Once Uncle Bert had the knife in his horny mitt, it became obvious who must have thrown it. It was one of our kitchen knives, used for slicing stuff thinly, and had been sharpened so often that it was worn almost to a stiletto. The point was, only Mrs Wong was still behind the counter and in a position to lay a hand on the thing. Uncle Bert and Auntie Maggie had both been sitting at the corner table when it had whistled through the air, almost parting Charlie’s barnet for him.
Uncle Bert looked in awe at the knife in his hand and then at the space where Mrs Wong had been. She’d managed to glide out when everyone else had left and we hadn’t noticed.
Uncle Bert whistled through his teeth. ‘Well, I’ll be buggered,’ he muttered to no one in particular. ‘Remind me not to get on the wrong side of Mrs Wong, will you?’
After the troops had left, only the usual mob remained, with the addition of Sharky and Muriel. They were cordially invited to stay for the evening as there was much to discuss. The Perfumed Lady was showing signs of restlessness, however. She began to talk about leaving but she was told in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t going anywhere until things had been sorted, once and for all.
‘Listen, love,’ Auntie Maggie explained gently. ‘I know the last day or two have been hard on you, but we need you where we can lay hands on you in a hurry. If we let you out of here, there’s no telling when we’ll track you down again and what state you’ll be in when we do find you. You know what a flighty piece you can be. The little bugger will be back and there’s no saying what his next scheme will be like. At least stay and talk things over so we can make some sort of plan.’
Great-aunt Dodie was not so kind. ‘Yes, Cassandra, we need you here for the time being. I also think it is long past time for some explanations, don’t you?’ My mum opened her mouth to protest but Great-aunt Dodie held up her hand for silence. ‘Please don’t start whining, Cassandra, and listen. If Clunt insists on involving Godfrey, and there’s every indication that he has already, there’s no predicting what he will do. The thing is, you’ve shirked your responsibilities long enough. It is time to grow up and face them.’
My mum started pacing like a caged animal. ‘I’m not staying here for bloody ever. I have a life too, you know. It might not seem much to you but I like it and I want to get on with it. I went to great lengths to get away from Godfrey and my mother and I have no intention of ever seeing either of them again. So get that into your heads right now.’
But Great-aunt Dodie had what I shall always think of as that ‘Afghan’ look in her eyes. ‘Oh do shut up,’ she said, ‘there’s a good girl. What makes you think we’re even mildly interested in what passes for your life? There will still be men and gin out there when we’ve finished with you. And Clunt’s right; heirs from Charles are most unlikely. Not only do you have to secure Rosa’s future but you must think of your shares in the family business as well. It would suit Godfrey to have another ally, however young. Has it ever occurred to you how very useful Rosa would be to him if he could get his hands on her?’
This little speech had the most astounding effect on the Perfumed Lady. She had absolute hysterics. She began to thrash about blindly, screaming at us all that nothing on earth was going to make her have anything to do with Godfrey or the business, so we had better get used to the idea. Then she grabbed her handbag and made a break for the door. If Great-aunt Dodie hadn’t been so nippy on her feet, she’d have made it too. It took Auntie Maggie, Madame Zelda and Great-aunt Dodie to get her back, still shrieking like a banshee. She really didn’t like Godfrey, you could tell. What’s more, she was obviously deeply afraid of him.
I was still sitting on Mr Herbert’s lap when she started ranting and throwing herself about, and for a moment she looked as though she was going to grab hold of me. Very gently he stood me on the floor, then led me by the hand upstairs out of the way. It was kind of him as he must have realized that she scared me. We could still hear her, though. It took ages and several stiff gins to calm her down.
I’m not sure what else happened that night. Auntie Maggie came upstairs after a while and put me to bed. She must have forgotten that I’d had no tea and she looked so worried that I didn’t like to remind her. Luckily, Mr Herbert and I had raided the biscuit tin on the way upstairs, so I wasn’t starving to actual death.
What with one thing and another, we’d all forgotten that I was supposed to be at school the Monday Charlie had turned up. This meant that I was a day late and missed choosing a seat by the window with my mates. I ended up having to share a desk with Enie Smales. Yuk! Enie always smelled of stale pee and unwashed clothes. I was far from thrilled and laid the blame squarely on Charlie Fluck and the Perfumed Lady.
Auntie Maggie was unusually flustered on the Tuesday morning as she got me ready. She had to go into school to explain why I had been missing. We didn’t tell them the truth, of course, our business being none of theirs, but made something up about a visit from my long-lost great-aunt, which had the virtue of being sort of true. She had visited us on that Monday and she had been long-lost. We didn’t trouble to mention that we’d seen tons of her over the last few weeks. Funny the distinctions that grown-ups make about lying. If a kid does it, then it’s automatically bad, bad, bad. If a grown-up they don’t like does it and gets found out, the same rules apply, only more so. If they do it themselves, however, it is perfectly understandable and is one of those famous ‘white lies’ you hear so much about. Anyway, we bent the truth to fit our needs and you could say we were punished; but more about that later.
To an outsider, it might have seemed that things got back to normal pretty quickly after Charlie’s visit, but they didn’t. First off, everyone was jumpy; we knew we hadn’t heard the last of Charlie and his schemes. Also, we knew exactly where my mum was.
Now, knowing the whereabouts of the Perfumed Lady when she wasn’t lolling in our spare bed or throwing up in our khazi was not easy. We never knew where she was unless she was under our feet, so to speak. This time we did. Great-aunt Dodie had marched her off to a clinic near Harley Street where she was locked up. She was kept away from booze, drugs and men and fed at regular intervals, so my great-aunt said. I was very worried that locking her up was a bit like putting her in prison and that it was cruel. Auntie Maggie said it wasn’t as simple as that. She was ill and needed caring for for a while.
I knew this was true but to lock her up? I wasn’t at all sure about that bit. I must admit that my concern was pretty selfish. If she got locked up for being ill, what would happen to me next time I was poorly? It was a big worry. However, both Auntie Maggie and Uncle Bert assured me that security was not that good and if she really, really wanted to leg it, she could. They reckoned that although she was complaining long and loud, part of her wanted to be kept in a safe place. They thought that the attack of the screaming abdabs had made her stop and think a bit. They explained that what ailed my mum was not the same thing at all as measles, mumps or chickenpox and that I needn’t worry about being locked away myself. It was a relief. It was also untrue as it turned out, but they weren’t to know that.
The first week or so of the new term was a bit of a blur. Not only was I stuck next to Smelly Smales (I’m ashamed to say her nickname was my idea), but things were tense at home too. I do remember our new teacher, Miss Hampton, though. She was weird; pale, fey and from the Fen country. We did a lot of geography, history and English about the Fens before she disappeared without trace after half-term. To this day, Miss Hampton’s face is imprinted on my brain. You see, her disappearance was connected to me in a way.
We were playing in the playground about three weeks after term started. In fact, it was exactly three weeks after it started; even I couldn’t be vague about that. We had all been playing and Miss Hampton was on playground duty. The rest of the school had just filed in because the end-of-play bell had rung. Our class was last, being as how our teacher was on duty.
Anyway, there we were, just our class and Miss Hampton, when two blokes in masks appeared from around the side of the building. One was armed with a socking great knife and grabbed Miss Hampton and held it to her throat. He growled at us not to scream or make a sound otherwise he’d let her have it. Now Miss Hampton hadn’t exactly endeared herself to us, she was too strange for that, but we didn’t want her throat cut in front of us either. So we kept our gobs shut, more or less, although one or two of us snivelled a bit. Naturally Smelly Smales had snot down to her knees in seconds, she was that kind of kid. The other bloke looked us all over, then he grabbed me and stuck his hand over my mouth and started dragging me towards the school gate.
I was too shocked to say or do anything. I recognized my bloke straight away. He had odd eyes, one blue, one brown. It was Charlie Fluck. Thinking back, I was paralysed with terror, which was why I didn’t struggle. The knife man followed, dragging Miss Hampton with him. I was thrown into the back of a black car and Charlie jumped in next to me. The other man reached the gate and sort of slung Miss Hampton away, so she stumbled and fell just inside the playground. He jumped into the seat beside the driver.
‘Move it, you stupid cow!’ he yelled, as he slammed the car door. I could tell by her smell that the driver was a woman; she used Evening in Paris. And, of course, nobody calls a bloke a ‘stupid cow’. I recognized the knife man’s voice. It was Dave, and I was very afraid.
Charlie pushed me down into the seat so that no one could see me and we shot away like bats out of hell. I think we were in Shaftesbury Avenue after zigzagging a bit. I know we went up the Charing Cross Road because I could just see one or two rooftops and I recognized the front of the cinema on the corner of Sutton Row. We turned left into Oxford Street. Once we were past Marble Arch, though, I lost track.
We twisted and turned but it wasn’t too long before the car stopped and I was bundled up some stairs and into a flat. I was shivering and shaking by this time and, like Smelly Smales, I’d wet myself. The two men didn’t remove their masks but the one I thought was Dave smacked me in the mouth and told me to shut up. I tried, honest I did, but huge sobs kept escaping. He clouted me again but I still couldn’t stop. In the end, he threw me into a tiny room with no windows and locked the door.
It was a large cupboard, I think, because there were shelves. I don’t know how long I was in there. It felt like ages.