by Barbara Tate
‘I can see you!’ said a beery voice.
This was followed by the sound of raucous laughter and more loud kicks as I went running back to my gentlemen in the waiting room to see if they were still behaving themselves. I was surprised to find that, by contrast to the lot downstairs, these seemed to be models of propriety. They all congratulated me warmly and were evidently relieved at my success. Cigarettes were offered from all directions and we fell to chatting in an amiable way.
Although the battering on the front door ended fairly soon, there were so many other drunks about that Mae decided we’d better leave it locked. Our little party in the waiting room gradually dwindled as, one by one, they were ministered to and, one by one, I accompanied them downstairs to lock up again behind them.
By about eleven thirty the last one had gone and Mae said wearily, ‘Put the kettle on, love, I think we’ve had enough for one day, don’t you?’
She looked exhausted and was leaning against the door, her face shiny with perspiration and all her make-up gone. As I filled the kettle I said, ‘Mae, you are dotty, why on earth do you do it? Why so many?’
She flopped on to a chair like a rag doll.
‘Oh, I dunno, love,’ she said in the same tired voice. ‘The poor sods are there and they want it. What can you do? How many did I do, anyway? I’ve lost count.’
She rested her chin in her hands and waited while I got out my notebook and started adding.
‘Seventy-two,’ I told her at last. ‘And you’ve made eighty-five pounds ten.’
‘Not bad, I suppose,’ she mumbled through an enormous yawn.
We both collapsed with our tea amongst the debris in the bedroom and kicked our shoes off. The dogs were at last curled up asleep and snoring in their glamorous bed. Mae and I rested in the tired companionship of old campaigners who have come successfully through a major battle.
I glanced around me at the mess. It looked like we had been vandalised. There had been no chance to tidy up between clients all day, but I was too tired to care. Then my eye caught the glitter of coins scattered on the rugs and tiles.
‘Lots of money on the floor,’ I observed lazily.
‘That’s for the sweeper,’ she said through another yawn. Then, looking at my questioning face, she added, ‘I mean you, you silly sod ! Always get a lot of change when I rush ’em in and out – falls out of their pockets when they take their trousers off.’
She was now lying sprawled on the bed, one leg and an arm hanging heavily over the edge. Her eyes were closed and a cigarette was smouldering, undisturbed, in the ashtray at her side.
I gazed at her in astonishment. Seventy-two men! And I had worried that eight or nine might kill her.
I thought, too, of all the money. In this one day, Mae had received what an ordinary girl in a fairly well-paid job would earn in months. It was a staggering thought. Even my tips for today came to about twelve pounds; add to that my wages – Mae had agreed five pounds for a Saturday – and ignoring the nubbins on the floor, and I realised with a shock that in one day I had earned what it would have taken me over three weeks to make at the studio.
I mulled over the past week. So far, fate had been kind enough not to send along a client I knew. I thought of my old boss, the little man from the grocery store opposite my bed-sitter, my landlord or – the most horrific thought of all – one of my relations. It didn’t make me feel easier when I told myself that they would be more embarrassed than me. With an average of three hundred men a week teeming in and out, I thought, an uncomfortable reunion was bound to happen sometime. But I was wrong; luckily for me, it never did.
Mae’s voice broke across my thoughts: ‘Let’s have another cuppa, shall we? Then we’ll buzz off.’
‘By the way,’ I said, ‘there’s a big puddle in the hall, and it’s not the dogs.’
‘Oh you’ll soon find our passageway’s a real little gents’ toilet,’ said Mae with a grin. She was beginning to rally. Then, changing the subject, she said – rather shyly, I thought – ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Tony tonight: well, round about one o’clock or so.’ She glanced at her watch.
‘Have you made up your mind about him, then?’ I asked.
‘No, not really. But he’s definitely got something – don’t know what it is, but I think I’ll have to find out.’ Then, after a pause, ‘You don’t feel like taking the dogs home with you tonight, do you?’
I had been ready for this. After only a week with Mae, I was beginning to understand her thought processes. From the moment she’d brought those dogs in, I knew it was only a matter of time before she tried to lumber me with them, though I hadn’t expected it to be so soon. But being in the jungle, I was learning its rules, the first one of which was ‘Protect Thyself’. I answered with what I hoped sounded like real regret:
‘Sorry, I really can’t. My landlord doesn’t allow animals.’
‘Ah well,’ she answered, quite unperturbed, ‘I can put them in Tony’s car while we’re in the club. He won’t mind.’
The last job of the day was to empty the bin by the side of the bed into which the tissues and neatly knotted used condoms were thrown. I brought in a newspaper and opened it out on the floor; Mae tipped the bin out on to it. The crackling of the newspaper woke the dogs and they came bounding over to see what was going on. Mimi darted in, snatched up a rubber that was lying near the edge and ran off with it. Fifi thought this was great fun, so she grabbed the other end and started a tug-of-war. Mae and I watched, appalled. The rubber stretched and stretched, and then the fiendish Mimi suddenly let go. Fifi got such a thwack on the nose that she yelped back to the mink and sat there blinking, with watering eyes. She never touched Durex after that, and ran whenever she caught sight of one. Mimi, on the other hand, seemed to have become enamoured of them, and was almost never without one in her mouth. If I tried to remove it, she would attempt to play the same trick on me as she had on Mimi. I didn’t respond.
We clipped the leads on to the dogs, collected our things together and put on our shoes.
‘I don’t know about you,’ I said, ‘but my feet are killing me tonight!’
‘Cheeky sod!’ gurgled Mae, giving me a playful punch. ‘Come on, you soppy ’a’porth, let’s go.’ Then her face changed, as something dreamy came into it. ‘It’s time for Tony.’
Nine
On Monday, Mae arrived with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, full of the news that she and Tony had spent the whole of Sunday in bed together.
‘Ooh, he’s lovely, Babs! You’d like him.’
I wondered how she could see sex with any man as special and romantic when she spent her life on a virtual conveyor belt of men.
‘Them?’ she said. ‘They’re not sex: they’re work! Tony’s real.’
An hour later the first lot of red roses arrived; the next day, another dozen, and so on for the rest of the week. Each bunch was accompanied by a little note in which Mae was smothered with endearments and referred to as ‘my princess’, ‘my angel’ ‘queen of my heart’ and so forth. I was still unaccountably uneasy at the thought of this affair, but Mae was bowled over, and went around looking dewy-eyed and dreamy.
By Thursday it had become the romance of a lifetime; on the following Sunday, Tony moved into Mae’s little Paddington flat. His luggage consisted of one suitcase and six dozen more red roses. These were to be the ‘last roses of summer’: no more were to follow.
Not much work was done during this time. Mae was besotted and wanted only to sit and talk about Tony. She also told me how her affair with Alphonse had ended.
The couple used to spend a few hours every night after work in an all-night rendezvous where most of the Soho characters congregated to relax after the evening’s slog. According to Mae, Tony – from somewhere behind Alphonse’s back – had made love to her with his eyes.
‘Not in a nasty way, you know: not undressing me,’ she said. ‘It was as if he was longing for me. His whole heart was in his eyes.’
&nbs
p; After a few days of this, Tony produced a friend who happened to know Alphonse and who asked if they could join them.
‘Rabbits told me about Tony,’ Mae went on. ‘She’d heard he came from a rich family in Malta but came over here penniless because he wanted to make his own way in life. She said all the girls were made up about him but he’s very choosy.’
Choosy Tony spent the whole time burning Mae with his eyes and scowling at Alphonse; and the scowling was gradually augmented with growls. Eventually Alphonse suddenly remembered an appointment he had to keep. While he was paying the bill, Tony lounged in the doorway. Alphonse approached to find him leaning nonchalantly against the door jamb with a flick knife in his hand, paring his nails.
‘Alphonse was petrified,’ Mae chortled. ‘When I got home that night, all his stuff was gone and I haven’t seen him since.
‘Tony’s so nice, though,’ she went on. ‘He reckons he’d fallen for me so hard, he couldn’t bear to see me with someone else. He didn’t remember anything about getting out the knife – I had to tell him about that – and he’s so scared about how violent he could get without knowing it, he gave me the knife to look after. That was the one you saw in my bag that time.’ She leaned back, smiling fondly at her thoughts of true love.
Not long afterwards, I was doing some job in the kitchen and Mae, who had just seen off a client, was mooning over her roses. She was calling out to tell me how lovely the scent was in her room when I heard a tap on the outer door. Drying my hands, I went to see who it was, while Mae came to the bedroom door thinking it was another client.
We were confronted with an immaculate blue uniform on a very large policeman. I knew right away that he was not a beat bobby: he wore a flat cap and looked efficient and terrifying. My heart began to pound and my mouth went dry. What had we done? Why was he here?
‘Do you mind ?’ he said, addressing Mae. ‘I’d like to have a few words with this young lady here.’ He nodded towards me. Very scared now, I glanced towards Mae for reassurance.
‘Of course, Officer,’ she answered. Then, to me, ‘I’ll keep the door shut while you’re gone.’ She came closer and gave my arm a comforting squeeze. Evidently she thought that an untold secret from my past had caught up with me and that I was, after all, a bit of a dark horse.
I took my apron off rather slowly, thoughts tumbling through my mind. Why me? What awful thing had I done without knowing it? Why hadn’t I tried to find out if being a maid was illegal?
I asked the policeman if I needed my coat, and he told me I didn’t; that it would only take a few minutes. Then he stood aside to let me go downstairs in front of him. My legs were shaking as I went, but I was slightly comforted by the smile he gave me as I passed. I reflected that there’d been nothing very officious about his manner, and on the way down he made a friendly remark about the weather, which helped to lessen my fears.
As we walked together along the alleyway, everyone was staring at us. At the end, we turned left to where a police car was stationed at the kerb. Another policeman was at the wheel and a policewoman was in the back. As I approached, she wound down the window, smiled and beckoned to me.
‘I won’t ask you to get in,’ she said. ‘I think you’ll find it less embarrassing to talk through the window; it looks more casual that way. I hope you don’t mind us fetching you out, but I wanted to have a word with you in private.’
Not very private, I thought. I could feel the gaze of curious passers-by, some of whom stopped to try and work out what was going on. My escort had obligingly stationed himself to one side of me, with his elbow resting on the roof of the car, so at least I was partly protected from their view.
‘No, that’s all right,’ I answered. ‘What have I done wrong?’
‘Nothing at all, dear. Don’t worry. It’s us who are worried about you.’
That was a relief, but I was still puzzled.
‘The fact is, several of our men have noticed you, and though you wouldn’t have known it, one of our plain-clothes officers has also spoken to you. They are all very concerned.’
So that was it. I tried to think who the plain-clothes man could have been. It must have been one of those nice men in the waiting room on Saturday.
‘What are they worried about?’ I asked; although I think by then I knew.
‘They’re worried because you’re much younger than any of the other maids and because you aren’t the usual type. They said it was obviously not your sort of life and it would be a shame if you got mixed up in it any further. They think you’re too nice a person to waste your life like this.’
‘But I’m only on the edge of it,’ I argued. ‘And I don’t intend getting any more involved than this.’
‘It isn’t that easy,’ she answered. ‘It’s only a very short step from what you’re doing to what she’s doing.’ Here she nodded in the direction of the flat. ‘Leave it, dear, while you can, won’t you?’
‘I couldn’t do what she’s doing!’ I was horrified. ‘I don’t even like men very much.’
‘Do you think she does?’
‘No-oo,’ I answered uncertainly.
‘People can get used to anything for money, you know.’
‘Not me,’ I said with vehemence. ‘I’ll be all right, I promise you. But I can’t leave Mae; she’s my friend and she needs me.’
‘You’re very loyal,’ the policewoman said with a sigh. ‘But promise me you won’t waste your loyalty. Don’t throw it away on something worthless.’
‘Mae isn’t worthless!’
‘Just wait and see; you’ll learn in time. And be careful, dear.’
‘I understand – and thanks for checking. It was very kind of you.’
As I turned to go, I saw the three of them looking at me in a rueful sort of way.
When I got back to the flat, Mae was nervous and burning with curiosity.
‘What did they want?’ she asked, almost before I was inside.
‘Oh, they were worried that being here might corrupt me,’ I told her. ‘They think, given time, that I might take over your job.’
‘Hey, that’s not such a bad idea,’ she laughed. ‘Then I can take it easy and you can keep me in my old age. Your feet are younger than mine anyway.’
The next day I was summoned to another meeting I wasn’t keen on.
‘Tony wants to meet you,’ Mae announced when she arrived. ‘I’ve told him so much about you and he’s still never even seen you. He says why don’t we all have a coffee together when we finish and then we can drive you home in the car; it will save you taking a taxi.’
At the end of the evening we met in one of those quiet little Italian cafés that never seem to do much business but stay open at all hours doing it. It was raining. I arrived carrying Fifi, while Mae carried the Limb of Satan, who was fast becoming her favourite. I was still apprehensive, but agog to meet this supposed prince amongst men. I reassured myself that he must be something special to have been able to capture Mae’s heart.
Tony stood up to greet us from one of the tables. He was a short man of about twenty-eight, with a pasty face – he had olive skin but clearly saw little daylight. As we sat down and pushed the two dogs out of harm’s way under the table, a gold tooth glinted as Tony gave me the first – and almost the last – smile I ever received from him.
It was dislike at first sight. To think that Mae, who could have had anybody, should have fallen for this pallid little thing completely floored me. His only redeeming feature was a kind of melancholy and liquid-eyed Latin charm.
I had to admit he was beautifully turned out, in his expensive suit, immaculate shirt – with just the right amount of cuff showing – navy tie and the diamond sparkling on his little finger. The hair above his puffy face was jet black and teased into short waves and curls, oiled to a sparkle, which gave him a slightly piratical appearance.
He and Mae were gazing at one another in an embarrassing way, but they pulled themselves together when the waiter arrived. Mimi and
Fifi, who were getting caught up in their leads, began snapping at each another. Tony growled something that sounded like ‘Mella!’ and peered under the table at them. I was often to hear him use this word; eventually I discovered that it was an abbreviated expletive that all the Maltese larded their sentences with. The admonition worked like a charm and the dogs were immediately quiet. I made up my mind to practise the sound myself, for use in dire moments.
We drank coffee and talked. Tony seemed like a man trying to be pleasant with a child he didn’t much care for but whose parent was present. His accent was pretty enough, but he had no real conversation and peppered his speech with long, expressive silences. It was after one of these that he finally found something to say.
‘Mae tells me the police wanted to talk to you yesterday.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I was scared stiff.’
‘What did they want?’
The liquid brown eyes had changed and he was watching me with hard black stones. The change was unnerving, and I saw then what Alphonse must have seen: this was a man without scruples and potentially dangerous. Puzzled by his question and by his attitude, I told him the rough gist of our conversation, during which time he never took his eyes off me. When I’d finished, he snapped:
‘Did they ask you anything about me?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘You’re sure?’ The eyes were still riveted on me.
‘Of course I’m sure. What would they ask me about you for?’
I was beginning to get annoyed; I sensed the meeting had been arranged solely for this purpose. The liquid eyes returned and there was a gleam from his gold tooth.
