Trickster

by Sam Michaels

  Hilda quietly gulped. Billy didn’t make idle threats. She liked George, and her weekly lesson at the club, but now the place was going to go up in smoke. It would be a pity for it all to end in ashes and the harrowing memory of seeing her baby brother burn to his death flashed through her mind.

  ‘London’s burning, London’s burning, fetch the engines, fetch the engines. Fire fire! Fire fire! Pour on water…’ Her mother’s voice filled her head again, spitefully singing a nursery rhyme that always left Hilda’s blood running cold.

  ‘Flames, Hilda, scorching flames… look at your hands, you stupid bitch… you couldn’t save your brother and you can’t save George!’

  Hilda turned her shaking hands over and stared at the faded scars on her palms. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to get rid of the image of her brother’s charred body. You’re wrong, Mother, she thought, inspired by George’s courage. She could save George and she would.

  39

  It was a bright and sunny Wednesday morning in mid-August, but Ezzy’s mood didn’t match the weather. A dark cloud hung over him. He resented paying Billy’s gang, and today the insurance was due. With a heavy heart he opened the shop as usual, but was on tenterhooks, waiting with dread to see Malc and Sid’s ominous faces outside the newly glazed door.

  Customers came and went, and by eleven Ezzy’s nerves were jangled. Every time the bell chimes played, his body stiffened, and his blood pressure increased. He thought he’d have a heart attack at this rate and hoped they’d arrive soon so he could get it over and done with. There were only a couple more hours to go as like most of the businesses in town, the shop closed for half a day on Wednesdays.

  Ezzy was stood in his doorway saying goodbye to a regular customer, when he noticed the two thugs approaching. His face dropped, and his customer must have noticed because she finished midway through a sentence to make a hasty exit.

  ‘Mr Harel, I believe you’ve been expecting us,’ Malc said.

  Ezzy couldn’t bring himself to greet the men. They followed him into the shop and up to the counter.

  ‘I trust you have your scheduled payment ready?’

  Ezzy cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to talk to you about that,’ he said uncertainly. His mouth felt dry.

  ‘All discussions have been concluded… unless you’d like a reminder of our terms?’ Malc sneered.

  Ezzy quickly replied, ‘NO… no. But I was wondering if we could negotiate the terms, only I’m struggling to meet them. Surely it would be better for all concerned for me to stay in business? With what you’re asking from me, I may have to shut up shop.’

  ‘Who are you trying to kid, Mr Harel? We both know that what you are paying is affordable for you. You just don’t like giving us any of your profits. Well, tough! Like I said, if you’d like a reminder of the terms, Sid here will be happy to oblige.’

  Before Ezzy answered, Sid elbowed a framed piece of expensive artwork hanging on the wall and it fell to the floor.

  ‘Oops, my arm slipped,’ said Sid, and snickered.

  ‘Here… please… take the money,’ Ezzy urged, placing the coins on the counter.

  Malc picked up the cash and doffed his flat cap. ‘Good day, Mr Harel. See you next week,’ he said, and they left.

  Ezzy’s heart sunk at the sight of his antique oil painting. It had belonged to his father but had clearly been damaged. There were small fragments of glass scattered on the shop floor. Hugely disappointed, he went through to the back of the shop to get a broom but jolted when he heard the bell chimes. He prayed Billy’s ruffians hadn’t returned and felt a surge of relief when he saw it was Jack Garrett.

  ‘Hello, Ezzy. Are you all right, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ Ezzy lied.

  ‘What’s happened here?’ Jack asked, surveying the broken glass and the broom.

  ‘Oh… erm… I… nothing, just a bit of an accident.’

  He noticed Jack’s eyes narrow. ‘You can tell me it’s none of my business, but I’ve known you a long time, and though it may be wonky I’ve got a good nose for when something ain’t right.’

  ‘Billy Wilcox’s heavies have just left. They come here once a week and demand money from me. If I don’t pay up, they’ll smash up the shop… or worse,’ Ezzy blurted out. He felt better for sharing his burden, though he knew there was nothing Jack could do to help.

  ‘Bloody hell, mate, that’s rough. Trouble is, once they’ve got their claws in, there ain’t much you can do about it.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’ll just have to grin and bear it,’ Ezzy said, faking a smile.

  He couldn’t go to the police, not with all his dodgy dealings in stolen goods. He’d simply have to cough up and hope they didn’t tighten the thumbscrews for more.

  *

  Molly had rushed round to George’s, but she hadn’t been in and she was frantic with worry. Had she been to see Billy? Had he hurt her? Was she lying injured somewhere, or worse, dead? She hadn’t dared to let Dulcie see how frantic she was and made an excuse for calling, asking the woman to tell George she needed to see her.

  George hadn’t come around, which caused Molly to worry even more! She’d lain awake half the night imagining the worst, until she had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. All too soon, the morning light woke Molly with a start. Her first thought was of George and she rushed to get dressed. She hurried as fast as she could to the gym, hoping and praying to find her friend there. She was desperate to see her – desperate to find out if she was all right.

  When she ran inside, George looked up from what she was doing and smiled. The tension left Molly’s body and she slumped. ‘Oh, George, I was so worried about you. Did you go to see Billy?’

  ‘Yes, and I told him you’re not going to marry him.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Not much. He can’t force you to marry him if you don’t want to.’

  George’s world may be black and white, but Molly didn’t think it was as simple as that, and she couldn’t believe Billy would be so amenable. ‘He must have said something.’

  ‘No, Molly, he didn’t. That’s it, job done. The wedding is officially off.’

  Molly ran to George and affectionately threw her arms round her. ‘Thank you… thank you so much! I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘Get off me, you soppy mare,’ George said, jokingly squirming. ‘I’ve got to go upstairs. Are you coming?’

  Molly let go of her friend, then a worrying thought dampened her jovial mood. ‘No, I’ll have to go and tell my mother. She won’t be too pleased.’

  ‘You’ve got to be honest. Tell her you only agreed to marry Billy to protect her and I’m sure she’d understand.’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, thanks again, George, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Molly turned to leave, but then Hilda came in. It wasn’t her usual day for the club, so Molly assumed Billy had sent her with a message and she tensed.

  ‘Is George here?’ Hilda asked.

  ‘Yes, she’s just gone upstairs,’ Molly answered curtly.

  ‘Good. Is it all right if I go up and have a word? In private.’

  ‘Does this have anything to do with me marrying Billy?’

  ‘No… well, not directly. He doesn’t know I’m here. Look, it’s really important, and I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it.’

  Molly was curious to know what was so important that Hilda had sneaked away from Billy to come and talk to George, but whatever it was would have to wait. She had far more pressing things on her mind – such as telling her mum that she was going to be an unmarried mother.

  *

  Billy threw a cigarette butt out of the car window and blew smoke rings in the air. He’d known Hilda was up to something, so he and his henchmen had followed her.

  ‘The two-faced, scheming whore,’ he said slowly. ‘But that’s fine. She’ll be going up in smoke along with her new best buddy.’

  ‘’Er
e, boss, do you think her and that George are… you know… lesbians?’ Knuckles asked, snorting like a pig as he chuckled to himself.

  ‘Don’t be so fucking disgusting,’ Billy snapped. Then he saw Molly leaving the shop. A light breeze caught her cardigan and blew it away from her body, exposing the small swell of her stomach. That was his child growing in there. She was his incubator and he was going to marry her, regardless of George Garrett.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Wilcox,’ Knuckles said.

  ‘What’s the plan now then?’ Sid asked.

  ‘Exactly the same as before,’ Billy replied nonchalantly.

  They waited a few minutes, and once the street had cleared, Billy, Knuckles, Sid and Malc climbed from the car. Malc carried a can of petrol.

  Billy had thought about executing his victim in the dead of night, but Wednesday afternoons were always quiet. Anyway, even if he was seen, he doubted there’d be many people who’d have the bottle to grass on him.

  Once outside the double-fronted shop, Sid threw open the door, and once inside Malc immediately started to splash petrol around.

  ‘Don’t use it all. Save some for her,’ Billy said, and looked around for the stairs that led up to the gym. The smell of petrol made his nose twitch, but he smiled at the thought of George Garrett being doused in it. He could imagine her screams, and the smell of her flesh burning. He wondered if it would have the same aroma as roast pork.

  He’d only planned on killing George, but if Hilda was stupid enough to be disloyal to him, then she’d be getting burnt too.

  *

  ‘Shush…’ George whispered.

  Hilda had briefly told her about Billy’s notion to kill her, when she was sure she’d heard an unfamiliar noise downstairs.

  ‘What is it?’ Hilda whispered back.

  ‘Don’t move,’ George said, and tiptoed quickly across the gym.

  She quietly opened the door at the top of the stairs and could hear muffled voices. She thought one of them was Billy’s.

  She closed the door, and fished around in her pocket for a key, then locked it. For extra measure she grabbed a wooden seat and wedged it under the handle. ‘They’re here already,’ she said quietly.

  Hilda looked terrified and whimpered.

  ‘It’s all right, just stay right behind me,’ George instructed.

  ‘But… they’re going to torch the place. Oh my God, George, he’s going to burn us alive!’

  ‘Shush… calm down. It’s all right, we’ll be OK.’

  The door began to rattle. Someone was kicking it from the other side. Both women stood frozen and stared at the door. Then they heard Billy’s sinister voice.

  ‘I know you’re in there, George Garrett, and you, Hilda. Make it easier on yourselves and open the door.’

  ‘Piss off, Billy,’ George shouted.

  She heard him laughing, and then he said, ‘Come on, open this door and let’s talk.’

  ‘We’ve got nothing to talk about.’

  ‘Have it your way then. I’m going to burn this place down, with you and that tart inside. It’s not going to be an enjoyable way to go. If you open this door, I might be kind and make it quicker for you. Either way, you’re going to die.’

  ‘Fuck off, Billy. I ain’t opening this door for you to get the gratification of seeing my face when you kill me. If you’re gonna do it, just fucking do it.’

  There was a minute of quietness, then George heard a whooshing noise, and dark, black smoke began to seep under the door.

  Hilda began screaming hysterically.

  ‘Shit, he’s fucking done it,’ George said, then spun and whacked Hilda round the face with the flat of her hand. ‘If you want to get out of here alive, you’ve got to stay calm.’

  The shock of the slap seemed to work, and Hilda stopped screaming while George ran to the equipment cupboard and grabbed two towels. She threw one at Hilda and told her to wrap it round her head.

  The smoke was getting thicker, and she could hear the flames crackling. It wouldn’t be long before they burnt through the floor.

  She grabbed Hilda’s hand and pulled her to a small skylight at the back of the gym.

  ‘It’s too high up – we’ll never get up there,’ Hilda said frantically.

  ‘Yes we will. I’ll give you a bunk-up. You’ll have to reach up to open the window, and then climb outside.’

  ‘We’d have a better chance at the front windows,’ Hilda said.

  ‘No… I haven’t got the keys on me and even if I did, they’re barred. We wouldn’t get through. This window is our only way out.’

  Hilda looked up at the small skylight. ‘How are we going to get up there?’

  ‘I told you, I’ll give you a bunk-up. You’ll have to reach up and pull yourself up. Do you think you can do that?’ She had to shout over the sound of the roaring fire.

  Hilda shook her head, and George could see the anguish in her eyes. ‘Come on, she urged, we haven’t got long. Climb on my shoulders.’

  ‘It’ll never work… even if I can get onto your shoulders… it’s too high,’ Hilda said hopelessly.

  George could taste the smoke now, and it began to irritate her lungs. She coughed, and then her eyes fell on something that gave her an idea. It wasn’t easy in the smoke – it stung her eyes – but she managed to get back to the other side of the large room and grabbed the long wooden bench. It was easily the length of a large church pew and could be used as a sort of makeshift ladder. As she dragged it across the gym, she heard Hilda’s panicked voice, ‘Smash the window with it George. Let some air in.’

  George was worried the fresh air would fan the flames, which were now licking around the door and flickering through the floorboards. She dashed back to the small window and leaned the bench vertically against the wall. It didn’t quite reach the window, but she was sure they could shimmy up and escape.

  ‘Oh my God, we’re going to die,’ Hilda cried as the flames intensified.

  ‘Shut up! This is our way out. Take your shoes and stockings off and you’ll get a better grip. Grab each side of this bench and push yourself up with your legs, while you pull with your arms.’

  ‘I can’t… I can’t, George.’

  ‘Just do it. It’s that or die in here!’

  Hilda did as she was told, but she wasn’t acting as quickly as George would have liked. ‘Hurry up,’ she barked, looking behind her to see the fire had now breached the door. The heat was intense, and she was struggling to breathe.

  Hilda had managed to scramble about halfway up the bench, but George could see her strength was waning. ‘Hold on, Hilda, you’re nearly there,’ she yelled, and began to climb the bench too. ‘I’m right behind you – keep going.’

  ‘I want my mother to burn again too,’ Hilda screamed back.

  George thought she must have misheard her and carried on climbing. She felt she was making good progress, but her eyes were closed against the harsh smoke. Then she heard Hilda shouting again.

  ‘You’re going to be destroyed, Mother. You’ve burned once in the flames and now your soul will burn in this world. Hell will engulf you!’

  George looked up just in time to see Hilda let go and she tumbled down, screaming as she fell. She tucked herself in tightly against the bench but felt Hilda’s body thump against her as the woman hurtled past.

  Hilda abruptly stopped screaming. George looked down and through the smoke she could see her lying in a very unnatural position. There was nothing more she could do. She continued to climb, and hoped that Hilda was dead, or that the smoke would get her before the inferno did.

  40

  ‘Are you going to see if you can get your old job back at the match factory?’ George asked. It had been a week since the fire, but her voice was still croaky.

  ‘Erm… I dunno… I mean, I don’t think they’d take me on in my condition,’ Molly answered.

  They were sat in George’s front room, eating a Victoria sponge that Dulcie had made. The old woman was in the kitchen mak
ing a fresh pot of tea.

  ‘What about you, George, will you reopen the club somewhere?’ Molly asked.

  ‘No. I never bloody liked it. I thought I was going to be coaching boxing, but I ended up doing more star jumps than throwing punches. I think me dad was right – it ain’t really what the women round here want.’

  ‘The crafts shop worked well though,’ Molly said, trying to sound upbeat. ‘It was making a good profit.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe, but I ain’t a shop sort of girl. I dunno what I’m gonna do, but I know I won’t be working for no-one else,’ George said, and began coughing.

  Molly thought George’s cough sounded chesty, probably the effects of the smoke from the fire.

  ‘Something will come up, it always does,’ George said. ‘I’m just glad you wasn’t there when the fire started.’

  Molly slowly nodded her head. ‘Me too. Poor Hilda. She was only my age. That’s young to die.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly natural causes!’ George blurted.

  There was a loud clattering from the kitchen. The sudden noise made Molly flinch. Dulcie must have dropped a saucepan lid or something.

  George was giving her a strange look. ‘Are you all right? You seem a bit jumpy,’ she asked.

  ‘Actually, George, I’m scared shitless! I ain’t seen Billy since you told him that I didn’t want to marry him. He tried to kill you, so it’s pretty bloody obvious that he ain’t taking it lying down. What if he comes after me next?’

  ‘He won’t. And I’m still here, so stop worrying.’

  ‘But it’s a blinkin’ miracle you’re alive! Hilda didn’t make it out and I hadn’t long left the gymnasium, so it could have been me. I don’t believe this is the last of it. If I don’t marry him, I think he’ll keep on ’til we’re all dead!’

  ‘Hang on, what do you mean, “if”? Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.’

  ‘I have to do it, George. I ain’t got a choice. I’ve got to think about my baby. Marrying Billy is the only way to keep us all safe.’ Molly hadn’t wanted to cry, but she couldn’t help herself.