Kitabı oku: «The Campbell Road Girls», sayfa 2
Chapter Two
‘That ain’t what we agreed.’
‘What you talking about ... what we agreed?’
The woman listening outside the door recognised her husband’s mean, scoffing voice.
‘We didn’t agree nuthin’, as I recall.’
‘Reckon you must have a right problem with yer memory then. I told you a monkey, and a monkey it is, or no deal.’
Winifred Finch shrank aside as, through a sliver of space, she saw her husband whip a glance her way. In her eagerness to concentrate on what was going on she’d gripped tightly at the door knob, making it squeak in protest. She crept backwards, still craning her neck in the hope of hearing more.
The two men had frozen at the suspicious sound with their fists planted on the table and their torsos almost touching across its square cloth-covered top. A single lamp was burning to one side of them and it put sallow colour on their snarling profiles, and jagged shadows on the opposite wall.
The younger of the men suddenly sprang half out of his chair and swept the gold on the table towards him with the edges of his palms. Broad, bristle-backed fingers then crouched protectively over the jewellery as he slunk down into his seat. ‘You don’t want this fair and square,’ William Black spat, ‘don’t fucking have it. I got other places to go. This ain’t high street crap, y’know, Finchie. This is stuff most likely come out of Tiffany’s and Mappin & Webb and the like. I’ll have people rip me arm off to get hold of it, so fuck you.’
‘Now ... now ... now ...’ the older man soothed. His slitted eyes darted back to the glitter visible beneath his associate’s hand. He was sure his wife was spying but he’d deal with the nosy cow later. He relaxed back in his chair and spread his arms, gesturing for a truce. ‘Didn’t say I don’t want it, did I, Bill? Just said we ain’t agreed a price yet. Certainly ain’t agreed the sum you come out with.’ He snorted a laugh, hoping he was conveying how farcical he thought Bill’s figure. His mockery sounded false and nervous, and did nothing to alleviate the tension in the gloomy room.
Eddie Finch had known Bill Black for many years. He did business with him on a regular basis despite Bill living Lambeth way and Eddie being an Islington resident. Bill might turn up, unannounced, any evening, and unload from his car several cases stuffed with stolen goodies. Eddie knew Bill made the journey to see him north of the water because he liked the way he did business. If Bill had any better associates over Lambeth way paying good prices Eddie knew he wouldn’t have seen so much of him. He’d no intention of being railroaded into paying over the odds. He slew a crafty glance at the jewellery.
This little stash was entirely different from what he usually got offered. As a rule Bill brought him a few boxes filled with luxury items of leather and linen, knocked off from some top West End store. But this wasn’t fifty quids worth of nice stuff from Derry and Toms or Selfridges, which he’d get a handsome profit on by channelling it through market stalls and clothes dealers. This was serious money. But Eddie wasn’t about to let Bill know how keen he was; neither did he relish getting into a scrap with the nutter.
For one thing, he had his wife and kids about the place, and he didn’t want a tear-up occurring in his own home. For another, Bill was almost half his age and about a stone heavier. He’d seen the damage Bill could inflict when in a paddy. Last week, when in a south London pub for a business meeting with another of his partners in crime, Eddie had seen a fellow who looked a right state courtesy of Bill’s vicious temper. Apparently, he’d spoken less than respectfully to one of Bill’s lady friends. Bill was known to have plenty of women always on the go. In all probability it had been a slag he had no real feelings for that had been insulted yet it had resulted in a bloke nearly getting kicked to death. Eddie could see that Bill hardly had a mark on him so the fellow must have either been too pissed to put up a proper fight or had a lousy punch on him.
Eddie’s excitement at the prospect of getting his hands on some lovely stuff had given him a racing heartbeat and guts that gurgled, but he’d no intention of letting Bill know he was seriously rattled. For a long, long time he’d wanted a plump sum to add to his little nest egg and Eddie reckoned he’d found one. He wasn’t going to let it slip away.
‘Winifred!’ Eddie summoned his wife in a bellow. ‘Take a drink, won’t yer, Bill?’
A diminutive woman with frizzy brown hair and a sullen expression immediately shuffled into the parlour from the adjoining kitchenette. A small boy peered about the edge of the door with huge dark eyes, but when Bill noticed him and gave him an exaggerated wink the child shrank back out of sight.
‘Get us a couple of whiskies while we sort out some business.’
‘Ain’t gonna make no difference to the price.’ Bill Black gave a sour smile. ‘I’ll take a drink with you, Eddie, but I still want a monkey or nothing doing.’ As Winifred beetled back to the kitchenette Bill noticed Eddie’s eyes dart again to his humped hand so he temptingly wriggled his fingers, exposing the shimmer beneath. Weak lamplight caused the diamonds to spark fire and the dark stones appeared huge and profound.
‘Fuckin’ hell, that is nice,’ Eddie whispered, lunging to pick up a ring by its platinum shank. The huge sapphire at its centre appeared black until he angled it towards the light and it burst into colour.
‘Get most o’ yer monkey back on that piece alone, won’t yer?’ Bill softly drawled, watching Eddie with foxy eyes. ‘Tell you the truth, I reckon I must be nuts lettin’ it go.’ He inclined closer to whisper, ‘Betty took a fancy to that sapphire and I nearly had to break her finger to get it back off her, the greedy mare.’ He continued watching Eddie’s expression as he turned the ring this way and that, letting the lamp work its magic.
Eddie fumbled under the edge of the tablecloth to pull open a drawer and find an eyeglass. Having screwed it in, he went to business.
‘Don’t let yer missus get a gander at that one. Go missing, it will, ’fore you’ve had a chance to shift it.’
Eddie snickered and continued twisting the ring to and fro.
Words were unnecessary. Bill knew the weasel sitting opposite would throttle his missus or his kids if any of them so much as touched anything of his without his say so.
Eddie put down the sapphire and began examining a square-cut diamond ring set in yellow gold. He carried on until every single item had been thoroughly studied. He didn’t have much of a clue what to look for; the gems looked big and clean under inspection and that seemed enough. But he’d once had a job as a goldsmith’s apprentice in Hatton Garden and liked to think he knew a bit about the trade despite the fact he’d been sacked for stealing a bracelet before he’d been employed six months.
‘Well?’ Bill prompted, having impatiently observed his companion staring transfixed at the collection of gems neatly arranged in the centre of the table.
‘Give yer four.’
‘Get stuffed.’
Winifred shuffled in and nervously put down two tumblers half-filled with Scotch. She audibly swallowed and gawped, dumbstruck at the jewellery adorning her dirty tablecloth.
‘On yer way,’ her husband gruffly ordered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the kitchenette. Immediately she did as she’d been told, pulling the door to after her.
‘Shut it!’ Eddie barked. He waited until he heard a click, then said, ‘Bleedin’ nosy cow’s probably got her eye stuck to the keyhole instead.’
‘Can’t blame her. All women love jewellery, Eddie. You’ll probably get the shag of yer life if you just let her wear a couple of bits. Betty likes to slip on a few baubles when we’re at it ... says it excites her ...’
‘Give yer four fifty,’ Eddie wheezed out. ‘Can’t say fairer’n that.’
‘Can, Eddie,’ Bill sighed. ‘Can say five hundred and you’re still getting a steal.’ He chuckled at his little joke. He knew he’d got him. Eddie desperately wanted the stuff and he couldn’t blame him. It was the bargain of the century. If Bill had had more time to shift it he’d have gone elsewhere. He knew he could have got closer to a grand if he’d sold the stuff individually. But he wanted shot of it quickly because it was hot and he might at any time get a visit from the boys in blue.
He also needed some money pronto to pay off what he owed on other deals. His spare bedroom at home was stuffed floor to ceiling with fur coats, and the bad girls who’d hoisted the stuff for him were giving him earache about getting their share of the loot. He needed to keep Betty and her crew sweet because they earned him a fortune, and a few of the girls didn’t mind joining him in bed when Betty’s back was turned. Bill glanced at Eddie; he knew he had a wad about the place somewhere. Much as Eddie Finch liked to plead poverty, the miser always had ready cash.
Bill glanced about the parlour with distaste. Considering the dump Eddie lived in it wasn’t surprising he had a stash; he certainly didn’t spend any of his money on his home or his family.
Eddie swiped a hand over his bristly chin. ‘There ain’t gonna be no comeback on this, is there?’
‘Nah! The girl I got working for me, she’s young but real cute. No flies on her. We’ve covered her tracks.’
‘Nothing going to be in the papers, then, to identify it? No list of items up Scotland Yard getting looked at?’
‘Got hoisted off some posh bloke’s tart.’ Bill shrugged. ‘When I say tart, course I mean a right high-class brass. Set up in style, she is, in Mayfair. The old boy, who I can tell you is an MP, ’n’ all – but no more clues,’ he joked playfully – ‘well, he ain’t gonna want it splashed all over the papers that his mistress’s jewellery got robbed when it’s probably a damn sight better than anything he’s ever bought fer his missus, is he?’
‘Who is this girl you use? Is it Betty?’ Eddie was playing for time while he thought things through. He doubted that Bill would have used Betty Pickering to steal this lot. For one thing, she was the woman in his harem he fancied the most and he wouldn’t risk getting her banged up on a long stretch for something serious. Betty already had a police record for shoplifting and had done short sentences. Her face was well known; she wouldn’t easily get a job in service, even with false references.
‘My business, that is, Eddie.’ Bill tapped his nose. ‘Can’t expect me to go telling you me trade secrets. Don’t you worry, she’s a pro all right. Weren’t there working as a maid for this tart more’n a week.’ He made a diving motion with a hand. ‘Straight in, she were, had a mosey around, found where the jewellery box were hid and Bob’s yer uncle.’ He abruptly drew the gems into his fingers, his expression grim. ‘Time’s up. Ready or not?’
‘What you doin’ downstairs, Jenny?’ Eddie had scrambled to his feet at the sight of one of his teenage daughters stationed in the doorway. ‘I told you to stay in yer room, you disobedient little ... Winnie!’ he roared, summoning his wife.
Winifred shot out and gawped at Jennifer. ‘You know yer dad don’t like you downstairs when he’s got company,’ she wailed. Her bony hands began flapping in front of her pinafore to shoo the girl away.
‘Only after a drink of water,’ Jennifer breathed in a high nervous voice, but she couldn’t stop her gleaming eyes from sliding towards Bill Black.
‘Leave her be; ain’t doin’ no harm.’ Bill sent the girl a subtle smile. He knew Eddie and Winnie had twin daughters who were about fourteen. This was the little minx who gave him come-on looks; the prettier one, called Katherine, seemed a right stuck-up cow. Considering who she was and where she lived she’d no right to such airs and graces, in Bill’s opinion. He’d seen Jennifer before, watching him out of an upstairs window when he’d been unloading stuff from the boot of his car. He knew her sort – had a throb in her fanny before her tits were big enough to be of interest. Bill was wise enough to decline gaol bait but he wasn’t averse to stringing her along and letting her know he’d be ready when she was ...
‘Fetch her a bleedin’ cup of water and get rid of her,’ Eddie growled through set teeth at his wife. He’d seen Jennifer stare at the pile of gems before her eyes skittered away. Once Bill was gone the little slut would feel the back of his hand.
A moment later, Winnie thrust a chipped cup at her daughter, slopping some water down the front of Jennifer’s nightdress in her haste to get rid of her.
Once Winnie had taken herself off back into the kitchenette and the stairs creaked quietly, Bill said, amused, ‘Now ... where was we, Finchie? You want this stuff or not, ’cos I’m on a promise and I don’t want Betty to go off the boil, if yer know wot I mean ...’
‘All right,’ Eddie muttered in defeat. ‘Give yer half now and half on Friday.’ He pulled out of his pocket a thick roll of notes and, having slowly counted out, slapped most of it down on the tablecloth. ‘Look ... just left meself a tenner to get by.’
Bill laughed at his sulky expression as he picked up the cash. ‘You know that ain’t how it works, mate.’
‘Fucking hell,’ Eddie snapped, slamming himself back in the chair. ‘Yer reckon I’ve got five hundred notes about the place?’
‘Tell you what.’ Bill tilted his head, eyeing him shrewdly. ‘I’ll take yer two ’n’ ’alf and leave you them.’ He pushed some rings towards Eddie. ‘Then Friday I’ll come by with the sapphire and you can settle up.’ He waved the ring beneath Eddie’s nose before pocketing it.
Eddie jerked immediately to his feet. He reckoned come Friday Bill would have sold it elsewhere. ‘You don’t trust me to pay up?’ He was all huffy indignation.
‘Course I don’t, mate.’ Bill also got to his feet. ‘What kind o’ mug d’you take me for?’ He picked up the whisky and downed it in one swallow. ‘Say thanks to the missus fer the drink, won’t you now, just in case she can’t hear me.’ A sardonic glance was sent towards the kitchenette.
‘No ... hang on ...’ Eddie stopped him by the door that led into the gloomy passage. He swiped a hand over his jaw. ‘I’ll see what I can rake up.’ He went into the kitchen and closed the door quickly behind him. Raised voices could be heard, then a shove from her husband sent Winifred, holding her son by the hand, hurtling out of the small room. The momentum was too much for the boy’s balance and he fell to his knees, but Winnie immediately hoisted him up by an arm before flouncing out of the parlour. A moment later the stairs started creaking again.
Bill chuckled to himself as he heard Eddie turn the key in the lock. Wherever it was Eddie had hidden his money in the kitchen he wasn’t about to let him, or his wife, know about it. ‘Wise move, mate,’ Bill called drily. ‘Can’t be too careful. Winnie finds yer stash you won’t see her nor it no more.’
Garbled muttering was heard coming from behind the door, then a few moments later Eddie was back with a roll of notes. ‘There, take the fuckin’ lot. You’ve cleaned me out.’ He threw the money on the table.
‘Know what I reckon, Eddie?’ Bill grinned as he collected fivers and tenners. ‘I reckon I should’ve asked fer more because you could pull a grand out of this place if necessary, couldn’t yer?’ He shook his head. ‘Crafty old git.’ He retrieved the ring from his pocket. ‘There, have that, and a good leg-over later, if you let Winifred slip it on. She’ll be staring at that instead of the ceiling for a change, and fantasising you’re Ramon Navarro and she’s Tallulah Bankhead.’ Ignoring Eddie’s scowl he went out guffawing, one hand curved about the cash in his pocket.
Even before he’d heard the front door click shut behind Bill, Eddie was drawing his belt from his trousers. He was seething to have been forced to pay so much for the jewellery. He wasn’t happy either that he’d been forced to scrape together his nest egg in front of his wife; he now needed to find a new hidy-hole. Winifred would have the kitchen upside down looking for it as soon as his back was turned. But there was nothing left to find. Bill had cleaned him out, and Eddie never liked to be without a little bit tucked away. He sent a vicious look ceiling-ward, his lips flat against his teeth as he started towards the door.
Chapter Three
‘Why didn’t you let me know you was coming?’
‘Wanted it to be a nice surprise for you.’ Lucy managed to shield her shocked expression against Matilda’s shoulder whilst giving her a fierce hug. Once she’d composed herself she looked up.
Lucy had last seen her mother many months ago during the Easter holiday and had thought then she looked rough. In the meantime, as the hot summer months had passed by, she’d prayed the fine weather would help Matilda recuperate in body and mind, rather than the heatwave exhaust her, for she’d seemed worryingly depressed even before Reg took off. But moments ago, Lucy’s optimism had dwindled. While waiting on the landing to be let in, she’d realised her mother was finding the simple task of opening the door an irritating effort.
Having lugged her trunk and a bag of shopping up the rickety flight of stairs to the first floor, Lucy’s light, teasing ratatat had drawn slow shuffling footsteps and muttered cursing from inside the room. Her first glimpse of haggard features, grey with strain, had been viewed through a narrow aperture and had made Lucy’s spirits plummet. Having identified her visitor Matilda had then found the energy to shove the door wide open and hoarsely whoop in delight. But despite her mother’s enthusiastic welcome Lucy was dismayed by her relapse.
Alice had sent a letter to Essex over a month ago to let her and Sophy know that Reg had done a runner. A long time had passed with no news of him, she’d added, so it seemed unlikely he’d soon be back. Alice had also informed them that their mother was still struggling to get about on her own and was stubbornly refusing to accept neighbours’ help, or to move to Wood Green so Alice could properly care for her.
‘How long you got off work?’ Tilly asked, gripping tightly at Lucy’s hands and pushing her back so she could study her lovely face. ‘Be a treat if you could stay till the weekend.’ Matilda’s customary gruff tone bubbled joyfully at the prospect of having her youngest daughter’s company.
‘I can stay, Mum,’ Lucy confirmed, a smile in her voice. ‘In fact I’ll be able to stay for a while ’cos I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Good or bad?’ Tilly immediately elbowed free of her daughter’s renewed embrace and took a suspicious peer at her flat belly.
‘Well, I think you’ll reckon it’s good. I’ve come back to London to stay.’
‘To stay?’ Matilda parroted. ‘It’s true then what Margaret said.’ She frowned at Lucy. ‘You after a change of scenery or you got sacked?’ It was barked out indignantly rather than angrily. Of all her daughters, Lucy tended to be proud and impetuous. As a child she’d got into numerous scraps with other kids because of it. Not that Matilda had chided her for that. When you lived in the Bunk you brought up your kids to give as good as they got or they’d have the life bullied out of them. But her youngest could be a bit naïve at times as well as hot-headed. Matilda felt annoyed with herself for not pursuing the matter of Lucy’s employment when Margaret Lovat had first hinted at it, weeks ago.
‘Not got sacked, Mum!’ Lucy chuckled. ‘Got an interview for a job in Bloomsbury.’ She struck a hoity-toity little pose.
Tilly’s lined face softened in relief. ‘In town, eh?’ She nodded to show she was impressed. ‘More money, then?’ she asked, ever prosaic.
‘Hope so; ’cos of my age and lack of experience and so on it’ll all be discussed at the interview. It says so in the letter they’ve sent me. But if it’s a few shillings less I’m not bothered. I’ll be closer to you, anyhow. So even though I’ll be living in I can come ’n’ see you on all of me free afternoons,’ Lucy rattled off. ‘And I’ll be able to meet up with Alice and Beth. I’ll take you out places and we can have some fine times again. It’ll be like before I went away when it was just us two.’
After her other sisters had left to set up their own homes, Tilly’s maternal instinct, no longer diluted by being channelled four ways, had condensed and targeted Lucy. They had grown very close, and her sisters still referred to Lucy as their mother’s blue-eyed girl. The bond had survived Tilly’s volatile nature and heavy drinking, and Lucy leaving home to work in service.
‘And what if you don’t get offered this job, my gel? Bound to be lots of women applyin’ fer a position like that.’
Lucy shrugged insouciantly. ‘I’ll find another agency and go after another job. But I want to have a taste of London life, and I ain’t going back to the sticks and that’s final.’ She gave a crisp nod, setting her thick chestnut hair waving. ‘Not that I could go back anyhow ’cos I told that snooty bitch that married Mr Lockley just what I thought of her before I carried me case out of the back door.’
Matilda grinned despite herself. She liked to know that her daughters didn’t stand for any nonsense, and she recalled that Sophy had described the new mistress as ‘bleedin’ hard work’. ‘Well, you’ll have to get this job then, and once you’ve got it, you keep hold of it.’ Despite being overjoyed to hear her Little Luce was going to be close by, Tilly wagged a cautioning finger at her. ‘Good work’s hard to come by these days. You was lucky getting a job straight from school. And you got yer sister Sophy to thank fer that. You’ve never had it hard, so take it from me, being skint ain’t fun.’
‘Not renting the back room now you’re on yer own?’ Lucy had opened the connecting door and peered in to a dismal space that held nothing but an iron bed with a stained mattress on it, and a wonky tallboy that had a gaping hole right in the centre where the largest drawer should have been. She gazed enquiringly at her mother. Most people who lived in the Bunk and had a bit of spare space would rent it out. Lucy could recall that even when their rooms had been filled to overflowing with family members, Tilly would sometimes take in a temporary lodger for a bit of extra cash. Being the youngest, she’d usually share a bed with her mother and free up just enough space in the back room for another young woman to kip down with Bethany and Alice in the back. It was so unlike her mother to overlook such an opportunity that Lucy repeated her question.
Matilda shook her head. ‘Could do with the rent money all right but can’t be doing with the company.’
‘You can do with the company,’ Lucy disagreed, closing the back room door and approaching her mother. ‘Alice reckons you could do with a hand most days. If you had a lodger ... perhaps a widow or a spinster about your own age who could help out with other things ...’
‘Don’t want no strangers nursemaiding me,’ Tilly brusquely asserted. ‘So don’t think you lot are landing one on me. What else yer sisters been telling you about me behind me back?’
‘It’s not like that, Mum,’ Lucy said briskly. ‘We’re all worried about you, you know. Why won’t you go and live with Alice for a while till you’re feeling better?’
‘Has Alice told you to get on at me about it? If she has I’ll have her hide fer pokin’ her nose in where it’s not wanted.’
‘Alice hasn’t said more’n she’s worried you’ll take another bad fall and end up looking a worse state than you do now.’
‘Look a mess, do I?’ Tilly challenged with grim amusement.
‘I’ve seen you look better. In fact you looked better at Easter,’ Lucy immediately came back with an honest reply. ‘I expected you to be well on the mend by now.’
Matilda ignored that, instead demanding, ‘And I suppose you’ve all been having a chinwag about Reg ’n’ all. What’ve you all been saying about him?’
‘He’s done a runner and left you on yer own.’ It was a concise reply.
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Matilda agreed. ‘Ain’t talking about him neither. He’s gone and forgotten, and that’s that.’ A moment later she’d rescinded that vow. ‘You don’t seem surprised about him going.’
Lucy shrugged. ‘Last time I was here I could tell things weren’t right between you. You were both snapping and snarling more than usual.’
‘He’s gone back to Ireland.’
‘Back to Ireland?’ Lucy echoed, her eyes widening in surprise. None of her sisters had heard that bit of news as far as she was aware. ‘What, for good?’
‘Dunno,’ Matilda replied. ‘Yesterday I went up to Smithie’s shop.’ She sent her daughter a sour smile. ‘See, I can do the trip on me own, if I have to. Anyhow, I bumped into Reg’s friend Vince. He looked a bit embarrassed; don’t know why ’cos I never had a habit of questioning him about Reg. So, he just come out with it and said Reg had caught the boat back a few weeks previous.’
Lucy had met Vince a few times and thought him a weasely sort of fellow. ‘Perhaps he was just saying that, Mum, ’cos he felt awkward and wanted to nip off.’
‘Just said I never pestered him over Reg. Don’t matter anyway; let him stay in Ireland, for all I care. Seen him in his true colours now, ain’t I?’ Matilda pursed her lips. ‘Bleedin’ good job, weren’t it, we never did the “in sickness and in health” bit,’ she added bitterly.
Despite Matilda’s bravado Lucy could tell her mother was getting upset talking about the man who’d abandoned her. She and her sisters, along with most of Campbell Road’s inhabitants, were aware that Reg ought to have been at home with their mother on the night their evil uncle had turned up with murderous intentions. Nobody really blamed Reg for allowing himself to be waylaid by a pal for a drink in a pub; but then nobody blamed Tilly either for being unrelentingly resentful that he had.
That horrible night had been a catalogue of calamity for their family. On the very same night, their cousin, Robert Wild, Jimmy’s son, had been beaten up so badly by thugs that he’d nearly died. The disasters had been like toppling dominoes: one setting the other in motion. A shiver rippled through Lucy at the memory of the dreadful months that had followed when they’d feared Matilda and Robert might both die of their injuries.
Determinedly, Lucy cheered herself up and, to impress on her mum that she was definitely not returning to Essex, she briskly dragged her case in from the landing. She left the trunk against the wall but plonked the shopping bag down on the table. ‘Here,brought us in a nice couple of currant buns so let’s get that kettle on.’
‘Those from Travis’s?’ Tilly grumpily interrogated. ‘You know I only like stuff from the Travis bakery.’
‘Yeah, Mum,’ Lucy mocked in a dreary tone that transformed in to a chuckle. Like her sisters, she was used to Tilly’s deliberately contrary ways. ‘They are from old man Travis. The dirty old git don’t change, do he? Still stares straight at me chest when he serves me.’
Tilly opened the paper bag and her eyes lit up as a spicy scent wafted to her nostrils. It was a treat for her to have something fresh and tasty. To save herself the ordeal of a trip out, or the need to ask a neighbour for a favour, she ate little and made what she had last.
Lucy picked up the kettle and gave it a shake to see if there was enough water in it for a pot of tea. She pulled out a chair for her mother to sink into, for she’d noticed Tilly had been holding on to the table edge to ease the weight off her legs. ‘Sit yourself down again, Mum, and I’ll make a brew. Have you got any jam to put in these buns?’
Ten minutes later the tea was made and the buns split and spread with marge as Tilly hadn’t got any jam.
‘So when’s your interview?’ Tilly took a large bite out of the warm, aromatic bun. Any currants that escaped were picked from her plate and popped in her mouth.
‘Ten o’clock on Friday, Bloomsbury.’ Lucy brushed crumbs from her lips with her fingertips. ‘A Mrs Venner is the housekeeper and a Mrs Boyd is me senior. I’ll be seeing them both in Mrs Venner’s office. It’s a posh establishment, by the sound of things; belongs to a Lord and Lady Mortimer in Bedford Square.’ She raised her eyebrows, displaying pride at the prospect of working for the aristocracy. ‘Don’t suppose I’ll get to see much of them. The housekeeper and the lady’s maid’ll be me guvnors.’
Tilly nodded sagely. ‘You turn up all nice and tidy with manners to match then, my gel, and the job’ll be yours.’
Lucy grinned and delved into a pocket. She pulled out an envelope. ‘Should be mine, no trouble; if not, I’ll have Mrs Lovat’s hide.’ She playfully waved the envelope under her mother’s nose. ‘The housekeeper at me last job’s done me a lovely reference, don’t you know ...’
Winnie Finch thrust her son’s coat at him. ‘Get that on and get yourself off or you’ll be late for school, Tom.’
The boy grimaced as he gingerly stuck an arm in a sleeve. ‘Can I stay home today, Mum?’
‘No, you can’t. I’ve got me job to do, you know that.’ Winifred avoided Tom’s pleading eyes.
‘Can I stop home with Jenny?’
‘No, you can’t; she’s off out to find herself work.’ Winnie knew her son was still suffering from getting a belt off his father earlier in the week. Not that Eddie had intended to discipline Tom when he pounded up the stairs that night, face contorted in rage. Tom was his favourite and he rarely laid a finger on him.
Jennifer, the brazen little cow, had been his target because she’d defied him and poked her nose in while Eddie had been doing a deal with Bill Black. Winnie knew her husband hated any of them to see or hear what was going on when his associates called round. If Eddie could, he’d arrange it so Bill always turned up at an appointed time, rather than whenever he felt like dropping by with a box of stuff or, as he had this time, a pocketful of gemstone rings.
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