by Beezy Marsh
‘You may be fond of him, but he is beneath you, Nell. You don’t need a barrow boy. You need a man like me, and you know it. Deep down inside, you know that is the truth. You knew it the other night. Why fight it?’
‘You disgust me! The way you set this all up…’ I felt hot tears of shame prick my eyes at how far I’d let him go with me after The Lucky Seven and how much I’d wanted it too.
‘Oh, Nell, don’t be a silly girl,’ he said, coming to my side and pulling me into his arms. ‘You need a man like me, not a boy like Jimmy. Has he got what it takes to satisfy you? Can he give you designer dresses from Paris, flowers and jewels to call your own? I think we both know the answer to that.’
‘It’s not about that!’
I tried to pull away but that only made him laugh: ‘Well, I didn’t hear you complaining about anything else. In fact, you looked like you were thoroughly enjoying it the other night. And you get as much of a thrill from stealing as I do; we’re quite a combination, aren’t we?’
I scowled at him: ‘Stop it!’
‘Oh, you are so beautiful when you’re angry,’ he said.
He gazed down at me and I was drowning in his eyes again: ‘Jimmy belongs in the past. Your life is here, by my side, and you’ll realise that soon enough.’
I stared at my feet, wishing they could take me away from all of this. I pulled away and sat down, to catch my breath.
I studied the photograph in the picture frame again. Billy’s little sister was staring up at him as if he walked on water, the poor, deluded cow. I pitied her, growing up with him for a brother.
But Billy hadn’t finished with me yet: ‘Talking of which, what are The Forty Thieves up to these days? Any plans you’ve heard of that I need to know about?’
‘There is something they are planning that I caught a whisper of,’ I murmured. ‘But I’m not sure I should tell you. Alice will kill me…’
He loomed over me.
‘Oh, come on, Nell, don’t be coy. Spit it out, for your sake…’
It was quite easy to sound as if I was only reluctantly parting with the information, which I wanted him to know. If he felt Alice Diamond was muscling in on his patch, there was a chance he’d finish her off himself. She was outsmarting me at every turn, so it didn’t hurt to stir up trouble between them a little more.
‘There’s a fashion show at Gamages in a week or so, with lots of furs from the Alaska factory and those posh Dior dresses, like the one you gave me,’ I said.
‘I’m listening,’ said Billy, picking up a cigar and rolling it between his fingers.
‘The Forty Thieves are going to try to hoist some of the stock before it gets on to the catwalk, or that is what I’ve heard. But it’s only a rumour, and I don’t see how they think they’re going to get away with it.’
Billy’s eyes lit up: ‘Fashion show? There might be enough goods there to interest me and my boys, if we could get away with enough stock in a lorry. I can always find a buyer for furs. That’s very interesting, Nell, thank you for the tip off, which I will treat with the utmost discretion. And as for The Forty Thieves, well, we’ll see how much they get away with when they are up against my gang, shall we?
‘Now, you’d better get yourself on that stage to sing for your supper, hadn’t you?’
He came back around to my side of the desk and slapped me playfully on the bottom as I was leaving.
‘Oh, and you’d better forget about what you saw at the card tables of The Lucky Seven, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘I know you fixed those packs, I know how you did it,’ I said, flatly.
‘You’ve got quite an eye for detail, haven’t you?’ he said. ‘Which is another reason why I’m fond of you.’
He wagged his finger at me: ‘But you’ve got to learn, Nell, to stop meddling in things you don’t understand and leave it to the men. Don’t let me hear you talking about that ever again, not if you value that pretty little throat of yours.
‘It will be hard for you to sing if I have to cut it to shut you up, won’t it?’
I was shaking like a leaf by the time I made it on to the stage. A row of expectant faces greeted me, and a hush fell over the room. Word had got round Soho that I had a voice worth listening to, and the club was packed to the rafters.
I started to sing, miserably:
‘They asked me how I knew,
My true love was true
I of course replied
Something here inside
Cannot be denied…’
I was half-way through the song, when I saw a familiar face in the audience. I don’t know who was more surprised – me or Detective Sgt Eddie Hart, quietly supping a pint, trying to blend in with the low-lifes. I fancied he might have been one of Billy’s straightened coppers, but I hadn’t spotted his name in the ledger of payments the other night and that made me curious. I was taking a huge gamble being in Billy’s world but the thrill of winning everything or losing everything made me bolder. The stakes were high, and I had to take a chance.
I slowly made my way down into the audience, sashaying past the little tables full of grubby oiks in dirty macs, to the detective’s spot. It’s fair to say, he looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
‘They said someday you’ll find,
All who love are blind
When your hearts on fire
You must realize
Smoke gets in your eyes’
‘Aint you pleased to see me,’ I whispered, putting my arms around his neck and sitting on his lap. ‘Are you one of those naughty policemen who’s been taking Billy Sullivan’s crooked shilling?’
‘For God’s sake, Nell, no I’m not,’ he hissed. ‘Can we go somewhere and talk about this? If you don’t blow my cover, I promise I will make it worth your while.’
‘One word to the fellas at the bar, and you’ll be cinders. Ash don’t tell no tales, from what I hear, and Billy Sullivan don’t like cozzers in his club.’ I smirked. The boot was on the other foot now and I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
‘You’d better look like you’re paying me for all this attention, or the barman will be over here emptying your pockets for you.’
I stood up and carried on singing:
‘Now laughing friends deride
Tears I cannot hide
So I smile and say
When a lovely flame dies
Smoke gets in your eyes.’
He produced a ten bob note from his wallet and he stuffed it down my cleavage: ‘That’s just for starters. I’m undercover, Nell, even my own boss doesn’t know I’m here.’ Sweat was forming on his brow. He was very handsome, and I quite liked him when he was looking scared.
‘I think you will have to do me a very large favour,’ I said. ‘But if you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Meet me in the back alley after my set.’
‘Oh, ain’t he saucy?’ I giggled to the audience. ‘Now, who else wants to hear another song?’
The rats were scampering around the overflowing bins like it was Derby Day around the back of The Windsor.
The lighted end of the cozzer’s ciggie glowed red in the darkness as I picked my way over the cobbles towards him.
‘Well, that was a turn up for the books, wasn’t it?’ I said, chirpily. ‘Who’d have thought you’d be darkening my door like that? Whatever is the world coming to Detective Sergeant Hart?’
‘Who’s there?’ a voice came from the other end of the alley and someone started walking towards us.
Before I could protest, Detective Sergeant Hart had pulled me into an embrace and was kissing me, passionately. I cannot tell a lie; it felt quite nice.
He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and shone it towards the intruder: ‘Piss off, mate, we’re just trying to have a bit of peace and quiet here.’
The shape in the alley moved away.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said, releasing me and adjusting his tie.
‘Do they teach you that in police school?’ I said, grin
ning like the Cheshire Cat.
I could have sworn, even in the middle of the blackout, that I saw him blush.
‘Now, why don’t you level with me about what you were doing in Billy Sullivan’s club?’
‘I was hoping you might do the same,’ he said. ‘The last time I saw you, you were running with The Forty Thieves. Had a sudden change of career?’
‘I’m doing what I need to do, to make ends meet, like most folk,’ I said. ‘But you’d better start talking because if Billy or one of his men comes looking for me and they find you, you are done for.’
‘Alright,’ he said. ‘The top brass believe that Sullivan’s got right into the force, paying people off, because he’s always one step ahead of us. The Home Secretary has set up the Ghost Squad, to root out corruption.’
‘And they put you in charge?’ I said, incredulously.
‘No, they didn’t put me in charge, but I’m one of a very small number of trusted officers who are undercover, to try to find out who the rotten apples are. I’m an outsider, from Tyneside, and the London bobbies don’t trust me because I’m not one of them.’
‘Hmmm,’ I said, twiddling with my hair. ‘I might be able to help with some information. But you’ve got to help me first and I will need guarantees. I’m not putting myself at risk to get stitched up by the likes of you.’
‘Is it money you need? I can pay you well for whatever information you can get me,’ he said. ‘And I swear you will be protected. I will never reveal my sources, Nell.’
‘Well, we can start with you promising to turn a blind eye if you see me out shopping,’ I said.
‘Fair enough,’ he shrugged. ‘But if anyone else catches you, you are on your own.’
I thought about it for a minute: ‘But it’s not just that, I need a favour for a friend, who’s in trouble with the law. I might need you to bend the rules, to get him a lower sentence.’
‘Depends what he’s done and I can’t wave a magic wand, but I give you my word, if you help me nail Sullivan, I will do everything in my power to help your friend. I’ll take it all the way to the Home Secretary if I have to. These are extraordinary times and the powers that be want to clean up Soho for good from bosses like Sullivan.
‘So, we can set up a meeting place, somewhere safe, where we won’t be spotted and you can tell me everything.’
I hesitated. Billy had eyes and ears everywhere.
‘I’ve always liked a walk by the River Thames,’ I said. ‘I’ll be by the river, just the other side of Big Ben, around three o-clock tomorrow.’
‘Deal,’ he said, handing over a ten-pound note. ‘This is to show you I’m serious.’
‘Fine,’ I replied, pulling the lump of soap from my pocket. ‘You might find this comes in handy.’
He took it from me and shone his torch on it.
‘What’s this?’
‘It’s an impression of the key to Billy Sullivan’s office,’ I said, as his jaw hit the floor. ‘I’m hoping you might know a good locksmith.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ALICE
Elephant and Castle, London, March 1947
I always said that Jimmy was a good-for-nothing but, blooming heck, it seems I underestimated the barrow-boy, didn’t I?
There he was, in handcuffs, with his mug all over the front page of The Daily News, being paraded as London’s answer to Al Capone.
‘GANG WARS! RAZOR ATTACK ARREST
Police yesterday caught the man they believe is behind the gangland attack which left a Soho businessman needing fifty stitches. The appalling assault on Alf White is believed to be part of an ongoing gangland feud which has stepped up since the end of the war.
Jimmy Feeney, 22, of Waterloo, South London, was captured after a dramatic chase through the backstreets of the Elephant and Castle. The fugitive ran riot through several shops before he was apprehended.
Feeney, a petty criminal, is known to police for selling black market goods from his fruit and veg stall. He was charged with assault in relation to the attack on Mr White and is due to appear before West London magistrates court tomorrow. He was also picked out of an identity parade by Mr White’s wife, Winifred, who is being treated for shock.
Chief Inspector Hardy, of Scotland Yard, said last night: ‘This is an important step towards cleaning up Soho. We will not tolerate gang violence on our streets. Law abiding people have had enough of it. Violent thugs will be caught. Gang bosses should take this as a warning. Your time is running out.’
I can’t say it made me feel any safer knowing Jimmy was behind bars. He was best known for slipping a rotten orange into your paper bag or perhaps an overripe plum. The real culprit – and we all know who that was – was still sitting pretty in his clubs in Soho. Poor Jimmy was just his messenger boy and as the saying goes, they always shoot the messenger.
‘I never liked him,’ said Molly, sloshing gin into one of my best teacups. ‘He just weren’t trustworthy. And now we find he’s been doing the King of Soho’s dirty work. Well, it serves him right that he got caught.’ She took a sip, and smiled to herself, just as Nell walked in with Em, and the Partridge twins from Queens Buildings, who were going to do some training to be models for the fashion show.
‘I see your boyfriend’s made the papers,’ Molly gloated, thrusting the front page right under Nell’s nose.
Nell sat down, with all the stuffing knocked out of her, like a boxer dangling on the ropes when they are on their last legs.
‘Oh, God, Jimmy,’ she mouthed. ‘No!’
‘He kicked one right over the bar with that chivving, the silly fool,’ I said, watching her closely. ‘That’s what you get for getting cosy with the likes of Billy Sullivan,’ I added, pointedly.
‘Yeah,’ Molly crowed. ‘It’s a good job you gave that baby away, Nell, because imagine it growing up and finding out that both his parents are jailbirds!’ She was so pleased with her wisecrack, she started laughing like a hyena.
Nell saw red and before any of us knew what was happening, she’d knocked Molly off her stool and had her hands around her throat and was throttling her.
‘Stop that!’ I yelled, cracking her on the back of her head with my cane before Molly went a funny colour. Molly got her free hand up to her hair and yanked out her trusty hatpin: ‘I’ll put your eye out! Come here, you little witch!’
She waved her arms around wildly trying to get a stab at Nell’s face, but she was fairly pissed, so the risk of that was vanishingly small.
I smacked Molly one with the back of my fist, for good measure, sending the hatpin skittering over the kitchen tiles.
‘No, you will not, Molly,’ I said, crossly. ‘The pair of you will pack in this nonsense now.’ Honestly, they were like squabbling children.
Molly got up and dusted herself down on one side of the room, while Nell scowled at her from the other.
‘I told you, Alice! That girl has got ideas above her station and she’s got no respect for the gang,’ said Molly.
‘You let your mouth run away with you, Moll,’ I chided. ‘And you!’ I said, turning to Nell, ‘who the bleeding hell do you think you are slinging your weight around in my house? If anyone is dishing out the beatings within these four walls, it’s going to be me!’
‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ she said. ‘I just won’t have her talking about my Joseph like that. It’s taking a liberty.’
Molly brushed her hat off and plonked it back on her bird’s nest of hair.
‘I’m going down the boozer,’ she said. ‘And you are very much mistaken if you think this is over, Nell.’
She turned on her heel and stalked out of the door, leaving Em and the Patridge twins gawping like idiots.
‘Welcome to our happy little gang,’ I beamed. ‘Take these!’ I handed them some books I’d swiped from the local library – and that was a rare visit, because I don’t go in for book-learning. ‘Stop standing there catching flies and copy Nell as she shows you how to walk with Charles Dickens on her h
ead.’
Nell adjusted the book and started to walk slowly across the kitchen, swaying her hips a little, but I could tell her mind was on Jimmy.
‘Can I have a go?’ said Em, who was itching to be a model, so she had something to tell the girls at the jam factory.
I picked up a few books by Jane Austen and parked those on her blonde curls. She’d only tottered a few steps when they fell off.
‘No,’ I said. ‘We need you to get this job, so concentrate. Maybe work in a twirl at the end, where you stand so she can see your profile because you have got a lovely button nose. Then spin around and smile at the old battleaxe of a manager. Oh, she’s a right sour puss, so anything you can do to charm her will help.’
Em grinned like a corpse, when rigor mortis had set in.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I cried, pulling my hairpins out and letting my hair loose over my shoulders. I picked up Oliver Twist and stuck that on my bonce, shimmying across the room towards the window, sticking my nose in the air to show my profile, before turning slowly and smiling sweetly.
‘Do it like this!’
Nell had been watching me the whole time, but when I turned around, she was looking at me differently, as if she was seeing me for the first time.
‘Well, Nell, what do you think?’ I said.
‘I think you look really different with your hair down,’ she said, staring at me. ‘It makes you look younger. Much younger.’
It took a few hours to get everyone looking like they belonged on the catwalk, but me and Nell managed to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear where Em and the Partridge twins were concerned.
‘Alright, you lot, sling your hook,’ I said, when they went to help themselves to yet another brew from my teapot. ‘This ain’t a soup kitchen. Go and get yourself up to Gamages to see the manageress and earn me some money.’
Nell hung back, as if she wanted to ask me something.
‘What’s the matter?’ I said. ‘Cat got your tongue?’
She waited until she heard the front door slam shut.
I felt for Mrs Tibbs in my pocket, just in case, because she did have a funny look in her eye.
‘I know who you really are,’ she said, matter-of-factly.
