by Sam Michaels
‘Like a scruffy young workman,’ Ezzy answered. ‘But wait. Take this,’ he said and dashed from the room, returning moments later with a wooden toolbox that contained several tools. ‘It finishes off your look perfectly,’ he said, offering it over.
Georgina smiled warmly at the man and thanked him before leaving. Her heart hammered as she stepped out of the shop and back onto the main road. It wasn’t far to go to get to Mary’s house but with the police probably searching for her and no identity papers, she knew she was taking a massive risk in coming back to Battersea. But it was home. The only home she’d ever known. And regardless of the danger of being recaptured, it was where she belonged.
*
Twenty minutes later, though a chilly day, Georgina felt warm inside as she turned onto the street she knew so well. Just round the corner from home, Mrs Peterson’s shop remained unchanged. As Georgina walked in, the sound of the bell above the door delighted her, and she beamed at Mrs Peterson sitting in her usual place behind the counter.
‘Hello, George,’ the old woman said.
‘Hello, Mrs Peterson. You’re looking well,’ she lied. The years had taken their toll on the elderly lady and now her lined skin appeared translucent and her white hair left her colourless, giving her a ghostly appearance.
‘You’ve shot up. What’s your gran been doing? Putting you in a bag of manure?’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Peterson, what do you mean?’
‘I mean your gran must have been feeding you well. You’ve had a growing spurt.’
Georgina’s brow furrowed as she looked at Mrs Peterson, who was obviously confused.
‘What can I get you? Has your gran sent you in for her ciggies?’
‘Erm, no, Mrs Peterson. I’d like a bar of chocolate, please,’ she answered, not wanting to upset her.
‘Course you do. Your dad treating you again? I don’t know, he spoils you something rotten.’
Before Georgina could answer, a woman of about fortyish appeared from out of the back, tutting and shaking her head. ‘There you are, Aunty. Come on through to the back room. I’ve put two bars on the fire and made you a cup of warm milk. You’ll be nice and comfy.’ She placed her arms over Mrs Peterson’s shoulders and gently urged her towards the door to the back of the shop.
‘Sorry about this,’ the woman whispered to Georgina.
Mrs Peterson pointed in Georgina’s direction. ‘That’s George. George Garrett. He’s a smashing young lad,’ she said.
The woman ushered Mrs Peterson through a curtain and told her to sit down and she’d be in shortly, then she turned and addressed Georgina. ‘Sorry, my aunty gets a bit muddled. Can I help you, sir?’
‘Er, no, thanks,’ Georgina answered and hastily left the shop. It upset her to think of dear old Mrs Peterson losing her marbles but it was also reassuring to know that her masculine disguise was readily fooling people.
As she turned onto her street, all thoughts of Mrs Peterson were replaced with a rush of memories that flooded her mind. She remembered being a child and playing on the street with Molly, who at the time wore little more than rags. And how they used to have to take Ethel everywhere with them. Then her dad, the pair of them coming home together with sacks of stolen goods that they’d nicked, and him telling her off for skipping like a girl. Dulcie, her gran, standing on the doorstep and wagging her finger, warning her to be careful. There had always been the threat of Billy Wilcox hanging over her, but he was nothing more than a distant bad recollection now.
It was sad to see the windows of the house boarded over and the neglected doorstep, which her gran had always kept neatly chalked. The house, once filled with love, now looked abandoned. Weeds had grown through cracks on the short garden path and the front door needed a lick of paint. Yet even so, it warmed her heart to be home.
Before she could knock on Mary’s front door, the rotund, red-haired woman opened it and pulled Georgina inside before quickly closing it again.
Crossing herself, Mary sighed. ‘Jesus, Mary mother of Jesus. Thank the good Lord you’re here,’ she said in her broad Irish accent.
‘Hello, Mary.’
‘I knew you’d come, so I did.’
‘Have the police been?’
‘Yes, this morning. But I told them this would be the last place you’d show your face. I gave them a long line of reasons for why myself and many others can’t stand the sight of you. I think they believed me. Bejesus, gal, I’ve been waiting for hours at that window.’
‘Thank you. Sorry if I’ve had you worried.’
‘I’m not worried for me but I am for you. They’ll have every policeman in London looking high and low for you, so they will.’
‘Probably, but they’re looking for Georgina, not George.’
‘I suppose so. Anyway, you’re here now. Are you hungry? I’ve a pot of broth on.’
‘That would be very welcome, thank you.’
‘Go and sit yourself down but keep an eye out that window.’
Georgina made herself comfortable in Mary’s small front room and was grateful for the large bowl of broth and chunk of bread that Mary served.
‘Do you have plans?’ she asked as she watched Georgina eat.
‘Sort of. I need to get to Wales to see Alfie and Selina.’
‘Wales. Is that where Lash’s family are now?’
‘Yes, just outside of Swansea. Molly’s letters have kept me up to date. But for now, I just want to get my head down and get some sleep.’
‘Well, you’ll find everything shipshape next door. And there’s fresh sheets on the bed. I can’t promise everything is where it should be. The police left the house in a mess after they arrested you. But I’ve kept it clean.’
‘Thanks, Mary, thanks so much.’
‘Shush now, gal. An empty, boarded house doesn’t need much looking after. You’ve done plenty for me and my family over the years. It was the least I could do. Here are the keys, but go in the back door and you won’t be seen. First though, I’ve a little surprise for you, come with me, you’ll like this.’
Georgina followed Mary up the stairs, where she pointed to the loft hatch on the landing ceiling. ‘Get the ladder from behind my door,’ Mary instructed.
Georgina did as she was asked and Mary positioned it against the wall.
‘Now, there’s not much room up there and mind you stay on the rafters and don’t fall through.’
‘What, you want me to get up in the loft?’
‘Yes, go on, up you go.’
‘Why?’
‘You’ll see.’
Georgina couldn’t imagine why on earth Mary would want her to get in the loft but she humoured the woman. She carefully slid the hatch over and poked her head into the darkness. She was familiar with the loft next door and, as a child, had often climbed into it to retrieve something her dad had stolen and stashed. The lofts in the street were little more than crawl spaces and Mary’s was no exception.
‘Look towards your house. Can you see anything untoward?’
Georgina peered at the wall separating Mary’s house from hers. Nothing appeared unusual. ‘No, I can’t see anything.’
‘Good. But the part of the wall directly between your hatch and mine has loose bricks. My old man knocked them through and rebuilt them using flour and water instead of mortar. Come back down now.’
Georgina slid the hatch back in place and carefully made her way down the rickety wooden ladder.
‘If the police come to your house looking for you, get in the loft, kick the wall through into mine. There’s a board on your side made from a packing case. It’s painted to look like bricks. Once you’re in my loft, slide the board over the hole. In the dark it should be sufficient to hide the hole as long as the police don’t look too closely.’
‘Blimey, Mary, that’s genius!’
‘Yes, it is that, but I can’t take the credit. It was Mr Harel who suggested the idea and well, let’s be honest, we’ve had a few years to master it.’
‘Thank you. It’s reassuring and I shall sleep better tonight.’
Twenty minutes later, after Mary had given her two sandwiches wrapped in brown paper along with a large bottle of ginger beer, Georgina sneaked into the back yard next door. She was about to relock the gate when Mary appeared.
‘I forgot to give them to you. The electricity has been disconnected so you’ll need these. And take care of yourself, pet,’ she said and passed Georgina three candles and a box of matches.
‘Thank you,’ Georgina answered gratefully, smiling warmly at Mary before locking the gate. She then turned and looked at the yard. It had become overgrown but still nothing grew on the spot next to the coal bunker where her gran had buried her second husband. Georgina smiled wryly. This house had been filled with love but also held many secrets.
The back door boarding had been lightly tacked in place and was simple to remove. She leaned it against the wall and, with trepidation, slowly opened the door. Her heart pounded as she stepped over the threshold. Georgina wasn’t sure what to expect or how she’d feel. She closed the door and found herself in darkness. After fumbling with the candles and matches, she finally had some light and looked around the kitchen with fond recollections. The table, where she’d shared so many meals with her gran, dad and husband. Her and Lash had even made love on it once. The patch of worn linoleum on the floor that her gran had obsessively scrubbed. The scuffed doorframe where Alfie had rammed his toy truck into it. The butler sink where she’d bathed Selina. It had been a busy family kitchen but now it harboured an escaped convict and Georgina wished she could turn back time to those happier days.
In the front room, the clock on the mantel had stopped ticking. The room was unusually quiet and felt cold without a fire burning in the hearth. She ran her fingers over her gran’s chair and then held the candle close to a framed photograph of Alfie and Selina. Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the grainy black and white image. ‘Pack it in, you daft moo,’ she whispered and reminded herself that she’d be seeing them soon. But she wouldn’t if she didn’t keep one step ahead of the law, and she knew she’d need to keep a clear head. There wasn’t time for sentiments. She couldn’t afford to wallow in memories and self-pity. Drawing in a deep breath, she marched back through to the kitchen and took a chair from under the table. She’d need this to get in the loft if a quick getaway was required. And keeping focused, she took the chair upstairs and placed it in the corner of her bedroom. She grabbed a folded blanket from the end of the bed while trying not to think about how she’d once shared it with Lash. She knew it would be too painful and didn’t want to be overwhelmed by her emotions. And, as she walked back across the landing, she closed the door to Alfie’s room, barring the sight of his bed and any memories from there too.
‘Out of sight and out of mind,’ she said as she trudged back down the stairs, resigned to sleeping on the sofa to preserve her sanity. That, at least, would be bearable and though it was lumpy, she knew it would be far more comfortable than the thin mattress she’d had in prison. In fact, anything would be better than prison, and once again, Georgina thought about how she’d avoid going back, no matter what it took.
7
The next morning, Johnny tapped on Charlotte’s front door and eyed PC Batten’s bike with displeasure.
‘He’s still here then,’ he said to Charlotte when she opened the door.
‘Yeah, come in,’ she answered.
Once in the privacy of her flat, she went on to enlighten him. ‘I asked Batten to leave. I explained that it wasn’t really fair that I’d rented the flat out to him when it’s got two bedrooms and he doesn’t need them. There’s families with far greater needs. He was as good as gold and understood.’
‘So why is he still here?’
‘I gave him a week’s notice. He’ll be gone in a few days.’
‘I can’t wait that long. The blokes are ready and the job is all lined up. You’ll have to do without a motor for a bit. I’ll park mine up out the way and if he asks where yours is, just tell him it’s in the garage or something.’
‘All right. I’m sure I’ll manage. It’s not like I can drive it when he’s around anyway. The keys are on the sideboard. Are you gonna give me a clue about the job?’
‘No, course I ain’t. Just sit tight. I’ll be back with your car when he’s cleared orf. By the way, have you had any more problems from the Naylors?’
‘I’ve seen ’em hanging about and they followed me up the High Street yesterday. I suppose they’re trying to intimidate me but I ain’t scared of them.’
Johnny could feel his temper flaring. He could do without this right now but couldn’t leave Charlotte to fend for herself against those two idiots. ‘I ain’t having this, the cheeky bastards,’ he growled, and grabbed the keys to Charlotte’s car before heading towards the door.
‘Wait, Johnny, what are you gonna do?’ Charlotte asked, sounding frantic.
‘What I should have done a long time ago,’ he answered and slammed the door behind him. He stomped down the path but then spun on his heel and walked back. He was about to kick PC Batten’s bike, but instead he picked it up and carried it off before throwing it in the back of his car. He drove the short distance to Battersea Park, screeched to a stop, jumped out the car, grabbed the bike and slung it over the fence. A woman pushing a pram saw him but Johnny didn’t care. After doffing his hat at her, he jumped back in his car and parked a few streets away from Charlotte’s house.
A group of young boys were playing with an improvised cart and when they saw Johnny’s flash car, they ran towards him. ‘How fast does your motor go?’ one of the lads in short trousers and with dirty scuffed knees asked.
‘Fast enough. Tell you what, keep an eye on it for me and when I get back, I’ll take you for a ride in it.’
The boys looked at each other with excited faces and another asked, ‘Can I have a go too?’
‘You all can, but only if my car is still in the same nick when I get back. I’ll be gone for a few days. Do you reckon you can look after it for me?’
The boys emphatically nodded their heads.
‘Good, ’ere ya go,’ Johnny said and handed each of them a coin. Their little faces lit up. ‘Don’t let me down,’ he said as he walked off and heard one of them shout, ‘We won’t, thanks, Mister.’
Minutes later, he was driving Charlotte’s car. It felt odd to be behind the wheel of the familiar vehicle, it used to be Victor who mostly drove it. He wondered how the man was faring and what he was up to now. Last he’d heard, Victor had gone back to south-east London but Johnny hadn’t seen him working for The Top. He had no doubt that the rumours were true. The Top had killed David Maynard and Victor had been caught up in it. After all, Johnny knew that if Victor had been working for David Maynard, he’d have given his life to protect the man.
Johnny pulled up outside the Halfway House and went inside to find Ned and the Barker twins waiting. He still couldn’t tell them apart and looked for the mole on Nobby’s face.
Ned jumped up from his seat, knocking the table which caused beer to spill over the tops of their glasses. He was clearly a bit jumpy about the forthcoming job. ‘We thought you’d changed your mind. You’re late, Johnny. Do you want a drink?’ he asked.
‘No, mate. I wanna get orf. And calm down, will ya! You’re like a bleedin’ coiled spring. We can’t afford mistakes so just relax, eh.’
‘Yeah, sorry, you’re right. I’m proper wound up but I’ll be all right.’
‘Anyway, we’ve got something else that needs our attention first.’
‘What’s that?’ Nobby asked.
‘The Naylors. They’ve been bothering Charlotte.’
‘Fucking pair of wankers,’ Ned seethed.
‘They’ve been taking liberties since Miss Garrett got banged up,’ Nobby added and swigged back the rest of his half pint. ‘Come on then. I’d be happy to pay them a visit,’ he said, rising to his feet.
Eric stood too and t
hey looked at Ned.
‘I can’t drink that,’ he said, looking at his beer. ‘My stomach’s churning something rotten.’
They followed Johnny out to the car and climbed in.
‘Shame Max ain’t here. We could have set him on them,’ Ned said.
‘Yeah, they wouldn’t have known what hit ’em,’ Nobby laughed.
‘Well, hopefully Max is ready and waiting for us. But let’s sort the Naylors out and then we’ll come back for the guns. Did you get everything I told you to?’ Johnny asked the twins.
‘Yeah, no problem. We got two Sten guns and a shitload of rounds from the Home Guard store at Norwood. And a Tommy gun from the Brixton store. That’ll do, won’t it?’
‘Yeah, plenty. You can take the guns back after we’ve done the job,’ Johnny instructed.
‘Are you having a laugh? Why risk getting nicked to return the guns?’
‘It’s what Miss Garrett would have made you do. You know she wouldn’t have stood for any of us pinching the army’s gear.’
Johnny couldn’t see them, but he knew Nobby and Eric, sat in the back seats, would be rolling their eyes. When Ned chuckled, he asked, ‘What’s so funny?’
‘I dunno, mate. Listen to us. I reckon we’re all soft in the head. She did that to us. The fucking hardest bitch I’ve ever known but hey, what a woman.’
It was Nobby who commented. ‘Yeah, you ain’t wrong, Ned. Miss Garrett was the best guvnor we ever had. And Johnny’s right. She wouldn’t like us ’alf-inching the Home Guard’s guns. We’ll put ’em back when we’re done. But shouldn’t we go and get ’em first to make our point with the Naylors?’
‘No need. And we don’t want it being put about in Battersea that we’ve got an arsenal of weapons nicked from the Home Guard. The fewer people who know about the job we’re gonna do, the better. If we’re seen waving submachine guns around in the pub, it won’t take a fucking genius to work out it was us who turned over the brewing company.’
The rest of the short journey was done in silence and it didn’t take long to get to the pub that the Naylors were known to frequent. Johnny pulled into the kerb. ‘Right, you ready for this?’ he asked, turning in his seat to look over his shoulder at the twins.
