by John Gardner
‘What time’s Shirley coming?’ Suzie asked him. ‘In the morning, what time’s she coming?’
He said she should be with them around nine and he had to be away by ten. ‘There are a couple of other people dropping in as well,’ he told her. ‘Guys going to be baby minding you.’
‘Then come to bed now, Tommy, so that we can at least get four hours’ sleep. You don’t need to pack me in cotton wool, you know, I’m not that fragile.’
‘Neither is Goldfinch, heart.’
*
Golly woke with a start, to a creak and whispering.
‘Ricky, you sure, love? We won’t get caught, will we?’ A girl speaking. Golly didn’t move.
‘Nobody’s gonna come near here, honey, this is okay. We can’t go into my quarters, so come on, through here. I want to be your Romeo again, Juliet.’
Loving couple, Golly thought, saw their shapes in the doorway, getting light outside. So he lay there, not moving as they felt their way through into the main body of the Quonset hut. Don’t stir, Golly, he thought. Lie still: and he did, saw them creep, full of giggles, going out of sight now.
They’re going to be at it, he thought. They’re going to be at it like stoats. Lord, the very idea of it’s giving me a touch of the beat.
‘Come on, Juliet, baby, this is quite comfortable here. Yeah, that’s it, honey.’
‘Oooww, Rick, what’ve you got there? You could poke the fire with that. Ooow.’
‘It’s your fire I want to stir up, darlin’, only your fire. Jesus, Julie, that’s good.’
And so on and so forth until they got on with it and were saying, ‘Yes…Yes…Yes!’ or ‘Oh-Oh-Oh!’ down to the short strokes and Golly was getting more excited and thought he could feel the floor swaying, but that was his imagination, because of the bumping noises coming from the other room, and the panting and the great howls of jubilation when they rang the bell at the end. He’d like a bit of that, Golly would.
They were kissing now, lickspittling. He had to hold his mouth closed with his hand, stop himself from laughing out loud.
Then they started to talk.
‘I still haven’t figured out this money, Julie. You were teaching me, huh?’ Little smack of a kiss on her cheek or her lips. Maybe it was the other cheek, lying there with a bare bum, Golly wondered.
‘’S easy, Ricky. Nothing to it.’
‘There ain’t no logic to it, your Limey money, hon.’
‘One pound, how many shillings?’
‘I got that. Twenty of your shillings to the pound.’
‘Right, then there’s another note.’
‘Yeah, five pound note, big white sucker.’
‘No, Ricky. Smaller than a pound.’
‘Oh, sure, the ten shilling note.’
‘That’s the one, what else we call it?’
‘Ten bob?’
‘That’s the one. The ten bob note.’
‘Other names for a pound, Rick.’
‘Sure. A quid?’
‘That’s it. A quid. A quid or a nicker. How many shillings?’
‘To the pound? Twenty. Ten for the ten bob and twenty to the quid.’
‘There you are, Rick. Easy. Now, half crowns?’
‘Yeah. Half-crown. Two shillings and a half.’
‘Two shillings and six pence, Ricky. Two and six, two and a kick, okay?’
‘I got that. And two half crowns is five shillings, five bob.’
‘Got it. Twenty shillings to the pound and twelve pence to the shilling. Easy, Rick. Ow no, not again, darlin’, no, not… Oooww, Rick.’
Then they were bumping and humping all over again and Golly was feeling more and more like playing bury the bone, have to find some way. He thought of Queenie and what they’d been up to only a few hours ago. Have to find a way of getting Queenie out from the cops.
They were moving now, the guy, Ricky and his Juliet. Standing up and scraping around.
‘Okay, hon?’
‘Let me just fasten these fiddly little buttons. I’ll be glad when we can get elastic again.’
‘Just stick ’em in your pocket.’
‘How’m I going to get out, Rick? Everyone else’ll be gone by now.’
‘Easy, sweetheart. There’s a break in the fence, in the wire, the chain-link, about fifty yards behind these huts. Old Allan Bragg the PM…’
‘What’s a PM? Prime Minister?’
‘Provost Marshal. He’s supposed to have a guard on this break. Twenty-four hours, but he doesn’t bother. We can slip through there, then I can walk you home and slip back in again.’
‘No need for that, darlin’. That takes me out on to the main road, yes?’
‘Sure.’
‘Only a spit and a stride to Knights Close. I only got to walk through Knights Close, then up to Church Lane and Pheasant’s Row and I’m home.’
‘No, I’d have to see you home.’
‘Don’t be bloody silly, Ricky. There’ll be nobody about this time in the morning. What is the time, anyway?’
‘Quarter after one.’
‘Just see me through the gap in the fence, then you go and get some sleep.’
‘Well, if you’re certain. I’ll see you again tomorrow, then on Tuesday unless they suddenly decide to change things and we have to fly. We can go up to London with the whole crew, that’s the plan. Have a night in your capital city.’
‘That’ll be lovely, Ricky, really lovely.’
Then they started up with the mushy talk as they came out into the smaller room where Golly was lying. Keep still now. Hold your breath.
‘You do love me, Ricky? Really love me?’
Yuck, Golly thought he’d be sick. Yuck.
‘Course I love ya, baby. Course I do. Wanna marry you when this’s all over. Take ya back home to the States. What d’ya say.’ Yuck-Yuck.
‘Ow, Rick.’
Oh shit, thought Golly. Can’t be doing with all that kind of gloop.
They were in the doorway again now. In the
doorway and canoodling, wrapped up in each other, do it again, probly, Golly thought. Do it standing up in the doorway. Ow heck.
‘See, there’s just enough light to see the fence. There, see. There’s the gap. Cut it myself. Well, with help from the boys. After that night we had dinner with the Ascolis, when I first saw you, waiting at the table, and couldn’t keep my eyes off’uv you. You want me to walk you to the wire?’ all the loving sincerity gone now he’d had his fill of her.
‘No, I can see it. Duck straight through that. Be home in ten minutes.’
‘You sure you don’t want me to come with ya?’
‘You’re flying tomorrow, aren’t you, Ricky? You get off to bed now and don’t worry ’bout me.’
‘Well, if you’re sure. Watch out for the Ascoli ghosts, then, Juliet.’
‘Ow what you want to say that for, Rick? Ow that’s ’orrible.’
‘Only kiddin’, honey. See ya tomorrow night over the Falcon.’
‘Yes, then we can make plans for Tuesday.’
‘Sure can. See you then. Take care of the ditch other side of the fence.’
Couldn’t get out quick enough. Golly heard him walking away on the little path that ran down past the other huts, crew’s quarters he’d reckoned when he was having his root around them, earlier. Last night, he thought, when they were playing the music over in the hangar, when they’d taken Lavender and Queenie away.
He climbed up and took a pace towards the door. They’d left it open, the loving couple. He could see out to the fence and the girl, Juliet, was just climbing through the slit that ran from top to bottom of the chain-link.
Take care of the ditch other side of the fence.
Golly put his hand in his pocket, laid hold of the piece of wire with the taped handles so he could grasp it properly.
I’ll have some of that, he thought. Have some of it, then find that house. Began to move fast towards the fence: fast and silent. One thing Golly knew, how to mo
ve quickly at night. Specially when there was a nice woman at the other end, tasty.
Chapter Seventeen
Suzie and Tommy were hurled out into the new day by the clamour of the telephone, bog-eyed, unsteady and dry-mouthed as they came suddenly up from sleep.
‘Ugh?’ Suzie said into the instrument, asking who was at the other end.
‘It’s me. Shirley,’ Shirley Cox said into her ear. ‘Been ringing your doorbell for the past ten minutes. I’m in the phone box round the corner.’
‘Ugh. Oh. Ah?’ Holding up her wrist, closing one eye to focus, tell the time. ‘Christ!’ She’d go to hell for blaspheming like that, Sister Lucy May at the convent had told her many times. ‘Christ, Tommy,’ putting one hand over the receiver, shaking his shoulder, ‘we slept in, Tommy. It’s almost half past nine.’
Tommy exploded from the bedclothes, shaking his head and looking bewildered.
‘Hello,’ Shirley Cox said into Suzie’s ear, through the telephone.
Palm over the receiver again she shushed Tommy, mouthing at him, telling him to get in and out of the bathroom bloody fast because Shirley Cox was here.
‘She got anyone with her?’ he mouthed back.
‘Shirley?’ too loud and bright, take it down a shade. ‘Woops, Shirl, sorry, we — I — slept in. You got anyone with you?’
‘Not yet, but they’ll be here shortly. Big Larry and Mickey the Fin are on the way, said they’d meet the Chief at your place.’ Big Larry was Laurence Manderson whose strength wasn’t in his brain, while Mickey the Fin was Michael Farnham, good with the fists and the muscle but not the brightest set of handcuffs. Both were good at obeying orders, thumping and intimidating people.
Suzie could tell that her friend was laughing: Shirley had known every move between Suzie and Tommy, but had to pretend she hadn’t a clue because Suzie didn’t want Tommy to know the secret was out.
‘Yes, the Chief,’ Suzie burbled, ‘he’s only just arrived.’ A lot of splashing noises coming from the bathroom. ‘I’ll be down to let you in quick as I can, Shirl.’
They had been close friends from the day Suzie was posted to the Camford nick in 1940, done a great deal together, been out on the town, got their first glimpse of Dandy Tom Livermore at the same moment and shared the secrets of their lives. In a way, Suzie was responsible for Shirley being invited to join Tommy’s famous Reserve Squad, but until now they hadn’t worked on a case together since the dangerous days that were the prelude to Golly Goldfinch’s arrest.
Suzie put on her thick woolly dressing gown, the one she had used when still at school, blue with darker blue collar and cuffs, frogging on the sleeves, and a thick tasselled cord for a belt. She went through to the kitchen, lit the gas, filled the kettle and put it on, then went down to the front door, forgetting about the security routines.
Shirley stood outside, leaning against one of the stone pillars that were part of the entrance. She wore her grey trench coat, was bare headed and carried a medium-sized suitcase plus a copy of the News of the World.
‘All human life is here,’ she announced with a cheeky grin when Suzie opened the door, then inclined her head back towards the two plainclothes men — Larry and Mickey — who were just getting out of a car drawn up in front of the building.
The Wolseley was still there from the early hours, Brian lifting a hand, turning in his seat, obviously been away for a shave and whatever, acknowledging Suzie who was putting on a welcoming smile for the cops coming to stand guard over her and tell them the Chief had arrived. ‘Come on. He’s using my bathroom at the moment and he’s in one hell of a hurry.’
‘Good job we’re not,’ Big Larry muttered, and Mickey the Fin repeated it. Neither looked ecstatic about their present duties. Baby-minding a WDS wasn’t the most stimulating work for them, happier when they were menacing suspects, getting confessions the hard way, just like her former boss at Camford, now in the clink, doing time.
They began the toil up the wide stairs to her flat on the fifth floor. Shirley started to whistle the main pumpty-pumpty theme from The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, ‘Dum-dum-dum, dudilly-dum-ti-dum-ti-diddly-dum-ti-dum-ti-diddly,’ and Suzie thought of Mickey Mouse and all the brooms and buckets of water in Fantasia. You had to be there but the rhythm took them up the stairs, and there was Tommy making tea in the kitchen.
‘Right,’ he nodded his greeting, pouring out an earthenware mug of tea for himself, emptying half a week’s sugar ration into it. ‘I have to go in a minute. Already late. Car waiting?’ raising his eyebrows, questioning Suzie with a look.
‘Yes,’ she nodded back.
‘Right, you all know what’s going on. Goldfinch is on the loose. I hardly think he’s got to London yet, but you never know and it’s a safe bet that he wants to finish what he started a couple of years ago. Sergeant Mountford was his target last time and her safety is your concern. You two,’ looking at the men. ‘You two. One at the back and one at the front. Nobody goes in or out without your say-so. There’s food in the kitchen for the ladies.’ Tommy had worked some magic with his parents and the cornucopia that was the home farm. Last night Suzie had discovered the cold cupboard stocked with a ham, chops and a small joint of beef, while there were vegetables, eggs and milk in the larder.
‘…so there’s no need for you to leave the flat. Understood?’
They nodded.
‘Good. But if anyone does have to go out it’ll be you, Shirley.’
‘Chief,’ she acknowledged.
‘And if that happens, one of you boys comes and sits with Suzie. Got it? No matter how short a time. I do not want Suzie to be left in this flat by herself.’
‘How long you going to be away?’ Big Larry asked in his particular brand of verbal shorthand.
‘Couple of days. Three at the most. You’ve got people coming to relieve you?’
‘Two of the heavy mob’re coming up later. We’ll do eight hours on and eight off. Round the clock.’
‘Good lads. Sarn’t Mountford, with me for a second.’
Suzie followed him into the hall, where there was a small suitcase ready for him — explained what he’d been fiddling about with in the early hours, doing his packing. Tommy picked up the case and took hold of Suzie’s arm, leading her outside the door, out of sight. ‘Behave yourself,’ he said, spun her round and kissed her, muttering, ‘Stay safe, heart. Hope to be able to make an intelligent guess about the Ascolis’ killer when I get back.’ Another quick kiss, little pat on the bum and he was gone, down the stairs, out on to the street and away to Lord knew where.
Suzie was amazed, felt bereft and couldn’t go back into the flat straight away: didn’t know where he was going or what he was up to, but thought he was probably putting himself at some kind of risk. There were uncalled-for tears in her eyes and her bottom lip trembled. Silly bitch, she said to herself, silently. Come on, Suzie, pull yourself together. Now! And she marched back inside, shut herself in the bathroom for ten minutes, until the lads had gone. Then she went out and talked too loud, laughed a shade shrilly, and that went on for most of the day.
They sat around, caught up on their news, talked about the things that mattered most, like the clothes they couldn’t buy because of rationing, the food shortages, and the general drabness of life in wartime London, how bloody tired they were.
‘How’s your fearless fireman? What’s his name, Bernie?’ Suzie asked as they prepared lunch. Shirley had been going out with a member of the Auxiliary Fire Service in Camford.
‘The way of all flesh,’ she shrugged. ‘Double-crossed me. Married a barmaid in Maida Vale. Been having a canter round the park with her the whole time he was taking advantage of me.’
‘Rotten bugger.’ Suzie was quite shocked. ‘But you didn’t exactly discourage him, Shirl.’
‘Not actively, no.’
‘What about his friend, Ernie?’
‘Oh the one we went out with, you went out with. What happened with him? You played rolling in the hay with Ernie, d
idn’t you?’
‘Just a bit of tongue.’
‘And the rest.’
‘Let him have a little fumble.’ Suzie blushed.
‘Before Tommy made a woman of you?’
‘Something like that.’ Suzie thought to herself that Shirley had kept her figure and still looked a bit like Hedy Lamarr.
Molly rang in the afternoon, just after four. ‘You okay, Suzie?’
She could tell by Molly’s voice that something was wrong. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Shirley’s here and we’ve nothing to do but wait.’
‘Good.’
‘What’s up, Molly?’
‘You remember that girl, Juliet Axton, daughter of Mrs Axton who worked for the Ascolis.’
‘Yes,’ hesitant, sensing something bad was coming, Molly’s voice over the telephone wires like paint stripper: like it was caught in her throat.
‘She’s dead.’
‘Dead?’ Shock, immediately knowing who’d killed her.
‘Found in Knights Close. Wally Titcombe found her this morning, tucked away among the bushes near the main road.’
‘What happened?’
‘You sitting down, Suzie?’
‘No, but it’s…’
‘She was choked with a piece of wire.’
‘Oh, God…’
‘Yes, it was Golly. No doubt about it. His MO. Everything.’
‘Golly’s himself again then.’
‘’Fraid so.’
She had a flashback, a vision quite clear and focused in her head: Molly in her bathroom with a gun, extending it towards a cringing Golly Goldfinch. That was real. Had happened, here in this flat.
*
PC Walter Titcombe had telephoned Molly from Knights Prospect, corner of Knights Close and the main road, big house set back among trees, bit damp some said because of the tree roots; big buggers those roots, Buster Gregory, local gardener said. Dr and Mrs Habland never complained though — Dr of Philosophy, him, retired now, Doctor of Drink, some said.
Wally Titcombe had gone there straight off — well, the body was half on their property, small glade just in from the road, beautiful this time of year, mossy bank and what Titcombe thought of as greensward — could walk through the trees straight to it off the road. Good place for a bit of how’s-yer-father on a soft summer night. Titcombe’d seen the body plainly just lying there as he cycled past on his morning ride round the village. Recognized Juliet straight off, went and roused the Hablands, asked to use their telephone. First rang Mr Tait in King’s Lynn, who told him to inform Mr Livermore. Rang the Falcon and found Mr Livermore away, so asked to speak to the senior officer, turned out to be WDS Abelard, not his favourite woman, didn’t really approve of women coppers: against nature, he reckoned.
