by Dilly Court
‘That’s nice, Gino. But I can’t stop.’ She continued walking at a brisk pace but he fell into step beside her, seemingly regardless of the fact that he was trampling ankle-deep through rubbish.
‘It’s your mamma, again, isn’t it? What has she done this time, cara? Is it an angry wife or a cheated client who chases her?’
‘Neither.’ Phoebe stopped outside the pub door. ‘She has money.’
He pulled a face. ‘Not for long, eh?’
‘No.’ Phoebe pushed the door open, grimacing as a gust of hot smoky air billowed out of the taproom. She stepped inside, peering through the haze of tobacco smoke, but it was the sound of her mother’s laughter that directed her to a corner of the ingle nook where she found Annie seated beside a rotund gentleman dressed in sombre black with a white stock at his neck over which his several chins wobbled when he chuckled. His chubby fingers, mottled like pink pork sausages, toyed with the buttons on Annie’s cotton blouse.
‘It’s time to go home, Ma,’ Phoebe said firmly.
Annie looked up at her and her eyes widened, but the smile remained fixed on her face. She lifted her glass to her lips in a defiant gesture and drained its contents in one gulp. ‘Go away. Can’t you see I’m busy?’
Phoebe squared her thin shoulders. ‘You’re wanted at home, Ma. I’d like you to come now.’
Annie’s companion cleared his throat. ‘You heard what your mother said, young lady. Show some respect for your elders and do as she bids you.’
Phoebe recognised him as Amos Snape, a clerk who worked at Nicholson’s Distillery in St John Street. She had seen him in her mother’s company on several occasions, and although he was preferable to some of Annie’s other gentlemen friends he had a somewhat dubious reputation and it was rumoured that his late wife’s death was not as accidental as he claimed. Annie might think she was subtly gleaning details about his domestic affairs in order to lure him into a mock séance, but Phoebe suspected that Amos had designs on her mother that did not include paying a penny or twopence in order to contact his dear departed; in fact the very reverse was probably true. If it were at all possible for the dead to speak, Nellie Snape might have something to say that would wipe the smile off her husband’s face forever. If she closed her eyes, Phoebe could visualise a hangman’s noose dangling over his head. She did not need a crystal ball to predict Snape’s future, and from the lascivious gleam in his small piggy eyes when he glanced at the swell of Annie’s breast, she could tell that his intentions were far from honourable. The large glass of gin that stood untouched as yet next to the tot that her mother had just consumed was evidence enough of his desire to get Ma swipey. Not that Annie needed much encouragement. Phoebe leaned closer. ‘Come along, Ma. Please.’
Annie giggled, shaking her head. ‘I done me bit this morning, love. Give a girl the chance to have some fun.’
Phoebe was about to insist when Gino laid his hand on her shoulder. She glanced up into his face and he winked at her before turning his full attention on Amos. ‘I don’t want to worry you, cully. But I think I see your boss walking down the street in this direction. Maybe he looks for you, maybe not. It’s a mystery. Yes?’
Amos leapt to his feet, his prominent belly straining against the buttons on his waistcoat. ‘Are you certain? Or are you spinning me a tale, you stupid macaroni.’
Gino held his hands palm upwards with an expressive shrug of his shoulders. ‘Do you want to take a chance on it, signore? I maybe a stupid macaroni, but I ain’t the one who’ll look foolish when his boss finds him in the pub.’
‘Get out of my way, Eyetie.’
With a bow and a smile, Gino moved aside. ‘Signore.’
Amos shot him a malevolent glance as he barged past and hurried out into the street.
‘What did you do that for?’ Annie demanded angrily. ‘We was just having a bit of a giggle, and I was close to finding out how poor Nellie come to a sticky end.’
Phoebe helped her mother to her feet. ‘Never mind that now, Ma. Let’s go home, shall we?’
‘What are you grinning at?’ Annie said, glaring at Gino. ‘You should be at work, young man.’
Gino shook his head. ‘I’ve sold my share of hokey-pokey for today, Signora Giamatti.’
‘That’s as maybe, but my girl has things to do. You’ll have Mamma Giamatti to deal with if you keep Phoebe from her chores.’ Annie picked up the glass of gin and downed it in one swallow. She gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘That was good Hollands, none of your jigger gin for Amos; I’ll say that for him. But thanks to you two I’ll have me work cut out now to persuade him to contact his dear Nellie.’ She tossed her head, eyeing Phoebe defiantly. ‘I ain’t coming, girl. So don’t look at me like that.’ Her expression changed on an instant from sullen to one of delight.
Realising that she had lost her mother’s attention, Phoebe turned her head and her heart sank as she realised who it was that had wrought the change in her mother’s mood. Burly costermongers and porters from the nearby markets moved swiftly out of his path as Rogue Paxman crossed the floor to join them. Phoebe glanced anxiously at the man who was known to be the leader of a notorious mob. If her father had not become embroiled in their nefarious doings he might still be alive this day. She felt suffocated by his presence and when she swallowed there was a bitter taste in her mouth, but to her horror she realised that her mother was smiling a welcome to the man who had brought tragedy to their family. ‘Mother,’ Phoebe said in a low voice. ‘Come with me, please.’
‘Oh, Lord, don’t be such a spoilsport,’ Annie said without looking at her. ‘I think Rogue wants a word or two with me.’
Gino made a move towards Annie, as if to protect her, but Paxman, still smiling, barred his way. ‘Excuse us, mate.’ There was a hidden threat in his words, and Phoebe was alarmed to see his hands fisted at his side. Rogue Paxman was not a man to take no for an answer. His shrewd sea-green eyes set beneath straight fair eyebrows and a thatch of corn-gold hair were at odds with his powerful physique and the strong set of his jaw. He stood a good head and shoulders taller than Gino and he was not the sort of man with whom any sane person would pick a quarrel. Sending a pleading look to her mother, Phoebe clutched Gino’s arm. ‘I think we’d best leave now. Come along, Ma.’
Annie shook her head. ‘I’ll be along when I’m ready, ducks. Right now I’ve got business with Rogue. Private business.’ She tapped the side of her nose, winking at Paxman as she resumed her seat. She held up her empty glass. ‘A glass of Hollands would go down a treat.’
He took it from her with slight inclination of his head. ‘I’m happy to oblige, ma’am.’ With a smile directed at Phoebe he made his way to the bar.
She turned on her mother, bending down to speak in an urgent undertone. ‘Ma, have you lost your senses? Rogue Paxman is a villain. Pa might be here now if he hadn’t got mixed up with the mobs. Don’t have anything to do with him, I beg of you.’
Annie gave her a tipsy smile. ‘Don’t fuss, girl. I’m not a muggins. I can think for myself. Rogue and his brother Ned have money. I ain’t going to live in Mamma Giamatti’s attic for the rest of me life. At last I can see a way out for you and me, Phoebe. I’m sick of the smell of bloody ice cream and that Italian woman telling me what to do. I’m tired of pretending to conjure up spirits when the only one that interests me comes in a stone bottle. The Paxmans owe us, and they’re our ticket out of Saffron Hill.’
Phoebe glanced anxiously over her shoulder. She could see Paxman making his way back to the table. ‘The only place he’ll lead us to is the cemetery, Ma. He’s nothing but trouble and his brother is even worse.’
Annie threw back her head and laughed. ‘Got your own crystal ball now, have you, ducks?’ She looked up at Paxman as he passed her a fresh drink. ‘Ta, Rogue. Come and sit beside me and we’ll have a nice cosy chat. My girl’s just leaving.’
Phoebe hesitated, meeting his amused gaze with a stubborn tilt of her chin. She hated this man with a passion, and his worthles
s brother too. It was rumoured that the Paxman family had been involved in criminal activities for generations, and they lived in some style in a large house overlooking Charterhouse Gardens. Rogue had been born to the life and although there was a degree of respect for his gang locally, this was tempered by fear. The only thing that could be said of the Paxman mob was that they kept the other high mobs at bay. Their rule was absolute and their code was law to those who lived by it. Phoebe had heard her grandfather complaining that if the police had as much control of the streets as the Paxman brothers, this part of London would be a safer place. Phoebe could not agree. The law was there to protect honest citizens, and must be upheld without resorting to the bullying tactics adopted by the Paxmans. That’s what her father had taught her and she clung to that belief.
Refusing to return Paxman’s ironic smile, she felt anger roil in her belly. She would not see her mother tread the path that had led to the death of her beloved Paulo. Phoebe knew that the men her mother flirted with meant nothing to her, and her addiction to strong drink was a feeble attempt to escape from the hopelessness of her situation. Ma might be weak, but she was a good woman at heart. Of that Phoebe was certain. She snatched the glass from her mother’s hand. ‘No, Ma. You’ve had enough.’
Paxman sat astride a chair, and his eyes mocked her. ‘Isn’t that up to your mother, Miss Giamatti?’
Phoebe knew that he was laughing at her and this only added to her sense of anger and frustration. ‘Mind your own business, Rogue Paxman. I’m taking my mother home. She’s not well.’
Annie had paled visibly and Gino was plucking nervously at Phoebe’s sleeve. ‘Come, cara,’ he whispered. ‘This is not good.’
‘Sensible chap,’ Paxman said lazily. ‘Take the little tigress home where she belongs.’
Annie made a grab for the glass, but Phoebe held it out of her reach. ‘No, Ma. You’ll make yourself ill again.’
Two bright spots of colour stood out on Annie’s cheeks. ‘I’m your mother, Phoebe. You’ll do as I say. Give me my drink.’
‘Yes, don’t be a silly girl,’ Paxman said, grinning. ‘Go home and play with your dolls, or polish your crystal ball.’
Taking a deep breath, Phoebe tossed back the gin with a defiant flick of her wrist, but the unaccustomed spirit caught the back of her throat and she coughed and spluttered as she struggled for breath. Tears ran down her cheeks and someone was slapping her on the back. A handkerchief was thrust into her hands and she mopped her streaming eyes.
‘That will teach you not to do stupid things,’ Paxman said, chuckling.
Realising that it was his hanky that she held in her hand, Phoebe thrust it back at him. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Come now,’ Gino urged, eyeing Paxman nervously. ‘This is no place for you, Phoebe.’
‘Quite right, Gino, my boy.’ Paxman nodded in approval. ‘Take her away from here.’
Phoebe drew herself up to her full height. ‘Go away, Gino. This has nothing to do with you.’ Ignoring his muttered protests, she reached out again to her mother. ‘Please come home, Ma.’ She blinked as the room seemed to tilt sideways, or perhaps it was her head that was spinning. She could not work out which, but the gin was certainly having an effect. ‘Please, Ma,’ she added faintly.
Annie rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘You stupid girl. Get out of here.’ She raised her hand as if to slap Phoebe’s face but the blow never landed. Annie’s knees buckled and she slipped silently to the ground.
Paxman stood up. ‘What a pair you are,’ he said dispassionately.
Phoebe’s senses were still dulled from the aftereffects of swallowing strong spirits on an empty stomach, and she gazed down at her mother in disbelief. She had seen Ma swipey on many occasions but never insensible. ‘Are you all right, Ma?’
‘I’ll get help,’ Gino said, backing away through the interested crowd of onlookers.
‘Don’t bother.’ Paxman bent down to scoop Annie up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. ‘Let’s get this woman home where she belongs.’
Phoebe’s head was beginning to ache and she was in no condition to argue. She followed him as he carried Annie out of the pub and down the street towards the Giamattis’ tall, narrow house, wedged in between a shop selling milk and a hay merchant. Gino had run on ahead despite Phoebe’s pleas for him to stop. She saw her grandfather emerge from the house and she could tell by the way his bushy eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose and the scowl on his face that there was going to be trouble.
Fabio stepped into the street, rolling up his sleeves. ‘What is all this?’
‘It’s nothing, Nonno,’ Phoebe said hastily. ‘Ma fainted. That’s all.’
Fabio leaned closer to her. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No. Well, yes. But I can explain.’
Fabio caught her a blow round the head that sent Phoebe spinning across the cobblestones and she landed in a heap on the doorstep, clutching her sore ear. ‘What have I told you about liquor? It’s the way of the devil, my girl.’
Paxman thrust Annie’s limp body into Fabio’s arms. ‘And I’m supposed to be the villain round here. I’ve never hit a woman, old man. Take this one and keep her safe.’ He strode across to lift Phoebe to her feet. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, pulling away from him. ‘I don’t need your help.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Tell Annie to keep away from Ned,’ he said in a low voice. ‘That’s what I was going to say to her. Your mother plays a dangerous game, Phoebe. She doesn’t know what she is getting into. Take her to Italy in the autumn if you can, but if you value her life, then make certain she keeps away from my brother and that bastard, Amos Snape.’
Chapter Two
INSIDE THE HOUSE, Fabio carried Annie up three flights of stairs to the attic room she shared with Phoebe. He laid her down on the iron bedstead, straightening his back and running his hand through his hair as he met Phoebe’s reproachful gaze. ‘I’m sorry, cara. That’s the first time I’ve ever raised my hand to you and it will be the last, but I can’t bear the thought that you will turn out like her.’ He looked down at Annie’s prostrate form, shaking his head. ‘Strong drink isn’t the answer.’
‘I know,’ Phoebe said softly. ‘It’s all right, Nonno. I only drank the hateful stuff so that Ma wouldn’t. I had to do something to get her away from that brute. I hate him and his whole family.’
Fabio reached out and took her in his arms, hugging her to his broad chest. His apron was spattered with cream and smelt of vanilla. ‘I would rather cut off my hand than hurt you, little one. You must come home to Stresa with us in September. I cannot leave you here with your mamma and her ghosts. It’s not good for you.’
‘Maybe. We’ll see, Nonno.’
He backed towards the doorway, ducking his head as he left the room. ‘Think about it, cara.’
Alone with her mother, Phoebe perched on the edge of the bed. Blue bruise-like shadows underlined Annie’s eyes and her skin had a sickly translucent sheen. She stirred and her eyelids fluttered. She gazed dazedly at Phoebe. ‘What happened?’
‘You fainted, Ma. Went out like a light in the pub.’
Annie attempted to sit up, but fell back against the pillows with a groan. ‘Fetch me a bowl. I feel sick.’
Phoebe held her mother’s head as she retched into the washbowl and she cleaned her up afterwards, mopping her face and hands with a damp cloth as if Annie were a small child. ‘Are you feeling better now, Ma?’
‘A bit, ta.’
‘This ain’t the first time you’ve been poorly like this. I know because I heard you outside in the privy. Should I fetch the doctor?’
Annie’s pale lips curved in a wry smile and she lay back, closing her eyes. ‘It’s nothing the quack can help with, Phoebe. So much for seeing into the future and hearing heavenly voices; the angels was all on holiday when I prayed for it not to be true.’
‘Ma?’ Phoebe took her mother’s cold hand and chafed it.
‘Are you ill? Have you got a fever?’
Annie’s blue eyes opened and tears trickled down her cheeks. ‘I wasn’t sure until today, ducks. I thought at thirty-six I was too old to get caught like this.’
‘You can’t be! Surely not?’
Annie pulled her hand free and laid it on her belly. ‘It’s Ned’s. I don’t know if I love or hate the bugger.’
‘Ned Paxman?’ Phoebe released her mother’s hand as if the touch of her skin burned her own flesh. ‘No, Ma. You didn’t. Not with him.’
Sighing, Annie shrugged her shoulders. ‘He’s a good-looking cove, and he makes me laugh. There’s precious little of that around here.’
‘But it was through him that Pa got killed by the Smithfield mob.’
‘They was in it together. It wasn’t Ned’s fault.’
‘But you went with him, Ma. How could you do such a thing?’
‘Ned isn’t all bad, Phoebe. I know I’m too old for the likes of him, but the others was just flirtations. Leading them on was more business than pleasure, but it was different with Ned.’
‘And do you think he’d stand by you?’
‘It was just a bit of a lark for him. I knew that all along, but I couldn’t help meself. He made me feel like I used to when I was a girl in Stepney.’
Phoebe slipped off the bed to pace the floor. ‘If Nonno, Julio and Lorenzo find out about this there’ll be trouble you can’t even begin to imagine, Ma. If the Camorra gets involved there’ll be murder and mayhem.’
Annie curled up on her side, wrapping her arms around her knees. ‘What will they do to me and my baby?’
Phoebe froze, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut out the pictures of bloodlust and revenge flashing before them in quick succession. ‘They mustn’t find out. I don’t know what we’ll do but I’ll think of something.’ She moved to the bed and sat down beside her mother. ‘How far gone are you?’
‘I don’t know. Two or three months. I’m not sure.’
