Trickster

by Sam Michaels

  36

  George woke up the next morning and smiled to herself as she climbed out of bed. She still couldn’t believe what a fool Jane Wilcox had been. The woman had more money than sense and was practically throwing it at her. George didn’t mind, she was happy to use it, and it felt like she was getting one over on Billy.

  The summer air smelt sweet, and George was in a good mood. It had been a while since she’d been excited about anything, but Jane’s big ideas had her all fired up. ‘Good morning,’ she greeted Dulcie as she almost skipped into the kitchen.

  ‘Morning, love. Your dad’s already left for Manchester. Is Winnie coming in today?’

  A woman from the club had told George about her middle-aged neighbour, Winnie, who had recently lost her husband. George had approached the woman, and she’d agreed, for a small price, to sit with Dulcie on the days when Jack went to Manchester. The arrangement freed Ethel up to work on The Maids of Battersea stall.

  ‘Yes, Gran, she’ll be here later. How are you getting on with her?’

  ‘Fine. She’s a bit quiet though. I think she’s scared of me, but I don’t know why.’

  ‘Have you been nice to her?’

  ‘Of course I bloody have! What do you mean by that?’

  ‘You can be a bit… sharp sometimes,’ George answered.

  ‘Well, if people weren’t so stupid… Anyway, you must have been late home last night. I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t, Gran, but you was fast asleep in your chair. I didn’t want to disturb you, and Dad was snoring on the sofa, so I went to bed.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t realised you was in your room when I went up. You must have had a good night’s kip ’cos you’re full of the joys of spring this morning.’

  ‘I am, but it’s nothing to do with sleep.’

  Dulcie handed George a fried egg sandwich. ‘Get that down your neck and tell me what’s made you so bleedin’ cheery.’

  George hungrily ate the sandwich and spoke in between mouthfuls. ‘I’ve struck a deal with Jane Wilcox, and it’s a bit of a win-win situation for me.’

  Immediately, George noticed her grandmother’s face fall. ‘Don’t look like that. She’s all right – nothing like her son.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. You’ve got egg on your chin, and I hope for your sake you don’t end up with it all over your face. So, what’s this deal then?’

  ‘She likes the idea of the Maids, and for some unknown reason, she wants to back it.’

  ‘You’ve still got egg on your chin,’ Dulcie said, and pointed.

  George laughed, and rubbed the dripping yolk away. ‘You mean I really do have egg on my chin? Anyway, she’s gonna write some snazzy piece for the newspaper about the club, which will be free advertising as well as a good endorsement from her. You know what they’re like round here, but they’ll soon change their minds once Jane gives it the thumbs-up. She has this notion that all women, now that we can vote, should have free choice. She said she’s seen too much repression of women, and it’s about time we all learnt to stick up for ourselves.’

  ‘Personally, I wouldn’t give her as much credence. She’s nothing more than a jumped-up gangster’s missus, but you’re probably right. A lot of folk in Battersea will follow her viewpoint. But what about the vicar?’

  George leaned back in her chair. ‘I ain’t worried about him,’ she said, ‘’cos first Jane said she’d bribe him, but then offered to cough up the readies to lease some premises for the club. After all, the vicar will probably throw us out, which will be her bloody fault for sticking her oar in.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ve thought this through, love? I’m sure she’d stand to her word and lease you a place, but then what? You could be stuck with somewhere and no money to pay the rent.’

  ‘Gran, I ain’t silly. I made her agree to pay six months in advance. And she said she’ll kit it out with some training equipment. Cor, picture it, Gran… A proper boxing ring and everything!’

  ‘Smells a bit fishy to me,’ Dulcie said, and folded her arms firmly across her body.

  ‘Not ’alf as fishy as them bloody kippers you cooked yesterday! The house still stinks of them,’ George said, wrinkling her nose.

  ‘I can’t believe she’s gonna do all that out of the goodness of her heart.’

  ‘You’re ever so cynical sometimes. It’s straight up. We’ve agreed that the whole thing is going to be run as a legit business. Entrance to the club will remain on a voluntary contribution basis, but all the women must participate in craft making, and not just come for the boxing. Jane’s also gonna stump up for some proper equipment for that too. She only had one stipulation.’

  ‘I knew there’d be a catch somewhere,’ Dulcie said, and her eyes narrowed.

  George tutted. ‘All she wants is ten per cent of all profits to go to a worthy women’s charity, and any money she puts in to be paid back with no interest. And before you jump in and say anything, I think the charity thing is a good idea too.’

  ‘It’s your lookout, but I’d never trust a Wilcox. I hope I’m wrong and I’ll have to eat my words, but watch your back, girl.’

  She knew her gran only had her best interests at heart, but George was far shrewder than the old woman gave her credit for. Admittedly, she’d been reluctant to trust Jane at first, but as they’d spoken, she’d found herself warming to the woman. She couldn’t quite understand the reasons for Jane wanting to put so much in and get nothing in return but concluded that some people were just soft in the head.

  George thought that if Molly was well-off, she’d do something nice like Jane. There were folk who were like that. Just nice. Maybe it was better to be nice, rather than cruel, but she thought that was something she’d never know.

  *

  There was no mistaking it, Fanny could hear Molly throwing up in the yard, but it was obvious the girl was trying to hide her sickness. Full of despair, Fanny slumped onto her bed. She thought her daughter had more sense!

  Molly crept back into her room, but Fanny leapt from her bed and was ready to confront her. She pulled the curtain dividing their rooms to one side. ‘A word,’ she said sternly.

  Molly looked sheepish, but Fanny had no sympathy and said abruptly, ‘You’re in the family way then?’

  Molly’s head dropped.

  ‘Answer me!’ Fanny barked.

  Molly’s body jerked and stiffened. ‘Yes,’ she answered, her voice barely audible.

  ‘How could you? How could you have been so stupid? Who’s the father?’

  Molly lowered her head again.

  ‘I asked you a question.’

  ‘Billy. Billy Wilcox,’ Molly replied, avoiding eye contact.

  Fanny frowned. There had been no sign of them seeing each other. ‘Does he know?’

  ‘No, and I don’t want him to.’ Molly looked up pleadingly and was beginning to blubber. ‘Please, Mum, he can’t know!’

  Her daughter’s tears did nothing to soften Fanny. She thought the girl should be grateful that her father wasn’t alive. He would have beaten the unborn child out of her. ‘He has to know. He’ll have to marry you. Either that or pay for an abortion.’

  ‘No… No, Mum! I can’t see one of them backstreet butchers! Look what happened to Sarah Hook – they used the needles on her and she bled to death!’

  ‘Calm down, Molly, and keep your bloody voice down! We don’t want them upstairs hearing about this. How far gone are you?’

  ‘I’ve only missed one monthly,’ Molly snivelled.

  ‘Good. At least we’ve got a bit of time to get this sorted before you start showing. But if you refuse to get rid of it, then you’ll have to marry Billy. The child needs a name, and I ain’t having no grandchild of mine being born on the wrong side of the blanket. Have you got any idea what’ll happen to you as an unmarried mother? For a start, if the doctor comes when you’re birthing that child, and he needs to stitch you, he won’t give you nothing for the pain. They don’t think mothers without
husbands are deserving of it. And that’s just the start, so you’d better marry Billy, or else!’

  ‘But I don’t want to marry him. I hate him… hate him!’

  ‘You should have thought about that before you opened your legs,’ Fanny scorned through gritted teeth.

  Molly ran from the room in a flood of tears. Fanny could hear her sobbing from the scullery, and her sisters trying to console her.

  Fanny had said her piece without thinking clearly. She’d never allow her daughter to see a backstreet butcher. It was far too risky. They could try the tin bath with boiling water and a bottle of gin, but she’d attempted that herself and it had failed. No, there was only one solution – Billy would have to do the right thing.

  *

  Ezzy’s new security system meant that the door to his shop was no longer open to the public. A push-button electric bell had been installed, and instead of the commonly used buzz sound, his bell played musical chimes. Ezzy took great pleasure in listening to it, and several times a day, he would pop outside to ring it. He’d had it for over a week now, but the novelty hadn’t yet worn off.

  It was approaching lunchtime and Ezzy was thinking about closing for an hour when he heard the bell chimes ring. There was a large window in the shop door, and as he walked towards it, his hackles rose. Two men were waiting outside, and they didn’t look like potential customers.

  ‘What do you want?’ he called.

  ‘Open up,’ one of the men answered.

  ‘I’m closed. You’ll have to come back later.’

  ‘Open the door,’ the man repeated.

  ‘No, I’m closed,’ Ezzy said, and turned to walk away. He was halfway across the shop when he heard glass shattering. He spun round to see the man had broken the window and was now reaching through to open the door.

  Ezzy ran towards him. He was short and stout and no match for the two muscly men, but it didn’t deter him from having a go. He bashed at the man’s arm, but by now the door was opening, and he was thrown to one side.

  The first man loomed over him. Ezzy had always feared being robbed and kept a cricket bat behind the counter. He was too far away. It was no use to him now.

  ‘Ooops, looks like your door has broken,’ the largest of the men said sarcastically.

  Ezzy didn’t answer. His mouth was dry, and he could feel himself trembling. If his heart didn’t slow down, he thought he might die of fright.

  ‘Shame about that. It’ll cost you a few bob to get it mended. ’Ere, Malc, look at this lovely glass counter,’ the other man said as he ran his hand along the worktop. ‘It would be a travesty if this got broken too.’

  Ezzy began to question if the men were in the shop to rob him. After all, surely they’d be demanding he open the safe?’

  ‘It would, Sid, it’d be a pity. How much do you think it would cost to get a new glass counter?’

  Sid spoke again. ‘You’ve got a lot of valuable items in your store, Mr Harel. I would strongly recommend that you take out our cover to protect them.’

  ‘Co… cover… What sort of cover?’

  ‘Insurance, but me and Malc are very busy men, and we don’t have time to stand around here discussing the pros and cons of our policy. Malc, show Mr Harel an example of how easily accidents can happen, just in case he hasn’t got the message.’

  Ezzy watched helplessly as Malc threw over a large grandfather clock. It had been in Ezzy’s family for years, but now lay smashed on the floor. ‘All right… all right… stop now,’ he pleaded. ‘How much do you want?’

  Sid smiled. ‘That’s a very sensible question, Mr Harel. We’ll take two pounds as a down payment, then fifteen shillings a week.’

  Ezzy climbed to his feet, and with hunched shoulders he went to his cash register. It had been a busy morning in the shop, and as he took the money out, he hoped they wouldn’t demand more.

  Malc hovered over his shoulder, intimidating him. But to Ezzy’s relief, although the man must have seen the full till, he accepted the two pounds, and then as though it was a normal business transaction, he shook Ezzy’s hand.

  ‘Mr Harel,’ Malc said, ‘you are now under the protection of Billy Wilcox. This business arrangement is to be kept discreet, and as long as you pay up every week, Mr Wilcox will ensure your safety. Good day to you.’

  They were gone, but Ezzy’s heart was still racing. He’d heard all about Billy Wilcox and his insurance and knew exactly what would have happened if he didn’t give them the money. And now, like it or not, he’d be bitterly paying for his wellbeing for the rest of his working life.

  37

  The weekend arrived, but Billy wasn’t relishing the idea of spending any time at home. He loved his mother but couldn’t stand the sight of his younger sisters.

  He sat in his father’s chair, and lit Norman’s old pipe. ‘Where’s Sally?’ he asked his mother.

  Jane looked up from the table she was huddled over. ‘Is that your father’s?’

  ‘What, this?’ Billy asked, holding up the pipe. ‘Yes. You don’t mind, do you?’

  His mother looked as if she was going to object, so Billy quickly added, ‘It makes me feel closer to him.’

  Jane didn’t respond, and her attention returned to whatever she was doing at the table.

  ‘Where’s Sally?’ Billy asked again. He was hoping she wouldn’t come barging into the lounge and disturb his peace.

  ‘She’s at Trudi’s. They had a sleep over and Penny’s having an afternoon nap. She had a bad dream last night that kept her up, poor thing.’

  Billy drew on the pipe, and as the sunlight caught the smoke, he watched it swirl and curl into fascinating shapes. ‘Does the mellow smell of this remind you of Dad?’ he asked.

  His mother seemed distracted, but half-heartedly answered, ‘Er… yes, I suppose.’

  ‘Have you made any tea?’

  Again, Jane didn’t appear to be listening, and Billy could feel himself becoming agitated. He liked to have her full attention.

  ‘MUM…’

  ‘What, Billy? You can see I’m busy.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m writing an article for the Lambeth Gazette. I’ve already spoken to Jonathan Penning, and he’s agreed to run it on the third page.’

  ‘What are you writing about?’

  ‘The Maids of Battersea. Have you heard about them? It’s a club that George Garrett has set up.’

  There had been some talk in the brothel about it, but Billy hadn’t taken much notice. Whatever stupid club thing George was up to didn’t affect his business. ‘Yeah, but why are you writing about it?’

  ‘I’ve agreed to help. I think the whole concept is fabulous. George is teaching the women boxing skills, and when they’re not training, they make arts and crafts that they sell for funding and profit.’

  He thought it sounded ridiculous, and women shouldn’t be boxing. But he knew George could hold her own. It had been a few years back, but she’d given some of his boys a bit of a pasting. ‘Why do you want to be connected to something like that?’

  ‘Do I really need to explain myself? Can’t you see the benefits in it for women?’

  ‘To be honest, Mum, no. A woman’s place is at home looking after the house and kids. Not in a boxing ring!’

  ‘Things are moving on, Billy, and you should keep up with the times. In fact, I think it would be a good idea for you to send your girls to the club. You know I don’t like you having those… places, but if someone’s going to make money from it, it may as well be you. And it’s common knowledge that prostitution is the oldest career in the world. However, they must meet all types of men, maybe some violent ones, and I should think it would be good for them to be able to defend themselves.’

  Billy roared out laughing. ‘You have got to be kidding me? The girls are working. They’re too busy pleasing men to be worrying about bashing them!’

  ‘I’m sure you could spare them one morning a week?’

  ‘Forget it, it
’s never going to happen,’ Billy answered. ‘It wouldn’t be good for business.’

  ‘All right, but what about that girl you have working in your office? She may have to deal with difficult men at times.’

  Billy gave it some thought. He rather liked the idea of Hilda learning a few fighting skills. It might provoke a bit of aggression in her. He’d found her boring lately, and the thought of her fighting back turned him on. ‘All right,’ he said, deciding this would also humour his mother and please her. ‘She can take the classes, but only one a week.’

  ‘I was thinking, the club will be requiring new premises, and as you’re not using the shop your father acquired for the expansion of the bicycle hire business, perhaps George could take the space?’

  ‘No, absolutely not. I won’t support her in any way whatsoever, and if my father was alive, he’d forbid you from getting involved.’

  ‘No he wouldn’t, your father was a very reasonable man. But fine, if you won’t allow George to take on the shop, she’s a very resourceful woman; I’m sure she’ll find something suitable.’

  Billy scowled at his mother, though she didn’t notice as she’d turned her attention back to writing the article. He didn’t think George was in any way similar to how his mother had described, especially the term ‘woman’. There wasn’t anything womanly about her, and setting up this stupid fight club just went to prove his point.

  *

  Molly had taken her sisters to the park, but this time it was because she wanted to, and not because she was keeping them out of her dad’s way. Things at home had been more relaxed now that he was dead, and her mother was finally feeling the benefit of her earnings. Everything would have been great, but she’d ruined it by getting herself pregnant!

  She unconsciously rubbed her stomach. It was still flat. Apart from the nausea, there were no signs of her condition. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide it for much longer.