Molly's Christmas Orphans

by Carol Rivers

  As she was on the verge of unconsciousness, she heard a whisper in her ear. It wasn’t much of a whisper, because it was broken suddenly by a high-pitched whistle that had the effect of making the hands drop her painfully to the ground.

  Just before she blacked out, a boot smashed into her side, so hard that Cissy was certain her chest had split open.

  Molly was shaking like a leaf. The usherette was staring down at her, as the two policemen who had helped her and Cissy back into the foyer of the cinema watched them intently.

  Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Although she wasn’t physically hurt, her insides felt as though they had been screwed up into a tight ball and forced up into her throat. She had been made to watch Cissy attacked, a tiny scrap bounced about by that monster, and she had been unable to do anything but struggle in the other man’s arms.

  He’d held his hand across her mouth, forcing her to be silent and watch Cissy’s ordeal. That was, until she managed to thrust the heel of her shoe into his ankle. He roared in pain and the second he relaxed his grip she’d screamed for all she was worth.

  Two bobbies had been walking along the high street at that moment. Her scream had alerted them, but not in time to catch their attackers.

  ‘Cissy – Cissy?’ Molly managed to croak, as the usherette and manager of the cinema stood by the chair they had propped Cissy on. The two policeman were holding their notebooks, glancing from one to the other. But Cissy kept her head down, refusing to look up.

  ‘So you say you didn’t know them?’ one of them asked Cissy once more.

  Molly looked at Cissy. She was bent over, shivering, her face hidden under her tangled dark hair. There was no doubt she was hurting. But since she had refused to be taken to hospital, and with her outright disdain for the law, there seemed very little any of them could do.

  ‘You say these men jumped on you after you came out of the cinema?’ pestered the policeman. ‘You have no idea who they were?’

  Cissy shook her head stubbornly.

  The same question was asked of Molly. ‘No, I didn’t know them,’ she replied, ‘but I think they sat in front of us in the cinema.’

  ‘What were they wearing?’

  ‘Just coats, with hats pulled over their faces.’ Molly stood up shakily. ‘I think I should get Cissy home.’

  ‘I’d like to go over the details once more,’ persisted the other policeman.

  But Molly insisted on leaving. ‘You’ve taken our names and address. And what we can remember, which was very little as we didn’t see their faces. As we told you, they came up behind us and bundled us into the dark alley.’

  ‘So you think the motive was theft?’

  ‘It could be,’ said Molly. ‘But you came along, thank goodness.’

  ‘Perhaps it was something else?’ hinted the policeman, giving Cissy a long, curious stare.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ Molly said sharply. ‘Thank you for helping us. But I don’t think we can tell you any more. Could you call us a taxi? I know they’re few and far between, but perhaps you know of a cabbie who could drive us back to the East End?’

  The manager nodded. ‘I think we can help you there.’ He went off and the policemen put their notebooks away.

  Molly knew they really didn’t want the bother of looking for these thugs, whose description no one seemed to be able to give. Cissy refused to say much more than a mumbled, ‘I don’t remember.’ And Molly herself had very little to report about the unhappy event, except for Cissy being pinned against the wall, thrust to the floor and kicked.

  When at last the taxi arrived, the manager and usherette helped Cissy into the back seat. Molly followed, and before the driver set off she thanked them all again. She felt Cissy still shaking, her eyes coming up to peer into the blacked-out and lonely roads.

  When they eventually reached Roper Street, Molly breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly paid the taxi driver.

  She helped Cissy out and together they stumbled round to the back yard. It was very dark and quiet and Molly fumbled as she took out the key from her bag to open the back door. She needn’t have bothered, as it stood open.

  ‘Christ,’ gasped Cissy, clutching Molly tightly. ‘They’ve done us over again.’

  Molly felt sick. Fear overwhelmed her. She clung fiercely to Cissy. What were they to do?

  ‘We can’t go in,’ Cissy groaned. ‘They might still be in there.’

  Molly suddenly felt very angry. This was her shop. Her livelihood. Her home and all her possessions. How dare they do this again?

  Pulling Cissy into the shadows behind the pump, she whispered, ‘Stay here.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Inside.’

  Cissy grabbed her tight. ‘You can’t. They might—’

  ‘Don’t worry. This time I’ll be ready for them. I put one of them struts of wood in the lav that Andy took out of the window.’

  ‘Molly, don’t do it!’

  ‘Shall I run for the police, then?’ demanded Molly, already knowing Cissy’s opinion on the law.

  ‘No! Well, not them. Can we get someone else?’

  ‘Who’s awake at this time of night?’ Molly left Cissy and tiptoed softly across the yard. She opened the lavatory door, which gave a squeak. She stood quite still, glancing back at the store. No one came out. As there was a bright half-moon in a cloudless sky, she knew they must be still inside, or else they had left.

  Molly grasped the piece of wood that Andy had stood by the lav. She remembered him saying it was from the old framework, but too good to throw away. Very carefully she got hold of it and edged her way slowly to the back door.

  Sweat was running down her back as she pushed it gently. Her heart was beating so fast that the blood rushing in her ears seemed the only noise in the night. She decided then and there that if she found an intruder she would lash out and scream until she was blue in the face.

  After all, she’d had plenty of practice tonight.

  She took one step inside and felt a touch on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin, as Cissy whispered, ‘I’m right behind you, but I think we’re bloody mad.’

  Molly closed her eyes and swallowed. She held the piece of wood aloft. As soon as they were inside she put on the light, and what she saw made her gasp. The store had been looted again. Not a packet or jar was left on the shelves.

  ‘Oh no!’ breathed Cissy on a sob. ‘The buggers.’

  Molly went into the shop. They had overturned the till and scattered all the stock. But what made Molly’s blood run cold was the red paint daubed across the blackout blind.

  It said, Send the tart back where she belongs or else you’ll be sorry.

  Molly heard a groan from behind her. Cissy had fallen to the floor.

  ‘Cissy, Cissy!’ Molly bent down and took the limp shoulders. She shook her gently.

  Cissy gave a moan as she lay on the floor among all the packets and tins. ‘Wh-what happened?’

  ‘You fainted.’ Molly brushed the dust from Cissy’s clothes. ‘And no wonder, after what you’ve been through tonight.’

  Cissy burst into tears. They were accompanied by sobs that racked her whole body. Molly looked closely at her friend, who wasn’t usually given to weeping. A large red mark around her neck was growing brighter and brighter. Molly could make out the clear evidence of fingermarks. That brute of a man who had attacked her had almost managed to end her life. That was why Cissy had kept her head bowed and wouldn’t look up at the policemen. She hadn’t wanted them to see just how serious the attack had been.

  ‘Oh, Cissy, why would someone want to strangle you?’ she breathed. ‘You knew them, didn’t you?’

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Cissy said, pushing her away. ‘You don’t want to get mixed up with me.’

  Molly sat back on her haunches. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m no good. I’ll only bring you bad luck.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘No, it ain’t. You
only know half the story.’

  ‘Well, tell me the other half, then. But not right now, as I’ve got to get you upstairs.’

  ‘No. I have to go.’

  Molly almost laughed. ‘Go? Go where, in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Anywhere but here.’ Once more the tears ran down Cissy’s cheeks. Molly stared at her bedraggled friend, who wasn’t making any sense at all. Together with the fact that they had just been attacked by two strangers and returned home to find the shop burgled once again – and that awful paint daubed across the blind – well, it was just unfathomable.

  ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

  Molly jumped, and Cissy immediately stopped crying. They stayed quite still, staring at the back door. Molly knew they were both terrified. Had the looters returned?

  She grabbed the piece of wood she had dropped and scrambled to her feet. ‘Who is it?’ she demanded, though her voice sounded very small and faint.

  ‘It’s me. Spot.’

  Molly frowned, trying to keep calm. ‘Spot who?’

  ‘Yer customer. The one that buys kindling. Can I come in?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ whispered Cissy hoarsely, looking relieved as she sat up. ‘He’s a geezer who comes in the shop a bit.’

  To their surprise a little black-and-white terrier with a curly tail scampered in. He sniffed at Cissy and gave a sharp bark.

  ‘Come ’ere, Nibbles,’ called a voice, and a small, stocky man wearing a peaked cap appeared. Molly had seen him once or twice before but it was Cissy who had served him.

  ‘Blimey, missus,’ he said to Molly, sweeping his dog up under one arm. ‘What you gonna do with that?’ He nodded to the wood she was holding.

  Molly leaned it against the counter. ‘What do you want?’ she said ungraciously.

  ‘My dog was having a wee round the back there. You’ve got your lights showing. You’ll have the warden after yer if you’re not careful.’ He nodded to the stock on the floor. ‘What the bleeding heck has been going on here?’

  ‘We’ve been looted again.’

  ‘Yer, but what’s that?’ He pointed to the red daubs on the blind.

  ‘Some sick joke,’ Molly replied. ‘Can you help Cissy up the stairs?’

  ‘Course. I’ll just shut the back door.’

  ‘They broke the lock again,’ Molly called after him. ‘So draw the bolt.’

  As he went away, Molly helped Cissy to her feet. She was very unsteady. When the small man came back he took charge of her and gently guided her to the stairs. Molly watched him go very slowly. But for a small man he seemed to be strong, as he lifted Cissy into his arms and carried her up the steep flight.

  Molly was about to follow when her eyes caught the horrible red daubs again. Who could have done that? And what for? What did it mean?

  None of this made any sense.

  Least of all, Cissy’s insistence on leaving.

  It was the early hours of the morning by the time Molly got Cissy settled in bed. She’d given her two aspirin from the shop’s stores, bathed her bruises and the strangle mark and helped her undress, finally putting out the bedroom light after Cissy had fallen asleep. Molly returned to the front room where the small man was sitting on the settee with his little dog at his feet. He stood up immediately she came in.

  ‘Is she all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t really know.’ Molly sank down on the chair. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’

  ‘Me moniker’s Spot. This ’ere is Nibbles.’ He nodded to the dog.

  ‘Mine’s Molly.’

  ‘Yer, all right missus,’ he said and sat down again.

  Molly was very confused. What was the reason for Cissy’s strange behaviour? And that writing on the blind – who had done it? And why? Perhaps she should have taken the policeman’s warning more seriously.

  ‘Yer look done in, missus.’

  ‘I am a bit.’ Molly blinked, aware that the man called Spot was staring intently at her. He had one bright-blue eye lower than the other, which gave him a rather comical expression. He’d removed his cap to reveal a decent head of dark hair that came to a widow’s peak on his forehead. It was a face you had to smile at. Molly suddenly realized she was glad he was here. She would still be very scared if here on her own.

  Molly sighed, feeling she should give some kind of explanation. ‘We had a dreadful evening. Some blokes attacked us when we came out of the cinema. Poor Cissy was nearly strangled and kicked in her side.’

  ‘The bleeders. What about you?’

  ‘They didn’t hurt me, but I was very frightened and upset for Cissy.’

  ‘Did you recognize any of ’em?’

  ‘No. Two bobbies were passing the alley we were dragged into. One blew a whistle when they heard my scream and the men ran off.’

  For a while they were both thoughtful until he enquired, ‘And when you got back, your gaff was trashed?’

  ‘Yes. It happened before.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘This summer. The police came and warned me that if it was hooligans they might chance their arm again. Perhaps they have.’

  ‘Did they take any money?’

  ‘No, but—’ She didn’t know why she was telling him all this. He was almost a stranger. ‘I’m sure they blacked Cissy’s eye.’

  ‘The sods. But it don’t look like kids tonight.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘ ’Ooligans don’t write messages. They’re in and out quick, taking what they can nab.’

  Molly nodded slowly. ‘What could that message mean, then?’

  ‘Dunno. Who else lives here?’

  ‘Just me and Cissy. My dad used to, but he was hurt in the blitz and is living with my sister in Sidcup for a while.’

  The little man stroked his dog’s head thoughtfully, then said very quietly, ‘I ain’t one to poke me nose in, but that message ain’t for you or your dad, is it?’

  Molly stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Think you’d better have a chat with your mate tomorrow.’

  ‘What, Cissy? But . . .’

  ‘Look, I think I should hang around tonight. I’ll take me dog downstairs with me and keep watch till daylight.’

  ‘I can’t let you do that. You’ve helped us enough for one night.’

  ‘Well, it’s either me or the rozzers. And I ain’t sure you want the law on your doorstep, not till you’ve spoken to yer girl.’

  Molly looked intently at this unusual and perceptive little man. He seemed to be thinking more clearly than she was, and perhaps that wasn’t surprising. It had been a very long day and night. Perhaps she should accept his offer?

  ‘If you’re sure,’ Molly agreed.

  ‘Leave me to it and get yourself off to bed.’

  Molly shook her head. ‘I’d rather just sit here.’

  ‘Please yerself,’ he shrugged. ‘But put this blanket over yer biscuits and cheese. Rest assured that me and the dog’ll be downstairs keeping an eye out.’ He picked up the blanket that Evie often used to wrap herself in and tucked it across Molly’s lap.

  Molly raised a smile. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

  ‘Trying to impress, that’s what.’ He grinned and Molly was surprised at how his wide smile made him look almost handsome.

  ‘What are you trying to impress me for?’ she asked as the dog hurtled out of the door and down the stairs.

  ‘You want the honest truth? I’d do anything for that girl of yours.’

  ‘Cissy?’ Molly said in surprise.

  ‘She’s a cracker. Gives me the cold shoulder every time I open me cakehole. Hard as nails, or so she likes yer to think.’

  With a smile, Molly rested her head back on the chair. ‘Well, you’ve certainly got that right, Spot.’

  ‘I know. But she ain’t getting rid of me that easy.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Now, close yer peepers and have a kip.’ He gave her a cheeky wink, th
en disappeared from the front room. She heard his light footsteps on the staircase, then the sound of someone sweeping, before her eyelids eventually closed.

  When Molly woke, daylight was streaming through the front room windows. She sat up quickly, the events of the night before suddenly rushing back. The clock on the mantel said half past six, and she threw off the blanket, rising unsteadily to her feet.

  All was quiet, with no sound from downstairs. Had she and Cissy really been attacked after the cinema and had the shop been looted again? Brushing down her dusty blouse and skirt, she looked in the mirror over the sideboard. All traces of make-up had vanished. Her hair had fallen untidily to her shoulders in a flurry of copper-coloured waves. It was her brown eyes, still sleep-laden, that seemed to fill her face, reflecting the confusion she felt inside.

  Doing what she could to restore her appearance, trailing wisps of hair back into the pins that clung upside down from her scalp and pinching her pale cheeks, she went first to Cissy’s room. She opened the door very quietly and was relieved to see Cissy still sleeping there. Her insistence last night that she should leave had worried Molly the most. She had believed Cissy was happy. Or at least, content to stay on at the store for the foreseeable future.

  Retreating to the passage and making her way downstairs, Molly took in a breath when she reached the glory hole. The shelves were neat and tidy, all their contents restored to order. The back door was bolted securely and light flooded in from the shop, where the till was now replaced on the counter. The shop blinds had been pulled up, hiding the sight of the alarming red daubs. Here, too, the stock had been returned to the shelves and the floor swept. As she gazed around, a small black nose appeared from behind the sack of potatoes.

  ‘Hello, Nibbles.’ The little dog wagged his tail.

  Spot walked up to her. ‘I tidied up for yer.’