by Sam Michaels
‘For Christ’s sake, Molly! You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know what I think about the police, but if it makes you feel better I’ll go to them. I’ll tell them what Billy did.’
‘What’s the point? He’s got too many of them in his pocket and that’ll just make matters worse. No… my mind is made up. At least me mum will be happy.’
Dulcie came into the room carrying a tray. ‘Quick, take this,’ she urged George.
George jumped up and apologised as she took the tray. ‘Sorry, Gran, but you should have called me to carry it.’
‘What’s going on in here? Molly, why are you so upset?’ Dulcie asked.
‘She’s going to go through with the marriage to Billy,’ George said, answering for her.
‘Can’t say as I blame her,’ Dulcie mused. ‘He’s a dangerous man, and you know what they say about keeping your enemies close. I think you and that baby would be a lot safer married to him than you would be otherwise.’
‘How can you think such a thing, Gran? The man’s a nutter!’
‘Exactly,’ Dulcie answered, ‘and that’s why Molly needs to keep him sweet… and close.’
Molly hadn’t expected to get any support from George’s gran, but the woman appeared to understand how she was feeling. She had to protect her child, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. At least she and her baby would both be alive, and her mum, along with her sisters, and George too.
*
George saw Molly out, then sat in the front room with her gran. Dulcie had plenty to say to the girl, none of which could be said in front of Molly. She drained the last of her tea, then turned to her granddaughter who was staring blankly into space. ‘You’re not going to let him get away with destroying your business, are you?’
‘Eh? Sorry, Gran, what did you say?’
‘I said, you won’t let him get away with it, will you?’
‘No,’ was George’s simple yet solid answer.
‘I thought not. Have you got a plan?’
‘I’m working on it.’
‘Are you going to kill him?’
George’s eyes widened but Dulcie didn’t know why the girl looked surprised.
‘Yes… it’s what he deserves, but is that wrong of me, Gran?’
‘No, love. You’re a Garrett woman and the bastard needs to know he shouldn’t have crossed you.’
George smiled at her grandmother.
‘Having said that, I’m not sure you’re supposed to enjoy it so much.’ Dulcie laughed.
‘I can’t think of anything that will give me more pleasure than watching Billy Wilcox die.’
‘You’ve got to be shrewd, my girl. You don’t want to swing for the sake of his worthless life.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m not sure how I’m going to do it. He’s always got his heavies around him and at home Jane and his sisters are there. Even when I do manage to finish him off, I’ll have to find somewhere to hide his body.’
‘Bury him in the garden with Percy,’ Dulcie said with a chortle, though the thought sent a shiver down her spine.
‘No way! It’s bad enough living with one dead body outside my bedroom window, let alone two!’
‘All right, calm down,’ Dulcie said, surprised at George’s reaction. ‘I was only kidding.’
‘Sorry, Gran, but it gives me the creeps.’
‘You are a funny one.’
‘I just don’t like it being so close to home… literally.’
‘Oh well, he’s been there years now and it ain’t hurt you,’ Dulcie said, and huffed.
‘I suppose, but I still don’t want Billy Wilcox in that grave! Anyway, I’m going to bide my time on this.’
Dulcie’s brow furrowed. ‘Why?’
‘Well, if Molly is determined to marry him, then so be it. If I knock him off after the wedding, it’ll mean that she’ll be a widow instead of an unmarried mother and the child won’t be a bastard. And as his widow, she’ll be all right for money.’
‘I’ve said it before, but you’re clever, just like your mother,’ Dulcie said, thinking that brains and the ability to kill were a potent combination.
*
Ethel was working back on the flower stall with her mother, but her persistent questions about the fire were driving Fanny up the wall. Fanny tried to remain patient with the girl, but it wasn’t easy. Especially as she was worrying so much about Molly. She’d lain in bed at night, wide awake with the same thought going round and round in her head – was she sending Molly to live in misery by forcing her to marry Billy? Each time she asked herself, she came to the same conclusion. The child needed a name, though she’d have preferred it not to have been Wilcox.
Billy was a murderer. A cold-blooded killer and she asked herself what sort of mother would put her daughter in danger, but she reasoned Molly would be safe. Billy wouldn’t hurt the mother of his child, and they would never want for anything. Billy had the power and resources to protect them and as long as Molly played ball, she was sure Billy would look after her. The wedding would go ahead, and she’d been to see Jane, telling her to pass on the news to Billy.
*
Billy paced the floor of his office. Knuckles stood quietly against the wall. Hilda’s desk was gone.
‘I’m not fucking happy about this. I want George Garrett incapacitated before I get married. I can just picture her turning up and gobbing off.’
That morning, his mother had assured him that she’d spoken to Fanny, and there was no question about the certainty of the wedding. He didn’t want George putting in an appearance. The bitch was like a fucking cat with nine lives, or just very lucky, but either way, he wanted her out of the picture. He was resolute that the wedding would go ahead without a hitch. Not that Molly meant anything to him, but he wouldn’t have any child of his growing up as illegitimate.
‘You could shoot her, boss. Put a bullet between her eyes.’
The same thought had crossed Billy’s mind on more than one occasion, but he already had the Old Bill sniffing around about the arson attack and asking questions about Hilda. He could do without drawing any more unwanted attention to himself. After all, there was only so much his blokes on the force could do to cover for him. ‘No, that won’t do.’
‘What do you want me to do then, boss?’ Knuckles asked.
‘Get Sid and Malc to stake out her place. When she comes out, tell them to beat the fucking bitch to a pulp, enough to keep her out of action for now without killing her. I’ll see about finishing her off when the Old Bill have stopped nosing around.’
As Knuckles hurried from the office, Billy added, ‘And make sure she knows it’s from me.’
41
‘Gran, I’ll see you later. Dad should be home soon, but I’ll be back within the hour,’ George said, and kissed Dulcie lightly on her cheek.
‘Where are you off to?’
‘Just up to Mrs Peterson’s shop. It’s Ethel’s birthday tomorrow, so I thought I’d buy her a bag of sweets.’
‘Take some money out of my purse and get her something from me, please.’
‘Yes, will do,’ George said. She called into Mrs Peterson’s shop, but every time she did it reminded her of the woman’s husband and the man who’d killed him. Billy had been a thorn in her side for years now. She clenched her jaw at the thought of him marrying her best friend. But if things panned out as she planned, it wouldn’t be long before Molly would be at his funeral.
George was about to step into the shop, when she got the feeling that someone was watching her. She looked over her shoulder, but the street was quiet. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, she thought, and shrugged it off.
Having purchased the sweets and Fry’s chocolate, George ambled back towards home. It was such a pleasant morning. She wasn’t in a rush, but once again, she got the feeling of being watched. Suspicious, she stopped and checked around her. It had only been just over a week since the attack on her life, so she couldn’t be too careful. There was
a lady behind her pushing a pram, another outside a house cleaning the front window, and two small boys chasing after each other.
Then she spotted a car parked on the corner of the street. It looked out of place, like it didn’t belong there, but it was too far away to see if anyone was inside. It could be Billy’s car, but she couldn’t tell. They all looked the same to her.
To be on the safe side, George turned round and cut through an alley, which brought her out on to the main road. She was relieved to see it bustling with shoppers, but kept her eyes peeled and wits about her. Billy Wilcox was brazen. He’d razed the club to the ground in broad daylight. She wouldn’t put anything past him.
A man bumped into her, seemingly by accident. Her guard was up but she thought she recognised his face. She just couldn’t put a name to it.
‘George? George Garrett? It is you, ain’t it?’
‘Yeah, what of it?’ she answered warily.
‘It’s me, Alfred Linehan. I lived upstairs when you was born. I haven’t seen you in years, but I’d recognise those eyes anywhere. Just like your mother’s.’
‘Oh, hello.’
‘How’s your father?’
‘He’s fine, Mr Linehan. Shall I send him your regards?’
‘Yes, please do. Nice seeing you, take care of yourself.’
‘You too,’ George said, and carried on walking. He wasn’t the first person to tell her how alike she was to her mother, but she’d have to take people’s word for it. She wished she had a painting or photograph of her. The chance encounter with Alfred and thinking about her mother had been a distraction and she was soon just a couple of streets from home. All thoughts of the mysterious car had been forgotten. Until she saw it slowly pass her.
It was Billy’s car. She recognised Malc driving it and was sure Sid was sat next to him. They stared at her as they passed. Sid gestured with his finger across his throat, making no secret of their intentions.
George wasn’t afraid. Malc and Sid were thugs, nothing more. Malc was a big bloke, but his movements were slow. She’d already clouted them once before, though it was many years back. Still, she didn’t think she had anything to worry about, unless they had weapons.
The car pulled up, and the men climbed out. They swaggered towards her, doing their utmost to look intimidating, and between them, shoulder to shoulder, they managed to block the pavement.
‘Get out of my way,’ George said.
‘Ask nicely,’ Malc replied.
‘All right. Get out of my fucking way, wanker… please.’
Malc stepped forward. He was toe to toe with George but she refused to back away. ‘Get in the car,’ he sneered.
This was going to be a challenge, but she still felt confident. ‘Make me,’ she said, and clenched her fists, ready to lash out.
‘I will if I have to, but it’d be much better for you if you came quietly.’
George considered the idea. They’d probably take her to Billy. ‘I ain’t going nowhere with you, so either let me by or try and make me get in the car… but I’m warning you, one of you is gonna get hurt.’
Malc looked at Sid, and just as George had anticipated they went to grab her. She punched upwards and caught Malc under his chin. His head jarred back, but he stayed on his feet. She managed to get a good blow to Sid’s stomach. She’d winded him and he groaned. It was the opportunity she needed, and she raised her knee sharply, catching him in his groin. He let out a yell, and she was about to punch him again when Malc seized her right arm. She lashed out with her left fist at him, but he had a firm grip.
‘Grab her,’ Malc yelled at Sid.
Before she knew it, they’d overpowered her, but she still refused to give in and fought against them as they bundled her into the back of the car. Sid placed a muslin bag over her head. She couldn’t see a thing and waved her arms and legs around furiously. ‘You fucking bastards! I’ll have you for this!’
‘Quieten down, George, no-one is listening to you.’ She recognised it to be Malc’s voice.
She heard the car engine churn, and felt Sid grasping her arms. Panic rushed through her as she realised he was tying her wrists together, but she stopped fighting, deciding to conserve her energy for what was to come.
*
‘When my Molly marries your Billy, we’ll be related, won’t we?’ Fanny asked.
Jane was scanning the accounts for the stall, but briefly looked up. ‘No, I don’t think so. But I think it’s about time you called me Jane.’
‘All right, Mrs Wil… I mean Jane,’ Fanny said, looking a little disappointed.
They had their weekly meeting every Thursday morning in the small café next to the station. So far, Jane had never discovered the discrepancies in the takings that Billy had uncovered.
She closed the books and handed them back to Fanny. ‘That all looks in good order. How’s Molly? I haven’t seen her since the… erm… fire.’ Jane had read all about it in the papers and dealt with the police when they’d called to question Billy. He’d denied any knowledge of the incident and, thanks to her, he had a watertight alibi. She had her suspicions, and deep down had a niggling feeling that her son was responsible. She’d never condone what he did, especially Hilda dying. She was also irked that he’d destroyed a flourishing business that she had a vested interest in, but she would always protect him. After all, you never grass on your own.
‘She’s well, but the fire was a terrible shock for her. She couldn’t stop crying for a couple of days afterwards. I suppose it was the thought that she could have been in the building too.’
‘I don’t think there would have been a fire if Molly had been there,’ Jane said. She knew Fanny would know the truth about that terrible day. There was so much gossip and talk surrounding it, nearly all of Battersea knew Billy was behind it.
Fanny looked surprised at Jane’s comment but chose to ignore it. Instead, she leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘Her belly is getting bigger. Good job the wedding is only two weeks away.’
‘Indeed.’ Jane nodded. ‘And considering the circumstances, I think the decision to hold the ceremony in the registry office with only immediate family present was absolutely the right one.’
‘Yes. I don’t think Molly wants any fuss.’
‘Good.’ Jane fumbled in her purse under the table and took out some coins. She handed them to Fanny. ‘Give this to Molly. With the Maids out of business now, she’ll be short of funds. There’s no point in her looking for an alternative job. She’ll be a married woman soon, and Billy won’t allow her to work.’
Fanny took the money and quickly squirrelled it away. ‘Thank you, I’m sure she’ll be grateful for this.’
‘Have there been any suggestions from George about reopening?’ Jane asked.
‘No, according to Molly, she’s adamant that the place will remain closed. Shame really, I think it was doing a lot of good for loads of the women round here. She’s quite the innovator, that George!’
‘Yes, she is, and it’s about time sports were more accessible to us ladies. Maybe once the insurance claim is settled, she’ll reconsider.’
‘Maybe,’ Fanny said, ‘but don’t hold your breath.’
They finished their tea, and Fanny went back to work on the stall. As Jane meandered through Clapham Junction, she mulled over their conversation. It was obvious Fanny knew that Billy had burned down the club. In doing so, he’d killed Hilda and George had only had a narrow escape. No-one could say whether Billy had deliberately set out to kill the women, or if he just had a grudge against the club and what it stood for.
Either way, her son was a killer, yet Fanny Mipple was willing to permit her daughter to marry him. Jane questioned what sort of mother the woman was. She’d never tolerate Sally or Penny marrying anyone like Billy. He was a son only a mother could love, and regardless of his crimes, she loved him dearly.
*
‘It’s only me, Mum,’ Jack called as he came through the front door.
As soon as
she heard his voice, Dulcie hurried from the kitchen. ‘Is George with you?’ she asked, concerned.
‘No, I ain’t seen her since the day before yesterday. Why?’
‘She went out this morning, and she hasn’t come home yet. She was only popping up the shop and said she wouldn’t be long. That was over three hours ago!’
‘Don’t worry. She’s probably bumped into someone she knows and gone off to do something with them.’
Dulcie followed Jack into the kitchen, where he asked, ‘Are you gonna put the kettle on, Mum?’
She stood on the spot where her husband had lain dying, and wrung her hands. ‘Something’s wrong, Jack. I’ve got a bad feeling – I can feel it in me water.’
‘You know you’re not always right about these… feelings you get. What about when you thought you could read the tealeaves and told Mrs Winterbottom that her old man was having an affair with their next-door neighbour? You was wrong about that and look at the bloody trouble it stirred! Face it, Mum, you ain’t no Florence Cook.’
‘Florence who?’ Dulcie asked. ‘Never mind. George knows I’m alone today and she wouldn’t have stayed out this long unless, well, unless… she had no choice.’
‘Do you think something has happened to her? Do you reckon Billy Wilcox has got to her?’ Jack asked worriedly.
‘It’s a possibility. George said he started that fire deliberately, and I believe her. He wants her out of the way for some reason. He’s tried to kill her once and failed. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have another go? Oh, Jack, I should never have let her go out alone.’ Dulcie could feel tears pricking at her eyes and turned away from her son.
‘Try not to worry. I’ll find her and if Billy fucking Wilcox has harmed one hair on her head, I’ll kill him.’
The front door slammed as Jack left to look for George. Dulcie walked across to the sink, and gazed out of the window, muttering quietly, ‘I hope he finds her. Oh God, I hope he does. If you’re there, Percy, do some good for a change and help my boy find George.’
