by Sam Michaels
‘Yes, you will. But what about your mother? In some countries they chop off the hands of a thief. Do you think that would be fair? Or maybe several lashings with the whip?’
‘No, please, Mr Wilcox. Don’t hurt her. She only did it for us, to feed her children.’
Good, thought Billy as tears began to streak down Molly’s rosy cheeks. She wasn’t as tall and slender as he liked his women. In fact, she was a bit on the podgy side, and her mousy brown hair was clipped behind her ears. He preferred blondes, but there was something about her that aroused him.
‘I’m not interested in her reasons. However, there is a way out for your mother. Would you be prepared to pay for her crime, Molly? Are you willing to accept your mother’s punishment?’
Molly’s eyes widened, and the fear Billy saw further excited him. He was sick of whores and tarts. They were too easy. But an untouched virgin. She’d be tight, and it would hurt her. Images of him breaking Molly’s hymen flashed through his mind. He wouldn’t be gentle. She was bound to scream.
‘Yes, I… I’ll do whatever it takes,’ she stammered nervously.
Good, he had her where he wanted her, and he unbuttoned his trousers as he stood up, revelling in the terror he saw on her face.
*
George glanced up and down the street as she waited for Mike Mipple to answer his door. It was mid-morning and she knew enough about the man to realise he’d still be in his bed. There was no answer, so she knocked again, and on the pallet wood covering the front window.
A gruff voice from inside yelled, ‘Fuck off.’
Undeterred, she rapped harder on the door, and eventually it opened. George gazed at the revolting-looking man who stood bleary-eyed, gawping back at her. His greyed vest bore the evidence of everything he’d eaten over the past week, and even from a couple of feet away, George could smell his vile body odour.
‘Yeah?’ Mike spat.
‘I’d like a word, Mr Mipple.’
‘Piss off,’ he answered, and went to slam the door.
George jumped forward and pushed Mike backwards. He stumbled, then bounced off the hallway wall, but grabbed the newel post to save himself from falling. Her actions hadn’t intimidated him and with a sneer he said, ‘I know who you are, and I don’t want you in my house. You’re a fucking aberration. A right queer fish. Get the fuck out and if you lay a hand on me again, I’ll flatten you.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Mr Mipple. Not until we’ve had a few words. Oh, and believe me, your words will be few.’
Mike looked confused, but then charged towards her. George reacted quickly, and as Mike approached she shot her arm out in front. Her fist hit him in his throat and stopped him in his tracks.
‘You fucking bitch,’ Mike rasped, holding on to his neck. He staggered backwards, then sat on the stairs. ‘I can’t breathe,’ he said, gasping as his ruddy face paled and his eyes bulged with fear.
This wasn’t the plan. George hadn’t come here to kill him. She dashed towards him, but he put his hand up.
‘Stay away from me,’ he managed to croak, but then it sounded as though he was choking. It was clear he was struggling. He gasped, short, fast breaths but no air appeared to be reaching his lungs.
George watched helpless as Mike fell to one side, then he rolled off the stairs and onto the hallway floor. His mouth began to open and close, and George was sure he was pleading for help, but no words came out. She’d done this. She hadn’t intended to kill him, but if she was honest, she wasn’t worried that he was dying. It was no more than he deserved, and now she just hoped he lived long enough to hear what she had to say. George lowered herself and knelt beside him then leaned over his dying body. With her face just inches from his, she whispered in his ear, ‘I came here to cut out your tongue, you filthy bastard.’
Mike was powerless to respond and as she sat up, she could see the shock and horror in his eyes. ‘Yes, that’s right. I wanted to slice your tongue out. Look,’ she said, pulling her father’s cut-throat razor from her pocket. She waved the blade in front of his face. ‘I could cut it out now, while you’re dying. You wouldn’t be able to scream.’
Mike frantically shook his head in very small and narrow movements.
‘Oh, don’t worry, Mr Mipple. I shan’t bother now. It’ll save me having to clear up the mess,’ she said flippantly. ‘You haven’t got long. A minute, maybe two, and during your last moments, I’d like you to think about your wife and children. You’ll never be able to hurt or scare them again. They will be free of you and I’m sure your wife will dance on your grave with joy.’
George stood up to leave, satisfied that Mike would die alone and frightened on the hallway floor. The rats and cockroaches that infested the house would soon be crawling over his corpse. As she opened the front door, he fell silent, and without looking backwards, she knew he was gone.
33
Molly couldn’t face going to the stall and seeing her mum or Ethel. At least not until she’d washed away the sickening feel of Billy Wilcox all over her skin. She didn’t care that there’d be no hot water. Cold would do. Sore and bruised she rushed home, cringing at the flashbacks of what had just happened, then she sobbed in shame when she realised she’d left her knickers behind.
The journey home felt like a long one, but when she finally reached her street, Molly realised she’d have to pass the Wilcox home. As she ran past her heart ached at the thought of having to see Billy’s house every day. Each time she stepped out of her front door, she knew she’d be reminded of him pinning her to his desk, and the searing pain as he violently took her virginity. She’d never forget the look in his eyes, or the depraved way in which he got his pleasure. Bile rose in her throat. She could still taste him.
Relieved to be home, she fumbled in her bag for the front door key. Her hands were shaking, and her vision was blurred with tears, but at last she opened the door. She closed her eyes and inhaled a long, juddering breath, relishing the familiar musty smell. She was safe.
But then her eyes opened, and she stepped into the dark hallway to see her father sprawled on the floor. She’d thought he’d have been out by now and stepped over him with little regard. That’s when she noticed his eyes were open. He looked strange, staring into space. She nudged his thigh with her foot, and said, ‘Dad.’
Nothing. There was no response and Molly wondered if he was dead. She crouched down and waved her hand in front of his eyes. They were unflinching. She nudged him again, this time his shoulder. Still nothing, but his head rolled to one side.
‘Oh my God,’ she gasped and ran to the scullery. She grabbed a piece of broken mirror that her father used when shaving, then hurried back to him and held it close to his mouth and nose. It didn’t mist. He was definitely dead.
Molly rose to her feet. She didn’t care. She had hated him, and now she loathed another man, Billy Wilcox, and she wished he was dead too.
*
Dulcie was so worried she couldn’t even bring herself to bake. She should have tried to talk George out of her plan to rid Mike Mipple of his tongue, but having discovered that the man had gone for Ethel, Dulcie had told George she’d have done it herself if she’d been well enough.
Nearly an hour had passed. George had promised she’d come straight back home, but there wasn’t any sign of her yet.
Dulcie walked through to the kitchen and filled the kettle. As the water poured, she looked into the yard, and spoke to Percy. ‘Seems I’m not the only woman in this family who won’t put up with any nonsense!’ she said. She placed the kettle on the gas stove and a thought crossed her mind. George was a clever girl and a beautiful one too. She’d inherited it all from Sissy, but if brains and looks could be passed on through family, could killing too? Could murder go through the blood of families?
Just then, the front door opened, and George came into the kitchen.
‘Thank goodness you’re home!’ Dulcie said with relief.
‘I told you not to worry, Gran.’
<
br /> ‘What took you so long? Are you all right? Did you do it? You know, cut his tongue out?’
‘I didn’t get a chance. The stupid idiot started a fight and I accidently punched him in his throat. A couple of minutes later he dropped dead, right there in front of me!’
‘Oh, George, no! Did anyone see you? Where did this happen?’
‘Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure no-one but you knows I was in his house. I’ve left him in the hallway where he fell.’
Dulcie sat down at the table. It was almost as if history was repeating itself. She’d sat here once before discussing murder with Ruby. God, she missed the girl terribly. ‘So nobody knows he’s dead yet?’ Dulcie asked, wondering if they should think about disposing of the body.
‘No. Molly or Fanny will probably find him later, but I doubt there’ll be any tears for the man. He was horrible, a right pig.’ George went to the sink and washed her hands. ‘Do you think I’m a monster, Gran? I don’t feel bad about killing him. Actually, I’m pleased he’s dead. What does that say about me?’
Dulcie had asked herself the same question many times over the years. ‘No, love, you’re not a monster. You’re brave and strong. You only did what Molly and Fanny probably wished they had the guts to do themselves. If Mike had been a better husband and father, I don’t think you’d have been gunning for him for just talking about your club.’
‘I suppose, but it ain’t normal to go round murdering people, is it? There must be something wrong with me. People have always said I’m weird… They were right,’ George said as her eyes welled with tears.
Dulcie didn’t like to see her granddaughter upset and killing Mike Mipple had obviously distressed her. ‘Now you listen to me, George Garrett… there is nothing weird about you. Mike Mipple had it coming to him and if it hadn’t been you, I don’t doubt he’d have copped it from someone else. The man was not only a wife beater, he had a big mouth, and one that was sure to have landed him in it one way or another.’
‘Gran, do you believe in God? Do you think there’s a heaven and a hell? If there is, do you think the devil has got my soul?’
‘Oh for Gawd’s sake, girl! This is what happens when you hang about in church halls! That’s enough of that sort of silly talk. Heaven and hell, my arse!’ As far as Dulcie was concerned, God and the devil had nothing to do with George killing Mike Mipple. It was down to her. They shared the same blood. She’d committed a murder, and now her granddaughter had too. ‘There’s something I should tell you, but you have to promise never to tell your father. This will always be our secret.’
George agreed, and Dulcie confessed to killing Percy. ‘So you see, it’s a Garrett trait,’ she said, hoping that once George had gotten over the shock of what she’d been told, she’d feel better about herself.
George stood up and walked to the sink. ‘He’s out there? In the yard?’
‘Yep, right next to the coal bunker.’
‘Blimey, Gran, that’s one hell of a secret! I get what you’re saying, but if it’s a Garrett trait, how come my dad ain’t killed anyone?’
‘How do you know he hasn’t?’
‘I don’t,’ George answered.
‘There you go. See, you ain’t the only Garrett with blood on your hands. You can’t help being who you are, George. You was born that way.’
*
Ezzy stood outside the Garretts’ front door. After he’d taken a call from his cousin, Fanny had given him their address and now he crossed his fingers, hoping it would be George and not her gran who opened it.
‘Ezzy! What are you doing here?’
‘Hello, George. I need to talk to you…’
‘Sorry, where’s my manners? Come in.’
George opened the door wider, and Ezzy walked in. He was impressed with the internal décor. He’d expected to find them living in squalor like the rest of the thieves he knew.
‘Come through to the kitchen. We’re having tea,’ George said. ‘Ezzy, this is my gran, Dulcie.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Dulcie. I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘All bad, I hope,’ Dulcie chuckled.
Ezzy instantly liked her. She was a game old bird and made him feel comfortable.
‘Sit down, son, there’s a fresh brew in the pot. George, get Ezzy a slice of my sponge.’
Ezzy accepted the plate of cake but placed it on the table. His stomach churned at what he had to tell them, and he stumbled over his words, ‘I… I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s err… err about Jack.’
‘My dad? What about him?’ George asked, instantly looking concerned.
‘He was taken quite poorly in Manchester and collapsed outside my cousin’s shop.’
Dulcie’s face paled, and she cried, ‘Oh Gawd, is he all right?’
‘Yes and no. He’s alive, and he’s being looked after, but he is a very sick man. My cousin had him admitted to the Manchester Royal Infirmary. He was taken in as an emergency.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’ George asked.
‘It looks like kidney failure. I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you want to hear.’
‘You’ll have to go to him, George. I can’t get to Manchester, but you can, and I don’t want you leaving him,’ Dulcie said. ‘You’ll have to find somewhere to stay close to the hospital and oh blimey, what about the money to pay the hospital bills?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. I’ll get on the first train out of London tomorrow morning. But what about you, Gran? I can’t leave you alone.’
‘I’ll be fine. There’s no need to worry about me. Ethel can come and stay while you’re away. I should be with Jack though. I’m his mother, but I’m flaming useless nowadays.’
‘You’re not useless, Gran. You’re just not fit to travel, that’s all. You’ll be able to look after my dad when he comes home.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Dulcie said. ‘What about your club though? What will happen to it while you’re away?’
‘It’ll be all right. Molly is more than capable of looking after it. Anyway, my dad comes before the club. Ezzy, thanks for letting us know. How much do we owe Seth?’
‘Nothing. As an emergency, he was taken in free, but I don’t know what his treatment will cost. The Manchester Royal is second to none when it comes to renal care. They’re pioneers in that field. Try not to worry, I’m sure he’ll be fine.’
Dulcie looked shaken and white with shock, and George didn’t look much better. Ezzy felt helpless and made his excuses to leave. He liked the Garretts, they were a good family, but he didn’t want to find himself in an awkward situation where he’d be left coughing up the money to pay for Jack’s hospital bills.
*
Fanny had been distracted all day. It was well past lunchtime, but Molly still hadn’t turned up. She hoped her daughter hadn’t been stupid enough to confront Billy. She’d missed her meeting with him and was worried sick that this would only make things worse.
‘Molly… Where have you been?’ Ethel called.
Fanny spun round and sighed with relief, though Molly didn’t look very happy. She heard her say to Ethel, ‘I had stuff to do. I’ll be back in a minute, but I need to speak to Mum.’
Fanny watched as her daughter walked towards her, and from the look on her face, she wasn’t about to impart good news.
‘Mum, sit down a minute.’
‘I don’t want to sit down. Just tell me.’
‘Please, Mum, this is going to be a bit of a shock.’
‘Molly, stop pussyfooting around and bloody tell me! Is Billy Wilcox out to get me?’
‘What? No… forget about Billy, that’s all been sorted. You won’t be having any trouble from him.’
‘So what is it?’ Fanny asked again. If everything was fine with Billy, why did her daughter look so tense? ‘I can guess you went to see him. What happened?’
‘Nothing,’ Molly barked.
Fanny didn’t believe her. She felt her daughter was hiding somethin
g, but any more thoughts on Billy Wilcox flew from her mind at her daughter’s next words.
‘It’s Dad… he’s dead.’
Fanny stared at her daughter, unsure of what to say. She wanted to laugh but held back as she knew that would be very inappropriate. ‘How do know he’s dead. How did it happen?’
‘I dunno. I found him on the floor in the hallway. He’s definitely gone, but there weren’t no blood or nothing.’
‘Blimey… are you sure he’s dead?’
‘Of course I am!’
‘Perhaps we should call the doctor to him?’
‘What bleedin’ good is the doctor going to do now? It’s a bit late for that,’ Molly answered, rolling her eyes.
‘Is he still on the floor?’
‘Yes, but in the bedroom. I managed to drag him through, but I couldn’t get him on the bed. I just wanted him moved out of the way in case the Wests upstairs came in.’
‘Good girl, Molly. Are you all right? It must have been a shock for you to find him like that.’
‘Yes, Mum, I’m fine. To be honest, I’m glad he’s gone.’
‘No doubt,’ Fanny said, ‘but you mustn’t let anyone hear you say that. For all he was or wasn’t, he was still your father and you must never speak ill of the dead.’
Molly answered, ‘Sorry,’ but the way she said it lacked any sincerity.
Fanny’s eyes narrowed. Molly sounded and looked different, her eyes cold and hard. Surely she hadn’t had anything to do with her father’s death?
*
Soon after Ezzy left, George set off to the Junction, but all the way there, instead of worrying about her own dad, she was considering whether she should tell Molly the truth about what had happened to Mike. In the end, she decided not to.
A young lad, no more than seven or eight years old passed by. He’s feet were bare, and his shorts ragged. His thin arms looked like matchsticks. It wasn’t an unusual sight, yet he was pushing a small barrow filled with beer bottles. His strength impressed George and she asked him where he was off to.
