by Martina Cole
‘His hair’s getting darker.’
‘Yes, but he’s still got your red highlights. I think he’ll probably be a dark brown, like me.’
Briony nodded. She’d noticed that Isabel often tried to point out likenesses to herself in the child and far from being irritated by it, felt sorry for her. If poor Isabel had had a normal man and her own children she would have been an exemplary mother, her treatment of Benedict proved that.
‘I have something to tell you, Briony. I’ve been trying to find the words...’
She was alarmed at Isabel’s tone.
‘What? Is - is Ben...’
‘Oh no, nothing to do with him. Well, not directly anyway. We’re moving up to the West End. Henry’s bought a house in Belgravia and we feel it’s about time we moved away. This house is far too small really, and my father would see more of Benedict...’
There, it was said. She didn’t add that this monthly visit from Briony was worrying her. That she was frightened that now Benedict was getting older he might become too attached to the young redhead he saw in the park. That she was secretly jealous of the time he spent in his mother’s company.
She could not look into Briony’s eyes and see the hurt and confusion she knew she would find there. Instead she busied herself picking up the child and settling him on her lap. She kissed his downy head and hugged him to her. Briony watched as her son put his fingers up to Isabel’s mouth and she kissed them, pretending to bite them gently and making the child laugh. Briony felt as if a stone had been placed inside her chest. A big solid weight that would eventually drag her down.
‘I see.’ But she didn’t see. She didn’t see at all. She was shrewd enough to guess what was really behind the action. She wondered who wanted the move most, Henry or Isabel.
‘When will I see him then?’
‘Oh, we’ll sort that out in due course. I think it’s best if the visits are cut down anyway. He’s as bright as a button and might start saying your name, or when he’s talking he might tell someone about you. That would not be good for any of us, let alone the child.’
Briony licked dry lips.
‘But I must see him, Isabel. I have to see him sometimes.’
‘And you shall see him, I promise. Only we have to be careful. If Henry knew he was seeing you now ...’
She left the sentence unfinished.
Briony put her hand out to the child and he grasped her slim fingers, bringing them to his mouth to chew on them. Briony felt the tiny needle-sharp teeth as he gnawed and the familiar love for him overwhelmed her. If she was denied access to him she would die inside. Not an hour of the day went by but she thought of him. Everything else in her life was as nothing compared to this child.
‘But I have to see him, Isabel.’ Briony’s voice was louder than she’d intended and Isabel put her hand on her arm.
‘For goodness’ sake, keep your voice down. Do you want all the nannies to know our business and take it back to their houses with them?’
Briony shook her head and Isabel settled the boy once more in his carriage and stood up.
‘I really have to be going. I’ll be in touch soon.’
Briony nodded weakly as she watched her son being pushed away from her. Her eyes blurred as tears stung them and she stared after Isabel and the child until they disappeared out of the park gates.
Molly was force-feeding Rosalee when Briony arrived. Rosalee was going through one of her not-eating phases. She swung between a state of constant hunger and one of not eating a scrap. Either way she still got heavier and heavier. Briony walked in the door and, kissing Rosalee’s face, took the spoon from her mother and began to feed her sister. Molly watched as Rosalee ate every morsel Briony gave to her.
‘You’ve certainly got a way with her, Bri. I wish to God I had it.’
Molly poured out two mugs of tea as Briony finished feeding Rosalee, then, taking off her hat, perched it on Rosalee’s head and grinned at her.
Rosalee, looking ridiculous in the lilac confection, grinned back, saying her only words, ‘Bri Bri’ and clapping her hands together.
Molly tried to grab the hat off Rosalee’s head but Briony stayed her hand.
‘Oh, leave her alone, Mum, it’s only a hat.’
‘A hat that cost a small fortune.’
‘So what? I don’t mind, and it’s my hat, so why should you care?’
Molly sipped her steaming tea and shook her head.
‘I just saw Benedict. Isabel and Henry are moving up West with him. I think the days of letting me see him are numbered.’
Molly put a hand over her daughter’s and said, ‘Well, what did you expect, love? They won’t want you around now, will they? And it’s better for the boy.’
‘But I’m his mother, Mum. Me, not her!’
‘I know that. But, Briony love, he’s better off where he is and you must accept that. He’s their child now. Theirs. Not yours. You just try and remember that this way he will have everything he ever wants out of life.’
Briony nodded. She knew that what her mother said made sense, but when you loved someone as she loved Benedict, it didn’t make any difference.
‘That Kerry is getting to be a handful, Briony. She was caught singing in the pub again. I’ve scalped the arse off of her but it’s no good.’
Kerry, now twelve, was uncontrollable. She would sing in a midden if someone would listen.
‘Where is she now?’
‘She’s out with Bernie and Mother Jones. They’re pea picking.’
Briony was glad of the change in the conversation. She knew that her mother was all for Benedict being with the Dumases and it would only cause more rows if they discussed it further.
‘Pea picking? Well, she can sing to her heart’s content there.’
‘True, and she will, knowing her. When’s the house opening?’
‘In a couple of days. It’s finished, the girls are all interviewed and ready to go, and Tommy is sorting out the last few details today. We’ll need a few more strong men like Abel to keep a modicum of peace.’
Abel was now one of the men employed to dress in dinner suits and mingle with the guests. If there was any trouble they would deal with it as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.
Molly shook her head and smiled.
‘Imagine you owning two houses, I can’t believe it.’
Briony smiled despite herself. Her mother had changed her opinion on Nellie Deakins and the like when she had found out how much money was involved in the business. Also Abel, whom Briony knew to be her mother’s beau, had been offered a job at twice his old money and that made Molly happier still.
Kerry and Bernie burst through the door, bringing the smell of the open fields with them.
‘Hello, Briony!’
Both girls kissed her and then Rosalee was clapping her hands together to show her excitement. They both screamed with laughter as they saw the lilac hat perched on her short-cropped hair.
Molly busied herself making them some tea and a bite to eat. Kerry sat opposite Briony and grinned at her.
‘This house you’re opening up, will you have any entertainment there?’
Molly looked at Briony with raised eyebrows. ‘There’ll be plenty of entertainment there girl, don’t you worry about that.’
Kerry sighed loudly. ‘I don’t mean that kind of entertainment. I mean, will you have a band there playing music or anything?’
Briony shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Then you should. It’ll make it a bit different, wouldn’t it? From what I’ve heard, the people what go there have a drink and a natter first. Well, why not give them a bit of entertainment like?’
‘Such as, Kerry?’
She stood up and opened her arms wide.
‘Like me, of course! I know all the popular songs and I’d only need a piano player like. I don’t need no orchestra nor nothing. I can sing everything, you know that, Briony. It’d be good for you and good for me. I don’t want to end u
p in Myrdle Street in some sweat shop, I want to be a singer.’
Briony laughed at her sister’s outrageous suggestion. Kerry singing in a bordello? It was absurd.
‘Oh, come on, Bri. You know I could do it. Just give me one try and if it don’t work then that’s that ... Oh, Briony, answer me then!’
Kerry’s voice was sharp now. She wanted this so badly she could practically taste it.
‘Look, you’re twelve years old...’
Kerry interrupted her.
‘I want to sing, Mum, I don’t want to work there as a doxie, do I? I will put on a nice dress and hat and just do a few lively numbers to get everyone in a good mood. That’s all. Abel will be there to keep his eye on me, and Briony and Tommy. Where’s the bleeding harm in that?’
Striking a pose that looked ridiculous in her pea-picking clothes, she began to strut up and down the kitchen, singing:
‘Jeremiah Jones - a lady’s man was he - Every pretty girl he liked to spoon. Till he found a wife, and down beside the sea, Went to Margate for the honeymoon.’
Briony and Molly creased up with laughter as Kerry began. Coming to the chorus, she swept out her arms and roared at the top of her voice:
‘Hello, Hello, who’s your ladyfriend? Who’s the little girlie by your side...’
Molly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. As much as she scolded Kerry, she had to admit that the girl was talented and could be hilarious when the fancy took her.
Kerry knelt down in front of Briony and implored with her eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Bri. Give me a chance.’
Briony grinned. She had needed a bit of fun today and should have known it would come from Kerry.
‘I’ll talk to Tommy about it. But that’s all I can do, so don’t get your hopes up.’
Kerry cuddled her sister close and shrieked out loud in excitement.
‘Oh, thanks, Bri. Thanks. You won’t regret it.’
Briony looked at her mother. ‘What about you, Mum? What do you think?’
‘Abel will be there as she says, and you and Tommy. It can’t do any harm.’
None of them had noticed a jealous Bernie slip from the room.
Eileen came down the stairs and smiled at everyone and Briony looked at the thin vague-faced girl who had once been her bright and chatty sister, and felt depression descend again.
Sometimes life stank. And the worst of it all was, hers had hardly even started.
She tried to make conversation with her sisters for the rest of her time there, but her mind was on Benedict once more.
Briony had taken Kerry out shopping and bought her a green, high-necked, natural-waisted dress. It suited her perfectly and was respectable enough to please not only Briony but her mother and Abel as well. It had long sleeves with hanging three-quarter flounces in black lace. She had her black hair piled high on her head, and wore a large-brimmed black and green silk hat over it. She also had a green silk parasol which finished the outfit, and black button boots.
Briony stared at her, amazed. Kerry looked much older than her years, being taller than Briony already. She had on a small amount of make-up provided by Lil, one of the ‘girls’, and waited eagerly for Tommy to announce her.
‘Oh, Briony, I’m so nervous, I could get tom tick!’
Briony laughed. ‘Just relax. You’re the one who wanted this, remember. Now just stay here until you hear the piano start and then make your way out.’
She kissed her on the cheek and left her in the small ante-room behind the main lounge.
Briony herself, dressed all in lemon, looked a picture. She had deliberately worn a close-fitting dress that accentuated her slim frame while revealing nothing. That much would be left to the working girls, who were all dressed in little more than stays and wrappers. The air was thick with cigar smoke and as Briony looked around her she felt a thrill of anticipation. It was their first night and the place was packed out.
She knew that most of the gentlemen normally went to Nellie’s or other such establishments and wanted them to have such a good time here that they would come back again and again. Once more she blessed Tommy for arranging such a guest list. There were no Two Bob Joes in here, only men of means with respectable reputations. She was sure that the offer of a bit of entertainment would go down well, as the men liked to get a bit drunk before they retired to the bedrooms upstairs.
She made her way through the crowded room to the double doors where Abel stood surveying the room with a serious expression. A good-looking man grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to him. Briony shrugged him off good-naturedly and he grinned at her. Tommy, seeing the exchange, came over and introduced Briony to the man as his future wife. The customer apologised profusely before being dragged off by Tilly Rowlings who rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Briony as she did so.
‘I’ll just introduce Kerry and then I’ll be back, OK?’
Briony nodded at Tommy and smiled. She watched him stand on the tiny makeshift stage and call for quiet. Everyone looked at him expectantly and he cleared his throat and introduced the new singing sensation, Kerry Cavanagh.
Kerry came out on to the stage, her face white with worry but, hearing the clapping and cheering from the men, she seemed to take on a different persona. A saucy wink at her audience and putting all her weight on to the parasol, she stuck out her behind. After nodding at the pianist who started to play her first number, she wiggled her rump, much to the merriment of the audience, and began to sing:
‘Oh, what are we gonna do with Uncle Arthur? Uncle Arthur! The dirty old man!’
Briony was laughing with the rest when she turned her head and her heart froze inside her chest. Standing at the front of the little crowd was Henry Dumas. She could see him perfectly, and as she watched him looking at Kerry she felt the bile rise inside her. He would like Kerry, she was just his type. No more than a child.
Briony grabbed Tommy’s arm and pulled him from the room and through the hallway to the offices. Closing the door with a quiet thud, she faced him.
‘What’s Henry Dumas doing here, Tommy?’
He saw the whiteness of her face and shook his head.
‘I don’t know, he must have come with one of the others. Look, Briony, I’ll go out and keep me eye on him.’
‘I want him out of here now, Tommy, I mean it.’
‘You what? Our first night and you want me to sling someone out? Let me find out who he’s with first.’
Briony could feel her hands shaking.
‘You find out then, and after you find out, you give him the bad news. I don’t want him in this house. Not now, not ever.’
Tommy walked over to her and grabbed her arms.
‘Listen, Briony, you’re only a girl for all your grown-up looks and ways. If any of them knew you owned the best part of this place, there’d be trouble. As it is now they think I’ve got a sleeping partner. I let the word go round that it’s one of them, a rich bloke who’s invested in me. If I go out there and rock the boat with Henry Dumas, he could fuck all of this up for us. Get it? Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Briony saw the earnest expression in his eyes and felt the futility of it all. What Tommy said made sense. If Henry decided to make trouble for her then he could ruin them, and she knew he was capable of it. She heard Tommy leave the room and sat in the chair, staring at the blotter in front of her without seeing it.
You had to be rich as Croesus before you didn’t have to worry about anything. You had to be as rich as Solomon to know that you could do anything you wanted. Until then you had to keep your head down and kowtow to everyone and anyone. It was like gall to her, this knowledge. Henry Dumas had taken her childhood and her child. And still she had to pander to him. Indirectly, he still ruled her life.
Well, one day she would finish him. One day she would get even.
She would not venture out of the night. She did not know what she was capable of if she came face to face with him. On top of everything else they were taking her child to
live far away from her. It was this, more than anything, that broke her heart.
Henry watched Kerry singing and was enthralled by her. He had had a lot to drink and now he felt a rosy glow enveloping him.
He walked unsteadily towards the stage and clasped his hands as the girl sang. She was singing a slow song now, and all the men and women around him were listening to the haunting voice, enjoying the sound and the timbre of it. Her little elfin face was captivating to him. He saw the jet black silky hair that framed it and felt a stabbing pain in his heart. She was exquisite.
As Kerry finished her last number, she bowed to the audience who clapped her whole-heartedly. She was as good as any of the singers at Drury Lane, or indeed at any music hall. And she was no more than a child. A large man in the front of the audience, loving the ballad she sang, took out his purse and threw a sovereign on to the small stage. The other men in the room, not wanting to be outdone, did the same and Kerry scrambled around the floor in all her finery, picking up the coins.
The pianist began to play a solo number and Kerry picked up her money as fast as she could, amazed at the reception she had received and the generosity shown her. As she picked up the last coin, a plump hand covered hers and she looked into the face of Henry Dumas.
‘Hello, my dear. You really are a very good singer.’ In his drink-fuddled brain he knew she reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite place who.
Kerry, though, knew him and, pulling her hand from under his, said: ‘Hello, Mr Dumas.’
Standing up, she walked across the little stage and back into the ante-room. She placed all the coins on the small table by the door and, taking off her gloves, began to count them. Henry Dumas followed her a few seconds later. Opening the door, he popped his head around it playfully, moustaches quivering in anticipation.
Kerry backed away from him.
‘How did you know my name, dear?’
Without thinking, she said: ‘I’m Briony’s sister.’
