by Sam Michaels
‘Actually, I’ve got an offer for you.’
‘Oh, yeah, one I can’t refuse, I bet?’
‘You’d be silly if you did,’ she answered, ‘it’s a very lucrative offer.’
‘Go on then, let’s hear it,’ he said as he took his coat off and threw it over the back of a chair.
‘I need someone to run me from A to B. If I buy a car, how do you fancy being my driver?’
She’d hoped Oppo would have jumped at the chance, but he looked worriedly at her gran.
‘What? You don’t seem too keen?’ she pressed, waiting for an answer.
‘I dunno if I’m the right man for the job,’ Oppo said.
‘You drive Mr Kavanagh’s fruit and veg van, don’t you? I remember you telling me how much you enjoy it. You said it’s better than being stuck in the shop. Go on, Oppo, I need someone I can trust and I’d pay you twice what Kavanagh does.’
‘I don’t think I’m cut out for that sort of work, not with me gammy leg, and all.’
‘What, driving?’
Dulcie cut in. ‘I think what Oppo’s trying to say, love, is he ain’t happy about working for the business. You can’t blame him – you know yourself how dangerous it can be.’
Georgina stuck her bottom lip out and pretended to sulk like a little girl.
‘That face ain’t worked with me since you was nine years old and don’t bother trying the fluttering your eyelash look at me either,’ Oppo said.
‘Is there anything that would change your mind?’ she asked.
‘If your life depended on it, I would.’
‘Huh, don’t joke about things like that. Tell him what happened today… some nutter burst in her office with a gun,’ Dulcie said through pursed lips.
‘Bloody hell, Georgina, are you all right?’ Oppo asked, his eyes wide.
‘Yes, you don’t see any bullet holes in me, do you? Gran, please shut up. I’m never gonna be able to persuade Oppo to work for me if you blurt out stories like that.’
‘I think Oppo’s mind is made,’ Dulcie said, then told her, ‘Put the kettle on. Molly will be here in a minute.’
It didn’t go unnoticed on either woman that Oppo checked his reflection in the mirror over the mantel. And now Georgina realised that he was more spruced up than usual.
‘You’re looking dapper this evening,’ she teased. ‘Going somewhere nice?’
‘No, but a fella’s gotta look his best. You never know who you might meet.’
‘Come off it, Oppo, you’ve got your eye on Molly, haven’t you?’
‘Course he has. He’s had a crush on Molly since you and her were kids,’ Dulcie said and chuckled.
‘Blinkin’ ’eck, is it that obvious?’ he asked.
‘The penny didn’t drop with me until tonight, but me gran seems to have known for ages. Are you going to ask her out?’
‘Nah, she’d never say yes to someone like me.’
‘Actually, she’s always thought you were a bit of all right,’ Georgina said, remembering a time when Molly had said so and Georgina had told her off for being silly.
‘You’re kidding me?’ Oppo asked.
‘No, straight up. You should ask her. I reckon she’d love to go out with you.’
Georgina went through to the kitchen with a warm feeling inside. It would be nice to see her two friends together and for Molly to be happy with a good man. She deserved it, especially after what she’d been through with Billy Wilcox.
She stood at the stove waiting for the water to boil, and her mind drifted back to more pressing matters. She needed a driver and more importantly, a man or two close by to look after her.
Her father stumbled in through the back door, and held out his arms. ‘There she is, give your old man a cuddle.’
Even from the other side of the room, Georgina could smell the alcohol fumes on his breath. ‘Sod off, Dad,’ she said, disappointed at the sorry sight of him.
‘Aw, don’t be like that.’
‘Like what? You’re a bleedin’ mess, Dad. Sort yourself out.’
‘You begrudge your old man a drink, do ya?’
‘No, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you sober. What’s happened to you?’
‘I didn’t come home early to listen to this crap. Who do you think you are? You should be showing me a bit more respect.’
‘Huh, what do you expect?’ Dulcie snapped when she came into the kitchen. ‘You only get respect when you’ve earned it.’
‘Ganging up on me now, are you?’
Dulcie folded her arms across her chest. ‘It’s about time someone told you a few home truths, Jack. You’ve left everything to Georgina. She’s out grafting for us to pay the rent whilst you’re spending what little we’ve got on getting pissed out of your head.’
‘I had a couple of beers, big deal.’
‘You’ve had a damn sight more than a couple. It’s about time you started behaving like the man of the house, instead of leaving it to your daughter!’
‘I’ve heard enough of this,’ Jack yelled and almost fell out the back door, slamming it behind him.
‘Sorry, love, but he needs telling.’
‘I know, Gran. I hate seeing him like it.’
‘Me and all. If your mother was here, she’d have his guts for garters. Has that kettle boiled yet?’
Georgina poured the boiling water, her mind on her father. He’d taught her to be wily and had armed her with the skills she needed to fight any man. Now she wished he’d sober up and be the father he once was.
*
Benjamin was glad the cold weather had kept most people inside tonight. He stood outside of The Penthouse Club and glanced over his shoulder before ringing the ‘members only’ bell. The dark streets were almost empty so he’d be able to slip inside unnoticed.
The door opened and he was shown into a dimly lit corridor then down a flight of stairs and into a brighter reception area. Here, a tall man dressed as a butler stood behind the counter of a cloakroom and asked Benjamin, ‘May I take your coat, sir?’
‘Do you know, Buckster, I’m quite tempted to keep it on. It’s absolutely dreadful outside. Do you have my powder and rouge there?’
‘Yes, of course, sir,’ Buckster answered and reached to a shelf below the counter then handed Benjamin a satin pouch.
‘Thank you. Are the usual crowd in tonight?’
‘Yes, sir, and Aubrey has a special treat for you all this evening.’
‘Oooo, I’m tingling in eager anticipation,’ Benjamin said and fluttered his hands above his head.
Before entering into the main club area, Benjamin popped into the gentlemen’s toilet, dabbed on some face powder and rouge on his cheeks. He pulled his red and white spotted cravat from his pocket and proudly wore it round his neck. For anyone in the know, the cravat was more than an item of fashion – it was a sign to other men of his sexual inclination. A secret code that only another queer chap would understand.
‘Quite lovely,’ Benjamin said to his reflection and blew his painted face a kiss. ‘Now I’m ready for the ball!’ he added, and flounced from the toilets and down a further set of stairs deeper into the basement. The irony of the club name wasn’t lost on him – The Penthouse Club – yet it couldn’t have been any further from the roof of the building.
A stocky man in a platinum-coloured wig and red lipstick pulled open the door to the club, saying, ‘Welcome, Mr Harel.’
Immediately, Benjamin could hear the falsetto tones of Princess Miranda singing along to the notes being banged out on the jazz piano. The smoky atmosphere from inside hit him, and he breathed it in. This illicit club for homosexual men felt like home for him. It was the only place he could be himself and meet with like-minded friends.
As he minced in, Princess Miranda spotted Benjamin from the stage and gave him a little wave. He’d once spent the night with Miranda but had found him to be impotent. The man preferred to talk about sex rather than doing it. Benjamin waved back and admired his co
stume. The Princess had outdone himself tonight with sequins and ribbons.
‘Dahling, at last, you’re here!’ Aubrey cried melodramatically and opened his arms to greet Benjamin.
‘And what a relief it is to be. There have been several occasions this week when I feared for my life,’ Benjamin replied and kissed his friend on each powdered cheek.
‘Oh, Benny, baby, come and sit down and tell me all about it,’ Aubrey said, and led Benjamin to a small round table. There, he clicked his finger at the barman and ordered a bottle of champagne. Benjamin knew it would be the finest French fizz and as Aubrey owned the club, it would be free.
The barman, dressed in a chiffon blouse and silk pantaloons, fetched the bottle and two glasses.
‘I swear, you would not believe the week I’ve had,’ Benjamin said as he sipped his drink.
‘Do tell,’ Aubrey replied, and rested his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand.
‘I’m working for the most fabulous woman, Georgina Garrett, but her business is quite illegal. It’s terribly exciting and terrifying all at the same time. Honestly, Aubrey, I’ve never felt so alive!’
‘It sounds fascinating, dahling. What sort of business?’
‘She’s just taken over from a gangster family. They’re running brothels, and protection rackets, amongst other things. As you can imagine, it comes with its dangers. I mean, today, this morning, a man brandishing a handgun came into the office. One of the tarts knocked him to the ground and then everything became quite brutal. Shocking. But I love it.’
‘Gosh, Benny, you’re so brave.’
‘No, not really, I was terrified. But, Aubrey, you’d adore some of the men who work for Miss Garrett. They’re so big and very brutish,’ Benjamin said and raised his eyebrows to his friend.
‘Oh, Benny, you’re so naughty, dahling, but that’s why I love you.’
A man on stilts shouted from the small stage and hushed the room.
‘You’re going to enjoy this, Benny. I’ve brought Raphael all the way from Paris. He’s very special,’ Aubrey whispered.
A stockinged leg appeared from behind the stage curtains and the men in the club cheered. Then the curtains flew back and the tune from the piano burst into the cancan.
‘My favourite, Aubrey,’ Benjamin squealed and clasped his hands together.
Raphael high kicked his way across the stage in time to the energetic music, ruffling his 1840s-style French cabaret dress.
‘Isn’t he amazing,’ Aubrey purred.
Yes, he was, and Benjamin couldn’t take his eyes off him.
The crowd cheered and clapped, and once the act had come to an end, Raphael gesticulated towards Aubrey, who in turn, stood up and did a small bow.
‘You’ve pleased your customers, as always,’ Benjamin said. ‘Bottoms up,’ and they clinked glasses.
‘Actually, Benny, I also have some news though I’m afraid mine isn’t as thrilling as yours and I fear you’re not going to be a happy bunny.’
Benjamin poured them both another drink and waited for his friend to continue.
‘I’m going to close The Penthouse. Unless someone is foolish enough to buy it from me.’
‘No, Aubrey, why would you do such a thing?’ Benjamin asked.
‘I’m getting far too old to be worrying about police raids and imprisonment. Humphrey’s place was raided last week and I feel it’s only a matter of time before they turn up here. Don’t get me wrong, dahling, you know I love a man in uniform, especially one with a large truncheon, but really, perturbing is no good for my health.’
‘I do understand, Aubrey, and I think we’re all far too delicate for prison. But I can’t imagine how dismal my life will be without you, my friends and The Penthouse. Has there been any interest for purchasing?’ Benjamin asked hopefully.
‘No, not as yet, which is tragic. You know my books – the club is very profitable. But I think most men have the same concerns as me – the long arm of the law.’
Benjamin sipped more of the chilled champagne. Yes, most men probably were worried about the law, but he knew a woman who wasn’t. But if he could persuade Miss Garrett to look at The Penthouse Club as an investment, it would mean revealing his secret identity. He wondered how she’d react and the more he thought about it, the more he realised she wouldn’t be the least bit disconcerted.
12
It was late on Sunday afternoon and Georgina had gathered The Maids of Battersea into Dulcie’s front room for a round-up of the week. She’d discovered a lot about the activities of the business, some of which she didn’t like. She knew the others wouldn’t be pleased about it either. She planned on making some small changes to start and hoped they’d listen to her reasoning and agree with her ideas.
‘Did you see that picture in the Daily Mail yesterday?’ Dulcie asked Molly.
‘No, I ain’t seen the papers in yonks.’
‘Oooo, I’ll show you. Pass me the paper on the sideboard. You won’t believe your eyes.’
‘Why? What is it, Dulcie?’
‘It’s a blinkin’ monster! There’s a real-life picture of it. The Loch Ness Monster, up in Scotland. Bloody ugly thing it is too.’
‘No way!’
‘Yes, it’s true. Some surgeon bloke took the photograph and seeing as he’s a professional man, he wouldn’t be lying, would he?’
Georgina cleared her throat. ‘Sorry to interrupt your fascinating conversation but can we look at photographs of monsters later, please, and get on with what we’re supposed to be talking about.’
Molly, Fanny and Dulcie quietened down.
‘Right, ladies, as you know, this week has been eventful,’ Georgina began.
‘Sorry, Georgina, but what happened with Bruce yesterday morning?’ Fanny asked.
‘I left him with Knuckles holding him down and allowed Varvara to deal with him. She was more than happy to oblige.’
‘So you don’t know where he is?’
‘He’ll be incapacitated so there’s no need to worry about the little worm.’
‘Have you heard any news about Jane?’ Molly asked.
‘I rang the hospital this morning. All they would say is that she’s undergoing treatment but it’s too early to expect results. Any more questions or can I tell you about our business plans?’
‘Go on, love,’ Dulcie urged.
‘Right, but before that, there’s something else… I think it would be for the best if each of you had a pistol. Just something small, but enough to protect yourself.’
‘No way, I’m not carrying a gun,’ Molly answered first.
‘No, can’t say I’m keen either,’ Fanny said.
‘And I don’t need one, love,’ from Dulcie.
‘Fine, I thought that’s what you’d say. Anyway, I’ve been through each aspect of the business. The good news is, it’s all in profit.’
‘What’s the bad news?’ Molly asked.
‘Some of the ways the profits are made.’
‘It’s a Wilcox business. It’s hardly going to be nice and fluffy,’ Fanny said.
‘Quite, so keep that in mind. Firstly, Johnny Dymond has been doing a smashing job with the poker and loans. We’re aiming for a more exclusive clientele, you know the sort, so we’re opening up in Clapham.’
‘What, in mine and Billy’s house?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes, and I knew you wouldn’t mind. It’s just sat there empty, so we might as well make use of it. There’ll be two games a week and the bigger the stakes, the bigger the loans. I’m also renting out the upper rooms to a bloke who’s setting up a photographic studio. He likes making them risqué postcards of naked women. We’ll be doing his distribution so we’ll be quids in on that too.’
‘Great idea,’ Dulcie said.
‘Now, both brothels are up and running but we won’t be earning as much from them as Billy did. That’s because we’re paying the women for their work.’
‘Fair enough,’ from Fanny.
So far, so goo
d, thought Georgina, but she hadn’t yet divulged everything. ‘The protection racket, or as Jane says, the insurance… I don’t like the idea of it but it’s easy money. If we don’t do it, someone else will.’
‘Are you suggesting we carry on with it, even after knowing how it affected Ezzy?’ Dulcie asked and didn’t look happy at the prospect.
‘Yes and no,’ Georgina answered. ‘I reckon we should reduce the payments and increase the numbers. I want the businesses to know that we are looking after their interests. We’ll ensure no other gangs infiltrate the area and take over the protection. The emphasis will be on keeping our turf safe for the traders. They won’t have to pay extortionate rates to anyone else, just smaller affordable payments to us. Doing it this way will make it like it really is insurance.’
‘No skin off my nose,’ Fanny said.
‘The next thing is the drugs supply. Heroin is in big demand, especially round the slums. We’ve all seen what it does to people and I don’t like it any more than you. The thing is, if we don’t supply it, someone else will and I don’t want another supplier coming in and taking over. It’ll lead to trouble. So, I’ve instructed the Barker twins to not push their shit on anyone who’s clean and no selling to kids. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.’
‘If you think that’s for the best, it’s fine with me,’ Molly said.
‘Good. Now, the contraband. David Maynard wants to deal directly with me from now on but I’m going to keep Ned and Phil for selling it on.’
‘Are you saying that the dodgy cigarettes and booze come from the Maynards?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes and I was surprised too. The Portland Pounders supply him and we get what he can’t shift. Any black market stuff comes via South East London. Talking of which, the races – I really don’t want to get involved with what’s going on at the racecourses. I know the Maynards are having wars with some Birmingham lot and the papers are full of news about shoot-outs all over the place. At the moment, Old Cyril in the bike shop takes the bets but he’s been instructed to send any big wagers to the Maynards. Can you believe the one legit part of the business and that old codger is running a bookies and selling potcheen out the back door? So much for the bike shop being a front.’