by Dilly Court
‘It’s taken me months to find you, Phoebe. Did you think you could get rid of me so easily? I told you that I wouldn’t let you go and I meant it.’
‘Go away,’ she cried passionately. ‘Leave me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you.’
He pushed past her and strode into the front parlour as if he owned the place. She followed him, her heart thudding against her ribcage. She was as close to panic as she had ever been in her life. Caspar did not know the full story but he knew enough to make things very difficult. If he told her grandparents that Teddy was Annie’s child the whole sorry tale would come out. She hesitated in the doorway, watching him as he strolled around the table, picking up the bell that she had placed in readiness for the séance that afternoon. He rang it once and the sound reverberated eerily through the silent house. ‘What do you want, Caspar?’ She made an effort to appear calm and in control of the situation, but inwardly she was quaking.
‘You, my pet.’ He replaced the bell on the table. ‘I see you’re carrying on where your slattern of a mother left off.’
‘Get out of my house. I won’t allow you to sully Ma’s good name with your vicious words.’
‘She’s dead, and unless you can conjure up her spirit she’s past caring what anyone says about her.’
Phoebe glanced nervously at the black marble clock on the mantelshelf. Nonna would be returning from market any minute now. She must get Caspar away from the house. ‘Why did you come here? You must have found another assistant by now.’
‘Yes, I have, but she’s a silly girl with fewer brains than a fly. I want you back, Phoebe. I’ve got a booking at the Charing Cross theatre, and I must have a perfect act if I’m to make my mark in London.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t help you, Caspar. I have responsibilities at home and I’m engaged to be married.’
He fixed her with the gaze that had always had the power to mesmerise her. ‘You don’t love him, whoever he is, and you won’t marry him.’
‘You’re talking nonsense. You know nothing of my life here.’
‘But I know you, Phoebe. We worked closely together in Brighton. I understand the way you feel and think. Together we can make our fortune.’
She held the door open, motioning him to leave. ‘I’m sure you will do quite well without me. I’m asking you to go now.’
‘I’m not leaving until you agree to hear me out.’
The sound of the front door opening and Nonna’s firm tread on the creaking floorboards made Phoebe move a little further into the room to avoid being seen by her grandmother. The squeaking wheels of the perambulator and Teddy’s hungry whimpering made her glance anxiously at Caspar, hoping that by some miracle he had not heard.
He had cocked his head on one side, eyeing her like a blackbird that had spotted a juicy worm. ‘Annie’s little bastard. I didn’t think you would have left him in Brighton with that simpleton Dolly.’ He held up his hand as Phoebe opened her mouth to protest. ‘It was through her that I traced your whereabouts. She couldn’t tell me who fathered the boy, but she did know that your father died many years ago and that Annie had never remarried.’
Phoebe’s nerves were stretched to breaking point. ‘My grandmother has just come home,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t want her to see you.’
He gave her a smug smile. ‘Then you will have to listen to my proposition or I will introduce myself to the good lady. I’m sure she would be most interested to know that her daughter-in-law gave birth to an illegitimate child.’ He chuckled mirthlessly. ‘I just wonder how you explained the parentage of the child that you brought home from Brighton.’
She reached for her shawl. ‘We’ll discuss this somewhere else.’
‘That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said so far.’
Tiptoeing along the hallway, Phoebe led him out of the house. She walked on ahead, fearing that one of their neighbours might see her with the tall stranger whose dandified appearance marked him out as a man of means. His charcoal-grey frock coat was impeccably cut and his pin-stripe trousers tailored to perfection. He walked with a swagger and carried a silver-topped ebony cane that must have cost a week’s wage for an ordinary working man. Part of her hoped that the street arabs would mob him and steal his valuables, but they slunk away when he glared at them and hid in doorways until he had passed by. There was something magnetic and yet menacing about Caspar Collins. She wished with all her heart that he had remained in Brighton or Bournemouth or wherever his last theatre booking had taken him.
‘I could do with a glass of brandy,’ Caspar said, stopping outside the pub frequented by the Paxmans.
This was the last thing that Phoebe wanted. She had intended to take him to a coffee house nearby. ‘This isn’t a nice place.’
‘We won’t stay long and I have other matters to attend to today.’ He opened the pub door and a gust of warm air wafted out laced with tobacco smoke and the odour of stale beer and sweat. She closed her eyes as memories flooded back of the times when as a small child she had been sent out looking for her mother, and had brought her home dead drunk. She was about to refuse but she caught sight of Ethel Fowler and Minnie Sykes heading their way. She knew that Ethel would neither have forgotten nor forgiven her for thwarting her plans for Dolly and she wanted at all costs to avoid a confrontation. The pub seemed the lesser of two evils.
‘All right,’ she said, slipping past him into the taproom. ‘Just for a few minutes and then I must go.’ She blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and the smoky atmosphere. She made her way to a table as far away from the entrance as possible, where she could get a good view of anyone who came in after them, but she did not see Ned Paxman until she almost trod on his outstretched foot.
‘By God, you’re a stranger, young Phoebe.’ His smile faded. ‘Rogue told me about Annie. I was sorry to hear she’d passed away. You must miss her.’
Shooting a covert glance in Caspar’s direction she was relieved to see that he was talking to the barman and not paying any attention to her. ‘Yes, I do.’ She made to move on but he caught her by the wrist.
‘What was it that took her so suddenly? She was well enough when I last saw her.’
It was a question that she had been dreading, and when she did not answer straight away Ned eyed her curiously. ‘Rogue told me she died of lung disease, but she was a tough little thing. I find it hard to believe that she could succumb so easily.’
‘It was a chill,’ Phoebe said, thinking quickly. ‘She got wet one stormy night on the way to the theatre. The doctor said it was pneumonia that took her.’
‘And my brother told me that young Dolly had a baby, and you are looking after it for her.’
‘What was that you said, Ned Paxman?’ Ethel Fowler’s strident voice rang out behind them, causing all heads to turn and stare.
Phoebe backed into the corner as Ethel advanced on her like a warship in full sail. ‘You took my little girl away from me, Phoebe Giamatti. What’s this I hear you say about my Dolly?’ She turned on Ned in a fury. ‘Or was that just your filthy mouth, Paxman? I ain’t afraid of you so don’t you go scowling at me like that.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘HE’S A BAD ‘un, Ethel,’ Minnie said, standing well away from Ned. ‘You don’t want to fall foul of them Paxmans and their gang.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you wasn’t the one what seduced and ruined my little girl.’ Ethel’s voice rose an octave and she lunged at him, grabbing him by the collar. ‘She wouldn’t be the first one you’ve deflowered, you bastard.’
Ned leapt to his feet, shaking her off so that she stumbled against Minnie and they both fell to the floor in a flurry of dirty red petticoats, each of them exposing a large expanse of bare leg.
Caspar had been standing silently, listening to the exchange between Phoebe and Ned, but he was forced to leap out of the way as Ethel and Minnie struggled to their feet. His eyes met Phoebe’s and she knew that he had overheard Ethel�
��s accusation.
‘Please don’t say anything,’ Phoebe said urgently.
‘Sit down.’ He waited until she was seated before setting a glass of port on the table in front of her. ‘Drink that. You look as though you need it.’ He righted Ned’s chair, which had been knocked over in the fracas and sat on it, turning his back on Ned and Ethel who were now involved in a fierce row, with Minnie throwing in unhelpful comments. ‘Well, Phoebe. What is your answer?’
‘It’s the same as before, Caspar. Nothing you could do or say would make me change my mind. I only agreed to come here because I didn’t want you to meet my grandmother. You’re no longer part of my life. In fact you never were. Working with you was simply a means of earning money. I didn’t enjoy being your assistant and I wouldn’t want to do it again.’
He downed his brandy in one greedy gulp. ‘You weren’t supposed to be having fun. Assisting me in my act is equivalent to helping a great artist create something wondrous and beautiful. You understood that, I think.’
‘Perhaps I did, but I’m not free now, Caspar.’ She tried to moderate her tone in order to placate him. She could tell by the dangerous glitter in his eyes that she was treading on quicksand.
‘Then make yourself available.’ He leaned across the table, breathing brandy fumes in her face. ‘If you don’t I’ll tell those peasants behind me that it was Annie who gave birth to your brother, and judging by what I’ve just seen and heard it doesn’t take a genius to work out who fathered the child.’ He jerked his head in Ned’s direction. ‘I think he would be most interested to learn the truth.’
‘You’re mistaken,’ Phoebe said urgently. ‘And you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Ned Paxman. He and his brother are the leaders of a notorious street gang.’
‘Then you have more to fear from them than I. Give me your answer now, Phoebe, or I’ll tell him your mother’s shameful secret. Your life won’t be worth living round here if these people discover the truth.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you’d do something so wicked, and I won’t be bullied into working with you. Teddy needs me and I’m marrying Gino in September.’
Caspar rose to his feet. He tapped Ned on the shoulder. ‘I’ve something to tell you, mister.’
Ned brushed his hand away. ‘Who are you?’
‘That doesn’t matter, but I know that young Dolly isn’t the mother of the child living in the Giamatti house.’
Ethel stared at him in astonishment. ‘What’s this cove saying?’
Phoebe stood up even though her knees were trembling violently. ‘Don’t take any notice of what he says. He’s a madman.’
‘Madman, am I?’ Caspar rounded on her. ‘You’re the one who’s been lying and duping people. Tell him whose baby it is that you’re bringing up as your own.’
‘Yours, Phoebe?’ Ned stared at her, and his shocked expression might have been comical had the situation not been so dire. ‘That’s not what you told my brother.’
Ethel pushed past Caspar to grab Phoebe by the shoulders. She shook her mercilessly. ‘What have you been up to? You stole my girl from me and now I hear that you’re a wanton like your mother. I won’t allow Dolly to live with someone like you. I want her back. D’you hear me?’
Ned pulled them apart. ‘Shut up, Ethel.’ He clamped his hands on Phoebe’s arm, his strong fingers digging into her flesh. ‘Whose baby is it? Answer me.’
She bowed her head and tears streamed from her eyes. ‘Yours,’ she whispered. ‘Ma died in childbirth.’
He relaxed his hold and she sank back onto the chair, covering her eyes with her hand.
‘Is this true? Are you telling me that Annie died giving birth to my son?’
She nodded. ‘Please don’t take my brother away from me, Ned. And for God’s sake don’t tell my grandfather or my uncles.’
‘My son.’ Ned brushed his fair hair back from his forehead in a gesture so like his brother’s that for a moment it could have been Rogue staring at her as if he could not believe his ears. ‘I have a son.’ His hand shot out and he grabbed her by the wrist. ‘Why wasn’t I told of this? Why did you keep it from me?’
Phoebe wrenched her arm free, rubbing her flesh where bruises were already beginning to show. ‘Because this is exactly how I thought you’d behave, Ned Paxman. Teddy is my half-brother and I wanted to protect him from you and your kind.’
‘Teddy.’ He shook his head. ‘Who named him that?’
‘My mother wanted him to be called Edward. It was her dying wish.’
‘My name is Edward,’ Ned said slowly. ‘I was named after my father. He died many years ago, leaving Rogue and me to fend for ourselves.’
‘My heart’s breaking for you,’ Ethel said with a sarcastic curl of her lip. ‘Never mind about the Paxmans, Phoebe. Where’s my daughter? I want her back where she belongs.’
‘She’s safe and happy and she doesn’t want anything to do with you, Mrs Fowler.’ Phoebe picked up her shawl which had fallen to the floor. ‘She doesn’t want to come back to London. Who could blame her?’
‘Slap the little trull, Ethel.’ Minnie reached out to tug Phoebe’s hair. ‘You’re a troublemaker just like Annie. You deserve a good walloping.’ She dodged behind Ethel’s back as Ned raised his hand to her.
‘Get out of here, you harpies. If you’ve got a grievance against Phoebe sort it out somewhere else.’ He took a swipe at Ethel but she dodged and he caught Minnie a glancing blow on the side of her head which sent her reeling.
‘Very brave, hitting a woman,’ Ethel hissed, backing away from him. ‘I’ll set me dog on you next time you come my way, Ned Paxman.’ She hoisted a tearful Minnie to her feet. ‘I’ll get even with you.’
‘Get out before I throw you out,’ Ned roared, fisting his hands.
Phoebe rose from her seat to face Caspar, who had been watching with his arms folded across his chest and a smirk on his classic features. ‘I hope you’re satisfied, Caspar Collins. You’ve done your worst so don’t you dare pester me any longer. I won’t work for you and that’s final.’
Ned turned on him, his teeth bared and his nostrils quivering. ‘What have you been saying to Phoebe, mister? Her mother was my woman and I’ll not stand by and see Annie’s daughter bullied by a toff like you.’
Caspar’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘How dare you speak to me in that tone, my man? Do you know who I am?’
‘I don’t bloody care who you are, mate. If Phoebe says she don’t want to go with you then that’s enough for me.’ Moving with the grace of a panther, he caught Caspar by the collar and the seat of his well-cut trousers and frogmarched him through the taproom, much to the amusement of the men drinking at the bar. Kicking the door open, Ned ejected Caspar from the pub with the toe of his boot. Wiping his hands together, he returned to Phoebe’s side. ‘Come on, ducks.’
‘What?’ She stared at him dumbfounded. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To see me son, of course. Did you think I’d turn me back on my own flesh and blood?’
Someone cheered and was instantly hushed by his companions as Ned shepherded Phoebe out of the pub without giving her a chance to protest. But outside in the street she came to a halt, refusing to move. ‘You can’t come to the house. My grandmother is there and she thinks that Teddy is mine. It was the only way I could explain his birth without giving Ma away.’
He studied her face, frowning. ‘So you were going to keep my son’s birth a secret from me forever?’
She nodded. ‘You’ve heard of vendetta?’
‘I’m not afraid of a parcel of hokey-pokey makers.’
‘Perhaps you should be. It wouldn’t just be my family who would come after you and your brother. There would be out and out war between them and their supporters and your gang. Do you really want that?’
He took her by the hand. ‘Come with me.’ He started off in the opposite direction to Saffron Hill.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To find Rogue.
I’ll not do anything without asking his opinion.’
‘Please don’t. Can’t you just forget all about this? If it hadn’t been for Caspar you would never have known.’
Still slightly breathless from the walk to the Paxmans’ four-storey terraced house in Wilderness Row overlooking Charterhouse Green, Phoebe was astonished to find them living in a respectable area with a tailor’s establishment on one side and a watchmaker’s on the other. It was hardly the sort of dwelling that she might have expected to be inhabited by the leaders of a street gang. Visions of dingy rooms in old-fashioned rookeries would have seemed more appropriate to their nefarious calling. Even more surprising, a fresh-faced maidservant wearing a clean cotton print dress and spotless white mobcap opened the door and ushered them into the entrance hall. The gleaming oak floorboards smelt of beeswax polish and wet dogs. This latter fact was confirmed by the sudden appearance of two springer spaniels who leapt at Ned, yelping ecstatically and bouncing about spraying droplets of water from their damp coats. At his command they came to heel. ‘Follow me,’ he said, beckoning to Phoebe. He strode into the front room and she was left with little option other than to comply. She could not help feeling that her place in the scheme of things was slightly lower than that of his dogs, and she might have refused such a curt order, but her curiosity was aroused.
The oak-panelled room more closely resembled a gentleman’s study than the hub of a gang leader’s operations. A charcoal portrait of a distinguished-looking gentleman caught her attention and his eyes seemed to follow her as she crossed the floor to where Rogue was seated behind a desk, poring over some kind of ledger. He closed it with a snap when he saw her, and rose to his feet, frowning. ‘Ned. What’s the meaning of this? Why did you bring her here?’
‘I can explain,’ Ned said, motioning the dogs to sit. They obeyed instantly, tongues lolling out of their mouths and their eyes shining as they looked up at him.
