Eva, January 1936
The woman in the long black coat had a suspicious look about her. Eva had clocked her a few days ago, hanging around on the street corner and she knew then that there was something amiss. Alice Diamond had taught her always to be on her guard in case the cozzers came calling and so she took more notice than most of the comings and goings in the neighbourhood.
Eva had hopped the wag from school to go pinching down East Street Market with Alice earlier on. She took her mate Gladys with her, to start showing her the ropes. Gladys was a year younger but she was game for anything and she looked up to Eva and admired the way she was earning good money hoisting. It was easy stuff, just a few scarves to start with, some tins from the grocer’s and a bottle of perfume from the snooty pharmacy, just because Eva didn’t like the way that old matron behind the counter looked down her nose at them.
Now she was back home, lurking in the living room and peering out through the net curtains at the activity in the street. It was bloody freezing but she didn’t dare light a fire because their coal was running low and then she’d have to explain to Dad why the fire had been lit so early, when he got home from work. He’d probably give her another belting for it. She watched her breath form in little droplets in front of her and took another peek through the net curtains instead.
The woman looked around, as if she was waiting for someone. From the other end of the street, Eva saw Mary bundled up against the cold, and her little daughter, Florrie, toddling along, holding her hand. Everyone had been so happy for Mary when she got pregnant again so quickly after losing Billy to diphtheria. The baby was delivered safely and Florrie looked so much healthier than her late brother. In fact, she was positively chubby and well dressed for the weather in a knitted coat, hat and a fur muff, with stout little boots on her feet. Mary fed her the best cuts of meat and she never went without milk – the real stuff, from the dairy, not evap. In fact, the milkman’s horse and cart had become a familiar sight outside Mary and Joe’s front door, turning up on a Saturday for payment. But Mary hadn’t got a new job or anything like that. She still worked pulling the fur from rabbit skins and was permanently coughing from the fluff which got down her throat and everywhere.
The woman approached Mary, catching her by the sleeve. Mary pulled her daughter close, with a look of panic on her face. This stranger pulled out a notebook and pointed to it. Mary pulled off her wedding ring – a thin silver band – and handed it over. The woman went to stroke the little girl on the cheek but Mary slapped her hand away. ‘Don’t you dare touch her!’ she shouted, loud enough to provoke next-door’s dog into a barking fit. The woman shrugged her shoulders and left, turning down Belvedere Road.
Eva pulled on her coat and darted out into the street, falling into step with Mary.
‘Was that woman bothering you?’ she said, as they walked along, past the corner shop, which had a newspaper hoarding outside with ‘THE KING IS DEAD!’ written on it in big black lettering. Eva paused for a second to look at it. His Majesty had had a nice life and it wasn’t that she didn’t care, but the world of rich folk was so far removed from hers that she wouldn’t be shedding any tears over his death.
‘Don’t know what you mean!’ said Mary. ‘You’re imagining things, Eve.’
‘No, I ain’t,’ said Eva. ‘How much do you owe her?’
Florrie started tugging at Mary’s hand. Mary looked at Eva imploringly, ‘You can’t tell anyone, least of all Joe because he thinks I’m working sick cover to pay for everything and I did have some shifts over Christmas but they’ve stopped now. I just borrowed some money to pay for things for Florrie, just until she is big and strong enough to not . . .’ She started to cry. ‘Well, I went to a moneylender down in the Borough to get a loan, just five pounds, but it’s the repayments – they seem to go up every week. You’re too young to understand this, Eva . . .’
‘I’m only thirteen but I ain’t a kid no more!’ said Eva. ‘I know how to look after myself.’
‘Of course you do,’ said Mary gently. ‘It’s just I don’t want to burden you with my troubles; they are my own to deal with. I’ll have to talk to Joe and we will find the money somehow. It just means Florrie will have to go without . . .’
‘What if I help you pay it off?’ said Eva, pulling a pound note from her pocket and offering it to Mary, whose mouth fell open.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘Don’t ask no questions and I will tell you no lies,’ said Eva. ‘I told you I can look after myself. You don’t think we got that piano from me dad killing himself looking after the boilers and me mum scrubbing floors, do you? Folks like us shouldn’t judge too harshly, Mary, and if I help you, all I ask is that you help me from time to time.’
‘What kind of help?’
‘I might need to keep a few things in your house, if it’s too tricky for me at home.’
Mary knew enough about James Fraser’s temper and the black eyes sported by his wife to know that if Eva was bringing home a bit of crooked, she would meet with more than his disapproval.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘But we will have to be careful. I don’t want to have to explain a visit from the law to my Joe.’
‘It won’t ever come to that,’ said Eva. ‘How much do you still owe to that woman?’
Mary sighed. ‘It seems to go up every week. It was a fiver and it doesn’t seem to have gone down much, no matter that I must have already paid that back by now. There’s no end to it.’ She had a haunted look about her as she spoke. ‘She keeps telling me how sweet my Florrie is and I’m scared she’s going to try to hurt her if I can’t keep up the repayments.’
‘I will get someone to talk to her about that,’ said Eva, smiling to herself. ‘Especially if I know I can rely on you to keep mum when I need a bit of help. You help me and I will help you, that’s fair, ain’t it? Just tell me her name and where she lives . . .’
Maggie Hughes had a fierce temper and when Eva explained that a friend from her street who was prepared to handle stolen goods for the Forty Thieves was being ripped off by a moneylender, she didn’t need to be asked twice.
Maggie didn’t wait for the cloak of darkness. She loitered on the corner near Long Lane down the Borough and then grabbed her victim by the throat when she walked by. As Eva looked on, Maggie pulled out her hatpin and waved it near the woman’s face. ‘You keep away from Mary in Howley Terrace. She’s a friend of Alice Diamond and the Forty Thieves. Do you get me?’
‘Get off me!’ the woman shrieked. ‘Help me! Somebody!’
People put their heads down and scurried past. Maggie Hughes was well known in the neighbourhood and no one wanted to cross her, or Alice Diamond, for that matter.
‘She’s paid you enough and if I hear you have been round there again I will slit your little throat,’ spat Maggie, with a wild look in her eyes. ‘She’s one of our own. And don’t bother telling the cozzers ’cos we have got them straightened an’ all. You moneylenders make me sick.’ Maggie released the woman, who ran off shakily.
Maggie smoothed her blouse and stuck her hatpin back into her straw boater. Then she turned to Eva and said, ‘Right, that’s that. Let’s go shopping. Selfridges?’
The January sales were in full swing when they got there, pushing their way through the crush. The death of King George V the previous morning seemed to have done little to dampen the nation’s desire to bag a bargain.
‘We’re going to have to be clever to outwit the walkers ’cos they’ve got a new lot in, so Alice tells me,’ said Maggie. Eva caught the whiff of booze on her breath as she whispered to her. ‘Let’s keep our wits about us.’ Eva was always careful but Maggie on the sauce could be more reckless than daring and Eva’s heart fluttered at the memory of her escapade in Gamages a year or so back. There’d been a few close shaves since, but the fright of that first time was enough to keep her wary.
The pair sifted through a pile of leather gloves, Eva acting as a screen for Alice as she stuffed a few pairs into the inside lining of her coat. ‘Let’s go and find some fur. It’s bloody freezing out there and I fancy me a nice mink stole,’ said Maggie with a cackle. ‘You can clout it. Alice tells me you’re getting good at it.’
Eva nodded. She was faster now, much faster, and her fingers seemed to be able to roll things quickly and stuff them down her shoplifter’s drawers without the shop assistants noticing. Practice sessions in Alice Diamond’s scullery had seen to that. She was barely in school these days. The teacher had bumped into her mother down the Cut and said something about it but Mum, knowing exactly why Eva wasn’t in school, covered for her and said Nanny Day had been so depressed she couldn’t work and so they were keeping Eva off to help around the house a bit.
Eva thought about that as she rolled another fur stole, fox this time, complete with a bushy tail, and stuffed it down the other leg of her drawers which Alice had had specially made for her by a little seamstress down in the Borough who was very handy with her needle and thread. Maggie was already nudging her way through the tightly packed rows of coats to go downstairs to jewellery but Eva wasn’t done yet. Glancing around, she grabbed another mink stole, rolled it tightly and stuffed it down her other knicker leg. She emerged from behind a rail of coats and bumped straight into a shop assistant, who did a double take at seeing her. Had she been spotted? Eva said loudly, ‘Ouch! You should look where you’re going! I’m going to tell my mum!’ and she ran off to catch up with Maggie.
The jewellery department on the ground floor was a haven of calm compared to the rest of the shop, with smart-suited, bespectacled men heading the sales teams. Beads of sweat formed on Eva’s brow from the insulating effect of the furs she was carrying but she didn’t dare unbutton her coat, in case anyone noticed. She waddled slightly when she walked. Maggie was already at the counter, asking to look at some rings, which sparkled with emeralds, rubies and diamonds. The shop assistant pulled out a tray which he laid on the counter. Eva grabbed a ring and walked towards the door with it. In an instant, she had been apprehended, roughly, by another shop assistant. ‘I just want to see it in the light!’ she said. ‘I’m not stealing it!’
‘Why don’t we take it back to the counter, to avoid confusion?’ he said in his most paternal tone.
Maggie chided her. ‘How many times have I told you? Do not walk off near the doors with expensive things! People might get the wrong idea.’ She turned to the shop assistant, who was now acting as an escort to Eva. ‘I must apologize for my daughter’s behaviour. She just sees beautiful jewellery and wants to look at it in the best light. It is rather dingy in here, don’t you agree? And so stiflingly hot. Shall we go now, dear?’
Eva nodded. They made their way towards the entrance and through the doors, out into the freezing cold air of a January afternoon in Oxford Street. ‘Worked like a treat!’ said Maggie, with a laugh. ‘By the time they realize one of their rings is paste, not diamond, we’ll be back down the Elephant.’ At the Tube station, the newspaper boys were still yelling about the death of the monarch. Eva couldn’t say she felt sad about it; he was an old bloke and he had lived a life of luxury, and there would be another king, which probably meant another street party for the coronation – which was something to celebrate, really.
They had bought their tickets and Eva was through the barrier, standing at the top of the escalator, when she heard a voice shout, ‘That’s her! Hey, you! Stop!’
The shop assistant from Selfridges came running towards them, with a policeman by his side. The cozzer reached out and grabbed Maggie’s arm. She started to shout, ‘Get off me!’, but he held firm. With her free hand, Maggie reached around the back of her hat and pulled out her hatpin. Eva saw it glint momentarily before she plunged it right into the policeman’s eye. Blood spurted out and he screamed. Eva saw Maggie disappearing under a hail of blows from bystanders who had turned have-a-go hero after witnessing the dreadful attack. There was nothing else to do; Eva turned, as calmly as she could and walked slowly, very slowly, down the escalator, not looking back, her heart thumping as Maggie yelled like a banshee for her liberty.
‘Blood? How much blood was there?’ The colour drained from Alice Diamond’s face as Eva brought home the news of Maggie’s assault on the policeman.
‘And you are sure she didn’t get away?’
‘Certain,’ said Eva. ‘She had half of Oxford Street sitting on her back, the last I saw of her. I should have helped . . .’
‘No,’ said Alice. ‘You did right, getting away. Makes no sense having both of you in clink. And you are sure you weren’t followed?’
‘I wasn’t,’ said Eva. She’d spent an hour wandering around the Elephant to make sure of that before coming to Alice’s flat.
Alice stood up and took her teacup to the sink. ‘Well, she’d better hope the cozzer doesn’t bleed to death because if he does, she’ll swing for it, the silly cow.’
Eva blanched. She knew the death penalty was a real threat and the thought of Maggie swinging on the end of a rope made her feel physically sick.
Alice went on: ‘And sticking him with her hatpin like that. Well, she’s hardly helped herself because I won’t be able to nobble the jury, that’s for sure. Too many witnesses. The best I can do now is make life more comfortable for her in Holloway.’
The tentacles of Alice’s crime operation seemed to spread below the streets of London, like some giant octopus. Eva found that reassuring and terrifying in equal measure. It meant there was little chance of escape, if she ever wanted to leave. She mulled that thought over as she made her way back home through the freezing fog. The shouts of costermongers parking their barrows up for the night under the railway arches echoed up the road as she turned into Howley Terrace.
The savoury smell of liver and onion filled the house as she opened the door. It was just what she needed to put things right. Her mother gave her a weak smile and her father didn’t look up from his plate when she came into the scullery.
‘How was school?’ Mum ventured.
‘Just give it up, will you?’ said Dad, banging his fist on the table. A splodge of onion gravy landed on the table in front of him. He looked up at her. Eva started to shake. It was as if all the fear of what had happened that afternoon had found its way into her legs, which had turned to jelly. She grasped the back of the little wooden chair in front of her, to steady herself.
‘It was a nice day,’ she managed to say, before sitting down.
‘Liar!’ her father said, upending the whole table, sending his plate right into Eva’s lap. She yelped and jumped up as the scalding gravy seeped through her dress and onto her bare legs. She cried out in pain and shock.
‘Leave her alone!’ screamed Mum, running with a dishcloth to clean her up.
Dad turned to the grate and pulled out the poker. He waved it at Eva.
‘You’re a liar and a thief. Get out of my house before I give you what you deserve!’ he spat. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his face was puce with rage. ‘I know you’re one of those Forty Thieves.’
Thoughts were racing through Eva’s mind. Who had betrayed her? Could it have been Peggy? Eva knew she disapproved but she had never thought she’d betray her like that.
‘No, James, no!’ yelled Mum, ‘You’ll not throw her out! She is the one who has been putting food on the table all these months. Who do you think keeps us going? It ain’t you, that’s for sure, with your paltry wages—’
Dad slapped Mum hard, right in the mouth, with the back of his hand, and sat down in his chair. He spoke in a whisper, ‘So, I’m to be disobeyed in my own house, am I? You can both get out of my sight.’
Mum put her arm around Eva. ‘Don’t worry. I’m going. I’ve had enough of you. And she’s coming with me.’
That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. Dad sank down into his chair, with his head in his hands. Mum stormed upstairs, with Eva in hot pursuit. She ran into the girls’ bedroom, pulling her few belongings from the chest of drawers they shared. She ripped the sheet from Eva’s bed and threw everything in. ‘Tie that lot up,’ she ordered. Eva watched as her mother reached up on tiptoes and took a carpet bag and a hat box from the top of the wardrobe. The pair of them hurried back down the little staircase, half expecting Dad to come at them through the scullery door.
Emboldened by the fact that he hadn’t stirred, as she slammed the door, Mum shouted, ‘And good riddance to bad rubbish!’
The curtains were twitching over at number 16, where Mrs Davies, no doubt, was drinking in the unhappy scene, ready to repeat it to all and sundry. Eva flicked the Vs as she walked past, for good measure, just in case the nosy old bag was watching.