Foul Trade

by BK Duncan

  It took him a while to come down. May was waiting by the low wall at the end of the terrace.

  ‘You keep your ear to the ground, and I need some information.’

  ‘And a good evening to you, too, Miss Keaps.’ His voice was fuzzy with sleep. ‘My, they do make you work long hours in your job, don’t they? But, you’re right, I am a newspaperman and, as such, entirely at your disposal day or night; provided there’s a story in it for me, of course.’

  ‘What do you know about the operation of the Bow Kum Tong?’

  ‘Only that if you’ve uncovered any connections with them then I strongly advise you to leave them to dangle. I don’t relish the thought of yours being the next inquest your handsome new coroner presides over. I’m not saying this to put the wind up you - really. The gang leader is the owner of the gambling den I’ve been staking out. Lots of fingers in lots of pies. All of them full to overflowing with rancid meat.’

  ‘Do you think him wanting to frame Brilliant Chang for murder has anything to do with a drugs war?’

  ‘Is that what’s going on? Interesting.’

  He took off his glasses and polished them with the edge of the pyjama jacket peeking out from under his jumper.

  ‘There could be any number of reasons. Billy’s an influential man.’

  ‘When you were going to his club was it for the gang leader to turn up?’

  ‘More likely one of his lackeys. Except, now I come to think of it, I don’t know what he looks like so I suppose I could’ve come across him.’

  May chewed at the side of her thumbnail. ‘Could that be another of Brilliant Chang’s sidelines do you think?’

  Jack surprised her by laughing.

  ‘You serious? Billy? The leader of the Bow Kum Tong? I’ve heard he’s been accused of a lot of things in his time, but never that. Okay, he’s far too cool a customer for anyone to be able to pin down exactly what keeps him in such good health and expensive clothes; however he fundamentally uses nothing more than charisma to get what he wants. That sound like the approach of the head of a vice gang to you? Sit down and take a lesson on how a real operator gets and keeps his power, Miss Keaps.’

  He put his glasses back on and perched on the wall.

  ‘It all starts with a harmless game of pak-a-poo - a few pennies spent on buying a piece of paper printed with a Chinese character in the hope of matching them in a draw - but money thrown away on a game of chance when there’s none to spare leads to vulnerability. And once in that position, it’s easy to persuade them they can win it all back by getting involved in the drug game. And they are nearly all women because it’s widely held they’re easier to control - although in suffering this delusion they obviously haven’t come across one like you. It works by getting them hooked and relying on the fact that in their jobs as cloakroom attendants, milliners, pub landladies, waitresses or manicurists, they will come across other women looking to escape the drudgery of their lives. They put them the way of the dealers, and get paid for their referrals in drugs. Thus the net grows and the money flows in hand over fist.’

  May sat and listened as the night slipped into early dawn. The rattle of the milk cans being washed in the dairy ready for the first delivery; the Mail Train on the way to Victoria; the rumble of a cart’s iron-rimmed wheels; the heavy whoosh of coal being tipped down chutes in Poplar Docks. How many of the men engaged in those activities knew of the things Jack had been talking about? Probably more than she’d realised. Some child of the docks she was; she knew what made the Grand Old Lady’s blood flow and kept her stomach full, the grist she needed to keep the winches grinding, the power of her lock-gate jaws that could flood holds with a yawn. But May had never peered inside at what kept her heart beating. Maybe it was about time she did.

  ‘You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?’

  Jack was prodding her in the ribs. She pretended to yawn.

  ‘I was remarking on the fact that this could be one of those helping each other out moments I told you might come some day. While I was musing out loud I got to thinking perhaps the drugs angle is the ticket to busting the gambling rings wide open. Street rumour has it that the Bow Kum Tong run a yen-shi den in Shoulder of Mutton Alley. Maybe I should get myself in there and see what I might find. And if I come across anything I think you might consider useful then I’ll fill you in. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?’

  It was a good idea and the link May had been scrabbling for since the moment she’d spotted the bogus witness coming away from the sign of the Opium Lamp. But she wasn’t going to give this self-opinionated know-all the satisfaction.

  ‘It’ll have to be tomorrow night... tonight... Saturday, anyway, if your playing an undercover spy is to be of any use to me; the coroner has scheduled the inquest to reconvene immediately after the Easter break.’

  Jack mashed his half-smoked cigarette into the dirt at his feet. ‘Better get my beauty sleep then.’ He stood up, pushing at the base of his spine with his palms. ‘I’ll have you know you can wake me any time you like if it’s to drop prize plums like this one into my lap.’

  He walked away then turned and gave May a pilot’s daredevil wave.

  ‘Night, partner.’

  May stuck her hands in her coat pockets to stop from making an obscene gesture back. Jack’s arrogance was insufferable; fancy him taking it upon himself to decide what was appropriate for her to know. As if she trusted him. He didn’t even begin to grasp the meaning of the word partner. Then she grinned. Yet.

  ***

  May managed a scant three hours sleep before Alice’s clattering about in the kitchen made more impossible. She threw on Albert’s moth-eaten dressing gown and went down to see why, this of all Saturdays, the girl couldn’t have indulged in a lie-in.

  ‘You’ll never guess what?’

  May wasn’t up to this game right now. On rising, the queasiness that invariably accompanied the realisation of how lucky she’d been to escape from danger unharmed had asserted itself. And her head was pounding.

  ‘Vi says I’m doing so well she’s going to tell Horatio to beef up my bill matter. Call me a... a chanteuse... or something.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should show a little more respect by calling him Mr Barley-Freeman?’

  ‘Everyone uses first names in the theatre - we’re like a family in that way. Anyway, Vi says I’m the only one with any talent; much, much better than all the others put together.’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t have been nearly that rude. And it doesn’t do to go around with a swollen head.’

  ‘Confidence is what I’ve got, and that’s a good thing.’

  Alice had her shoulders in the cupboard searching for something. And making a teeth-jarring amount of noise in the process.

  ‘So I take it the first rehearsal went well?’

  ‘Horatio says it wasn’t too bad seeing as it was only a walk-through.’

  ‘I do hope amongst all this self-congratulation you’re finding the time to concentrate on what they’re actually paying you for; we can’t afford for you to throw this job away over a small slot in a local talent show.’ May knew she was being churlish and didn’t like herself for it.

  ‘That proves how much you know because the manager’s right happy with me. He’s agreed I can work double shifts so as I can have the week of the performance off. Kettle’s just finished singing; want me to top up the pot for you?’

  It wasn’t like Alice to sidestep a skirmish over what she’d see as bossy interference; or to be so helpful. Then May remembered. Today was when they’d arranged for Vi to come to tea. The thought made her want to go back to bed and pull the covers over her aching head.

  ‘Where’s the bun tin? I’m going to make us rock cakes.’

  ‘You’ll have to go easy on the sugar, it’s the last
of our ration. And I’m not buying any more sultanas; that packet cost me one and sixpence.’

  Why was she behaving like this? Was she jealous her sister had found a new friend to bring excitement into her life? The sour taste of what she had hoped Jack might become unsettled her stomach again.

  Alice straightened up, the tin in her hand. ‘How long do you reckon the rock cakes have to be in the oven for? I’ll do the ash and get some more coke in so it’s nice and hot.’

  May took her cup of tea back up to bed and let Alice get on with it.

  ***

  She spent most of the day in a haze of sleep and recuperation. By mid-afternoon she was feeling much more like her old self and decided to pop out to scour the tat shops for a few things. Alice was meeting Vi at the Gaiety at four o’clock and walking her back. May thought it kind to give them a little time in the house together before she started sizing their guest up as a suitable influence for a young and star-struck girl.

  ***

  The sound of Alice’s giggling accompanied by a warmer, deeper laughter greeted her as she let herself in the front door. May took the bag of purchases up to her bedroom and then walked through into the kitchen. The comforting smell of baking made her heart clench at the memory of her mother’s fruit loaf. She blinked away the threat of a tear and appraised the woman sitting as relaxed and at home as if she’d been sharing jokes with Alice all her life. She looked to be a little older than herself, twenty-four or five perhaps; with her mobile face and make-up it was difficult to tell, well proportioned without being fat, and sporting fashionably short hair. Her green eyes were large and expressive; her mouth a little wide for true beauty but her full painted lips offered enough sensual promises to compensate. Her clothes - a mauve boxy jacket and pink blouse - were immaculately pressed. Vi was a woman who knew the importance of making a good first impression. And she had the confidence to capitalise on it with the sort of easy charm that had Alice seemingly wanting to kiss the ground on which she walked. May felt a little of it lapping her way and smiled. The blaze she received in return made her feel at once both regarded as an equal, and held in high esteem. Vi Tremins was either an unusually open person... or an extremely good actress. May shook off the suspicion that served her well as a coroner’s officer but put up too many barriers in her personal life, and went over to shake her hand. It was warm, the grip self-assured.

  ‘Miss Keaps, I’m delighted to finally meet you. I’m sorry we missed each other when you came to the theatre, but Alice has told me so much about her important sister I feel I know you already. Thank you so much for inviting me into your home. Easter weekend is so dreary for an actress, the theatre is closed much of the time and it’s purgatory rattling around digs. After all, there is only so much washing and ironing a girl can face doing.’

  May laughed in collusion and was rewarded with another spotlight-bright smile.

  ‘Please call me May; I suspect you’ve gathered by now there’s never any ceremony in this house.’ She pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat. ‘Has Alice offered you something?’

  ‘Of course I have. Vi said we should wait for you.’

  So May could add politeness to the growing list of Vi’s accomplishments; her prejudices about actresses were going to take a hammering this afternoon.

  ‘Tea’s in the pot. Be stewed if we don’t have it soon.’

  ‘Okay, Alice, I’m sorry I’m a bit late but you can pour now.’

  Her sister did so then fetched the rock buns from the draining board, placed one on each of their plates, and sat back down.

  ‘I hope they’ll be okay. I’ve never done any baking before.’

  ‘Well, I’m very impressed; I can hardly boil an egg myself. I’m flattered you’ve gone to all this trouble on my account. And they look delicious.’

  Vi picked up the bun and crammed half of it into her mouth in a distinctly unladylike manner. May was liking her more and more by the second.

  ‘Mmm, just as I thought, scrummy.’

  May just caught the wink thrown over Alice’s bent head. Taking the hint she broke hers up to get to, what she hoped, would be a more edible centre.

  ‘How long have you been on the stage, Vi?’

  ‘All my life. Almost literally. I was born in digs next door to the White Rock Pavilion in Hastings and a week later was carried on in a production of Darlings by Twilight. My parents were in rep. Never the leads, you understand, but always in work. I made up my mind pretty early on to follow them but dad insisted I miss the tours and stay with Granny Tremins so I could go to school. He said I had to prove I could study hard before he’d approach the ASM - sorry, assistant stage manager - to give me a job backstage. Dad wanted me to learn the ropes first, you see, just as he wanted me to have a decent education to fall back on. He and mum had done all right but knew a few had the stage door closed in their face one day only to end up starving on the streets.’

  May hoped Alice was listening to this. Perhaps if Vi was sticking around for any length of time she’d back her up in the campaign to get Alice to go to night school.

  ‘All that’s made her a proper actress. Not one of those Music Hall turns we normally get at the Gaiety.’

  Vi replaced her cup noiselessly in the saucer. ‘If you’re going to get anywhere on the stage you’ll have to drop that attitude, young lady.’

  She was smiling but May had picked up the edge of brittleness.

  ‘Never look down on your fellow artistes - holds true if you’re an amateur or make your living on the boards - because in this game you can be up one minute and down the next. And when you’re down you’ll find yourself lower than those you once turned your nose up at. Always show some respect for those with the courage to stand up there and face an audience; love them when the walls are ringing with applause, and dry their tears when they die the thousand deaths of public humiliation. Someone who truly cares for this profession treats every performance they witness as if it were their own.’

  May had to lace her fingers together in her lap to stop from clapping. Alice’s energy level dropped for a moment but then she brightened.

  ‘Horatio says I’m a natural. Got stage presence. He says that’s the most important thing. Although I’ve been working hard on my song, haven’t I, Vi?’

  Her guest smiled as she patted Alice’s hand. ‘He’s a good director; knows how to bring the best out in everyone.’

  ‘But you’ve got to have talent in the first place, right?’

  ‘It helps. Makes the whole thing a lot easier. There’s many don’t have that to rely on and so they’re terrified out of their skin every time they step in front of the floods.’

  ‘That’s just stupid to get into such a state when you’re doing something you love.’

  ‘Everyone gets scared at the mercy of an audience’s approval.’

  ‘Not you though?’

  ‘Of course. Do you know I used to throw up whenever the knock would come telling me I was on next?’

  May knew a little of how Vi felt; reading the proclamation at the opening of an inquest always made her stomach lurch.

  ‘But I’ve found ways over the years to manage the worst such as correct breathing, small sips of water, reciting nursery rhymes, and now I just suffer with the feeling my arms and legs belong to somebody else.’ Vi took a sip of her tea. ‘Nervousness is good, Alice, cultivate it a little. Because, in its absence, a performance has nothing of yourself behind it and has all the depth of an empty façade.’

  May was enjoying listening to this woman’s wisdom born of pitting herself against her limitations, and seeing her sister blossom under the attention. She found herself wishing the Barley-Freeman Linctus Talent Show was some time in the summer and not at the end of the month.

  ‘Do you know him well? The director, I mean.’

  ‘Oh
, they’re really good friends. Done lots of shows together, haven’t you, Vi?’

  ‘Enough. But that doesn’t mean he lets up on me any. Directors have a will of iron, May, and a heart of ice to go with it; I expect you come across men like that in your profession.’

  May thought of Colonel Tindal. And then of Braxton Clarke. Would she remain long enough in the job to get to know what he was like? But that thought was depressing and she was having such a nice afternoon.

  ‘And how do you find the tyrant of the theatre, Alice?’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  Her sister had two spots of colour high on her cheeks. As she’d hardly spoken about him before, this was the first time May had seen any evidence of her king-size crush. She supposed a certain amount of hero-worship for the man who was making Alice’s theatrical dreams come true was inevitable.

  ‘An attentive director often has that effect as well.’ Vi gave May another sly wink. ‘You’ll get over it, Alice. Just you wait until he makes you say a line over again and again, telling you he wants it given a different emphasis but with no clues as to what he means, I promise you won’t think him so wonderful then.’

  ‘Bet I shall.’

  May had been about to tease her a little as well but Alice’s voice had held a trace of enough childish hurt for her to take pity instead. Although she could hardly remember being seventeen (a combination of the Great War and the tragedies in their family life had made her grow up pretty quickly) she knew it to be a time of blistering emotions. She didn’t doubt unrequited love must be the most painful of the lot. She scraped back her chair.

  ‘Thank you so much for the tea, Alice.’

  Her sister beamed to be given the honour of hostess.

  ‘I’ve got a few things to be getting on with upstairs.’

  Vi made a move to get up.

  ‘No, please stay as long as you like. And I do hope you’ll regard yourself as welcome to pop in any time; it’s been such a pleasure to have your company. At least come and say goodbye before you leave Poplar, won’t you? I’m afraid I won’t be able to be at the talent show but, as I’ve explained to Alice, my work is particularly demanding at the moment and I can’t possibly take an afternoon off. However I’m sure I’ll hear all about it - probably on a daily basis. Please feel free to take the rest of the rock buns with you.’