Mimi Yazierska had finished her quota of zips for the day and packed up her machine. She was looking forward to a good night’s rest. The swelling on her lip and eye had finally gone down and her ribs – which the Poppy lady hadn’t seen – ached a little less. Hopefully she’d be able to sleep the night without stabbing pain. The other girls in the workshop had looked and lowered their eyes. No one, except sweet Estie, had bothered to ask her what had happened. And with Estie, of course, she had tried to sugar-coat the story. She said she’d fallen in her high heels and hit her face. But Estie had shaken her head and asked: “Man hurt you? Man hurt Estie.”
Mimi’s temper flared. “What man hurt you, Estie? Here? Was it Slick?”
Estie shook her head. “Man on boat. Big boat.”
Her sister’s stomach churned. “What man, Estie? What did he do?”
Estie was doodling with a pencil and paper, drawing childish stick figures. One of them, Mimi noticed, was lying on the ground with a crooked leg. She pointed to the figure. “Is that you, Estie? Is that what the man did to you? Did he knock you down? Did he hurt you?”
Estie shook her head again, then took the pencil in her fist and scribbled aggressively over the figure, completely obliterating it.
“Man kiss Estie. Estie not like. Man pull Estie’s hair.” She clutched and tugged her long black plait to demonstrate. “Estie push man. Man fell. Big machine.”
Estie looked up at her sister, worry on her face. “Estie do bad thing? Soldiers take Estie away?”
The sailor who lost his leg… The third-class passengers had heard about it. They’d seen the stretcher being loaded into the ambulance on the dock. They’d been told it was an accident. But it wasn’t! What if the man survived? What if the man told the authorities what had happened? What if they tried to track Estie down – back in Southampton? Then discovered she wasn’t there… that neither of them was… Would they be hunted down? Would Immigration find them?
Mimi looked around at the other weary young women making their way back to the dormitory after their shift. She had two more years of this. Was she safe here? As long as Immigration didn’t know about them, then yes… but what if they tracked them to here? And was here such a safe place anyway? Not with what had happened to her on Saturday, it wasn’t.
However, it was a price she was prepared to pay. To protect Estie. She knew her dream of being reunited with Anatoly was over. She had come to the realization that her fiancé, in all probability, was dead. And if he wasn’t, how on earth were they ever to reunite? The address she had wasn’t a home; it was a newspaper office. Anatoly wouldn’t live at a newspaper. Had he known that when he had given it to her? Had he just been stringing her along? She touched the pearl on her engagement ring and bit her lip. Oh, she had been a fool to believe it for so long. Estie was looking at her, her head cocked to one side. Mimi reached out and stroked her hair. She would be a fool no longer. There was still hope for them. They were in America. And eventually – please God – they would be free to live their own lives.
“Estie,” she said. “Promise me you will never tell anyone about the man on the ship. Can you do that?”
Estie was drawing again, this time something that looked like a flower. “Uh-huh,” she said.
Mimi sighed. That was the best she’d get for now.
Mimi took off her apron and put it in the small bedside cupboard. Then she straightened up and said: “It’s time for food, Estie. Let’s go.”
But as she helped her sister get ready to go to the dining hall, the blonde, scowling figure of Kat stalked towards them. “The Boss Man’s called. He wants to see you. And her.” She jerked a thumb towards Estie. “Slick will take you.”
“But we haven’t eaten,” said Mimi. “And why does he want to see Estie?”
Kat slapped her. Mimi took a step back. But Estie launched herself at the supervisor like a rabid dog, her nails clawing at the older girl’s face. “Get her off me!” screamed Kat.
Mimi grabbed her sister by the shoulders and heaved her back. Kat’s face was scratched and bloodied. That’ll teach you, thought Mimi, just managing to keep the smirk off her face.
“Take some bread with you, then meet Slick in his office,” said Kat, backing off and eyeing Estie warily.
Mimi did not know what to do. She hoped – she really hoped – that the Boss Man wanting to see Estie did not mean that she too would be put to work servicing men. Mimi could not – would not – allow that. But what choice did they have? Mimi looked at her sister and imagined her fighting off the sailor on the boat. It would not end well for any man who tried to have his way with her. Estie would not be as compliant as her older sister. And then what would happen? Would the man get even more violent? Might he really hurt Estie? She’d have to talk to the Boss Man. To make him see sense. Slick was just obeying orders; he’d be no good to talk to. But she must convince the Boss Man to leave her sister alone, for all of their sakes.
Poppy and Delilah stepped out of the service entrance to Lexington Towers. Poppy’s eyes flitted from left to right. They were in an alleyway. Bins and skips were lined up at the rear of a number of apartment buildings, and about a block away, the rear entrance of Bloomingdale’s department store. If this was daytime she might have expected to see delivery vans and refuse collectors driving up and down the alley, but it was nearly eight o’clock on a Tuesday night. The flashing lights at the end of the alley from the traffic on 59th Street might as well have been on the moon.
Howard Parker was close behind them, hiding a gun under the draped coat on his arm. Poppy could hear his breathing – tense but steady. The smell of whisky suggested he’d had enough to give him Dutch courage but not that he’d be dropping off into a drunken stupor any time soon. Now was not the time to run. Poppy prayed, fervently, that she and Delilah would be given a chance to do so soon – either that or they would be able to alert someone to help them.
What’s happened to Rollo? Poppy was desperately worried for her editor. Was he still upstairs with Mrs Lawson? Had the woman somehow incapacitated him? If she was, in fact, the killer of Prince von Hassler, she was more than capable of hurting Rollo. But Rollo was strong – short but not puny. In a physical tussle he would probably hold his own against the older woman. But what if she took him unawares? Hit him from behind, as she had the prince? Or if she too had a gun like Parker?
Suddenly the lights of a motor vehicle flashed at the end of the alley. Someone’s coming! This is our chance!
Poppy held her breath, waiting for the vehicle to approach. She would run at the motor, waving her arms, then it would stop. Surely a young woman in distress would cause the driver to stop. And Parker would not shoot, would he? Not with a witness…
“Don’t try anything,” growled Parker. “I will not hesitate to shoot.”
Should I still try? Should I…
The car was a few feet away and beginning to slow; then it pulled to a stop in front of them. Poppy heard the handbrake being pulled up and saw the window open. She prepared her face to communicate fear, hoping the person would see she and Delilah were in distress.
“Evening, sir,” said the driver with a flick of a finger to the brim of his hat.
Poppy mouthed the word “help”.
The man in the motor grinned, revealing blackened teeth.
She heard Parker chuckle behind her. Her heart sank.
“Evening, Slick. Are the other two under control?”
“Aye aye, sir,” said the driver, opening the door. Poppy caught a glimpse of crumpled bodies on the back seat. “Chloroformed as you said. They shouldn’t be waking up for a while.”
“What have you done? Who’s that in there?” asked Delilah. “Listen, Howard, I think this has gone too far. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you won’t get away with it. You won’t be able to…”
Delilah yelped. Poppy looked down to see the barrel of Parker’s gun jab into her friend’s ribs.
“You got any of that chloroform left, Slick?”