goodness!' He opened the door and Clancy entered, only to see Hopkins quickly shut the door behind him.
'Hopkins! Why are we closed? There's a woman out there wants to buy something.'
'Sorry Mr.Sullivan, I had no choice...'
It was only then that Clancy noticed the extent of Hopkins discomfiture. His face was ashen, and he was wringing his hands together as if terrified.
Clancy moved forward into the darkened shop. 'What is it Hopkins, what's wrong?'
He was answered by a gruff and rather uncouth Brooklyn accent. The voice said, 'Nothing wrong. Nothing at all Mr. Sullivan,' and Clancy was just able to discern a heavy figure moving at the back of the premises.
'Who is that?' As he said it Clancy saw the gun. It was pointed straight at him.
'It's the mob, Mr Sullivan, they want money...' Hopkins voice came from beside him, whining, pleading.
'I said I couldn't give them any, and Joe was on holiday. They said they wanted the boss...'
Clancy stared in amazement, he had thought the business was immune to such pressures because of its size. 'It's all right Hopkins,' he said.
'I didn't know what to do,' Hopkins whined. 'They had a gun on me...'
'You should have given them the money,' Clancy said. 'And then telephoned me.'
The gunman came out of the shadows and Clancy saw he was a thickset man, heavy and dark, with stubble on his chin. He was followed closely by his accomplice, a wiry, ferret faced man who was holding an axe. The first man pushed his trilby hat to the back of his head with the gun and smiled broadly, showing bad teeth.
'That's what I like to hear,' he said. 'A boss man with sense. You can call me Peters. Mr. Peters.'
'Well Mr. Peters, I don't intend to pay protection money. I don't like my staff to be threatened, that's all. As soon as my manager had got rid of you I should have telephoned the police.' Clancy managed to sound firm, convincing.
Peters laughed out loud. 'Would you now? And what do you think they would have done?'
'Put you in jail for threatening decent citizens,' Clancy said. He had recovered from the shock and was becoming angry. 'Just go, please. Get off my premises or I'll ring them now, so I will...'
The gunman was surprisingly quick, and the revolver was under Clancy's chin in an instant. He pushed Clancy's head back. 'Shut that mouth or I'll blow your head off...'
Clancy froze, but managed to mutter 'Then you'll never get any money...' His heart pounded in his chest as he watched the gunman's face. After a moment the gun was lowered and Peters stepped back.
Clancy swallowed. 'Can we let Hopkins go? You don't need him surely. He won't say anything.'
Peters considered. 'I'm a reasonable man, I don't need him when I have the boss man.' He turned to Hopkins. 'You say a word to anyone,' he said, 'And you'll be killed. Certain.'
Hopkins flinched, and looked desperately at Clancy, who said as calmly as he could, 'Don't worry Hopkins, no-one is going to be killed. Go home now and don't speak to anyone about this, you understand? I'll come and see you tomorrow.'
'That's right,' Peters said in a soothing tone. 'Nobody gets killed because everybody plays ball and does what he's told.' He turned to Hopkins again. 'You probably think being killed means being shot...' He put the revolver to Hopkins head. 'You're wrong. There are better ways,' he threatened softly, almost whispering, as the ferret faced man came forward and raised the axe to within inches of the manager's terrified eyes.
'Stop this!' Clancy commanded. 'He won't say anything.'
Peters nodded and ferret face opened the shop door. Hopkins gave a quick glance in Clancy's direction and hurried out.
'That was all most unnecessary,' Clancy said.
Peters faced him. 'Are you going to play ball?'
'No.' Clancy said.
Peters smiled. 'I know your problem Mr Sullivan. Didn't want to talk in front of your manager did you? You're going to tell me you already pay protection to Vetti's mob.' He made an expansive gesture, 'I have good news for you Mr. Sullivan, you need never pay another dollar to Vetti, he's on his way out.' He grinned evilly. 'You pay me instead.'
'I pay no-one,' Clancy said. 'I've never paid anything to Vetti and I'm not paying anything to you.'
Peters grinned. 'You think after we've gone you can ring Vetti and he'll send his boys to deal with us. It's reasonable you should think that way, that's what you've been paying for after all, protection...'
'I've told you I don't pay anyone!'
'But you're wrong,' Peters continued, as if Clancy had not spoken. 'I've told you Vetti is finished. We are taking over this area.'
Clancy remained silent.
'Fifty dollars a week,' the gunman said. 'That's what I need from each of your delicatessens. We shall collect every Friday evening about this time. We have a list of your branches, and a list of your restaurants too.'
'You'll get nothing from me.' Clancy growled.
'I have not been given a figure for the restaurants, but I'll let you know the amount soon. If you don't want your staff involved we are prepared to accept one weekly payment from you personally, covering all the outlets. Cash of course.'
'I've told you, you're wasting your time.'
The gun was under Clancy's chin again. 'Fifty dollars. Now! From the till!' He pushed the gun so that Clancy was forced back until he was behind the counter. 'Open the till!'
'No.'
The revolver butt crashed into Clancy's face and he staggered back, his hands clutching air, blood coming from his nose. Peters attacked again, but this time Clancy was ready for him and landed a huge round armed blow on his jaw which knocked Peters sideways and sent the gun spinning across the floor. As ferret face sprang at him with the axe Clancy caught his arm and twisted it up behind his back. 'Drop it!' he commanded, and the axe clattered to the floor. Then Clancy felt his head explode and he dropped like a stone.
~
When the mists began to clear Clancy thought at first he was alone. He was lying on the floor of the shop, and as he tried to marshal his thoughts he became aware of voices in the office. His head was throbbing, and as he tried to rise, Peters appeared.
‘He’s awake.’
Clancy stared at Peters, gratified to see he had a split lip. Ferret face came out of the office, and was joined by two other men, both holding guns.
‘That’s right Mr. Sullivan, they were in the office,’ Peters said. ‘Did you really think we would have no assistance?’ He bent down and took hold of Clancy’s hair, forcing his head back to face him so that Clancy could smell his rotten breath. ‘You’re dealing with organised people here, not amateurs!’ Peters hissed. ‘You had your chance and you didn’t take it. We don’t give more than one!’
He dragged Clancy to his feet by his hair. ‘Watch!’ he ordered. Ferret face went to the till and opened it. He counted out fifty dollars and put it into his pocket.
‘You see? That’s all we needed, but you wouldn’t play, would you? You had to be a hero.’
Ferret face reached inside Clancy’s jacket and found his wallet. He took all the banknotes from it and counted them. ‘A hundred and twelve dollars,’ he announced importantly.
Peters snatched the money. ‘Mine!’ he said. ‘For this...’ pointing to his split lip. ‘It’s not enough Mr. Sullivan, not anywhere near enough. You are going to be taught a lesson.’
Clancy tried to fight back but it was impossible. The gun was held at his head by ferret face as the others administered a systematic beating. They enjoyed their work, and long after Clancy had lost consciousness they continued kicking viciously at his prostrate body, until suddenly there was a rattling at the door, and a voice shouted ‘Mr Sullivan, are you there?’
‘Out back,’ said Peters.
The mobsters darted through the office, out of the back door, and over the wall. At the same time that they reached their waiting car Clancy’s chauffeur was breaking into the delicatessen.
~
'Does Clancy know you are here?' Paolo asked.
Anna's lips were tight. 'No,' she said. 'He forbade me to get in touch with you.'
'But you came anyway,' Paolo smiled his beautiful smile. 'I'm glad you did, Anna.'
'Then you can help? You will tell me where to find them, where to pay the money?'
'No. You must go home and forget all about it. Just leave it with me, I will take care of everything. You do not have to pay any money.'
'But I must! You haven't seen what they did to Clancy. Three broken ribs, and not an inch of his body without a bruise. Paolo... please... he almost lost his eye...'
'Anna, listen carefully. You do not know how to deal with these people. I do... or at least my uncle Vittorio does.'
'Your uncle Vittorio is as bad as they are!' Anna cried. 'They thought Clancy wouldn't pay them because he was already paying Vittorio! Your gangland wars are no concern of mine Paolo, I just wan
t my husband safe...'
'Of course you do, and I will see to it that he is.' Paolo said soothingly, his dark liquid eyes regarding her with compassion. 'I'm so sorry Anna, that this has happened, but you mustn't blame me for it, or my uncle Vittorio, it has nothing to do with us.'
'Gangsters are gangsters,' Anna said sullenly. 'Your uncle told me that he had laundries, and... and a big transport company.'
'He has.' Paolo said simply. 'I run them for him. Anna, you must understand that in my family it has always been like this. We have always made our money this way. I am trying to persuade my uncle to give up the old ways and to concentrate on the genuine businesses we have, but he is slow to change.'
'And the genuine businesses Paolo? Were they started with honest money?' Anna asked.
Paolo flushed. 'I do not expect someone like you to understand Anna. It is a family thing. I cannot allow you to speak ill of my uncle. He has been very good to me.'
Anna was silent, and after a moment Paolo spoke again. 'My father was killed by a rival group in Rome. He was strangled with piano wire and left hanging on the gate at the front of our house. I was only six but I can still remember the horror of it. My uncle Vittorio took me and my sisters away to live with him. He cared for us all, and he put me through Language school and University. He loved us Anna, and I love him.'
'I understand your loyalty Paolo,' Anna said quietly, horrified at this revelation. 'But I can never understand why you choose such a life, when you could live honestly. It seems we must agree to differ.' She leaned across the desk. 'Tell me one thing. Was it on your orders that we were never approached before, to pay protection money?'
Paolo looked away. 'I've told you to leave everything to me, there is no need to go into this.'
'Was it Paolo? Were we under your protection and didn't even know it?'
Paolo sighed. 'I asked my uncle to make sure that your businesses were let alone. He agreed.'
'Why? Why did he agree?'