The Street (21 page)

‘You’re going after Louisa, are you?’ Connie twisted about and hooted in amusement. ‘Weren’t so long ago you was scared witless of her.’

Sarah reddened but jutted her chin. ‘I was a kid then. Now I ain’t. I’m working me fingers to the bone full-time and I ain’t giving up all me wages to that old cow indoors so’s she can lay on the couch and swig from a bottle all day. It’s time you ‘n’ Louisa took a turn shellin’ out for her.’

‘Or what you going to do? Get your own place?’ Connie crowed. ‘Got enough put by from packing biscuits to set up on your own, have you?’

‘Yeah,’ Sarah lied. ‘I have. Me and Alice Keiver have been talking about it for a while. She’s had enough in hers and I’ve had a bellyful in ours. If you don’t give me a decent bit of cash to help out Mum’s getting left on her own.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Connie taunted. She knew that Sarah and Alice were close friends. They’d bunked together before when Sarah went to live at the Keivers’ for a while. Connie had got out of The Bunk and intended never to return. She was selfish enough to leave Sarah to deal with their mother, but she wasn’t heartless. Their mother might not survive long if abandoned in that fleapit. ‘You wouldn’t dare go off ‘n’ leave her on her own,’ she repeated, less chirpily.

‘Watch me,’ Sarah challenged. ‘You and Louisa have got away with blue murder long enough. You’ve both pissed off and not even lobbed half a crown my way to help out every so often. It’s you and Louisa’s in the wrong and you know it.’

‘How much d’you want?’ Connie grabbed up her bag from the sofa and scrabbled inside. She wanted her sister to go and leave her in peace so she could numb herself with a few more gins before Mr Lucas turned up and put her to work. A handful of silver was thrust towards Sarah.

‘That’s not enough.’ Sarah cast a withering look at Connie’s fistful of coins. ‘That’s taking the piss . . .’ She suddenly broke off as there came a loud knock.

‘That him?’ Sarah whispered, her eyes widening in alarm.

Connie’s panic was evident in the way her head had jerked towards the door. ‘It’s too early. Anyhow he’s got a key,’ she mouthed. She took a few hesitant steps down the hall then turned to hiss, ‘Stay there, out of sight, just in case . . .’

Sarah did as she was told but felt lightly amused. What was Connie expecting her to do if it was the old geezer? Hide behind the couch?

‘Gawd’s sake! What is this? Piccadilly Circus or something?’

That raucous complaint from Connie drew Sarah to the doorway of the sitting room. Her spirits plummeted as she saw her sister Louisa stomping over the threshold.

‘What you doing here?’ Louisa snarled at her over Connie’s silken shoulder.

‘Could ask you the same thing,’ Sarah flung back as her shapeless lump of a sister bore down on her. She went back into the sitting room, Louisa and Connie following close behind her.

Connie planted her manicured fingers on her slender hips and cast a frustrated look heavenward. ‘Two minutes . . . then if yers ain’t gone willing I’m calling downstairs and having yers thrown out.’

Now her slob of a sister’s odour was fouling the atmosphere the room seemed to have lost most of its gloss. Sarah was as keen to be gone as Connie was to be rid of her. But she wanted what she’d come for: a decent sum of money and a promise of more in the future. Considering the lifestyle Connie now had Sarah knew she’d be a mug to settle for less than a fiver today.

Connie must have got downwind of her fat sister too for she wrinkled her nose and wafted a hand in front of her face. ‘’Struth! How long since you had a bath, Lou?’

‘What’s she doing here?’ Louisa ignored the implication that she stank. Her greasy head jabbed forward to indicate Sarah.

‘She’s come for money and she wants some off you ‘n’ all. Ain’t that right, Sar?’ Connie elevated her plucked eyebrows, her expression mischievous. ‘She’s going to move in with Alice Keiver and leave Mum to fend for herself if we don’t chip in.’

If Connie had been expecting Louisa to immediately cut up rough she was to be disappointed. Louisa looked Sarah up and down. ‘You ‘n’ Alice in love?’

‘What?’ Sarah frowned in startled incomprehension.

‘She thinks you might be queer . . . like she is,’ Connie explained whilst picking at a frayed fingernail. She glanced up and snorted back a laugh. Sarah’s dawning comprehension was slowly transforming her youthful features in to a mask of utter revulsion. ‘Well, let’s face it, no bloke was ever going to fancy her, was he?’

‘Give us a fiver and I’ll get going. For now.’ Sarah extended a palm. She quickly moved towards the door.

‘Ain’t got a fiver.’

On hearing that both Sarah and Louisa cast on Connie an extremely old-fashioned look. All things considered it seemed like a blatant lie.

‘It’s true,’ Connie exclaimed. ‘I don’t have much money.’ She whirled a hand about at the lavish surroundings. ‘None of this is mine, is it? I have to get everything I want on his accounts; clothes, make-up, grub. Even the bleedin’ hair-dresser sends him in a bill. Don’t think he trusts me with me own money. He’s a tight fist with his cash.’

‘Thought he were a nice old stick.’ Sarah sarcastically reminded Connie of her recent praise for Mr Lucas.

‘He’s not bad as punters go,’ Louisa butted in. ‘Plenty worse’n him.’

‘How d’you know?’ Sarah demanded. Her eyes veered between her sisters. ‘How does she know?’ she asked Connie, bewildered. ‘You introduced her to Mr Lucas?’

A snort of mock horror erupted from Connie. ‘He ain’t never seen her, thank Gawd, but she knows punters alright. Her lady friend’s on the game up west.’

A sullen stare from Louisa met that sly dig at her love life and her employment as a pimp.

‘So what you after this time?’ Connie asked Louisa. ‘And if it’s money you can sod off along with her.’ She flicked her head at Sarah.

‘Want a decent dress ter borrer if you’ve got one going spare.’

Sarah stuffed a fist to her mouth to stifle her spontaneous hilarity. ‘You’ll never squeeze in Con’s dresses, you silly fat mare.’

‘Ain’t fer me, is it?’ Louisa snarled, her face contorting in rage and her fists clenching. ‘It’s for me friend, Sonia. She’s got a special on tonight and needs to look the part.’ Louisa knew that a ruckus in Connie’s lovely sitting room was out of the question. She visibly made an effort to control herself and turned her back on Sarah.

‘Sonia?’ Sarah echoed. Inwardly she digested that Sonia must be Louisa’s lady friend who tonight had a special punter to entertain.

Sarah hadn’t seen or heard from Louisa in many months. And that was the way she liked it. They might be sisters but Sarah was quite sure she hated the ugly slob. She’d been on the receiving end of most of Louisa’s bullying over the years. Connie was closer to Louisa in age and had been able to give back almost as good as she got. And that was encouraged in Bunk kids. It was their duty, as far as their parents were concerned, to stick up for themselves. It was especially true when family pride was at stake and they were expected to win scraps with neighbours’ kids. Children were often to be seen being dragged up or down the street by their elders to confront an opponent and settle an argument with their fists in full view of an appreciative audience. Louisa and Lenny, God rest his soul, had been their father’s pride and joy in that respect.

‘Give us the cash so’s I can get on me way,’ Sarah pleaded.

‘Christ’s sake! How times I got to say I don’t have a fiver!’ Connie automatically reached for her glass, forgetting it was empty. She banged it down on the table again in frustration. ‘Here! Have something to take down the pawnshop. But you’d better make sure it comes back sharp.’ She twisted about, eyes darting here and there, then snatched up a figurine from the mantelshelf and thrust it at Sarah.

Sarah contemptuously waggled the shepherdess in her hand. ‘That’s no good! How much is it worth?’ She studied the porcelain more carefully.

‘I dunno, do I?’ Connie fumed. ‘Well take this ‘n’ all! Just get lost before Mr Lucas turns up and kicks the lot of us out!’

Sarah stuffed the two ornaments into her bag. She could tell Connie was getting frantic and close to tears. Louisa was looking anxious too. They all wanted the same thing: Mr Lucas kept sweet for as long as possible, so he’d keep Connie for as long as possible, and they might all benefit from the randy old goat.

‘I’ll get you something out me wardrobe,’ Connie flung at Louisa. She whirled towards the bedroom door, knuckling her eyes. Before she disappeared she hissed over a shoulder, ‘Then get going and don’t come back here no more.’

‘Are we goin’ . . . going to go out for dinner this evening, Mr Lucas?’ Connie tried very hard to remember to talk properly, as she’d been instructed. She remembered what else she had to do too to please him. Her small pink tongue circled her lips wetly and she snuggled up to him on the sofa. Her eyes focused steadily on the buttons on his smart dark jacket. Despite the sight of his spindly white legs being quite repulsive, her eyes were often involuntarily drawn to them. ‘I am so very hungry for something nice to eat,’ she recited in a breathy tone then exaggeratedly sucked a thumb.

‘Are you, my dear?’ the silver-haired gentleman asked in his quiet, cultured voice. ‘Well, let’s see if Mr Lucas can do something about that for his little girl. What do you fancy to eat?’

‘I’d like a nice juicy steak, please sir, if I may.’

Mr Lucas rubbed the backs of his freckled fingers over Connie’s smooth, flushed cheek. ‘Would you indeed?’ he purred. His arm crept along the back of the velvet sofa and he tugged her closer to him. ‘I think my little girl is greedy. I’m not sure you shall have steak.’

Connie lifted wide eyes to his face and blinked rapidly.

‘Have you been naughty, my dear, while I’ve been away?’

Connie put a hand to a hot cheek, glad the old fool would think her blush meant she was excited rather than guilty. She nodded, while his bony fingers tightened on her neck, slunk over a shoulder to squeeze a breast beneath silk. Connie steeled herself not to wince as he tugged at her nipple. Her eyes darted to the mantelpiece. She was sure he hadn’t looked once in that direction or noticed anything missing. It would be best to work hard to distract him and make sure it stayed that way. The atmosphere was cloying, heavy with scent, making it hard for her to breathe. She’d sprayed so much perfume around the sitting room to cover Louisa’s stink that she’d have to ask him to buy her a new bottle.

‘Naughty girls don’t get steak, do they?’ Mr Lucas cooed against her cheek, his fingers writhing on her breast. ‘What do naughty little girls get?’

‘Something better,’ Connie whispered before her head lowered towards his naked groin.

‘It’s a right pretty little thing.’ Alice touched a finger to the smooth porcelain. She took the shepherdess from Sarah’s hand and turned it over, examining it, before putting the statue on the table next to its mate. ‘Reckon they’re worth a bob or two.’

‘Yeah; but not round here. Who in Campbell Road’s going to have enough spare to buy a shepherd and shepherdess to stick on the mantelpiece?’

‘You’d be best off taking them up west to a pawnbrokers that posh people use.’

‘’Spose . . .’ Sarah sighed. ‘All I asked for was a fiver and the crafty cow’s give me these buggers to shift instead.’

Alice levelled on her friend a dubious look. All the while she’d been admiring the dainty china a worry had been in her mind. Had Sarah been narked enough by Connie’s refusal to hand over some cash to have stolen them? Even to Alice’s inexperienced eye they looked to be rare and valuable things.

‘You’re not going to get in bad trouble over this, Sar, are you?’ Alice frowned at the beautiful ornaments. She knew Sarah was always broke. Sometimes she didn’t have a few coppers left from her wages to buy herself something to eat in her factory dinner break. Alice was constantly paying Sarah’s way for her in the café or lending her a little bit so she could nip to the shop for tea or bread. ‘You’ve not pinched ’em off Connie, have you?’

‘’Course not,’ Sarah declared, indignant. ‘Connie said her Mr Lucas is a tight-fisted old git and won’t give her no money of her own. She’s got no cash to help out with Mum so she’s given me these to pawn. If she gets in trouble over it with him that’s her look-out.’ Sarah flicked at the base of one of the ornaments before adding charitably, ‘Mr Lucas can’t be that bad; you want to see where he lets her live, Al.’ Sarah shook her head slowly, her expression veering between wonder and envy. ‘Quite close to Hyde Park, she is, in a place wot’s got a doorman and carpets right along the passages. Got one of those big shiny lights in her sitting room, she has, all made of glass drops; and two long sofas covered in blue velvet with masses of cushions on top, some even got beads ‘n’ tassels on them. Never seen anything so lovely as them cushions.’ Sarah plonked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. ‘He’s a horrible little pipsqueak though, he is. I know ’cos I’ve seen him before. Must be fifty or even might be sixty, with grey hair and a thin weasel sort of face. But Con reckons he’s good to her.’

Alice grimaced in a way that made words unnecessary.

‘Yeah, I know. I couldn’t do it neither,’ Sarah said. ‘Ain’t enough fancy cushions in the world to make me do that!’ She frowned in revulsion as another memory struck her. ‘You’ll never guess what’s even worse . . . Louisa’s turned queer. Her and some woman have set up together down Finsbury Park. This Sonia’s on the game and Louisa’s acting as her pimp. Turns your stomach, don’t it, just thinkin’ about it?’

‘Quick! Put them away!’ Alice hissed, abruptly interrupting Sarah. She shoved the two ornaments towards her friend. It was a Saturday morning and they were sitting at the table in the Keivers’ front room. Alice had heard her mother’s key just go into the lock. If Tilly caught sight of Sarah’s booty she’d know straight off it was worth a bit and wheedle to buy it for a pittance. Alice knew that Sarah was daft enough, and desperate enough for a bit of cash, to let her have it, too.

The figurines were swiftly slipped inside Sarah’s bag.

‘Thought you two would be off out down the market this morning.’ Tilly dumped a bottle of milk on the table and turned to give Lucy, who was grizzling, a light cuff round the ear. ‘Lovely morning, it is,’ she carried on. ‘Sun’s out . . . quite warm for this time o’ the year . . .’

‘What’s up with you?’ Alice softly asked her sister. She’d immediately sprung up from the table and pulled little Lucy down to sit beside her on the bed. She gently eased Lucy’s head onto her shoulder and soothingly stroked her hair.

‘We was just going off down the market, Mrs K,’ Sarah said, sending Alice a speaking look.

‘Well, you can take Lucy with you,’ Tilly ordered Alice, ignoring Sarah’s disappointed look on learning they were to be burdened with a kid. ‘She’s been under me feet and whining all morning. Get her out of me sight fer a while or I’ll give her something to snivel over.’

‘Can’t stay out long, Sar, I don’t think Lucy’s feeling well.’

Alice and Sarah had been walking through the market browsing the stalls, keeping an eye out for a trader who looked likely to be interested in boosting his stock by buying Sarah’s china figures with no questions asked. But Alice had been aware for a good while that Lucy was dragging her feet and pulling back on her hand. Her little sister was now grizzling again, and loud enough to make people frown and mutter at them. Alice bent down to examine Lucy’s face and was quite concerned to notice a feverish flush on her cheeks. She put a hand to Lucy’s brow. It was very hot. She gave her sister a cuddle and whispered, ‘Let’s get you home, shall we?’

‘Hello . . . who’s making all that noise?’

Alice turned her head to see Jeannie Robertson a yard or so away, smiling down at her and Lucy. Alice hadn’t seen Jeannie since the dreadful night Jimmy had attacked them, but she knew that Jeannie had been back just after that awful episode to see her mother and tie up tight any loose ends. The further the horror receded into the past, the more Alice allowed herself to believe her mother’s reassurances that Jimmy was gone and forgotten and the coppers wouldn’t be back to bother them any more.

Alice slowly rose from her crouching position and returned Jeannie’s smile, feeling awkward and nervous. What did you say to a person you barely knew but who had nevertheless, to return a simple favour, helped cover up a killing and dispose of a dead body? Alice realised Jeannie was just being friendly. She’d been passing, heard Lucy howling – as had everybody in the vicinity – and had stopped because she felt a bit sorry for her. It would be daft to suppose the woman might be about to comment on the carnage they’d both witnessed that night, especially considering Sarah’s presence.

‘Don’t think she’s feeling too well.’ Alice placed a hand on Lucy’s hair. ‘Taking her back home to get her into bed. Reckon she’s caught a chill.’

‘Best place for her if she’s brewing something up,’ Jeannie agreed. ‘How’s your mum doing?’

‘Alright, thanks.’

‘Your aunt Fran?’

‘Yeah . . . she’s doing alright too.’

A wail erupted from Lucy and she clung to Alice’s legs, burrowing her snotty little nose against her big sister’s coat. ‘I’m gonna have to go and take her home, Sar. She’s poorly alright.’

Sarah gave a long, irritated sigh. ‘’Spose I’ll have to carry on on me own then. I want to get shot of these as soon as I can.’ She impatiently twitched the bag she held. ‘I’m fed up of lugging them about.’ She peered inside at the troublesome china. ‘Might try down Solly’s secondhand shop if the pawnbroker won’t give me what I want for them.’

Alice shrugged and started off home, leading Lucy by the hand. A moment later she felt compelled to look back. She saw that Sarah had opened the bag containing the ornaments and was showing them to Jeannie. An odd feeling stirred in the pit of Alice’s stomach. She wished Sarah had just left the bloody things at home. Of course she knew why she hadn’t done so. If Alice had been given such nice things to pawn she wouldn’t have left them indoors either for her mother to find. Another glance over her shoulder and she saw Sarah and Jeannie move to a secluded spot by a wall. It was obvious they’d repositioned so Jeannie could take a better look at Sarah’s treasure without any passers-by getting a gander at it too. Alice lifted her shoulders in an imperceptible shrug. Jeannie was smartly turned out. She looked to be still riding high. If she had the seven pounds Sarah wanted for the ornaments why shouldn’t she buy them? In fact Alice knew that Sarah had been prepared to haggle and accept four pounds for a quick no-questions-asked deal. As Lucy’s distress increased Alice stooped and picked her up in her arms despite the fact that she was quite a weight to carry. She hurried on home with her sister bawling against her shoulder and the thought in her head that it wasn’t her business what Sarah did with her ornaments.

*  *  *

‘You’re drinking rather too much too often, my dear.’

‘So what if I am?’ Connie had impetuously snarled that, her judgement clouded by the amount of alcohol she’d swallowed during the afternoon. Even in her semi-inebriated state she realised she’d acted rashly. She gave Mr Lucas an appealing little smile that mingled her apology and welcome.

With every week that passed it was becoming harder to act the girlish flirt to keep him sweet. She’d been lounging, dishevelled, on the sofa wearing silk pyjamas and reading a journal when she’d glimpsed his dapper little figure stationed in the doorway. Now, with the support of the chair back, she got rather unsteadily to her feet. Inwardly she cursed that she hadn’t heard the old duffer arrive. If only he’d stick to turning up when he was supposed to she’d be prepared for him and done up to the nines.

She was coming to suspect he might be checking up on her. Once or twice when he’d startled her by creeping in she’d felt so irritated by his weedy, unwanted presence she’d nearly swung around and given him a slap. But even when she was gin-dulled she knew when to button her lip and cosy up to him. She tried to do so now but he shrugged her off, his top lip curling, as though she disgusted him. He strutted off to pour a small whisky from the decanter. Connie weaved after him and again tried to entwine their limbs and mould her pelvis against his.

‘I’m a little weary, my dear.’ His clipped tone sounded bored. His fingers drummed on the mantelshelf.

‘If you’re tired shall we go straight to bed, sir?’ Connie suggested in a slurring lisp. Her frantic tongue darted over her lips before she butted them against one of his dry cheeks. Her small tongue teased over his ear, recoiling from the bristles it encountered.

‘I don’t think so. You see, it’s
you
who is making me tired.
Sick
and tired,’ he stressed before tipping the shot of whisky down his throat. ‘I think it’s high time you moved out.’ Again Mr Lucas avoided her gin fumes and her persistent clasp. ‘Let me tell you why you weary me, Connie,’ he added, calmly swatting her off again. ‘I didn’t mind that occasionally your sisters came here to visit you . . . oh yes, I know about that. The porter, Jenkins, told me two coarse young women describing themselves thus have been here quite recently. I don’t even mind putting up with your deplorable lack of breeding.’ That was the truth. In Gilbert Lucas’s experience ambitious young gutter sluts made excellent paramours. They would strive to postpone their tumble back in to squalor by being amenable to providing any sexual service he suggested. The good life once tasted was as heady as any drug to such girls. Unfortunately, his experience had also taught him that common tarts often drank, lied and stole more than their classier counterparts.

He’d recognised Connie Whitton’s ambition and her allure from the first moment he’d clapped eyes on her. She’d been with her fiancé at the time but had nevertheless responded slyly to his admiration when they’d been introduced at a family party. Ralph’s mother had made little effort to conceal the fact that she despised her future daughter-in-law because she was beneath them. Gilbert had been attending the party with his wife but that hadn’t deterred the little minx from encouraging his interest in her. After a seemingly innocent invitation from him to dance, in full view of their partners, they had enjoyed a waltz. Connie had immediately agreed to meet him for lunch later in the week. And so their affair had started.

Now Gilbert regretted getting involved with her and wasn’t sure why he had. A sixteen-year-old virgin was his preference when taking on a new mistress. Connie Whitton didn’t qualify on either count. She’d said she was eighteen but he guessed her to be at least twenty. But Connie had an angelic face, a heavenly body and an impish nature that had appealed to Gilbert. Although she was saucy and knowing she was not a particularly skilled lover. But she’d made up for that with her enthusiasm, at first. Now she was getting too familiar and too comfortable. She thought she could relax because she had it made. He was about to shatter the silly girl’s illusions.

He knew it was his own fault that he’d lost his Dresden china. He should have removed the figures before Connie took up residence. He’d been neglectful because the two previous girls he’d allowed to live in the apartment had left them untouched. Neither of them had given any indication that they appreciated the figurines’ quality or value. They had been more eager to filch the silver teaspoons or condiments, no doubt thinking that small items that disappeared went unnoticed. Gilbert Lucas noticed everything and, when it was the right time, he used that knowledge to his advantage. When he’d finished with a mistress she always went quietly rather than face a police investigation.

The figures were his wife’s property and had come to her as heirlooms. She’d disliked them and had asked Gilbert to sell them. He’d given her fifty pounds and told her that was what they’d made at auction. He had been therefore reluctant to take them home again and explain that he’d lied. He’d also have needed a yarn as to where they’d been housed since they’d been removed from the china cabinet. Gilbert had an eye for a good investment and knew that such fine, early pieces would increase in value over time.

Obviously he had underestimated Connie. She’d stolen the most valuable items in the place then not had the sense to pre-empt and soothe his suspicions with a tale about them getting knocked over and broken. He’d been waiting for her to come out with that pathetic excuse. Forlornly he’d hoped she might have pawned them and would soon replace them. They’d been missing for a week. He wasn’t prepared to wait any longer to find out what the little bitch had done with them. Impatiently he swiped Connie off as she again clung to his arm. She bounced back onto the sofa and looked stunned by the power he’d used to propel her onto her back.

‘What’s up?’ Connie gasped, frightened. ‘Won’t yer tell me what I done?’