The boy gave her a hard look but began to sort out the piles of paper and help with the clothes.
‘Your brother works for those men?’ Jean asked.
‘Only sometimes. He hasn’t got much choice.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Newman helped him out when he was my age and that was that. He’s not like them. He’s better than they are.’
‘He’s hurt that boy badly,’ she said.
The boy stopped for a moment.
‘He deserved it.’
‘I know you care about him, but what would you do if your brother wasn’t here?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What if he left? You can’t look after your mum by yourself.’
‘He won’t leave us,’ the boy said, looking at Jean as though she hadn’t got a clue.
‘He could be arrested for what he’s done to that boy.’
The boy went quiet.
‘You know I’m right. Not to mention all this stolen property in the house.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with you, Mrs.’
‘I saw it. You expect me to keep quiet about something like that.
‘You can’t tell on him.’
Jean paused to consider what she might or might not do. She was furious with Charlie. He had no self control and had shown himself to be as weak and corrupt as the men he worked for. She could not believe this man was capable of being a good father. There was no sense of regard for his family, only for himself and his ego. What really upset her was his stupidity. Did he genuinely think someone like Newman wouldn’t take his revenge on him and his family for such disrespect?
‘You need to tell Charlie to stop this. I don’t know what Newman’s got planned for him, but this has got to stop. Newman’s not going to let him get away with what he’s done to Jack. You know that well enough Arthur. You need to stop your brother.’
The boy looked terrified but that was exactly what Jean wanted. She had to gain control over Charlie and Phyllis somehow and perhaps the boy was her best opportunity to do so. She went upstairs and put the clothes in a drawer, keeping back a pair of the mother’s underwear, which she pulled on. She stood amongst the sprawl of contents, wondering how much of what she could see actually belonged to Charlie and she too felt like another stolen possession, left to squander in a back room. She looked down at herself encased in Phyllis’s dress and found that she could not think too harshly of her. There was no denying Phyllis’s manipulative behaviour towards both Harry and Charlie, but perhaps that was the best a woman could do when there was nothing and no-one else to help her. If there was no way to be clean herself, Jean thought, perhaps she could play soap to the lives of those around her.
She heard the front door open and there followed the familiar squeak of a wheelbarrow being pushed back through the hallway. She went downstairs to confront Charlie and found him in the kitchen removing a bottle of rum from the back of a cupboard.
‘What did you do with him?’
Charlie gave no reply but drank several gulps straight from the bottle and replaced the lid.
‘You should go now before Newman’s men come back,’ he said. ‘Arthur.’
Arthur came into the kitchen.
‘There are two cases under our bed upstairs. They’re already packed. Bring them down to the front door and then wake up mother and get her dressed.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’re going to stay with your aunt in Peckham for a few days.’
‘Why?’
‘Until this is all sorted. Don’t argue with me Arthur.’
‘Don’t do the job,’ Arthur said.
‘I haven’t got a choice.’
‘You can come with us.’
‘Arthur, I’ve got to finish this job and sort things out with Newman. Now please go and get those cases. We haven’t got much time.’
Reluctantly Arthur shuffled away from the door and a moment later Jean heard his feet on the stairs.
‘I don’t know what you’ve got in mind Charlie Cannon, but you’re mad if you think you can just run off. Are you going to leave your mother and brother to fend for themselves?’
‘Of course I’m not. I have everything under control.’
‘I don’t think you do. Not judging by what you did to that boy. Is Phyllis worth this?’
‘She’s going to have my baby.’
Jean remained silent. She was used to men talking of babies as their own, as though the man had merely stored his property in the woman for safekeeping.
‘Newman killed those two other women and he’ll kill her if he finds her.’
‘You mean those two women who were found?’
Charlie went to pick up the bottle of rum but stopped himself, instead threading the fingers of his right hand between the buttons of his jacket and turning his eyes to the dirty floor with what appeared to Jean a look of quiet despondency, of a slow burning disappointment. After a moment he shifted his hand, scratched his nose with his index finger and eyed Jean.
‘Kathryn Granger and Louise Waller were friends of Phyllis when she was at the orphanage. She was Phyllis Gallagher back then. Newman paid one of the employees to keep an eye out for girls who might be useful to him and he settled on those three. For about a year or so before their sixteenth birthday he would pay for their care, give them presents, all that kind of nonsense. By the time they were sixteen he had them out and working in the three brothels he owned. All except Phyllis. He was fond of her and she was no fool. She became one of his lovers. Newman’s already married, you see.’
‘And you were working for Newman?’
‘After my father died we had no money. Newman has this way of helping you out without you really knowing it. He gave money to my mother and we’d get food delivered, things like that. So I started helping him out. Just as a driver. That’s all I’ve ever been. I don’t get mixed up in the other stuff. I met Phyllis one evening after a job and that was that really. Phyllis decided to call things off with me and soon after Newman was bored of her. She disappeared for a while. I suppose that is when she met your brother.’
‘And so how did this all begin again?’
‘Seven weeks ago Kathryn Granger was found strangled. I knew at once it was Newman. Apparently she started working for another man from a Maltese family, who stayed here after the war. They ran a few whorehouses in the city. She shot her mouth off about all kinds of things to do with Newman’s businesses. The man started using it against Newman, informing the police, putting pressure on his other business interests. Newman went off the handle. Strangled the girl himself apparently and then had the body dumped. Louise Waller came in to see him and said that she wanted to be paid off or she would go to the police and he agreed to start with, but as you know she went the same way. I knew Phyllis had been friendly with the both of them and I suspected she had also been introduced to this Maltese family.’
‘Elma and her husband?’
‘Yes. Phyllis had been working at their café.’
‘Which is a front for a whorehouse, I presume.’
‘But Phyllis wasn’t involved with that. She just worked in the café.’
‘You believe that, do you?’
‘She has never done that. You hear me? Never.’
Charlie stopped speaking, feeling that he had already said more than he needed to say and looked at Jean as though she were incapable of understanding the situation, but she could see by the way he pulled at the fluff on his jacket while his eyes continued to search the floor of the kitchen that he was burning with anger and love. She knew then what he had in mind. He possessed the look of someone willing to tear apart the world to get what he wanted.
‘You’re going to kill Newman, aren’t you?’
He stared right at her, his broad temple glowing white in the kitchen light.
‘After tonight we won’t have to worry about him anymore. Phyllis and me are getting awa
y from here and Elma’s family will sort the rest. You understand now how important Phyllis is to me. I am going to be father to her baby.’
Jean felt stiff, tired and hungry from having witnessed Charlie’s violence and now having to hear the devastating truth about his character and his involvement with Newman, she felt utterly exhausted. He was a disaster of a man and she could see that to trust him with Phyllis’s life and that of her unborn child was sheer madness.
‘What kind of life is your child going to have?’
Charlie looked at her calmly.
‘Phyllis told me about your baby. I’m sorry. But you must realize how important it is for me to get Phyllis away from here?’
Jean did not want Charlie feeling sorry for her. The last thing she wanted from anyone was a barrage of sympathy. Why should she be browbeaten into consuming grief like medicine because everyone else wanted her to?
‘Is that why you lied about being married?’ Charlie asked.
‘I didn’t lie about it. My marriage is over or it will be soon enough.’
‘You married the wrong fellow?’
She felt the breath drop low into her body. Something shifted in her and she felt able to look Charlie straight in the eye.
‘Some women aren’t meant to be married,’ she said. ‘And some women aren’t meant to be mothers. You know, there are days when I wish I wasn’t even a woman.’
Charlie looked at her for a moment and then he returned the bottle of rum to the cupboard.
‘Now you need to be clear with me. Are you going to kill Newman?’ Jean asked.
Charlie moved across the kitchen.
‘I need to eat something. Do you want something? Bacon sandwich and eggs?’
Jean realised that she was hungry.
‘I could eat,’ she replied.
Charlie cleared a space on the worktop and brought down a wooden chopping board from a shelf above the sink. He opened the back door, went out and returned a moment later with a bundle of newspaper. He undid the paper and inside was a joint of pork which Arthur had cut from the pig. It was heavily salted, the crystals stained pink from the meat. He took a knife from a drawer and began cutting the pork into thick strips. She watched as he took a pan from a shelf and turned on the gas. In a few minutes the house was drenched in the scent of fried bacon and it made Jean’s stomach ache for food. She set out some plates and Charlie cut a half loaf of bread into slices. It was a little stale but Charlie poured the fat from the pan onto the bread and it soaked it up well enough.
‘Arthur, are you and mother ready yet?’ he called, as he cracked three eggs into the pan.
‘Yes,’ Arthur called, coming to the kitchen.
‘Eat this and see if mother will eat half a sandwich,’ Charlie said, handing him one of the plates. ‘I need to talk with Jean but we’re going to leave in fifteen minutes.’
Charlie crooked his head at Jean and then went through the hallway, signalling for her to follow him. They walked upstairs and into the little room at the back. Charlie pulled down one of the chairs and offered it to Jean, who sat with her plate on her lap while he sat on the bed. They ate in silence, Charlie pulling great wedges of bread and bacon off and shoving them into the back of his mouth with his fingers so that they glistened with pork fat and saliva. Jean ate more carefully, taking small bites so as not to make herself feel sick. When Charlie was done he set the plate down on the floor and let out a sigh.
‘So are you still set on getting your brother and Phyllis back together?’
‘If my brother is what you both say he is, then I don’t see much point in that, but I don’t think what you and Phyllis have planned is very sensible.’
Jean cast her eyes over all of the furniture and goods in the bedroom.
‘I suppose you think I stole all this?’ he said.
‘I hardly know what to think anymore.’
‘You should believe me when I say I know what I am doing.’
He changed his focus and reached for one of the wooden chairs.
‘I picked these chairs up from a neighbour’s house after she died. I like them because they’re simple looking things. The seats of them lift out. Go on, lift one off.’
Jean looked at him as though he were mad but did as he asked. The seat panel was a piece of wood with a thin layer of padding which was covered with a faded yellow piece of cloth. It lifted out easy enough.
‘Now turn them over.’
She did so and found a large brown paper packet taped to the underside of the seat.
‘There’s six hundred pounds in there. That’s all for Arthur and mother. I have another for me and Phyllis with nearly a thousand. After tonight I get another five hundred and then Phyllis and I will leave the country for a while.’
Charlie looked pleased with himself and it made Jean angry. She had an impulse to phone the police but then she thought against it. She wanted to hear the rest of what Charlie had in mind.
‘What is the job?’
Charlie’s eyes moved left and right, trying to read Jean.
‘I’ll help you, if you tell me. All I care about is making sure that baby isn’t hurt,’ she said.
‘A robbery. It’s a jewellery store, north of Oxford Circus. I simply drive and then the drop off point is at St Catherine’s Dock.’
‘And then what?’
Charlie stared at Jean once more, but the confidence had given way to a weird pained expression. Jean could tell that he was unsure of her and how much she could really be trusted. She too was unsure of how far she could go, how much she could listen to him before it would be too much. The plan seemed water thin, both unlikely and unreal, but perhaps that was simply because she had, until recently, been incapable of imagining a life which depended upon such desperate means. Still, there she was, sitting amidst the clutter, waiting for Charlie to reveal the extent of his scheme.
‘Well?’ she asked.
Charlie got up from his seat and reached for a box which sat on top of the wardrobe. He opened it, removed a smaller black metal container and placed it on the bed next to Jean. He then reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a set of keys, lining them out in his palm as though he were holding a hand of cards. Selecting a small key he opened the container to reveal a silk bag with a tassel. Carefully he lifted it out and rested it on his knee, taking his time to untie an elaborate knot. Finally he removed the contents: a service revolver. He held it awkwardly and it worried Jean to think that Charlie was too weak to do what he said he was going to do.
‘Oh, Charlie,’ was all she could manage by way of reply.
‘I’ve got to. Newman’s in a vulnerable position and that means he’ll do anything to protect himself. He’s trying to close off all his connections to the orphanage. He knows it’s the only thing the police can tie him down to. He won’t stop until Phyllis and I are dead. I know he means to kill me tonight, but we’ve got a plan. Your brother is in danger and you too. There is nothing to be done but this. Now will you help?’
Jean gave no answer in either direction.
‘I love Phyllis, you understand? These last seven weeks with her have made me sure of that.’
‘Seven weeks? Is that when you found her?’
‘Yes, but I’ve known she’s the one much longer than that. I knew when she left two years ago that she was the only woman I could be with. Phyllis knows that too. I’m all she needs. That’s why she ran away from your brother. There’s no future with him.’
Seven weeks? But Harry had known about the pregnancy for two months already. Jean could not bring herself to look Charlie in the eye. All she could do was look at the gun. Would Charlie go through with it if he knew the baby wasn’t his? Would he still love Phyllis? Is that why Phyllis had not told him? The rush of questions brought the image of Phyllis sharply into Jean’s head. She was a clever little thing, but callous too, deceiving two men over something as intimate as an unborn child. And what of the child? Of the two men who might
be a part of that future, neither seemed particularly promising. If Harry helped raise the child, it would have money, but the marriage would be a farce. But then what life could Charlie provide? This scheme of his was as dangerous as any she could imagine and even if it worked, he would be a man of limited means and a murderer too.
Jean knew what she had to do. She could almost see the unborn child with her family’s blood running through its veins, locked in Phyllis’s body and awaiting Jean’s next move. She knew she could take the child from Charlie with a few well chosen words. She could probably make him hate Phyllis. Yet she had another plan forming in her head.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Jean asked. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help you.’
‘You can make sure that Arthur and my mother get safely on a bus to my aunt’s with the money. You can then wait here until seven. If Phyllis doesn’t come here, we’ve arranged to meet at the front entrance to St Paul’s at eight. Elma’s contacts will be there. I have a bag with some clothes. If you can bring them to St Paul’s it will save me having to take them.’
‘Where is the job?’
‘I don’t know precisely. A jewellery shop. They just tell me to turn left and right. All I know is the rendezvous is at St Catherine’s Dock at six thirty. Newman will be there because it’s a major job and he’ll want to check over the goods so nothing goes astray.’
‘And that’s when you’ll do it, with all those other men there? You’re mad,’ she said.
‘As I see it, Newman and Moss are the only two worth worrying about. I won’t be alone. A couple of Elma’s friends will be there too.’
‘What if it all goes wrong?’
‘It won’t.’
‘But.’
‘If it does, Phyllis has Harry and I’m sure he’ll do his best for her. Phyllis said she’ll give the rest of the money to Arthur and he’s old enough to work.’
‘I see.’
Charlie’s eyes drifted down, taking in the dress.
‘You want to change out of that?’
Jean felt her cheeks flush.
‘I don’t have anything else with me.’
‘I mean you look good, it’s just that I’ve seen Phyllis in that and it’s kind of distracting.’
The Smog (A Jean Clarke Mystery Book 1) Page 19
