by Sam Michaels
‘Don’t moan about my soup, you ungrateful pair of buggers! Oppo called in earlier with a big bag of veg. I’ve made a broth; it’ll do you good.’
George trotted upstairs and wished Oppo worked in a sweetshop instead of a grocer’s. When she came back down, from the hallway, she saw her dad place a wad of notes on the kitchen table.
‘’Ere you go, Mum,’ he said.
George walked into the front room and held her hands towards the warmth of the fire. She could tell her gran was pleased when she heard her say, ‘Blimey, Son, you’ve had a good day.’ George smiled, proud of herself. It’d been down to her that they’d earned a good day’s pay.
‘Yeah, thanks to Norman,’ she heard her dad answer. George frowned, it wasn’t thanks to Norman, it was thanks to her!
‘That bloody man. You’ve nothing to thank him for except that awful scar on your face!’
George’s ears pricked again, and she walked back into the kitchen asking, ‘What did Norman do to you, Dad?’
‘Nothing, sweetheart, he’s been very good to us.’
‘I don’t like him, or Billy. Do we have to go to their house again?’
‘If we get invited, yes we do. You should show a bit more respect! Anyway, I reckon it was Jane who invited us. I doubt Norman would have if he hadn’t been told to.’
George decided to drop the subject and remembered her dad had promised her something. ‘Can I have it now? That thing you said was special?’
‘Yes, I’ll get it. Mum, is it all right if I go in your keepsakes box?’
‘Oh! Of course,’ her gran answered, and George saw her smile warmly at her dad.
Minutes later, he sat at the table opposite her whilst her gran watched from in front of the stove. Her eyes looked watery and George was curious to know what she was about to receive.
‘I’ve been keeping something for you that your mother wanted you to have. In fact, her last words were to always tell you how much she loved you and to give you this.’
Her dad swallowed hard as he held out the thin gold band to her. ‘I gave it to her on the day we got married and she never took it off her finger. It meant a lot to her, so you must always look after it.’
George took the ring and stared intently at it. ‘I will, Dad, I promise.’ It was the only thing she had of her mother’s and instantly she treasured it.
‘Good. Give it back to your gran for now and you can wear it when your hands are big enough.’
‘Please, Dad, let me keep it. I ain’t got nothing of my mum’s.’
‘All right, but you take care of it and don’t lose it.’
George jumped from the table and kissed her dad on the cheek before darting out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room. ‘I can’t wait to show Molly,’ she called.
*
The rain had stopped, and George knocked excitedly on Molly’s door. When she was invited in, she politely declined and waited on the doorstep. She really liked her friend, but Molly’s home made her feel cooty.
‘Look what my dad gave me today – it was my mum’s,’ George said and proudly opened her hand to reveal the wedding ring.
‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ Molly cooed. ‘My mum ain’t got a ring. She had to pawn it.’
‘Didn’t she have any pictures she could pawn? That’s what Mary next door does. I heard her telling me gran that she gets half a crown when she needs to get the doctor in.’
‘No, me mum won’t have any pictures ’cos she says that’s what breeds the bugs. She had one once and when she took it off the wall, there were loads of lice behind it.’
‘I saw your mum today on her stall,’ George said as the girls walked arm in arm along the street. Ethel had run on ahead.
‘Did you notice she had a black eye?’
‘No, I didn’t. Did your dad whack her again?’
‘Yeah, last night. I don’t know what me mum did to deserve it. I’m just glad he didn’t punch her in the belly.’
‘When is she having the baby?’
‘She thinks it’ll be any day now. I know she’s going to want me to help, but I’m scared. I ain’t never seen a baby being born. Have you?’
‘No, but my gran said my mum died having me. Are you scared your mum will die?’
‘No, she’s had loads of us, but she told me there’s going to be lots of blood… That’s what scares me.’
George fell quiet as a tirade of questions whirled in her mind. How would the baby get out of Molly’s mum’s belly and how did it get in there in the first place? She felt silly asking Molly, but her friend seemed to know everything.
‘It comes out between your legs, George,’ Molly answered.
‘What, down there… where you go a pee from?’
‘Yes.’
George was horrified and wondered how a baby could possibly squeeze out of that small space!
‘And your dad puts the baby in there but it’s just a seed and then it grows,’ Molly said.
George thought her friend sounded very grown-up, but she still couldn’t get her head round it. ‘How does me dad do that, you know, put the seed in?’
‘The seed is in his thingy, which he puts in your mum’s wee hole and then the baby grows.’
George thought back to the day when she’d met Molly and Billy Wilcox had his thingy in his hand. She’d seen boys peeing in the street but hadn’t realised they’d been doing it through that! She’d tried to copy it once, up the coal bunker in the backyard, but wasn’t able to shoot her urine up, so hadn’t attempted it again. Now it was beginning to make sense. She didn’t have a thingy and would never be a proper boy. She didn’t mind, she was still tough, but wondered if it would upset her dad. ‘Don’t tell no-one that I didn’t know about babies,’ she said defensively.
‘Course I won’t.’
‘And don’t tell no-one that I ain’t got a thingy.’
‘I won’t, George. Quick, we’d better run and catch up with Ethel. She’s gone round the corner and I don’t like to have her out of my sight.’
They picked up their pace, and as they flew round the bend, they both laughed when they saw Ethel sitting on a bit of wood that had been placed across an old pram carriage.
‘Look at me,’ Ethel squealed with delight as three young lads raced the makeshift cart towards them.
‘Do you want a go?’ one of the lads asked when the cart came to a stop next to them.
‘No, thanks, and don’t go running off like that again, Ethel,’ Molly chastised her older sister.
‘Bugger, run,’ the lad suddenly yelled. ‘Here comes Billy Wilcox!’
The three young boys scattered, and Molly helped Ethel off the cart. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said urgently.
‘No, I ain’t running away from him,’ George answered defiantly, and stood with her shoulders back, ready for Billy and his mates, Malc and Sid.
They moseyed towards them and George could see Billy had a derisive grin on his face. She instantly knew he was looking for trouble, but it was too late to scarper now, unless she wanted to look like a weakling.
‘Having fun, girls?’ he asked.
‘What’s it got to do with you, Billy?’ George answered.
‘I weren’t talking to you, you ain’t a girl – or are you?’
‘Go away and pick on someone your own size,’ George spat, and avoided answering his question. She noticed Ethel had huddled with Molly and both girls had paled.
‘You gobby little shit. You’ve got a lot of mouth on you… for a girl.’
George clenched her fists by her sides. She could tell Billy was trying to goad her.
‘What do you think, Sid, do you reckon she’s a girl? I mean, I know it looks like a boy, but I bet it ain’t.’
‘I dunno, Billy, perhaps he’s one of them queers.’
‘Are you, George? Are you queer?’
George had heard about the queers but didn’t know what they were. She’d heard her dad talk unkindly about them and he’d said they deser
ved to be in jail. ‘I ain’t queer,’ she answered, though oblivious to what it meant.
‘If you ain’t queer, you must be a girl… Show us your cock, prove to us that you’re a boy and we’ll let the matter rest.’
George could feel her pulse quicken and her mouth went dry. It was impossible for her to prove she was a boy, but she didn’t want to admit it to Billy Wilcox and his stupid mates.
‘You can’t, can you? You ain’t got a dick. You pretend to be a boy, but I’ll lay money on it that you’ll grow a pair of tits soon.’
‘Leave me alone, Billy,’ Georgina said, trying her hardest to keep her voice steady.
A wicked smile spread over Billy’s face, then he said, ‘Sid, grab its arms, let’s have a look and clear this up once and for all.’
George panicked and before she could react, she felt Sid grappling with her arms. He was pulling them behind her back and though she struggled, she was no match for his strength. As she thrashed to release herself, she saw Billy coming closer and furiously kicked her legs out. Sid’s grip tightened, and before she knew what was happening, Billy had pulled down her shorts to around her ankles. She stopped retaliating and stood motionless, feeling mortified and humiliated, yet she held back from crying.
‘As I thought,’ Billy sneered as he looked at her, naked from the waist down, ‘she’s a girl.’
‘Let me see,’ Malc said, and pushed past Billy for a closer inspection. ‘Yep, she ain’t got no curlies yet but that’s definitely a girl,’ he quipped and fell about laughing.
George glared at Billy with hatred in her eyes. She’d never liked him but now she loathed him. She pushed her chin out in an act of boldness and then Sid released his grip on her arms before brusquely pushing her. She fell forward onto her knees and now, with her bare bottom facing the world, she hung her head in embarrassment, desperately wishing they’d leave her alone.
‘Come on,’ Billy addressed his friends, ‘we ain’t got time to be mucking about with little girls. See ya, George.’
To her relief, she heard them walk off and wanted to burst into tears, but then she felt Molly’s arms across her shoulders.
‘I’m so sorry, George, I should have helped but I didn’t know what to do.’
‘It’s all right, Molly, there was nothing you could have done,’ she said as she scrambled to her feet and quickly pulled her shorts back up.
So what, she was a girl, and now Billy Wilcox knew the truth, but she was still harder than most boys. She felt angry that they’d ganged up on her, leaving her no chance to stand up for herself. It wasn’t fair, and she’d never forgive Billy for putting her through the most shameful experience of her life. She vowed to get him back; one day, she’d make him pay for what he’d done.
17
A week later, Joan felt as if she was running on nervous energy. She’d hardly slept a wink the night before, and today was the day. Hefty had set up a meeting for Norman with the Portland Pounders, which was due to commence in one hour in her lounge. For the fourth time that morning, she checked the bar was stocked. She poured herself a large brandy and knocked it back in four big gulps, hoping the rich liquid would calm her nerves. She held her hand out. It was still shaking.
Carol put her head round the door. ‘Mr Wilcox is here.’
Joan took a long, deep breath, and placed her unsteady hands on the bar, then pushed her shoulders back. ‘Brace yourself,’ she murmured.
Norman and Hefty came in, and she noticed Norman surveying the room.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t put any sheeting around,’ he said.
Joan knew he was joking, but it showed he meant business. There was going to be murder. Bullets and bloodshed. She just hoped Norman knew what he was doing.
The grandfather clock in the corner of the room struck one. Norman took out his pocket watch and checked it against the chime. As expected, the Liverpool gang arrived precisely on time. Carol showed Kevin Kelly and his entourage into the room, while Joan remained behind the bar, silently observing.
‘Kevin, good to see you,’ Norman greeted the gang leader, and shook his hand.
‘You too, Norman,’ Kevin answered. ‘I’m intrigued to know why you’ve called this meeting.’
‘All in good time. First, let’s have a drink. What’s your poison?’
‘Whisky, and these ladies will have a gin,’ Kevin laughed, referring to Davey and Dodger.
Joan poured the drinks, and Carol handed them out.
‘I’ve arranged a little entertainment for us,’ Norman said, and nodded to Carol. ‘Sit down, gentlemen, and enjoy.’
Kevin sat next to Dodger on one sofa. Opposite them, Norman and Hefty sat on another. Davey took an armchair next to Norman. Carol opened the door, and Beth sashayed in, dressed in several silk scarves. Joan placed the gramophone needle on the record, but her hands were shaking, causing it to jump. Norman threw her a dirty look, and she silently mouthed, ‘Sorry.’
As the tune of ‘The Sheik of Araby’ filled the room, Beth began to dance in the style of an Egyptian. She slowly peeled off her scarves, one by one, and draped them across the Liverpool men. She teased them with her wriggling hips and jiggling breasts. Joan noticed Davey couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The record finished, and the music was replaced by the sound of applause. Beth, now naked, draped herself seductively on the arm of Davey’s chair. Carol slipped out of the room.
Kevin’s eyes roamed over Beth’s slim body. ‘Very nice.’
Dodger was sat upright, twiddling his thumbs. Hefty was staring him out. Joan thought the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and was anxious for Norman to get it over and done with.
Kevin leaned forward, and as his jacket gaped, Joan spotted the handle of his revolver. He turned his attention from Beth and looked Norman in the eyes. ‘Are you going to tell me what this is all about? As much as I’m enjoying the view, I haven’t come all this way to look at a whore’s tits.’
‘The truth is, Kevin, I’m a little disappointed. You see, I believed us to have become more than merely business associates over the years. I consider you a friend.’
‘As do I, so what are you disappointed about?’
Joan’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it ringing in her ears. Any moment now she was expecting Norman to pull his gun and shoot Kevin in the head. She covertly fingered the gun hidden on a shelf under the bar. Davey or Dodger were sure to retaliate and go for Norman. Hefty was thick, but he was quick on the draw and she knew he’d take Dodger out. If Norman didn’t get there first, it would leave Davey to her.
Norman pulled his gun and aimed it directly at Kevin. His finger squeezed on the trigger, but he didn’t fire. Kevin’s response was instantaneous, as he also drew his gun, and pointed it at Norman.
‘I hear someone is out to finish me off and take over my operations,’ Norman said.
Joan thought they were going to kill each other and wrapped her hand around the handle of the gun behind the bar. Hefty held his shooter at Dodger, and Dodger pointed his at Hefty. Davey had his gun on Norman.
‘Funny you should say that, because I heard the same thing too,’ Kevin said, and swung his arm round.
Joan jumped as the gun went off, then Beth began screaming as Davey’s brains were splattered across her naked body.
‘Shut the fuck up!’ Norman shouted at Beth and walked across the room and placed the barrel of his revolver against her forehead.
Beth sat frozen, her face white with shock.
‘You stupid bitch,’ Norman growled at her, ‘you’ve heard the saying, loose lips sink ships?’
Joan was confused. Kevin had taken out one of his own, and now Norman had a gun to Beth’s head. The other men all replaced theirs. This wasn’t the plan.
‘Well, loose lips also gets people killed. You got drunk and blabbed to Mike Mipple. Ringing any bells now?’ Norman asked, his voice sinister.
Beth didn’t answer. She remained frozen, her eyes wide in fear.
‘You told Mike all about your little plan to feed me information that would make me think the Pounders were going to kill me. You was hoping I would go after them first. Take Kevin Kelly down, then Davey could rise up the ranks. That’s right, isn’t it? You knew that if I killed Mr Kelly, the Pounders would have to retaliate. They’d take me down, and then Davey would move down here to take over my patch, with you by his side.’
‘No… no, Mr Wilcox… it wasn’t like that… I never said that… I swear,’ Beth screeched.
‘Norman, I can’t stand her fucking caterwauling. Let’s get this over with. You know what to do,’ Kevin said.
Joan watched as Norman turned his head, smiled at Kevin, then turned back to Beth and pulled the trigger. There was a loud boom, then Beth’s blood streaked up the wall behind her head. Her body slumped to one side, landing across Davey.
Kevin stood up, then shook Norman’s hand. ‘Pleasure doing business with you.’
Dodger nodded at Hefty, and then the men from Liverpool left.
Joan stood trembling behind the bar. Talk about a double bluff!
‘Get this cleared up,’ Norman said to Hefty, then he left too, the alliance between the Portland Pounders and Norman Wilcox now firmly cemented.
Joan never knew what Hefty did with the bodies, but sixty years later, during renovation works, the skeletal remains of an unidentified man and woman were excavated from the car park at the back of the Cedars. The cause of death was forensically determined as gunshot wounds to the head.
*
Billy ambled down his street with Sid to his left and Malc on the right. Between them, they took up the whole pavement and wouldn’t move out of the way for anyone, old or young, man or woman. He thought he owned the street and all those who lived on it, but he was aware that most only respected him because he was the son of Norman Wilcox. Well, now he was nearly fourteen years old, he felt it was about time he made his own mark and earned his own money. He hammered loudly on the front door of an old man who he knew had lost his sight.
‘What are you doing, Billy?’ Sid asked.
‘You’ll see, which is more than can be said for the old git who lives here.’
