by Mick Finlay
‘Would you mind if we conducted a search? They might have found a way in. They might be hiding somewhere.’
Her voice turned hard. ‘I told you they aren’t here. Now, I think it’s time you were off.’
We heard footsteps in the corridor, then a man stepped in and stood by the door, his arms folded over his chest. He was a meaty bloke: I could see from the way he carried himself he wasn’t shy of using his muscles.
‘We’re trying to help them, Miss Leonie,’ said the guvnor. ‘They’re in grave danger. Two people have been killed and I doubt they’ve many friends in London. Perhaps you are their friends. I can assure you that we are too.’
‘The lady told you to leave,’ growled the bloke.
The guvnor turned to me and nodded. I stood.
‘What’s your name, mate?’ I asked the bloke.
‘Nick,’ he grunted. His hair was cut close, black but for a few dusty patches like he had an infection. He had no chin to speak off, his cheeks over-fleshy, his eyes darting and unsure.
‘We’re going to search the building, Nick,’ I said to him. ‘You can try and stop us if you like.’
He stepped across, blocking the doorway. In his hand appeared a knife.
‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’
I looked at the guvnor, who shook his head. ‘Let’s do this another way, then,’ he said, crossing one leg over the other. He looked at Leonie. ‘We know they’re here.’
‘Don’t be soft, mister. I told you we never heard of any Africans. And I told you to go. So unless you want a fight with Nickie, you better hook it.’
‘You came over on the boat from Calais with the Africans. They told us about you. Now, if you don’t bring them out to talk to us we’re going direct to Mr Capaldi in Stockwell to tell him where they are. He lives on Albert Terrace, in case you don’t believe we know him. He’ll be glad to pay us at least a pound for such a valuable piece of information. And I suppose he won’t be too pleased with you for hiding them.’
‘Mr Capaldi?’ said Leonie. ‘Never heard of him.’
The guvnor laughed. He bent over and took the Star from the table.
‘The lady said hook it,’ grunted Nick, stepping forward with his knife held out before him.
The guvnor held up the front page. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘First notice on the right.’
Leonie’s nose wrinkled. Gisele glanced at it, then looked away.
‘I’ll read it for you,’ said the guvnor, shaking out the paper. ‘Piccadilly Hall. Capaldi’s Wonders of the World, direct from Paris. Lobster Claw Lady, Tasmanian Pig Woman, Baboon Girl. Four weeks only. Touch them. Smell them. Hear them jabber. First show Friday 20 December, then every day 2 p.m., 4 p.m., 6 p.m., 8 p.m. Seven-year-old Child with a Giant Head. 3 p.m., 5 p.m., 7 p.m. Limited Time.’
Chapter Fourteen
Sylvia stepped back into the room as he read out the notice. She’d changed out of her shirt and britches and wore a pink dress and a soft, blonde wig. A ferocious lavender odour filled our noses.
‘It’s you three ladies, isn’t it?’ asked the guvnor. ‘You’re Capaldi’s Wonders.’ He left it there for a few moments, looking at each in turn with his kindest eyes, his lips pressed together. Sylvia with the hair around her face, Gisele with her orange skin and mittened hands, Leonie with her white scalp and child-like limbs. ‘I don’t mean to offend you, really I don’t. You’re too elegant to deserve such cruel stage names.’
Sylvia fell into Nick’s arms and began to weep.
‘Oh, shut your face, Sylvia,’ hissed Gisele. ‘You got to get used to it.’
‘I can’t,’ she sobbed, dusty tears starting to run down her pinked cheeks. Nick stroked her wig, whispering something in her ear.
‘It’s a fantasy invented to sell tickets, Miss Sylvia,’ said the guvnor. ‘You must never feel that name is you.’
‘Don’t you lecture us, mister,’ said Leonie, putting her hand on Gisele’s shoulder. ‘You don’t know anything about it. I am Pig Woman. That’s my work.’
‘Perhaps Miss Sylvia’s different.’
‘This her first exhibition,’ said Gisele. ‘Isn’t it, Sylvia darling?’
Sylvia nodded, laying her head on Nick’s chest. ‘I know they’re going to say terrible things,’ she whispered. ‘But I got my Nickie. Least he loves me as I am.’
‘May I ask why you’re here, Miss Sylvia?’ said the guvnor. ‘You don’t seem to want to perform.’
‘I need the money for my ma. Mr Capaldi offered me more than I could earn anywhere else.’
‘And her brother’s soft in the head,’ said Gisele.
‘Are they here with you?’ asked the guvnor.
‘New York,’ said Sylvia. She looked up into Nick’s face again.
‘Have you got family in England, Miss Sylvia?’ asked the guvnor.
She shook her head. ‘We’re going back one day. Nickie’s got cousins there too.’
The guvnor watched them for a while. ‘Is the large-headed boy here also?’ he asked at last.
‘He’s not one of Mr Capaldi’s,’ said Leonie. ‘Now, I think it’s time you left.’
The guvnor clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet. His tone became severe. ‘Please bring the Africans, madam. It won’t go well if I have to go to Mr Capaldi, you know that. And we are here to help them, you must believe me.’
Leonie glared at him for some time. Finally, she marched out the door and climbed the stairs on the other side of the corridor. We sat there in silence until we heard footsteps coming back down. It was Thembeka and Senzo, followed by Leonie. They looked ragged, tired.
‘Thank goodness you’re safe,’ said the guvnor, taking each by the hand.
‘Oh, William, Norman, thank the Lord you’re here,’ said Thembeka. ‘Where’s S’bu? We’ve been worried sick.’
‘He’s not with—’
He was interrupted by the sound of voices outside the kitchen window.
‘Quick,’ said Leonie in a hush. ‘Hide!’
She opened the pantry door and waved us in. Thembeka and Senzo went first, the guvnor and me squeezing in after. The door was shut tight, the only light being four air holes cut into the top of the door.
We heard the knock outside, then voices and footsteps along the corridor.
‘Please, sit down, Mr Capaldi,’ said Leonie. Her voice was small through the little airholes, but we could hear the words clear enough. ‘We weren’t expecting you, else we’d have got some wine in.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ came Bruno’s posh voice. ‘I can’t stay long. I only wanted to drop by to see that everything’s in order before the opening tomorrow. Sold out for the next two weeks! You’ve done me proud, girls.’
‘That’s good,’ said Leonie.
‘Are you all prepared? You know what you’re doing, Sylvia?’
We heard Sylvia sob and sniff. ‘I reckon so, Mr Capaldi.’
‘I can see you’ve been weeping. What’s upset you, dearie?’
‘Just don’t like the name.’ Another sniff.
‘Ah! The name. But that’s just for the idiots, poppet. You forget that. You’re a beautiful girl. She is, isn’t she, Nickie?’
‘Yes, Mr Capaldi.’
It was a tight squeeze in there. I had the whole of the guvnor’s front pressed up to mine, his hot breath on my chest. My back was hard on the door, and I prayed that the latch would hold. On a shelf next to my hand were a couple of tins of condensed milk and a bottle of Sarson’s. Thembeka was whispering something to herself, her head turned down to the floor; behind her on another shelf was a pile of sprouting spuds. Senzo was looking at me, his eyes narrow, his body rigid. I hoped he still had his gun. If Capaldi’s men had killed already, they might do it again, but there’d at least be witnesses this time.
‘Now, I wanted to introduce you to my son, Ralf,’ we heard Bruno say. ‘Ralf, these three lovely girls are Leonie, Gisele and Sylvia.’
‘Pleased to meet
you, ladies.’ I recognized the voice of the boy I’d seen in the billiard room the other day. He was overloud, trying to be confident.
Bruno went on: ‘The main reason I decided to call this evening is that we’re making a little change to the arrangements for these shows. As you know, I have a few performances on around the country right now. Capaldi’s Wonders is my favourite of course, my lovelies, but it’s too much for me to look after all of them, so I’ve decided that from now on my Ralf is going to be your manager. I’m teaching him the business. He looks young, but he has a man’s head on his shoulders, I can assure you. Anything you need that Nick can’t provide, you ask Ralfie. He’ll talk to the theatre for you, make all the arrangements, go on tour with you as well. You’re going to be stars, ladies! My Ralf’ll do it all. Just make sure you don’t give him any problems.’
‘How old are you, Ralf?’ asked Leonie.
‘Sixteen,’ we heard him say. Senzo moved his hand to his nose, pinching it, then his head jerked forward as he held in a sneeze. Thembeka looked up at him.
‘You’re only a boy,’ said Leonie.
‘I’ll guide him,’ said Bruno. ‘Ermano will give him a hand too. Don’t you worry.’
I breathed out slow and shut my eyes. Someone’d passed gas. It was a strange kind of stew in that little larder: black and white, young and old, big and little, all pressed together like meat and spuds in a gravy of bad nerves.
‘I don’t know,’ said Leonie.
‘No, you don’t,’ said Bruno, his voice sharp now.
‘He’s a bit shy,’ said Gisele.
There was a sound in the kitchen, like a scuffle. Then Bruno spoke again, but this time his voice was strained. ‘Now, Sylvia. I got a little question for you. You answer me, all right?’
‘Y-yes,’ she said. She sounded scared.
‘She’ll answer, sir,’ said Nick.
‘You read about Musa and the old Quaker being murdered, did you?’
‘Yes, Mr Capaldi,’ said Sylvia. Her voice was muffled somehow, like she was being held. We all of us heard it. Thembeka’s mouth tightened; the guvnor tilted his head to listen better.
‘So tragic,’ said Bruno. It sounded like he was right outside the larder door now.
‘There’s no need to frighten her,’ said Leonie.
‘I’m not talking to you,’ growled Bruno. ‘Now, Sylvia, answer me honestly. Have you seen the other three? Senzo, Thembeka and S’bu. D’you know where they are?’
Silence. The anger was rising in me now, cooped up in that cupboard, listening to them using their muscle out there. I wanted to get out and help, but I knew that would go worse for our friends.
‘D’you know where Senzo is, Sylvia?’ demanded Bruno, his voice tight and threatening.
We heard a gasp.
‘Where’s Senzo?’ came another voice. It was Ermano, the brother with the ponytail who led us up from Capaldi’s basement.
‘Or the other two?’ asked Bruno.
‘She can’t breathe, sir,’ said Nick.
‘Well?’ growled Bruno.
‘No, sir,’ said Sylvia in a gasp.
‘I sense there’s something you’re not telling me, my dear. Listen, you sweet girl, I only want to help. They’re in trouble. The police believe they killed Musa and the Quaker. We need to protect them, so where are they, Sylvia?’
‘They… they…’
‘Yes?’
I slid my hand in my pocket and took hold of the pistol. The guvnor met my eyes. He seemed ready, his nose twitching, his fists clenched. Behind him, Senzo took hold of Thembeka’s shoulder.
‘We don’t know,’ said Leonie.
‘They don’t come here,’ said Gisele.
‘Please be quiet,’ said Bruno, some warmth in his voice. ‘Now, Sylvia. What is it you’re hiding?’
‘I d-don’t know, Mr Capaldi.’
Silence for a few more moments. Then Bruno spoke again. ‘Let her go, Ermano. Now, if you hear anything you tell me at once. No delay. Yes?’
The women murmured their agreement.
‘Now, tell them about tomorrow, Ralf.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ The boy cleared his throat. ‘I’ll see you at the hall at midday. First show’s at two.’
‘Did you hire the carriage?’ asked his old man.
‘Oh, yeah. I hired a carriage to pick you up each morning and bring you home.’
‘Food, Ralf.’
‘And you’ll get your supper there. Nick can get it for you.’
‘Nick’s got to stay and watch over them,’ said his old man.
‘Oh… of course. I’ll get it.’
‘No, that’s not your job,’ said Bruno. ‘You ask at the theatre. They’ll have someone bring it in. And did you tell Sylvia what she’s got to do?’
‘We teach her, don’t you worry,’ said Gisele. ‘She’s a good dancer.’
There was another silence.
‘Ask Sylvia how she’s feeling about it,’ said his old man.
‘How are you feeling about it, Sylvia?’
‘I’m a bit nervy, Mr Ralf.’
‘Bit nervy?’ said Ralf, his voice forced. ‘You’ll be fine. Just stand there and relax.’
‘There’s more to it than that, Ralf,’ said Leonie. ‘She’s doing the Highland Fling. And you must answer questions from the audience. We all got to know the stories.’
‘Oh. Of course. Yeah.’
‘Tell her she’s going to be magnificent,’ said Bruno.
‘You’re going to be—’ began Ralf.
‘Magnificent,’ said father and son together.
Sylvia giggled. ‘Oh, thank you,’ she said, like it pleased her.
‘Now, we must go,’ said Bruno.
We listened as they said their goodbyes, as the footsteps left the kitchen, as the back door creaked and closed. Finally, the latch opened and we bundled out.
Chapter Fifteen
Gisele and Leonie stood by the range. Sylvia was fidgeting in the doorway, looking down the corridor.
‘S’bu?’ asked Senzo.
‘Where is he?’ asked Thembeka.
‘We don’t know,’ said the guvnor. ‘We were hoping he was with you.’
She spoke to Senzo, gripping his arm. His face fell.
‘We’ll find him,’ said the guvnor, lowering himself with a creak to the bench. ‘But first how about you tell us what happened at the Quaker Meeting House?’
Leonie passed a mug of gin to Thembeka, who took a big swallow and sat at the table. Her and Senzo both looked tuckered out, their eyes creased and worried. Thembeka wiped her face with her new tasseled shawl, Senzo scratched his belly, moving from foot to foot. He spoke quick to Thembeka. She turned to us.
‘Two white men came,’ she said, looking hard at the guvnor. She seemed out of breath. ‘We’d never seen them before. We were playing cards. Musa was in the basement sleeping. Senzo tried to get out his pistol but they started shooting. Hit Mr Fowler. They made Senzo throw down his gun and told us to go with them. Then S’bu took out his gun, but they jumped on him before he could fire it. We ran off while they were fighting. We couldn’t help him. They had two guns.’
‘Does Senzo still have his pistol?’
She shook her head.
‘Where was Mrs Fowler when this happened?’ he asked.
‘She was out buying food.’
‘Well, she must have returned because she’s missing too. How did you know to come here?’
‘We were here for a night before Mr Capaldi took us to the boarding house.’
‘And where was that?’ asked the guvnor.
‘I don’t know, William,’ said Thembeka. ‘When we escaped, we walked a long time and found a church. The parson told us to go to the refuge and paid for the cab like I told you before. That’s where we found you.’
As she talked, Nick passed around some fruit cake and Sylvia handed out the tea. I drank mine straight away, cupping my hands round the warm mug.
‘D’you remember anyth
ing about the area?’ asked the guvnor.
Thembeka shook her head. She talked with Senzo, then turned back to the guvnor. ‘Little houses, pubs, shops. I don’t know. So many streets look the same.’
‘Didn’t you think it was too dangerous coming here?’ asked the guvnor.
Thembeka looked at Gisele, and her worried face softened. ‘These folk are our friends.’
Both me and the guvnor turned our heads to Nick. He was Capaldi’s man. As if to answer, he stepped over to Sylvia and put his hand on her shoulder. She lay her hand upon his and shut her eyes.
‘Mr Capaldi won’t be happy with you if he finds out, mate,’ I said to him.
He shrugged. ‘Best keep it secret, then.’
‘Can you describe the men who killed Mr Fowler, Thembeka?’ asked the guvnor.
She talked to Senzo for a little while longer. ‘Two had very short black hair and whiskers and moustache. One of them hobbled. The other was a Chinaman, we think. Bald, also with a moustache. Tall and thick like you, Mr Barnett. The other two were a bit shorter.’
‘You think one was a Chinaman?’
‘He looked like one.’
‘Clothes?’
‘Dark overcoats, scarves.’ She touched her neck. ‘Bowlers. Find them, William. Please. Those men have S’bu.’
‘We’ll do our best. The police are looking as well.’
Senzo was sitting opposite me at the table. He held out his hand. ‘Gun. Me.’
I looked at the guvnor, who shook his head.
‘What have you heard, Nick?’ asked the guvnor.
Nick shrugged. ‘They don’t tell me nothing.’
‘D’you know who the men are?’
He shook his head. ‘I only been working for them a couple of month. I only met Ermano, that’s Bruno’s brother, and a bloke called English Dave. I don’t know any of the others.’
‘Is Musa still in the Meeting House?’ asked Thembeka.
The guvnor looked confused. ‘Haven’t you read the news?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘The news? Why?’
‘You didn’t…’ said the guvnor, looking at Leonie.
