by Sam Michaels
The Georgina Garrett Series
Trickster
Rivals
Rivals
Sam Michaels
AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS
www.ariafiction.com
First published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Sam Michaels, 2019
The moral right of Sam Michaels to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781789542189
Aria
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Contents
Welcome Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About the Author
Become an Aria Addict
To my dearest and beautiful daughter-in-law, Lauren Eyles.
You are such a special lady – kind, hard-working, loyal and an absolute stunner!
Thank you for giving me a wonderful gift – the adorable Finley, my latest grandchild.
It’s an honour to have you as a part of my small family. Love you xxx
1
Battersea, London, 1934
‘Come off it, what the bleedin’ hell do I know about running a brothel?’ Fanny Mipple said and rolled her eyes.
‘How difficult can it be? You see the punters in, send them to a woman and collect the money,’ Georgina answered abruptly.
‘It ain’t as straightforward as that, love,’ Georgina’s gran, Dulcie, interrupted. ‘What if a bloke won’t cough up or roughs up one of the women? You can’t expect Fanny to deal with that sort of thing.’
Georgina Garrett drew in a long breath and, feeling exasperated, momentarily closed her eyes before opening them again to glance around at the four women sat in her gran’s front room. These women, The Maids of Battersea, were supposed to be strong, warrior women. They were meant to aspire to Joan of Arc, the inspiration behind their club name. Yet all Georgina could hear from them were protests, and it seemed to her they were putting obstacles in the way of her plans.
Georgina’s eyes set on Fanny. She wasn’t surprised by the woman’s objections about running the brothels. Georgina thought Fanny had always been feeble. She’d allowed her husband to abuse her and because of his tyrannical ways, Fanny had raised her children in dire poverty.
Dulcie, her beloved gran, slowly pushed herself up from her armchair. The way she hobbled towards the fire showed how much pain her hips were causing. Georgina had noticed they seemed to be getting worse lately, though her gran tried not to show her discomfort. Bending awkwardly, Dulcie stoked the burning coals. The room felt warm and cosy, safe too, but outside a fierce February gale blew and a thin layer of snow made the dirty, tatty street of terraced houses look fresh and white.
As Dulcie settled back in her chair, she broke the tense silence and said, ‘I can understand where you’re coming from, Georgina, but it’s a big ask.’
‘It’s no more than we deserve,’ she replied, her violet eyes steely cold. ‘I’m fed up with thieving to put food in the cupboards. We should all be benefitting from the Wilcox business, but instead we’re scrimping and scraping to get by.’
She looked at Jane Wilcox, who stared into space with a pained expression. After Jane had put a bullet in her son’s head, the poor woman had become a shadow of her former self. Ridding the world of Billy Wilcox had been the most courageous thing Jane had ever done, but it’d affected her badly. She functioned and cared for her two daughters, but it was clear her mind was tormented. Georgina didn’t expect any input from her, which she thought was a shame as Jane probably understood better than anyone about how the Wilcox business functioned. After all, it had been Jane’s husband who’d been the proprietor of the small empire and been the most feared man in Battersea. That was until the day their son had cruelly killed him. Jane had exacted her own justice on Billy but she hadn’t been the same since his death.
Georgina began to pace the small room. As she did, she twisted her mother’s wedding ring that she wore on her right hand. An unconscious habit she’d developed whenever she was deep in thought. Her mother had died shortly after birthing Georgina and the ring was the only thing she had that had belonged to her, though her gran told her she’d inherited her mum’s striking eyes along with her brains too.
She stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her best friend, Molly, and spoke firmly. ‘Billy’s business rightfully belongs to you.’
Molly looked up at her with wide eyes but didn’t reply.
Georgina continued, ‘As Billy’s widow, you’re entitled. Instead, we’re all struggling to make ends meet whilst that weasel, Mickey the bloody Matchstick, is reaping all the benefits!’
‘I never married Billy for his money, I had no choice, you know that,’ Molly whispered, as if trying to conceal her words from her baby son. Edward gurgled softly in Molly’s arms and she looked down, smiling warmly at him.
Edward Wilcox, Georgina thought, the three-month-old baby of Billy Wilcox. The child would never know his father; Jane had seen to that, and it was a blessing. After all, Billy had been a madman, an evil bully who’d left dead bodies, pain and destruction in his wake. Georgina shuddered at the memory of nearly burning to death at the hands of Billy Wilcox and being beaten unconscious on his orders. She pursed her lips and silently hoped that Edward wouldn’t take after his father.
Molly looked back up and as if sensing Georgina’s thoughts, she said quietly, ‘He won’t be anything like Billy.’
‘No, of course he won’t, and yes, I know you didn’t marry Billy for his money, Molly, but that’s not the point. You’re still entitled and I can’t understand why we, as The Maids of Battersea, can’t take over running it all.’
‘’Cos none of us know the first thing about operating brothels, loans and protection rackets,’ Dulcie snapped and tutted. ‘And neither do you.’
‘Well, Mickey the fucking Matchstick ain’t exactly a genius and he’s doing all right!’ Georgina hissed.
‘Don’t take that tone with me, young lady,’ Dulcie warned and wagged her finger.
Georgina immediately regretted snapping at her gran and hung her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered. ‘I’m just frustrated. After everything that Billy put u
s through, it don’t seem right that we ain’t getting a penny from what he left, especially his widow and mother. Mickey the Matchstick is never gonna pay out so we need to take over.’
‘All right, and I must admit, I’m fed up with thruppence worth of scrag end of mutton. But I don’t understand how Mickey came to take charge in the first place?’
‘It was my fault, Dul,’ Molly said, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘When Billy died, Mickey came to see me and offered to keep things running for me. I told him to do what he had to do. Next thing I know, I got a visit from a couple of blokes warning me to stay away.’
‘See, Gran, he just muscled his way in and it’s about time we showed him that we won’t be intimidated.’
‘Huh, the audacity of him! All right, I can see how determined you are, Georgina, so let’s hear it then. How exactly do you suppose we do this?’ Dulcie asked.
Fanny, Molly and even Jane now looked at her. At last, she thought, she finally had their attention and they were taking her seriously. ‘Well, first things first, I need information about Mickey.’
Molly spoke next. ‘But shouldn’t you be worried about his henchmen?’
‘Not Malc and Sid, they’re nothing without Billy. As for Knuckles, he’s a big bloke but he ain’t the sharpest knife in the block.’
‘Leave Knuckles to me,’ Jane said. The sound of her voice took everyone by surprise and all heads swung around to look at her. ‘Knuckles is easily bought. I used to pay him for information and updates on what Billy was up to. Of course, he never divulged that Billy had killed my husband or anything about what Billy had done to you, Georgina, but I know the man won’t have any loyalties to Mickey.’
‘Let’s get Knuckles on our side then. Do you think you can persuade him to meet with me?’
‘Yes, no problem,’ Jane replied, and for the first time in months, Georgina could see a spark of the woman Jane used to be before she shot her son.
‘Great, now we’re getting somewhere,’ Georgina said and smiled, but she noticed a worried look on her gran’s face, and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know this Mickey bloke and I’m worried about you dealing with him,’ Dulcie answered.
‘Honestly, Gran, you don’t have anything to fear as far as Mickey is concerned. He’s nothing but a weedy little arse-licker. You should see him – his face is all scarred on one side and he tries to claim he got injured in the trenches, but truth is, Billy burnt him for back-chatting. What sort of bloke would still be yes sir, no sir to the bloke who torched his face, eh? But that’s Mickey for you.’
‘Is that why you call him a matchstick?’ Dulcie asked.
‘Yes, and on account of his red hair.’
Dulcie chuckled, but then looking serious again, said, ‘I still don’t like the idea of you confronting him.’
‘I can look after myself. Them boxing lessons me dad gave me when I was young have come in handy over the years. I’ve already seen that Mickey off once, when him and the others were getting at Molly.’
‘Yeah, she did, Dulcie. You should have seen them scarper with their tails between their legs. She knocked Mickey on his arse,’ Molly chirped and chortled at the memory.
‘Maybe so, but that was a while back and before he got his boots under the table of Billy’s business. He’ll have ideas of grandeur now and I bet the power has gone to his head. He ain’t gonna go quietly,’ Dulcie said and shook her head.
‘I ain’t planning on marching in there and making demands. Don’t get me wrong, as a last resort if I have to do that, I will, and if he won’t listen to me, perhaps he’ll take more notice of this,’ Georgina said and smiled wryly as she pulled a pistol from her dress pocket.
She immediately regretted showing the small handgun when she saw Jane baulk and look in horror. It was the gun Lash had given her when he’d promised to come back from travelling with the fair and take her as his wife. Jane had killed Billy with that gun, and now Georgina quickly hid it back in her pocket.
‘All right, I feel better knowing you’ve got that, but we still don’t know anything about running the business,’ Dulcie said.
Georgina walked over to the window and peered the through the net curtains. The street was unusually quiet with just a couple of young boys throwing snowballs at each other. They were the lucky ones who had shoes and coats. She guessed the rest of the kids with bare feet and without warmer clothes would be sheltering indoors. ‘I’ve thought long and hard about this and I believe we can do it. I know it would be unusual for women to be in charge, but we’ve all shown what we’re capable of and we’ve proved we’re stronger together. Come on, ladies, get a bit of fire in your bellies! Let’s take back what is ours. Are you with me on this?’
The women glanced at one another then back at her and slowly nodded their heads. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Georgina had hoped for but at least they were willing to back her.
‘Why you, Georgina? Let’s just say we do manage to get rid of Mickey, then surely it should be Molly who runs things,’ Fanny said.
Molly was quick to answer. ‘Oh, no thanks. I’ve got my hands full with Edward and I’m more than happy for Georgina to be in control. The thought of running the business scares the life out of me. I’d be bloody useless.’
‘Well, what about Jane?’ Fanny asked.
Georgina looked at Jane for a response but nothing was forthcoming. ‘There’s your answer, Fanny. Look, if you don’t think I’m the right person for the job, just say so, or perhaps you’d like to have a stab at it yourself?’
‘No, I’m sure you could handle it better than me. I’m just saying that it’s not rightfully yours. You’re not a Wilcox.’
‘You’re right, but I’d be doing it for all of us. I won’t do it if any of you object?’
This time, the women shook their heads and Fanny said, ‘I suppose if the only way we’re gonna get our hands on the business is by getting rid of Mickey, then you’re the woman to do it.’
Dulcie rested her hands across her stomach and began to twiddle her thumbs. ‘Looks like you’ve got our support, Georgina. All I can say is, Gawd help anyone who dares to stand in your way.’
2
Molly had been deep in thought as she’d left Georgina’s and was relieved to be home, back indoors and protected from the bitingly cold wind outside. Though home wasn’t really home. It was Jane’s house, but for now it would have to do. At least her mum and her sisters, Ethel and Charlotte, lived on the same street and they’d been a great help with the new baby. It seemed silly really, her and Edward crammed into the house with Jane and her two daughters, but Molly couldn’t face returning to Clapham. The house Billy had bought for them, so grand and luxurious, had become her prison and the thought of Billy’s brains splattered up the walls gave her nightmares. She’d never seen a ghost, but what if Billy’s soul wandered their house seeking retribution? She hoped he’d got what he deserved and was burning in the depths of hell, but the devil looks after his own. Billy was evil enough to have made a pact with Satan and she wasn’t prepared to put herself or her son in harm’s way. Molly shivered and though she was now standing in Jane’s lounge, she pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck.
‘It’s cold in here. The fire has gone out,’ Jane said as she walked into the room.
Yes, it was cold, but the thought of Billy Wilcox always sent a shiver down Molly’s spine.
‘The kettle’s heating on the stove and it won’t be long before I’ve got this fire roaring. Norman always used to see to the fire but it’s another thing I’ve learnt to do for myself now. Maybe Georgina is right, you know. Maybe we could run the whole thing ourselves.’
Molly had no doubt in Georgina’s abilities but she questioned her own. She had a baby to care for and knew nothing about Billy’s shady world of prostitutes and violence. She didn’t see how she’d be in a position to offer any help, but it was quite ironic really, as in theory, as Billy’s widow, it now belonged to her. What Geo
rgina said had made Molly think – she had Edward’s future to consider. She didn’t want her child growing up with nothing, with hunger in his belly instead of food, the way Fanny had raised her. No, he’d had a bad enough start as it was – being born in a dark, small attic, all alone with Molly fearing she would die. He deserved more, better, and drawing on Georgina’s strength, Molly felt ready to fight for what was theirs.
‘There you go, the embers are glowing again,’ Jane said, and looked from the fire to Molly. ‘I can see it in your eyes – you believe we can take on the business, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Jane, I think we can. I wouldn’t attempt it without Georgina, but she’s right, it’s ours.’
‘I’m not sure that Norman would want me having anything to do with the brothels. He never liked me even talking to the women, and if he had a proper grave instead of the cellar in Queenstown Road, he’d be turning in it now. To see me and his daughters living hand to mouth like we are would have broken his heart. He worked hard for us, and now I suppose it’s down to me to step up and do the right thing.’
Molly was astounded at the turnaround in Jane. She’d hardly spoken since she’d shot Billy, but Georgina must have provoked something in the woman and she appeared to be more like her old self.
‘Don’t look so surprised, Molly. I’ve spent months wallowing in self-pity and guilt, but that’s not going to change anything. I’ll always feel awful about killing Billy, but we all know it was the right thing to do. No mother wants to take the life of their own flesh and blood, but he killed my husband, and I’ve no doubt that he would have killed my girls too. Now, it’s time to move on. I don’t want Norman’s death to have been in vain. Norman built the Wilcox name. I’m still Mrs Wilcox, Mrs Norman Wilcox, and you and your son have the Wilcox name too. I refuse to let it be taken away from us.’
Molly gulped. Jane spoke so proudly of her family name, but if the truth was known, Molly hated it. She’d felt so ashamed at marrying Billy but had been too scared to refuse him. The Wilcox name was like a noose around her neck, choking her, suffocating her, snuffing the life out of her. But Billy was dead. Edward would always have his father’s name, and for the sake of her son, so would she. Could she come to take pride in it as Jane did? Would she ever be able to hold her head high as Mrs Billy Wilcox? No, never, but it was her name regardless.