Queen of Thieves

by Beezy Marsh

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t.’ Something else had taken over when I was cutting her hair, it was true, but I wasn’t even sure what that was or where it had come from. It was a side of myself I was only just beginning to understand but if I was going to be the Queen of Thieves, I was going to need it.

  ‘I had to do it, or Alice Diamond would have done worse to me,’ I said. ‘I want to change things around here, but it is going to take some time. I had to stay in the gang. Don’t ask me to apologise for the life I’m living, Iris, because you are on a hiding to nothing with that.’

  Iris swallowed hard and dried her eyes on her apron: ‘God knows I’ve paid the price for what I’ve done, and Tommy won’t even touch me now, not even to kiss me or nothing.

  ‘He’s shit-scared of me, his own wife, because if I say a word, Alice Diamond will come down on him like a ton of bricks. That’s what she told him.’

  ‘Tommy is a bully who was beating you, Iris, there was no respect for you,’ I said. ‘I want to make life better for you, but you’ve got to show willing and help me.’

  ‘What more do The Forty Thieves want of me?’ she cried. ‘Molly’s been round here gloating that when my lovely hair’s grown back, she’s got some wealthy fellas who will pay me for my time.’

  ‘What?’ I said, sitting down, with all the wind knocked out of my sails.

  ‘She reckons she is going to put me on the game because I have got to do what the gang says, that’s what she said.’

  ‘That is nothing to do with The Forty Thieves,’ I said. ‘That’s Molly, the evil bitch. And let me tell you, she has got it coming because she grassed on my Jimmy to the law the other day and that is why he’s behind bars. That’s why I need your help tonight.

  ‘I know you’d rather not be part of it, Iris, but this is the world we are living in. Look around you. There are times when you have to stand up and be counted. You are worth more than this. You can play by their rules and be a victim all your life or we can make up a few of our own. What do you say?’

  Iris glanced around her. The threadbare tablecloth was covered in fluff from her fur-pulling work, her china stacked neatly on the mantlepiece was chipped and a pair of Tommy’s trousers, which were more patches than cloth, lay ready for mending.

  She undid the straps of her apron and grabbed her rolling pin: ‘Count me in.’

  The evening mist rolled off the River Thames and through the backstreets of the Elephant, shrouding the rubble and ruins left by the Blitz.

  The pub had survived the bombing, which was a cause for celebration at the time and every night since. Smoke and laughter escaped in little blasts whenever someone pushed open the doors to take a piss up the green tiled walls or puke one pint too many into the gutter.

  Iris and I loitered up the back alley by the side of the pub, tucked away behind the bins, waiting for our moment. A cat prowled past, followed by a mangy dog, which squatted and did its business, right by my feet.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing, Iris,’ I said, as we watched it perform and strut off, with a satisfied wag of its stumpy tail, ‘I take you to all the best places. Stick with me, I’ll show you all the shites of London town.’

  She giggled, just like the old friend I used to know in Tenison Street.

  The door of the pub swung open and people started to spill out into the street, staggering back to their lives on the never-never in Queen’s Buildings, buoyed by drink.

  Iris started walking down the alleyway, but I held on to her arm: ‘Wait!’

  ‘When we do this, you follow my lead and we keep silent, understood?’

  Iris nodded.

  I tied my headscarf so that it covered my face, and all you could see was my eyes. Iris did the same.

  A full ten minutes passed before Molly barrelled out, three sheets to the wind. The landlord slid the bolt on the door, locking it firmly, in a way that said good riddance to bad rubbish.

  We gave her a moment’s headstart before we set off in pursuit. I could hear her singing ‘Molly Malone’ at the top of her voice, which was handy because the fog was getting thick. Queen’s Buildings loomed a few hundred yards ahead of us, and I knew we had to reach her before she got to the safety of the courtyard, where a fight could easily be heard.

  She still had that arrogant swagger about her walk, even in drink, and as we tiptoed closer, I could see the red fox’s brush of her hair swishing out from under her hat. She’d just got to the chorus, ‘Alive, alive-oh’ when I ran at her, swinging the billiard ball in a sock with all my might, and landing it squarely between her shoulder blades to fell her.

  Molly landed like a sack of spuds, face down in the gutter, and before I could do anything, Iris was whacking at her with the rolling pin in a frenzied attack.

  Molly screamed, putting her hands up to protect herself and I pulled Iris back. Then, I raised the billiard ball and cracked Molly one on the side of her head, making her moan. Iris kicked her in the ribs, over and over, until I felt she’d done enough. And judging that was a tough call, it has to be said, because as much as I hated Molly’s guts, I didn’t want to end up at the end of the hangman’s noose for killing the cow.

  We’d just about had our fill, when a costermonger appeared at the top of the street, with his empty barrow.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted into the gloom. ‘Who’s there?’

  Molly was on her side, knees drawn up and whimpering, blood coming from her busted nose. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get satisfaction from seeing her like that. She belonged in the gutter.

  I signalled to Iris to get going and we scarpered back to her tenement before the costermonger could reach us, tucking our weapons into our coat pockets as we went.

  We were breathless and giddy from the thrill of it.

  Iris turned to me, shaking but smiling, as we climbed the stairs: ‘She had it coming, didn’t she?’

  I knew then I had found a partner in crime who I could rely on.

  ‘Welcome to my gang,’ I said.

  Chapter Thirty

  NELL

  Soho, London, March 1947

  I awoke at first light, to the sound of stones being chucked at my bedroom window.

  Down in the street, Alice was hopping mad: ‘Nell, for Gawd’s sake, wake up, you lazy moo!’

  I pulled up the sash and stuck my head out. If Molly had worked out who’d beaten her up, I was done for, but I had to make a show of being innocent.

  ‘You’ll wake the landlady,’ I hissed. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said, glowering at me. ‘Come down and let me in!’

  My heart was pumping as I put on Gypsy’s dressing gown and ran downstairs. I darted into the scullery and pulled a knife from the drawer, tucking it up my sleeve. Suddenly the game was all-too real.

  ‘What took you so long?’ said Alice, as I opened the front door.

  ‘I had to make myself decent,’ I said, holding the shaft of the knife in place inside my sleeve with my curled fingers. ‘Come on through, before you wake the whole street.’

  I held the front door open and let her go down the corridor first, in case she tried to jump me.

  But as Alice paced up and down the scullery, with anxiety etched on her features, she was like a woman possessed, ranting and raving about what had happened to her deputy.

  ‘Molly’s been put in the hospital by Billy Sullivan’s men,’ she said. ‘Oh, I should have done him earlier. I should have listened to Mrs Tibbs. But no, I thought I knew better than old Tibbsy, didn’t I? And now they’ve gone and done in my Molly.’

  ‘Poor, Moll, I can’t believe it!’ I said, edging over to the sink, to drop the knife without being spotted. ‘I know we had our differences, but to be laid low like that is just taking a liberty, ain’t it? And who is Mrs Tibbs? Is she someone in the gang I ain’t met before?’

  But Alice was already looming over me.

  ‘This,’ she said, pulling out her chiv and bringing it
dangerously close to my face, ‘is Mrs Tibbs. You’ve already made her acquaintance and you two get on quite well from what I recall.’ She cackled with laughter.

  Truly, she had flipped her lid. She’d given that chiv of hers a name. I began to regret letting her in to the house.

  ‘I think we could both use a nice brew,’ I soothed. I breathed a sigh of relief as she walked over to the kitchen table, tucked her chiv back in her lace handkerchief, and sat down.

  Turning away, I sneaked the knife down my sleeve and onto the draining board and filled the kettle, trembling with nerves in case she’d spotted what I was up to.

  ‘Molly got jumped as she was leaving the pub in the blackout last night,’ said Alice, as I set the kettle on the range to boil. ‘She’s had a nasty clump round the lughole which has left her so dizzy she can barely walk, and they’ve broken her face in bits and smashed three or four ribs. She said it was Billy’s men that jumped her. Doctors say it’ll be weeks before she’s up and about.’

  ‘God almighty,’ I said. Who would have thought Iris could be so handy with a rolling pin? She’d done more than I gave her credit for. ‘The bastards!’

  ‘I know it’s a shock but don’t upset yourself too much, Nell,’ said Alice, eyeing me closely. ‘Molly is tough as old boots. She’ll live.’

  Well, that was a relief because I didn’t intend to get topped for it.

  ‘I think you and I could use some sugar,’ I said, wandering into the pantry, in case I gave myself away. ‘Calms the nerves.’

  Alice shouted after me: ‘Molly says there was at least three of them, maybe four. Big fellas with hands like giant hams. She tried to sock one or two of them in the kisser, but they just overpowered her, the four of them.’

  ‘And that was just the four bottles of gin she’d drunk,’ I murmured to myself, suppressing a smile.

  I walked quickly back into the scullery and chucked a lump of sugar in her tea: ‘It’s a gang attack, four on to one. It’s dirty tactics, Alice.’

  ‘This is a declaration of war, Nell. I’m going to have him for it,’ she seethed. ‘The bastard Billy Sullivan won’t know what’s hit him.’

  I saw an opportunity to wind her up, and so I was off, like a rat up a drainpipe.

  ‘The thing is,’ I said, stirring my tea, ‘I heard something in the club the other day and I thought it was just men being all mouth and trousers but now I’m starting to wonder…’

  ‘What!’ she cried. ‘What did you hear? Spit it out, for God’s sake.’

  Oh, she was like a fish on the line, and I was yanking it.

  ‘I heard Lou the barman say that Billy Sullivan was going to knock the crown off your head over this tallyman business and you weren’t going to be Queen no more. He wants to take over the gang and run it himself. He wants to put a fella in charge. King of Thieves, that’s what he said. No more Queen of Thieves. I didn’t want to believe it; you know how men are always talking themselves up.’

  This was stretching it a bit, but in her current state, she swallowed the whole tale, hook, line and sinker.

  ‘Does he now? The cheeky swine,’ said Alice, puce with rage. ‘I’ll have his guts for garters! It’s a bloody liberty! King of Thieves, my arse!’

  ‘That’s what he’s been plotting all along,’ I said, warming to my theme. ‘He’s been after your title the whole time.’

  ‘Nell,’ she said, taking hold of my hands, her green eyes glistening, ‘You’ve done well telling me this. I know you are young, but the others look up to you because of you being here in Soho, helping the gang out. I was going to find a way to do this without upsetting Molly in a year or so, but now she’s out of the picture and with Sullivan on our case, it needs to happen sooner not later.’

  I listened, with bated breath.

  ‘You are loyal to me, and that loyalty may be tested further but, will you be my deputy?’

  I couldn’t have been happier if Prince Charming had got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ I cried. ‘Yes, I will.’

  We hugged each other for a moment. It would have looked to anyone as if we were a mother and a daughter, holding each other in a fond embrace. But I wasn’t burying the hatchet. The only place I wanted to stick that was in her back.

  She finished her tea, set her hair and her hat straight and pulled herself together. The Queen of The Forty Thieves, Alice Diamond, was more like her old self again.

  But I wasn’t finished with her yet.

  ‘I saw the way you were looking at Billy Sullivan in that old photograph in his office. He was your world, wasn’t he?’

  She flicked open Mrs Tibbs.

  ‘You may be my deputy, but I told you never to speak about that, Nell,’ she said, moving towards me. ‘I wasn’t joking.’

  I put my hands up.

  ‘Whatever happened between you, is your business, I didn’t mean anything by it. We both know blood is thicker than water. But if it’s revenge you want, why don’t you take it? He’s just a bloke, you’re the Queen of Thieves and he’s coming for your crown,’ I said. ‘It’s you or him, time’s running out, can’t you see?’

  Truly, all I needed for Christmas was a wooden spoon because I was so good at stirring things. I was thoroughly enjoying myself, but it was a dangerous game.

  She thought about it for a moment, her eyes narrowing, like a cat’s. I held her gaze.

  ‘Mrs Tibbs feels the same way as you do, Nell,’ she said, folding the blade away and wrapping it in her lace handkerchief. ‘She does, but I have to tell her to be patient, because only I will know when the time is right. You can’t rush these things. That kind of understanding about gangland comes with years of experience. You’ll learn.’

  ‘Why did you give your razor a name?’ I ventured. I knew there must have been a good reason and I was wondering if I might turn that to my advantage at some point.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Tibbs and me go way back,’ said Alice, patting her pocket, fondly. ‘She used to belong to an old gal called Mrs Tibbs, who I met through…’ She stopped herself and cleared her throat: ‘Through close family. It was thanks to her that I found the guts to do my first chivving. After that, everything else came easy for me.

  ‘She made quite an impression on me as a girl, so let’s just say, I made one on her.’

  She leaned in closer: ‘But sometimes I do wonder if there is a little bit of something in that blade, something special, magical almost. You felt it the other day with Iris, when you cut her hair, didn’t you? It’s as if Mrs Tibbs likes doing her work, doesn’t she? That’s how I knew you were right to be my deputy. Mrs Tibbs chose me and perhaps she’s chosen you as well?’

  A shiver ran down my spine at that and I looked away. Maybe I was more like Alice Diamond than I had given myself credit for. I hoped whatever madness she had wasn’t catching.

  ‘What’s the matter, Nell?’ said Alice, reading the look of concern in my eyes. ‘You are up for the job, ain’t you? You do like Mrs Tibbs, don’t you? Because she gets easily offended…’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘The Forty Thieves need me, and I won’t let the gang down.’

  I added hastily: ‘Or Mrs Tibbs, for that matter.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, getting up. ‘I will see you at Gamages this afternoon with the others. Once the models are showing their final outfits, send the girls to sneak out down the staircase to the car and then I will make sure that you and me to get away safely.’

  ‘Sounds brilliant,’ I said. Me and Alice would be alone on the stairwell together, just as Detective Sgt Hart came to catch her, red-handed. My whole plan was coming together very nicely indeed.

  A dark look crossed her face, and in that moment, you could see the family resemblance between Alice and Billy, plain as day: ‘Then, when I have had a think about it, you and I will work out how to get this bastard Sullivan once and for all.’

  ‘You can count on me,’ I said, knowing full well that both of them would be behind bars before the day w
as done. Excitement fluttered in my chest. I was so close to toppling her now, I could practically see her going over the cliff edge.

  I’ve never gone in for superstitious nonsense, but I was beginning to think there might be something in it. Not just about that chiv, and how it made me feel when I held it in my hands, but there was something else. They say good things come in threes, don’t they?

  Well, I was deputy of The Forty Thieves, I was going to get Billy Sullivan arrested and Alice Diamond too, so there was the proof.

  It didn’t matter that it was pouring with rain, the sun had come out in my world. I whistled to myself as I pulled on my hoister’s drawers and made my way to The Windsor.

  After six long years of war, London was battered and broken but Soho was its beating heart. From the shouts of the barrow boys at first light to the drunken yelling of boozed up blokes falling down in the gutter in the early hours, I was caught up in its relentless rhythm and stepping lightly down the pavement, I felt that Soho belonged to me.

  Lou was already in his favourite position behind the bar at The Windsor, polishing his glassware.

  ‘You’re in early,’ he said.

  ‘I was hoping to get a message to Mr Sullivan,’ I said, batting my eyelashes at him. ‘Is he in?’

  It didn’t exactly come naturally to be charming to Lou, the grumpy old git, and that only made him more suspicious.

  ‘You can tell me, I will pass it on,’ he said, watching me with a gimlet eye.

  ‘It’s personal,’ I replied. ‘It would be better if I could tell him myself. I’ll just pop down and see him in his office…’

  ‘He’s out,’ said Lou. ‘Got a bit of work on with the Chaps, I don’t suppose he’ll be back until later.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said, making my way across the club, ‘I’ve just got to pick up some of my clothes to take to the dry cleaner’s…’

  My hands were clammy as I pushed through the door into the back corridor, glancing over my shoulder in case Lou was following me. I swept into the filthy little dressing room and grabbed the clothes I’d left behind the night I went to The Lucky Seven.