by Sam Michaels
‘Worried is a bit too strong a word, but I would prefer to take him with the element of surprise. Either way he’s going, and that’ll be the end of your income.’
‘I’m paid to protect him, even if that means taking a bullet for him.’
‘You could do so much better, Knuckles, and let’s face it, you’re not very good at protecting your bosses, are you? I mean, look what happened to Billy. Wasn’t you supposed to be protecting him?’
‘I… erm…’ Knuckles stuttered.
‘And who’s protecting Mickey now, whilst you’re sat here with me?’
Knuckles jumped to his feet. ‘You haven’t, have ya? You ain’t had him done in?’
Georgina threw her head back and laughed. ‘No, Knuckles, calm down, your boss is still alive… for now. My point is, Mickey can be taken out at any time, and he will be. I don’t think you want to stand in my way, do you?’
‘No, but…’
‘Billy’s house at Clapham. I’ve got plans for it. Big plans. I need someone there, someone I can trust. Could you be that person, Knuckles? You wouldn’t be having to take a bullet for anyone and I’d ensure you get paid more than you do now.’
‘I don’t know, I’m not sure…’
‘You don’t have to do anything for now. Just give me a bit of information and carry on as normal. I promise you, Knuckles, you’ll get a good handshake.’
Knuckles scratched the side of his bald head and screwed his face up on one side. The sight reminded Georgina of the comic strip character, Popeye.
‘I dunno about this, Miss Garrett, but I’m interested. Mickey’s making a lot of bad decisions lately and he won’t listen to sense.’
‘What sort of bad decisions?’
‘He’s setting up a meet with that Liverpool gang, the Portland Pounders. Once he gets in with them, he’ll be untouchable, but you must have heard what they’re like… They’ll kill anyone just for looking at ’em funny. I don’t like the idea of it, I really don’t.’
Jane came back into the room carrying a tray with a coffee pot. Knuckles sat back down on the sofa and smiled politely, exposing his rotten teeth.
‘They’re a nasty bunch, even my Norman was careful around them,’ Jane said as she placed the tray on a small marble table next to the chair where Georgina was sat.
‘What’s the meet about, Knuckles?’ Georgina asked.
‘I dunno the full details but it’s happening next week. The guv’nor and a couple of his blokes are coming to Queenstown Road on Friday. I think they’re gonna exchange a couple of girls and the Pounders have got some cash needs cleaning.’
‘I see, and you’re telling me this because you’re now working for me?’
‘Looks that way, don’t it. Mickey’s a fucking liability. I’ve never been able to stomach him. ’Scuse me language, missus,’ Knuckles said to Jane, then added, ‘He’ll have us all fucking killed. He’s even on about going up against the Maynards. He reckons he can take on all of fucking London.’
‘Does he, indeed, well, I’ll see to it that he doesn’t get far. Trust me, Knuckles, you’ve made the right decision.’
‘I hope so, but I still ain’t sure you’re up to it, you know, with you being a woman and all.’
‘You let me worry about that. Now, what can you tell me about where Mickey keeps the takings?’
‘Ha, this’ll make you laugh! None of us know where the key is for Billy’s safe so Mickey can’t use it. He has all the money stored in a dog’s kennel in the corner of Billy’s office.’
‘A dog’s kennel? Does the dog guard it?’
‘He ain’t got a dog,’ Knuckles said and laughed. His shoulders jigged and his large belly wobbled. ‘No-one guards it. Mickey sleeps upstairs with one of the tarts and the place ain’t belled up or nothing. He thinks he’s so fucking hard that no-one would have the balls to do him over.’
Georgina glanced at Jane who had raised her eyebrows as she poured the coffee into fine bone china cups.
‘That’s very useful to know, thank you, Knuckles. Is there anything else you can tell me?’
‘Like what?’
‘Malc and Sid collect the protection money—’
‘Insurance,’ Jane cut in. ‘Norman preferred to call it insurance.’
Georgina continued, ‘Malc and Sid collect the insurance, then I assume they bring the money to Mickey. Do they take their own cut first?’
‘No, Mickey likes to have full control over everything. The money comes in by Saturday afternoon, then on Monday morning, Mickey has us all in the office and he does the ledgers. He counts the money out like a little Jew boy while his brother keeps the books. Then he dishes out what we’re all due. Credit where credit’s due, he don’t keep none of us short.’
‘Mickey has a brother?’ Georgina asked. She hadn’t reckoned on any family support for him.
‘Yeah, but he’s a streak of piss, scared of his own fucking shadow. He lives at home with his mum and does whatever Mickey tells him to do.’
‘Great, I think I know all I need to for now. Just one more thing, Knuckles. At night, there’s only Mickey and the prostitutes in the house? Are they open for business?’
‘No, the doors close at midnight so there’s just the three Russian whores and Mickey.’
Jane handed Knuckles a coffee and Georgina thought his giant hands looked as though they might crush the cup. It was almost surreal to see this rough, massive man daintily holding Jane’s best china.
‘What shall I do now?’ Knuckles asked.
Georgina almost felt sorry for him. He looked like a little boy who’d lost his mummy in the market. Then she remembered how Knuckles had taken orders from Billy and had probably been involved in torching her Maids of Battersea club premises with her inside. ‘Either keep your mouth shut about our conversation or get yourself away for a couple of weeks until this is all sorted.’
‘I ain’t got nowhere to go.’
‘Then you’ll have to go back to Mickey, but do you think you can act as if nothing has happened?’
‘Yeah, I can do that. He hardly talks to me unless he has to. How will I know when you’re coming for him?’
‘You won’t,’ Georgina answered and her hackles rose.
‘I know how that sounded, Miss Garrett, but I ain’t gonna say a word, I swear. Like I said, it’s bad enough about the Liverpool Pounders but if he starts taking on the Maynards, that’s it, we’ll all end up six feet under.’
‘All right, Knuckles, you go back to him now and carry on as normal. I’ll be seeing you… soon.’
Knuckles quickly finished his coffee and Jane showed the big man out. When she came back into the lounge, she had a face like thunder and drew the curtains before she spoke. ‘What on earth was you thinking of?’
‘What? And why are we sitting in darkness?’ Georgina asked.
‘Because I don’t want anyone hearing us! You’ve revealed everything to that… that… that thug. Do you really believe for one minute that he’s not going to tell Mickey exactly what we’re up to? Have you gone totally mad?’
Georgina had a job not to giggle at Jane. How drawing the curtains would keep their secrets was beyond her. As far as she was concerned, there was only one mad person in the room and it was Jane. ‘You heard him. He’s worried for his life working with Mickey. For Christ’s sake, who’d be stupid enough to go up against the Maynards? Not even Norman or Billy would have done that! No, Mickey’s pushing his luck and Knuckles knows it.’
‘And what if it’s all lies?’
‘Knuckles ain’t bright enough. He’s telling the truth. I’ve got until next Friday to get to Mickey before he meets the Pounders. That’s just seven days.’
‘Couldn’t you go to the Maynards and tell them what Mickey’s intentions are? Surely they wouldn’t stand for it?’
‘No, why would they believe me? Anyway, this is mine for the taking, for us, Jane, for The Maids of Battersea.’
The door opened and Molly popped her he
ad around. ‘Has he gone?’ she asked.
‘Yes, it’s all clear. Is Edward all right?’ Jane asked.
‘Sound asleep. Well, how did it go?’
‘According to Georgina, very well, but I hope she’s not being naïve.’
Georgina gave her friend a knowing look. ‘Take no notice, Molly, I think Jane is getting a little paranoid. Knuckles is on side and also spilled the beans about Mickey’s plans for expansion, including taking over the Maynards’ turf.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding? South East London? Blimey, Georgina, if you don’t get him first, the Maynards will definitely take him out.’
‘Exactly and I’ve only got one week before he meets with the Liverpool Pounders. If Knuckles is right, Mickey is planning on working in some sort of cahoots with them so I need to shut him down before any deals are done. It’s one thing getting rid of Mickey but I wouldn’t want to face the Pounders.’
‘This sounds like it’s getting very complicated,’ Molly said.
‘It is, who wants one of these?’ Jane answered as she poured herself a large brandy.
‘No, not for me, I need to keep a clear head,’ Georgina said and opened the curtains on the darkened room.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Molly asked.
Georgina looked into her eyes and saw the genuine concern. They’d been best friends since childhood and had shared so much together. Georgina had always protected Molly and always would. Molly was her one confidante, though Georgina never confessed that she’d been the person who’d accidentally killed her father, Mike Mipple. Granted, the man had subjected his family to a reign of terror, but still, some things were best left unsaid.
‘Yes, Molly, I’m very sure. And I’m going to do this before Mickey completely destroys the Wilcox name and all that Norman and Billy built up.’
Jane looked petrified as she knocked back her brandy and Molly appeared equally worried as she sat on the sofa and wrung her hands.
‘Don’t worry, Mickey won’t know what’s hit him,’ Georgina said trying to sound reassuring, though really, she was just as scared as her friend.
4
Fanny Mipple trudged home, her weary body aching from being on her knees and scrubbing floors. It was late on Sunday afternoon but Fanny worked seven days a week as a cleaner in Bolingbroke hospital. She didn’t mind hard work, especially since Mike, her foul husband, had mysteriously passed away, so now she could keep her own wages.
The hospital catered for the middle classes who couldn’t afford nursing care at home but didn’t want to go into the infirmaries with the riff-raff working class. She rarely interacted with the patients, but when she did, Fanny knew they were looking down their snooty noses at her. Maybe that’s why she preferred to work in the mortuary. She’d found it a bit creepy at first but had become accustomed to being surrounded by stiffs, and at least it was quiet and peaceful.
Thankfully, the wickedly cold wind that had ripped through the streets earlier in the week had dropped and the snow that had settled had turned to slush. Still, Fanny’s toes felt numb and her cheeks burned. She knew it wouldn’t be much warmer at home but at least she could crawl under her blankets.
Her thoughts went to Georgina and the plans to take over the Wilcox empire. The young woman’s ideas were bold and Fanny had gone along with them, but she wished her daughter was stronger. After all, if Molly had the guts to claim what she should have inherited, Fanny would be sitting pretty now in that big house in Clapham. Instead, she was still stuck in the same shithole she’d lived in for years.
‘Oh, Molly,’ she mumbled under her breath, disappointed that it had been Georgina who’d come up with the plan. Now it would be the Garretts who would have everything and she and her daughters would be left accepting handouts and would be expected to show gratitude. She hoped Georgina would be generous. The thought of going cap in hand to ask for anything really grated on her. When Molly had married Billy Wilcox, she’d thought her days of begging for a living were well behind her. No, she’d never beg Georgina, especially as anything from the business should be Molly’s earnings. Georgina was the right person to attempt the takeover, Fanny had no doubt about that. But Molly should have put her foot down and insisted that Georgina work for her, for a wage. If it went well tonight, Georgina would soon be lining her own pockets with money that rightfully belonged to Molly.
She wasn’t too far from home now and as she passed Mrs Peterson’s shop, she spotted a woman dressed in layers of rags huddled in the shop doorway. Fanny eyed the woman and gave her a smile. With her purse almost empty, friendliness was all she could offer the woman.
‘Can you spare any pennies, please?’ the woman asked.
Fanny could tell from her pronunciation that she wasn’t from round here – she’d never heard an accent like it before.
‘Sorry, I’m skint,’ Fanny replied and felt sorry for the woman. She understood what it was like to have to beg for a living. After all, she’d spent years on the steps outside the railway station pleading for any small offering from strangers.
‘It’s hard times,’ the woman said.
‘You can say that again. You’re not from these parts, are you?’
‘No. Me and my husband moved here from Wales. There’s no work there so we hoped to find something in London. Trouble is, we spent every last penny we had just getting here.’
‘Where’s your husband now?’ Fanny asked.
‘I wish I knew! I woke up the other morning and he’d gone. He probably thought it would be easier to look after himself without me.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe you’re better off without him. Bloody men are more trouble than they’re worth. How did you end up in Battersea?’
‘I’m not sure. I walked over a bridge and here I am. We were sleeping rough on the Embankment. There’s loads of us there. Mostly Welsh and Northerners who’d travelled here hoping for a better life and jobs in the construction that’s going on. But I think I would have been better off staying in Wales.’
‘There’s not much work here, I’m afraid. They’re doing some slum clearance on the other side of Battersea but all the jobs would have been taken up by the local men. They could do with clearing these bleedin’ houses too. I dunno about up in town but I doubt you’ll find anything here.’
‘Yes, I’ve realised that.’
‘Tell you what. I can’t give you any money but you’re welcome to come to mine for a hot drink. You won’t find my place much warmer than these streets, mind.’
‘Really? Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ve not had anything to eat or drink since yesterday.’
‘Come on, then. Me name’s Fanny. Fanny Mipple.’
‘Nice to meet you, Fanny. I’m Clarice Jones. I’m ever so grateful – you’re so kind.’
‘I know what it’s like to have nothing.’
As Fanny turned onto her street, she saw Molly walking towards her, pushing a pram. She always enjoyed visits from her daughter and though Edward looked the spit of his father, Fanny was smitten with the little chap.
‘Here come’s my daughter, Molly.’
‘Hello, Mum, me and Edward thought we’d pop in to see you. I know Ethel is staying with Dulcie tonight so thought you might want a bit of company but looks like you already have some?’
‘That’s thoughtful of you. Molly, this is Clarice. Come on, let’s get inside and get that little mite out of the cold,’ Fanny answered, feeling a stab of guilt knowing that she couldn’t offer the child any more warmth than her own children had ever had.
Fanny opened the door and helped Molly lift the pram over the front step and into the decrepit hallway. ‘Hello, my little man,’ she cooed as she lifted Edward from his cosy carriage and carried him through to her one room in the shared house. She invited Clarice in and told her, ‘Come through to the scullery. I’ll put a penny in the gas meter and you can warm your hands on the stove.’
She pulled out a wooden stool for the woman to sit on and showed her where to find the
tea leaves.
‘You get yourself warmed through. I’ll be in my room.’
Nothing much had changed in the room since her husband had died. It was where she’d raised seven girls, though five of them had left home. Pallet wood still covered the window and allowed in a terrible draught. There had been a curtain separating her and her husband’s bed from the girls’ but Fanny had taken it down. Now, there was just her, Ethel and Charlotte and it was warmer for all three of them to share the same bed.
‘Who’s that?’ Molly whispered.
‘I don’t really know. I just met her. She was sheltering in Mrs Peterson’s shop doorway. I felt sorry for her so invited her in for a cuppa.’
‘Ah, the poor woman.’
‘I know. I’m gonna feel terrible getting rid of her but she can’t stay.’
‘Unfortunately, Mum, with this Depression, there’s so many people on their uppers, you can’t help all of them. Anyway, I’ve brought something for you and Charlotte,’ Molly said as she rummaged in a cloth bag that had been over her shoulder. ‘Where is she?’
‘Gawd knows. She’s a wild child, that one. I can’t keep tabs on her. She does as she pleases and she takes no notice of anything I say.’
Molly frowned and asked, ‘Do you want me to have a word with her?’
‘No, you’d be wasting your time. The only person that girl would have listened to was your father, God rest his soul.’
‘But she’s only ten, Mum, she shouldn’t be coming and going as she pleases.’
‘I know, but what do you expect me to do if the girl won’t do as she’s told?’ Fanny snapped. She felt tired and cold and the last thing she needed was any sort of righteous lecture from Molly.
‘Give her a good bloody hiding, that’ll make her pull her socks up!’
‘Don’t you think you girls saw enough good bloody hidings when your father was alive? I’ll have no more violence in my house, ever. Do you hear me? No more!’ Fanny spoke through gritted teeth. She would have shouted if she hadn’t been holding Edward.
‘Yes, I’m sorry, Mum, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
