Luck Be a Lady

by Anna King

  He opened his mouth to call her name, but then, like Heather, she was gone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The child wouldn’t stop crying and pining for his mother, and Bessie and Jimmy were at their wits’ end as to what to do with the young boy who had been unceremoniously dropped in their laps. As much as they both wanted to have seen the back of Heather, by the end of the second week, even Bessie would have given anything to open the door and see the hated painted face smirking at her. Coupled with the child’s evident distress, he was causing even more worry by his refusal to eat more than a few scraps of toast and the odd biscuit. Every day Bessie would painstakingly prepare food in a desperate effort to tempt his appetite, but apart from picking at the meals set in front of him, young James was barely eating enough to keep a bird alive, and the weight was dropping off his small frame at an alarming rate.

  Desperate to do something before the boy starved to death in front of their eyes, Jimmy called in his old friend Tom Barker, but the doctor told the anxious Bessie and Jimmy there was nothing he could do, and the best medicine he could recommend was to reunite the boy with his mother. This diagnosis was met with a storm of derision, with Bessie shouting that if it was that easy, then they would have done so before now. The truth was that, despite Jimmy’s best efforts, Heather was nowhere to be found. He had called in favours from every acquaintance known to him, and put the word out on the streets, offering a reward to anyone who could locate Heather Mills. This had resulted in dozens of filthy, unsavoury characters knocking at Jimmy’s door declaring they had seen the red-headed woman in various parts of London. Jimmy had followed up every lead, even though his heart told him that the mass of vagrants had invented this information to extract money from him. In frantic desperation Jimmy had hired private detectives to try to discover where Heather was holed up, but the elusive woman had covered her tracks well.

  It was now only a week to Christmas, but the house was far from feeling festive. For the first time since they had known each other, Jimmy and Bessie were at each other’s throats with a vengeance. Jimmy was complaining he couldn’t cope with a child and manage to run his business, and Bessie, worn to a frazzle, kept reminding Jimmy that she was too old to cope with any child, let alone one who wouldn’t eat and cried day and night. She also kept reminding Jimmy that, like the non-existent marriage, there was no proof that the child was even his.

  Things finally came to a head one morning when Bessie, almost dead on her feet from sitting up with the fractious, terrified child all night, told Jimmy that she couldn’t cope any more and that if he didn’t sort something out, and pretty damn quick, then he would be arranging a funeral very soon – hers! Packing the exhausted woman off to bed, Jimmy went in to the small boxroom that had been converted into a bedroom for the child and sat quietly by the bedside. The boy had fallen into an exhausted state of inertia, yet even in sleep his soft, childish mouth was tight and firm, as if, even in the throes of slumber, he was still maintaining a wall of resistance against the strangers he had been abandoned with.

  Jimmy sat by the boy’s bedside, his keen eyes searching for any resemblance to himself, yet he could find none. But what could he do? It wasn’t the child’s fault he had been landed in an alien environment with people he’d never clapped eyes on before, and Jimmy could hardly turn the child out onto the streets. Deep in thought, Jimmy tried to find a way out of the impossible situation he now found himself in. His thoughts turned to Rebecca, wondering if he may be able to elicit her help with the child, then he quickly dismissed the idea. He would more than likely receive a clout around the head with a heavy frying pan the moment he showed his face; and who could blame her? He’d already been to the house in Welbeck Road three times in the past fortnight, but Rebecca refused outright to see him. Then he had a flash of inspiration – Amy! Now there was a thought. If anyone could coax the child out of his shell, that person was Amy. With her beautiful face and sweet nature, surely she would win the boy’s trust. Even Bessie, who wasn’t lavish with her praise, had taken an instant liking to the young girl. And of course it would give him a reason to visit the house once more, this time with a valid excuse. Spurred into action, Jimmy took one last look at the sleeping form then bounded down to the kitchen.

  Charlie was seated at the large, scrubbed wooden table, looking very much at home as he laughed and flirted with the maid Jimmy had recently employed, much to Bessie’s outrage. Jimmy had had his work cut out for him to explain that the maid’s position was only temporary. As he had forcefully pointed out to the irate woman, what with looking after the child day and night, she couldn’t be expected to run the house as well. He had been going to add, ‘Not at your age’, but had wisely thought better of it. Although Bessie had ranted for days at what she perceived as having her position in the house usurped, Jimmy had seen the relief behind the elderly woman’s anger. In truth Bessie was gratified beyond measure that the bulk of her workload was to be temporarily lifted. Yet not a day went by without her reminding Jimmy that the moment the business with the child was sorted out, then that young miss down in the kitchen would be shown the door.

  ‘Morning, Guv’nor,’ Charlie greeted Jimmy cheerfully. ‘We off out?’

  ‘If you can drag yourself away,’ Jimmy replied crisply.

  The asperity in Jimmy’s voice didn’t faze Charlie one bit, though the new maid’s face turned crimson.

  Donning his coat Charlie called out to the maid cheekily, ‘See yer later, darlin’. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m gone.’

  The colour in the girl’s face heightened, and she quickly busied herself taking a batch of scones out of the oven range.

  Despite his urgency to get to his location, the smell of the freshly cooked scones reminded Jimmy he’d had no breakfast. ‘Could you wrap me up a couple of those scones, Cissie? I’ll eat them in the carriage.’

  Flustered and eager to ingratiate herself with the rugged, immaculately dressed man who was her new master, Cissie Banks hurried to do Jimmy’s bidding.

  Taking the piping hot parcel, Jimmy turned to leave then stopped. Judging by the high colour in the girl’s cheeks, and the scene he had walked in on, it was obvious that the new maid imagined she was in with a chance with Charlie. It wasn’t the young man’s fault, in fact he would have been horrified if he knew the effect he was having on the plain girl. The truth was that Charlie was one of those young men who laughed and flirted with any woman, whatever her age. There was no deviousness or mockery in his actions, it was just his nature to be friendly and affectionate to any woman. Not wanting any further disruptions in the already fraught household, Jimmy turned to where Charlie was waiting by the back door and said, ‘Go on, get the horses saddled. I want to get to Welbeck Road before Amy leaves for work.’

  Instantly Charlie’s face lit up in pure delight. ‘Righto, Guv’nor. I’ll have ’em ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,’ then he was gone, as eager as Jimmy to get to his destination.

  Jimmy smiled wryly at the hovering girl. ‘That’s the quickest I’ve seen him move in months, lazy devil. Still, I can’t say as I blame him. His young lady friend is a lovely girl. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there were wedding bells announced shortly. Anyway, I must be off. Bessie’s sleeping at last, so would you keep an ear out for the boy, just in case he wakes? I don’t want Bessie disturbed. I shouldn’t be more than an hour at the most.’ Jimmy turned away in discomfort as a look of shock and hurt passed over the girl’s face.

  As he climbed into the carriage, he justified his actions by telling himself that it was better to let the girl know where she stood, rather than see her suffer further humiliation and hurt when she found out Charlie already had a sweetheart.

  *

  After the men had left, Cissie Banks sank down onto a hard chair, her face a picture of misery at the knowledge that Charlie was already spoken for. A soft knock sounded at the tradesman’s entrance and, sighing loudly in disappointment, Cissie rose to answer t
he door.

  ‘Mornin’, Cissie. Sorry I’m a bit late, I’ve had extra deliveries to make, what with Christmas coming up.’

  Cissie motioned for the delivery man to enter. Laying his basket on the table, the shy man uncovered his wares and waited while Cissie sorted through the assortment of meat. Picking out two large quantities of sausages and bacon, half a dozen pork chops plus a good sized cut of beef for the Sunday dinner, Cissie wrapped the meat up in a thick covering of soft mesh fabric and deposited the items into the larder.

  The butcher watched her every movement, shuffling his feet awkwardly as he tried to start a conversation. But it was obvious by Cissie’s silent indifference to his presence that she was in no mood to indulge in idle talk this morning. Normally she would offer him a mug of tea, and, if he was lucky and she’d been baking, a plate of freshly cooked scones or tea cakes would also be on offer. And on a freezing December morning like today, he had been looking forward to having something hot and filling to warm his shivering body before he set off out into the cold to finish his rounds. Masking his acute disappointment, the man prepared to leave.

  ‘I’ll pop the bill round Saturday morning… Oh, by the way, how’s old Bessie? Not too bad, I hope. I know she’s got a tongue on her, but she’s got a heart of gold when you get to know her.’

  Cissie made a deprecating clucking sound with her tongue. She certainly hadn’t seen any evidence of the latter, though she’d certainly encountered the former side of the master’s housekeeper.

  When Cissie continued to bustle around the kitchen, the man gave up all hope of being offered any form of refreshment and hoped he would have better luck at his next port of call.

  As he opened the back door, Cissie’s voice stopped him.

  ‘Just a minute, Cedric. Ain’t yer gonna wait fer your morning cuppa?’

  The man’s face creased into a relieved smile. Placing his basket back on the table, he made himself at home while Cissie busied herself in making the tea, her mind working furiously.

  Being possessed of a lazy nature, Cissie Banks had been on the look-out for a husband since the age of twelve. She had hoped Charlie would be that man, but now that avenue was obviously closed she would have to look elsewhere. On the pretext of checking two apple tarts cooking slowly in the oven, Cissie studied the butcher covertly. He must be thirty if he was a day, and she was only nineteen. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Cedric North wasn’t short of a few bob. Better yet, he was obviously a very lonely man since his wife had died, and seemed to have taken a liking to her in the short time she had been working in the house. There was also the fact to contend with that her time here was limited, and then she would have to start looking for another post; a prospect she was dreading. Apart from that old bag of a housekeeper, Cissie was enjoying her work in the spacious, well-furnished house, and wished she could be kept on; but that notion had been well and truly squashed. If, however, she played her cards right, she may never have to work again.

  Pasting an inviting smile to her lips, Cissie laid a mug of piping hot tea and a plate of scones in front of the delighted man. ‘There you go, Cedric, get stuck into those. Fresh outta the oven they are, I made ’em meself.’

  Smacking his lips, the man looked up at the smiling face and said, ‘By, they smell good, Cissie. You’ll make some lucky man a good wife one of these days.’

  Cissie turned away, her lips curving into a crafty smile. She had every intention of becoming a wife, but the moment the ring was placed on her finger she had no intention of ever doing a day’s work again. Pulling up a chair she joined the man tucking into his breakfast.

  *

  Standing outside the door of number 17 Welbeck Road, Jimmy hesitated, his normally implacable reserve momentarily deserting him. Cursing himself for his cowardice, he took a firm hold of the brass knocker and banged twice, then braced himself for his welcome. He had anticipated either Rebecca or Amy answering the door; what he hadn’t bargained for was the burly figure of Billy Gates filling the doorway.

  Billy had been on his way out to work when the loud knocking had resounded through the house, but the intimidating figure of the local bookmaker was the last person he had expected to see. The genial smile dropping from his fleshy features, Billy glowered at the visitor.

  ‘What d’yer want? Yer ain’t welcome ’ere, so why don’t yer go away and leave the girls in peace. You’ve done enough damage already.’

  His initial surprise fading, Jimmy moved forward impatiently. ‘Unless you’ve taken up residence, I’ll wait until one of the occupants of the house tells me I’m not welcome.’

  Even though his heart was hammering wildly in his large chest, Billy stood his ground. ‘Look, I’ve already told yer, yer ain’t welcome ’ere, so why don’t yer—’

  His patience snapping, Jimmy reverted to his cockney upbringing and growled, ‘Get outta my way, you great lump of lard. I ain’t got time to piss about with the likes of you. If you ain’t moved by the time I count five, you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor; d’yer understand?’

  Billy swallowed nervously. Although he was about two stone heavier than the other man, Billy knew that his build was mainly fat, whereas Jimmy Jackson’s solid frame was all muscle; he also had a reputation of dealing harshly with anyone who crossed him.

  Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway, and it was with immense relief that Billy heard Amy’s voice.

  ‘Who is it, Billy?’

  Confident that the man wouldn’t resort to physical violence in front of Amy, Billy Gates regained his composure. Swelling out his massive chest, he answered, ‘It’s Jimmy Jackson again, Amy, love. Just say the word an’ I’ll soon get rid of ’im.’

  Amy hurried forward, firmly pushing Billy out into the street. ‘It’s all right, Billy. I’ll deal with this. You get off to work, or else you’ll be late. And thanks for coming in, I’ll let you know if we need anything.’

  Carefully sliding past the grim-faced man, Billy drew his shoulders back, gave what he hoped was a threatening glance in Jimmy’s direction, then swiftly scurried down the street.

  ‘What do you want, Jimmy? I thought we’d made it quite clear last time you visited that Becky doesn’t want to see you.’ Her tiny face pale and drawn, Amy showed no signs of letting Jimmy into the house. Looking over his shoulder to where Charlie was sitting atop the carriage, his face and neck swathed in a large woollen scarf, she gave a tremulous smile. Taking advantage of her distraction, Jimmy gently moved her aside and entered the house.

  He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when he felt a shove in the middle of his back. The assault on his person carried little weight to a man of his strength, but it was unexpected, causing him to lose his balance for a few moments. Then Amy was standing directly in front of him, hands on hips, her normally smiling face creased in anger. It was a side to Amy that Jimmy had never encountered. Indeed, he would never have imagined her to be capable of such rage.

  ‘I told you Becky doesn’t want to see you, Jimmy. Come to that, neither do I, not after the way you’ve treated her. Taking her out and making a fuss of her, pretending you cared, when all you were doing was filling in time when you had nothing better to do. What happened? Was your wife out of town at the time?’

  Caught off guard, Jimmy found himself tongue-tied, but not for long. Pulling at the buttons of his heavy overcoat in an attempt to cover his uneasiness in the hostile atmosphere, Jimmy answered gruffly, ‘I don’t blame you for hating me, Amy. But believe me, things aren’t what they appear to be. If Becky will only give me a few minutes of her time, I can explain…’

  ‘Well, you can’t.’ Amy stared him down, her face defiant. ‘Even if she was willing to see you, she couldn’t. She’s not well. She’s been in bed for the last three days, and for Becky to stay in bed it must mean she’s really ill. So if you think I’m going to let you disturb her, you’ve another think coming.’

  Jimmy’s stomach lurched in alarm, his eyes raising to the ceiling. �
��Becky’s ill! Well, why the hell didn’t somebody tell me?’

  ‘Why should they? It’s nothing to do with you.’ Tilting up her chin, Amy added scornfully, ‘It’s a pity you didn’t show such concern before now, but then I don’t suppose your wife would be too happy to find you’d been seeing another woman behind her back.’

  Jimmy winced at the contempt in Amy’s voice while marvelling at the sudden change in her character. But he wasn’t going to be put off his task by a slip of a girl. Moving towards the stairs, he said firmly, ‘Like I’ve already said, it’s not what you think, but I haven’t time to explain now. I must see Becky, so if—’

  With a swiftness that startled Jimmy, Amy sprang to the foot of the stairs. ‘If you take so much as another step, I swear I’ll find the nearest heavy object and smash you over the head with it. You’ve hurt my sister enough, I’m not going to let you hurt her any more.’

  It would have been easy simply to move the furious girl to one side, but Jimmy hadn’t the heart. Also he believed her threat, and he didn’t relish the idea of being bashed over the back of the head. Stepping back, he held out his hands entreatingly. ‘Look, Amy. I never intended to hurt Becky, I still don’t. The reason I came here today was to ask for your help.’

  Still on her guard, Amy eyed him warily. ‘I can’t imagine how I could help a man in your position. You must have a dozen flunkies only too pleased to help out the great Jimmy Jackson. Unless you want me to put a good word in for you with Becky. If that’s what you’ve come for, then you’ve had a wasted journey. My sister’s worth more than becoming a married man’s mistress, and she’d spit in your face if you so much as suggested it.’

  A deep sigh rippled through Jimmy’s body. Lord! Of all the receptions he had tried to prepare himself for, not for a moment had he imagined that Amy, of all people, would treat him with such antagonism. He hadn’t expected his task to be easy, but he certainly hadn’t banked on being greeted with such venomous hostility.