by Sam Michaels
‘It’s only temporary until Fleur is released from prison. And I want you close by me.’
Charlotte tutted but nodded in reluctant agreement.
‘Benjamin, The Penthouse. Obviously, we can’t open and operate as it once was, not without the Old Bill turning a blind eye like they used to.’
‘’Ere, Miss Garrett,’ Ned interrupted again, ‘can’t Charlotte have a word with her fella? He’s a copper.’
‘No, Ned, he’s resigned – and he doesn’t have the rank. But I’m going to open it as a nice little nightspot and also an art gallery.’
‘An art gallery?’ Ned parroted.
‘Yes, that’s right. Dina can work behind the bar. You twins on the door. Lord Hamilton, do you think you can manage the place with some help from Benjamin at first?’
‘Yes, my dear, standing on my head. But what art are you intending to display?’
‘We’ll talk about that later. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with that Dutch artist bloke that Temi Zammit told you about. I want you with me.’
‘What about me?’ Ned asked. ‘What job have you got for me? Am I gonna run the insurance?’
Georgina smiled warmly at his enthusiasm. He’d always been one of the most outspoken men in her gang, even though he was one of the shortest. ‘No, Ned, no insurance. There’s little point in extracting money from businesses for protection when Hitler could bomb them out. We’ll look at that once this bloody war is over. In the meantime, you’re going to head up our goods in and goods out.’
‘What, you mean the black market? But Nobby and Eric already have their toes in that.’
‘Yes, they do, but not on the scale I’m talking about. The twins will back you up for muscle.’
‘What we got that we can flog then, Miss Garrett?’
‘Brian will discuss that with you. He’s been busy lately, haven’t you, Brian?’
‘That’s right. I had a feeling you’d be back so I made sure we were prepared.’
‘Oh, blimey, Brian, ’ave you been printing dodgy ration coupons again?’ Ned asked, his eyes wide.
Brian didn’t answer but smiled.
‘But that’s what Miss Garrett got banged up for!’
‘Moving on,’ Georgina said firmly. ‘As we find our feet again, I’ll have other jobs for you. I’m looking at a few jewellery shops but not on our patch. Easy targets, you know the sort, and we’ve got a ready-made outlet for the goods with Benjamin’s father’s shop. We’d be foolish not to take advantage of that and Ezzy Harel has always been the best fence in Battersea.’
‘Yes, he’s, erm, missed you,’ Benjamin said quietly, looking embarrassed.
‘As you know, I officially died on Sunday. The authorities are holding my funeral tomorrow, a pauper’s grave. I know some of you will want to pay your respects to Babs but she was quite specific about her wishes. She didn’t want anyone there. She hated funerals. So, let’s take a minute to think about Babs, eh?’
In the silence, Nobby bowed his head and Georgina saw him discreetly dash away a tear. She’d heard that he and Babs had once had a thing going.
Ned broke the silence. ‘How’s Babs’s kid?’
‘He’s fine. He’s with Mary until Molly and Oppo come to collect him after Christmas. He’ll have a smashing life on the farm with them.’
‘Yeah, growing up with the spawn of Billy Wilcox,’ Ned added bitterly.
‘Don’t ever refer to Edward like that!’ Georgina barked.
Ned looked taken aback. ‘Sorry, miss, it ain’t the boy’s fault. I’m sure young Edward won’t turn out anything like his father.’
‘No, he bloody well won’t!’ Charlotte said adamantly.
It was Nobby who spoke next, changing the subject. ‘’Ere, I read about you in the paper, Miss Garrett, about you getting burned to death. Cor, the things they said about you!’
‘I know, it wasn’t very flattering,’ she laughed.
The meeting continued for another hour and then Charlotte reminded them that Tim would be home from work soon so they should leave.
‘It’s about bleedin’ time that you got that boyfriend of yours on the payroll,’ Ned grumbled to Charlotte as he left.
‘He’s going to fight the Jerries so shut your mouth, Ned!’ she retorted, her eyes narrowing at him.
Once they’d gone, Georgina sat down on the sofa, exhausted but running on a high. She’d found it quite exhilarating to be back as the head of her gang, albeit a small gang now. She’d vowed to herself that she wasn’t going to return to that way of life. After all, she had her children to think about. But without money, what sort of future could she offer them? So the decision had been made and this time round, she’d do things better. She’d learned lessons from her mistakes. In future, she’d be more careful about who she trusted.
*
Charlotte thought that Tim had been behaving strangely all afternoon. He seemed distracted and she worried that he knew something about Georgina. They’d been to see a short play at the Streatham Hill Theatre. It was one of the few playhouses showing matinee performances and, as someone commented, actors now played in the suburbs instead of the West End on account of most of the big theatres and cinemas being closed. Even Streatham ice rink had been given over to the war effort. Instead of skaters enjoying the ice, the place was used as a food storage depot.
Charlotte had been enthralled with the grand art deco style of the theatre but rather bored by the play. And all the way through, she’d noticed Tim fidgeting.
As they disembarked the tram at Clapham Junction, she said lightly, ‘Oh, did I tell you? I’m starting work here tomorrow. Just up Lavender Hill, running a new café.’
Tim looked down at her and blinked several times. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I know women are taking on all sorts of roles because of the shortage of men around but call me old-fashioned, I say as I find. And I don’t like the idea of my wife working.’
Charlotte froze in the street as crowds bustled past. ‘Your w-wife?’ she stuttered, eyes wide.
Tim dropped to one knee, right there, on the pavement. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Charlotte gasped. She glanced around. People had stopped going about their business and were watching her and Tim. Christ, what was he playing at! She could feel her cheeks flushing and wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. ‘Get up, you idiot,’ she hissed.
He continued regardless. He opened the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring, though she doubted they were real stones.
‘Charlotte Mipple… I want to know you’ll be here when I get home. Will you make me the happiest man and marry me?’
Now it was Charlotte who was left blinking. Her mind raced. Everyone standing nearby seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for her to answer. But how could she accept his proposal? Though she was sure she loved him, there was so much he didn’t know. And being his wife, he’d expect his rights in the bedroom. She wasn’t sure she could face that!
‘Go on then, put the poor chap out of his misery,’ a man’s voice called from the small crowd surrounding them.
‘I… erm…’ she muttered, staring at his pleading eyes. She couldn’t hurt him and turn him down in front of everyone. And though she had her doubts, she found herself saying, ‘Yes.’
A cheer went up from the crowd and Tim leapt to his feet and pulled her into his arms.
‘Nice one, son,’ a bloke said and patted Tim on the back.
‘Congratulations,’ a woman cooed.
Tim slipped the ring onto Charlotte’s finger. It was a perfect fit. She held her hand in front of her and looked at the ring with misgivings. She loved him, yes, she was sure of that, but could she bring herself to share his bed? After everything she’d been through, the thought of doing things like that repulsed her.
‘Mrs Charlotte Batten. It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, I
suppose it has. Anything’s gotta be better than Mipple,’ she said, smiling, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘So this is why you’ve been acting odd all day?’
‘Yes. I’ve been a bag of nerves. Sorry, I hope I didn’t ruin your day.’
‘No, Tim, not at all,’ she replied, but putting a ring on her finger had. ‘Are you sure we’re not rushing things?’
‘I know you’re upset about Georgina dying but I’m going to basic training straight after the new year. I don’t know when I’ll be back, or if I’ll be back, but I know the thing that will keep me going is the thought of coming home to you.’
Charlotte felt awful for doubting her decision. To think he could be killed abroad left her feeling bereft. She silently chastised herself. Of course she could have sex with him. All she had to do was lie back and close her eyes. It wasn’t something women were supposed to enjoy. It was their duty and it was the least she could do considering her future husband was risking his life for their country.
She threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘I love you,’ she gushed, and couldn’t wait to get home to tell Georgina the news.
17
Jacob Flowers sat in his car along from a tall house in Alexandra Avenue. His sources had told him that this was where he’d find Georgina Garrett. He didn’t believe for a moment that the woman was dead, burned to a crisp in a house fire. No, she was far too astute for that. And just as he had suspected, there she was, striding from the house dressed as a woman, with a dapper looking older gentleman. She looked quite different from when he’d last seen her. Glamorous, he supposed, but in a cheap sort of way. The woman lacked the class and sophistication he’d taught his wife. In fact, he found Miss Garrett to be vulgar and most unladylike, even though she was now sporting heels and a hat.
Jacob ducked low in his car as Miss Garrett and the gentleman passed in theirs. Good, they were gone, giving him the opportunity to check if they were hiding Elsie. He strongly suspected that Johnny Dymond had aided Elsie’s escape but he knew his wife – she’d never stay at a man’s house unchaperoned. It simply wasn’t the done thing, not for a woman of her standing in the community. No doubt Dymond played a part in helping her, but it was more likely that Miss Garrett was protecting her.
Keeping his eyes peeled, he strode up to the house and fiddled with the lock. He’d seen locks picked many times and it always looked easy. But this one wouldn’t budge.
‘Damn it,’ he spat, and kicked the door in frustration.
This caused a dog to start barking from inside. And then to his surprise, an elderly woman opened the door.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
He could see by the scarf over her hair and the shopping bag in her hand that she was on her way out.
‘I was calling to see the young lady in the ground floor apartment. I’m her uncle, from Northolt.’
‘Charlotte. Such a lovely girl, you must be very proud. Please, do go in, though I’m not sure that she’s at home,’ she said, indicating a door.
‘Thank you, if that’s the case, I shall wait for her.’
‘Rightio, cheerio,’ the old lady said, and went on her way.
Jacob crept inside. The dog was barking noisily just behind the door that the old woman had indicated. It was sure to raise the alarm to any other residents. Or Elsie.
He tapped on the door but, as expected, no one answered. He hoped he’d have more success with the lock and the hairpin this time and could hardly believe it when after just a minute, the latch released.
Jacob pushed the door open just a crack. ‘There’s a good dog,’ he said soothingly, but the animal growled and bared its teeth.
The damn dog wasn’t going to back down but Jacob wanted him quietened. He calmly reached inside his coat pocket and curled his fingers tightly around the handle of a long, sharp knife. There was only one way to mute the animal. He had to do whatever was necessary to find Elsie. And if she wasn’t hiding in here, then killing the dog would leave a clear message of his intentions. Johnny Dymond and Georgina Garrett were going to be made to understand that they had messed with the wrong man!
*
Charlotte had to admit to herself that she’d rather enjoyed her first day in the café. She hadn’t opened to customers but had received many enquiries from passers-by, all of whom had said they were looking forward to her opening in the new year. Most of the day had been spent cleaning, the rest of it writing simple menus.
Georgina had been in and out a few times. Charlotte hadn’t gleaned much about how her meeting with a Dutch artist had gone but she assumed it had been successful as Georgina seemed happier than she’d been in a while.
Charlotte was just about ready to lock up and head home when a loud knock on the front window startled her. When she looked up, her heart skipped a beat to see Tim standing outside.
‘I’ve come to walk you home,’ he offered cheerily.
‘Great, just a tick, I’ll grab my coat.’
As she walked beside him, she looked him up and down. ‘You do look very smart in that policeman’s uniform. But I never thought I’d be engaged to a copper!’
‘I’ll soon be changing this uniform for another,’ he said, his mouth set in a grim line.
‘Do you regret it?’
‘No, Charlotte, not at all. I’d do anything for you and to be honest, the more I hear about my dad and his colleagues, the more ashamed I feel to wear this uniform.’
‘You never did tell me about your dad.’
‘Best left, eh, sweetheart.’
Sweetheart. He’d called her sweetheart, one of Johnny’s favourite terms. Johnny called all the girls sweetheart but it sounded different when Tim said it and her stomach fluttered.
It was Christmas Eve tomorrow and the streets were busy with people milling in and out of the shops, many with wrapped packages under their arms. Charlotte felt a jolt of excitement until she thought of home. It didn’t feel much like Christmas there. Georgina hadn’t wanted a tree put up. They were hard to come by but Nobby had offered her one which she’d politely refused. Georgina had even turned her nose up at the pretty ivy wreath Charlotte had made, dipping the leaves in Epsom salts to give it a bit of sparkle. Oh well, she was sure that Tim’s sister would appreciate it and was looking forward to spending the day with her. Especially now as they were to announce their engagement. It would be a proper celebration, unlike the dull ‘congratulations’ Georgina had proffered.
The sun had set as they turned onto Alexandra Avenue and the full moon was rising from behind the houses. Charlotte dreaded every full moon. It illuminated London, giving the Luftwaffe an ideal opportunity to attack, their targets easily seen. Tim was chatting away about basic training and telling her he’d write as often as he could. She happily listened but with one ear pricked for the familiar drone of any incoming aircraft.
As they approached home, Charlotte glanced behind and saw Miss Gray laden down with two shopping bags.
‘Go on ahead,’ she told Tim. ‘I’m going to give Miss Gray a hand.’
‘I’ll take her bags.’
‘No, it’s fine, Tim. You get the kettle on, I’m parched. I’ll get changed quickly and join you in your place in ten minutes.’
Tim pecked her cheek and as she turned to walk back towards Miss Gray, she smiled when she heard him whistling a happy tune.
Charlotte greeted the old lady with a smile and was just about to relieve her of her bags but stopped rooted to the spot as an ear-piercing scream came from the house. She tensed, knowing it was Georgina.
‘Sorry,’ she blustered to Miss Gray and ran to the house as fast as her legs would carry her. The street door was open and as she dashed up the path, she saw Tim crashing through her flat door.
The screaming had subsided now. Charlotte’s heart thudded fast. She rushed into her apartment, and the awful sound of Georgina’s sobs reached her ears. She ran into the front room and stopped dead in her tracks. Her mind couldn’t compre
hend what her eyes were seeing. Georgina was sat on the floor in a pool of blood with Dog on her lap. He looked injured. His face wasn’t right. Blood. So much blood. Was Georgina hurt too?
‘He’s been stabbed, Charlotte,’ Georgina cried, tears unashamedly running down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, holding Dog close to her. ‘Please, do something,’ she begged, looking beseechingly at Tim. ‘Make Dog better… Charlotte, help him…’
Charlotte stepped forward but Tim held up his hand to stop her. ‘There’s nothing you can do for Dog,’ he said sadly.
‘No…’ Georgina cried, her face crumpling. ‘No… he can’t be dead… Dog… come on, boy… wake up. It’ll be all right… come on, Dog, there’s a good boy.’
Charlotte could feel her eyes welling too. She stared at Tim, desperate for him to do something. But he looked back at her with coldness.
She hadn’t heard him come in but Lord Hamilton appeared and was trying to encourage Georgina to put the dog down and to stand up. She refused, holding Dog tighter and now rocking faster.
‘Get Johnny Dymond,’ Lord Hamilton said to Charlotte.
Charlotte stared blankly at Lord Hamilton. He looked worried. But her mind seemed to be closing down. She couldn’t think straight.
‘Charlotte, did you hear me? Get Johnny here.’
She nodded but still her mind was blank.
Georgina began wailing. ‘He killed Dog,’ she cried and held out a piece of bloodied paper. ‘Why? Why kill Dog? Dog never did anything wrong…’
Lord Hamilton went to grab the piece of paper from her but Tim intervened. ‘I’ll take that,’ he said gravely.
‘What does it say?’ Lord Hamilton asked.
Tim read it aloud. ‘Bring my wife back to me. A gift on Christmas Day. Jacob Flowers.’
‘His wife,’ Lord Hamilton mumbled incredulously. ‘What utter nonsense!’
It made no sense. None of it. But Charlotte’s unshed tears began to fall as she slowly processed what was happening. Dog was dead. He’d been murdered in the most horrific way. Her loyal and loving soppy mutt had been killed. That was Dog’s blood. She’d loved him so much and now the pain at the realisation of his death stabbed at her heart. Her throat felt tight as she fought to hold back from sobbing. She ran towards Tim, desperate for comfort, but instead of pulling her into his arms, he stepped back and glared at her angrily.
