by Sam Michaels
Joan heard a hammering on the front door and glanced out of the window to see Norman’s car outside and Hefty on the doorstep.
‘What’s the matter, Hefty?’ Joan asked as she opened the door.
‘I can’t find Norman. I was supposed to pick him up at ten this morning but he ain’t at home.’
‘So? Big deal, you can take the rest of the day off.’
‘Nah, something ain’t right, Joan, I know it.’
‘Did you tell him about Billy?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, and he weren’t too happy.’
‘What’s he doing about it?’
‘I dunno. He said to leave it to him. I can’t think where Norman would be without the car. I’m his driver, but I haven’t got a clue where to start looking for him.’
‘Don’t worry, Hefty. I’m sure he’s just having some family time.’
‘Not without his car. I can smell a rat and I’m sure Billy has got something to do with it.’
‘Well, there’s nothing you can do ’til you know where Norman is,’ Joan said as she patted her new short curled hairstyle.
‘I could take a drive up to Billy’s whorehouse and see if he knows anything.’
‘You could, but I don’t think that’s wise. I mean, you don’t know what’s been said between him and his dad.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s my job to look after him and I can’t if I don’t know where he is. I’m gonna check out Billy’s brothel. See ya, Joan.’
Hefty left Joan’s, and though she was sure the man appreciated her input, she thought he was silly to ignore her advice.
*
Dulcie’s legs were feeling warm from the fire, but there was a terrible draft whipping around the door and making her neck ache. Her hips had stiffened up quite badly, and she found it was a painful effort to push herself up from her chair, but she had a thick woollen scarf under the stairs. It was a gift that Ruby had knitted her many years ago. It was all she had left of the woman and treasured the item dearly. Dulcie would never forget the day when she’d discovered what had happened to Ruby. She’d first thought that the girl had fled and assumed Ruby must have been in fear of how Jack would react to Georgina’s kidnapping. Dulcie could have lived with that, but it had broken her heart when she’d learned Ruby’s body had been washed up on the banks of the Thames. Suicide apparently. Such a shame and such a waste.
The scarf was neatly folded on a shelf at the back, and as she reached in the cupboard for it, she heard the front door fly open and felt a cool breeze on her back. She hadn’t been expecting Jack or George home for ages yet, so when she heard the door slam shut it made her jump, causing her to bump her head on the cupboard doorframe.
Jack dashed past her and into the kitchen. He seemed breathless and was as white as a ghost. She followed him into the kitchen to find him frantically yanking on the back-door handle.
‘Jack, what’s going on?’ she asked.
‘It’s the Old Bill, Mum, they’re after me. Where’s the fucking key?’
‘I don’t know, George must have locked the door. Check under the mat. What have you done, Son?’
‘Not now, Mum, they’re right on my heels. I’ve got to get out of here.’
Dulcie could see her son was in a panic. She began rummaging through the kitchen drawers looking for the key. But, before either of them could find it there was a heavy hammering on the front door, and a loud voice called, ‘Police. Open up.’
‘Shit, what shall I do?’ Jack asked, his hands shaking.
‘Upstairs… go… get under my bed.’
Jack flew from the room and up the stairs. Dulcie gave him a minute to settle. The police were pounding on the door and threatening to break it down. She braced herself before opening it. ‘What’s all this fuss about?’ she asked, looking at the four policemen on her doorstep.
‘Where is he?’
‘Who?’
‘You know who. Jack Garrett. We know he’s in here.’
‘My Jack? I ain’t seen him for weeks. Now bugger off, go on, clear off,’ Dulcie said, and went to close the door.
A copper placed his foot in the way and pushed against the door. His strength forced Dulcie backwards, but the wall saved her from falling. The copper looked at her scathingly as he said, ‘We’ll search the place from top to bottom. I know he’s in here somewhere.’
‘You can’t do this… Get out of my house,’ Dulcie yelled, but it was too late. Two of the policemen had already raced upstairs; one was in her front room whilst the other stood guard at the front door.
Then Dulcie hung her head as she heard a deep voice from upstairs shout, ‘We’ve got him, guv.’
Her heart sunk. It was bound to happen someday, but her son had been nicked right on top of Christmas. She had no idea what they had on him and could only hope it was something petty.
*
‘Your dad’s pet Rottweiler is at the door,’ Knuckles said to Billy.
‘Let him in. You never know, I might adopt him,’ Billy replied, then took a seat behind a large mahogany desk that he’d had placed in front of the downstairs bay window. The brothel now also served as his office.
Hefty entered the room with his cap in his hand. Billy couldn’t help noticing he was fumbling with it, obviously nervous. And so he should be, Billy thought. Hefty’s massive size didn’t bother him. He had Knuckles who was equally as large but a good twenty years younger than Hefty. He wasn’t a betting man, but if he had to lay money on it he reckoned Knuckles would be favourite to win.
‘What can I do for you, Hefty?’ Billy asked. His hands were spread open on his desk, but just below it he had quick access to a pickaxe.
‘I’m looking for your dad. Have you seen him?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact we had a few words last night.’
‘He told me to pick him up this morning, but he ain’t at home. Do you know where he is?’
‘Yes, Hefty, I do,’ Billy answered. He was enjoying teasing the giant.
‘Where is he then?’
‘At this moment in time, he’s in the basement. I expect he’ll be there for a while.’
‘Oh… right. Is it all right if I go down and have a word with him?’
‘Feel free,’ Billy answered. ‘The door is in the hall, but I don’t think he’s feeling very talkative.’
Hefty looked puzzled, but then headed for the basement. Billy smirked and sat back in his large, black leather chair. ‘Pour me a drink, Knuckles – this is going to be amusing.’
Billy waited a couple of minutes, then he heard the expected cries from Hefty, followed by the man’s heavy footsteps coming back up the stairs. The door burst open, and a purple-faced Hefty stood there.
‘He’s dead! You fucking killed him!’
‘Well done, Hefty, you managed to work that out all by yourself,’ Billy said, and sipped on his whisky.
‘How could you? He’s your father! You sick fucking bastard!’
‘Now, now, Hefty, let’s not start throwing insults around.’
‘What about your mother? And your sisters? Please God, don’t tell me you’ve done them in too?’
‘Why would I want to do that? I love my mother, Hefty, she’s a very special woman, and now it’s my job to look after her.’
‘She’ll go fucking mental when she finds out what you’ve done!’
‘She’s not going to find out, is she, Hefty? If she does, I’ll know it came from you, and then you’ll be keeping my dad company.’
‘You won’t get away with this. It ain’t right. Your dad looked after you, gave you everything you ever wanted, and this is how you repay him. You must be off your fucking rocker!’
‘All right, that’s enough! Knuckles, get Hefty one of these,’ Billy said, holding up his glass. ‘I think he’s had a bit of a shock. Hefty, take a seat.’
The man accepted the drink and sat down, though he looked as if he was ready to rip Billy’s throat open.
‘With my father gone, it’s only right that I’ll be takin
g over. Now, you can either work with me, or against me… and you’ve seen what happens if you choose the latter. So, what’s it to be?’
Hefty threw Billy a filthy look, but he gave him another chance and repeated his question. ‘With me, or against me?’
‘I’ve worked for your dad all my life. He was a good man. Fair. You… you ain’t nothing like him. I can’t work for you, but I won’t work against you either.’
‘See, that’s not how it goes. If you’re not working for me, then I must assume you’re against me. Those who are against me will be destroyed. Is that what you want, Hefty?’
‘No, Billy.’
‘Good, I thought not. Your first job is to set up a meeting with the Portland Pounders. I want them to know I’m in charge now. Then gather all my father’s men here for ten on Friday morning. Do you think you can do that?’
‘I suppose,’ Hefty answered.
‘Right. Now leave the car here. I’m gonna be using it so it’ll be shank’s pony for you from now on. Of course you could always get yourself a bike. Now FUCK OFF! And if you value your life, keep your big gob shut.’
Hefty meekly placed his empty glass on a side table as he left the room.
‘Keep your ear to the ground, Knuckles, and one eye on him. If you hear or see anything, even so much as a whisper, bury him.’
‘Will do, Billy,’ Knuckles answered, flashing his boss a smile. The man’s teeth were rotten and the sight of them turned Billy’s stomach.
‘And from now on, you call me Mr Wilcox.’
Billy swung his chair round and looked out of the window. Sid and Malc had helped him move his father’s body, but they’d have to get rid of him soon before he began to stink the place out. That wouldn’t be good for business. He couldn’t have his dad just dumped anywhere though. No, his father merited a bit more respect than that. The least he deserved was a proper burial, even if it was in an unmarked grave in the cellar of the Queenstown Road brothel.
24
It was almost teatime when George arrived home, cold and laden with Christmas gifts, but pleased with her purchases. She’d dipped a fella at Clapham Junction and her haul had allowed her the luxury of having a blowout in Arding and Hobbs department store. From a distance, she’d secretly admired the dresses in the women’s department, but had quickly dismissed any silly notions of wearing one. Even looking like a man hadn’t protected her from being attacked and she shuddered at the thought of anything like that happening again. Her masculinity hadn’t saved her from the policemen, but it went a long way to shield her on the lawless streets.
The festive shopping trip had been a welcome distraction from thinking about the policemen, and she couldn’t wait to get to her room and wrap the presents. As she struggled with her parcels and fished for her key, the front door flew open. Her heart sank when she saw the worried look on Oppo’s face.
‘Thank Gawd you’re home.’
‘What’s wrong? Is my gran all right?’
‘Yes, yes, she’s fine, just very upset.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’ George asked, frantic with worry now.
‘It’s your dad. He’s been nicked.’
George dumped her shopping at the bottom of the stairs, then rushed through to the front room, her mind whirling with worry and unanswered questions. ‘Why’s dad been nicked, Gran?’
‘The Old Bill were round here earlier and carted him off. I don’t know what he’s been done for. You’ll have to get yourself down the station and see what you can find out.’
‘But… I… Oh, Gran. I can’t!’ George protested, finding herself at a loss for words. The thought of having to visit the police station filled her with dread. She wasn’t sure if she could face seeing any of the policemen who’d abused her. Not yet. Not until she’d got her own back.
‘What do you mean, you can’t? Of course you bloody can. You’re not going to leave your father in there to rot, are you?’
‘No… but… can’t Oppo go?’
‘No buts, go on, get yourself off. They won’t tell Oppo nothing ’cos he ain’t proper family.’
Her gran was a formidable character and not one to argue with. George studied her lightly lined face. The woman’s lips were set in a grim and determined line. Though she’d rather have stuck pins in her eyes, George knew she had no choice other than to go to the station. She felt light-headed and could feel her pulse quicken as a wave of nausea washed over her. She couldn’t tell her gran the reason why she didn’t want to go. Unaware she was doing it, she twisted her mother’s wedding ring and reluctantly nodded. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she said, then pulled her coat around herself before stepping back out into the cold.
A short while later, George stood outside the police station and took a moment to compose herself. Though outwardly she appeared calm, her clenched fists betrayed how she really felt. It was so cold, her cheeks burnt, and a drip of snot hung from the end of her nose.
She had to get this over and done with, but she hated the thought of walking back into the station. She went to step forward but stopped, rooted to the spot. She couldn’t do it. What if one of her abusers was behind the desk? Her stomach knotted, and she thought she was going to throw up. ‘Come on, George, you can do this,’ she told herself and reminded herself of why she was there. Her dad had got her out, and now she had to be brave and do the same for him.
George braced herself, then purposefully marched up the steps outside and pushed through the front entrance. Her confident manner masked her insecurities, but she was relieved when she didn’t recognise the copper behind the desk.
The policeman looked over the top of his glasses as George stomped towards him. He wasn’t one of her abusers, but he was still filth, a dirty lying copper.
‘Can I help you?’
‘You’ve got my dad here, Jack Garrett,’ George answered, and her eyes flitted around hoping she wouldn’t come face to face with one of them.
‘That’s right. You needn’t bother wasting your time though. He’s not allowed any visitors, and he’ll be up before the judge on Monday morning.’
‘You’re keeping him here all weekend? What’s he been charged with?’
‘You know I can’t divulge that sort of information,’ the policeman answered.
George could tell her aggressive manner was getting the copper’s back up, so instead, she switched on the charm, hoping to manipulate him to get the information she wanted. ‘Please, sir, I’m beside myself with worry. My mum’s dead, and my dad is all I have. Can’t you give me just an indication of what’s going to happen to him?’ She looked through the top of her dark lashes, pleading with her violet eyes.
The copper leaned forward, and after a quick glance round, he whispered, ‘He got caught with the Vauxhall mob turning over a building depot where that new power station is being built. I’m not sure what they were after, but your dad was the driver. He’s been charged with aiding and abetting a robbery. Between you and me, I don’t think he’s got a hope in hell of getting off and will probably go down for one to three years. That’s as much as I know. Now clear off, young man, before you get me in trouble.’
George’s eyebrows knitted together as she digested what the policeman had told her. Driving for the Vauxhall mob? That didn’t make sense. As far as she knew, her dad couldn’t drive. She’d never seen him behind the wheel of a car, and what was he doing knocking about with the Vauxhall mob?
Without a word of thanks to the copper, George hurried away. She’d discovered all she could and wanted to get out of the building as quickly as possible. The police must have made a mistake. It was the only explanation she could think of, and she knew it wasn’t the first time the Old Bill had nicked the wrong person.
Twenty minutes later, after an anxious walk back, George was home. She found her gran rocking back and forth in her chair and ringing her hands with worry.
‘I’ve never seen her like this before. She hasn’t said a word since you left,’ Oppo whispered,
clearly concerned about Dulcie.
George knelt beside her gran and relayed what she’d been told. She saw her gran’s expression change from desperation to confusion.
‘But the Vauxhall mob are all well past it now. They ain’t done any jobs for years. Anyhow, I don’t think your father even knows them.’
‘That’s what I thought, Gran, and he’s never mentioned driving before. I reckon they’ve got the wrong bloke.’
‘Maybe, but he was up to something yesterday, I could tell. Oh, George, what are we going to do?’
‘I dunno, Gran. But whatever happens, you don’t need to worry. I’ll look after you.’
‘I know you will, love. You’re a good girl and as much as it irks me to admit it, your father taught you well. Dear oh dear, I hate to think of him banged up behind bars. There must be something we can do. You know my thoughts on that Norman Wilcox bloke, but he might be our only chance of getting your father off.’
George didn’t like the idea of her dad in prison either and had already considered paying a visit to Norman to see if he’d be willing to help. After all, he’d managed to get her off the charge of murdering Mr Peterson. ‘Yeah, I’ll go and see him,’ George replied, adding, ‘He is my dad’s mate, and I’m sure he’ll do what he can, but that doesn’t mean we have to like him.’
Dulcie nodded in agreement. ‘Go on then, as quick as you can. We’ve got to get him out of that cell before he’s in court. After that, it’ll be too late.’
‘I’ll stay here, George. We’ll be all right, won’t we, missus,’ Oppo said and winked at Dulcie.
George kissed her gran on the cheek before heading back out. ‘Don’t worry. He’ll be home before you know it,’ she said, hoping her words were true and that Norman would help them out again.
*
Joan answered the door to Hefty for the second time that day. He didn’t seem to notice that her face was now made up, and Joan was oblivious to the fact that her pan-stick was applied too thickly, which emphasised her wrinkles, and her red lipstick was bleeding into the lines around her thin mouth.
‘Still no sign of Norman?’ she asked, blowing smoke rings into the air, and flicking the ash from the end of her cigarette into the palm of her hand.
