I haven’t felt much like going out to work these last few days, to be honest. Lily and I agreed to meet in The Black Horse before we started this evening, to buck ourselves up a bit. All the old girls go in the Ladies’ bar, but they don’t like us in there, so we go to the public room instead. There’s a barman there, Walt. Poor chap had some operation on his face as a nipper and one of the nerves got cut by mistake, and he’s got one cheek paralysed, with a droopy eye and his mouth screwed up so he only talks with half of it, but he’s nice enough, and he’s been sweet on Lily for ever so long. It’s a bit pathetic, really, because he never says much, but whenever she comes in his face lights up—well, the part that works does—and he stops whatever he’s doing and runs over to serve her. Every time she speaks to him, even if it’s just to say ‘thank you’, he looks that pleased, and he’s always got some little present that he pushes over the bar, quick, so no one can see. I did ask Lily once, if she’d ever gone with him—you know, when she’s working—and she said he’d never asked, so I suppose he likes to keep it a bit romantic. It’s sad, really, but you haven’t got a lot of chance with girls if you look like he does.
This time he’d got Lily some artificial flowers to pin on her frock. He said he’d heard about Edie and he was sorry, and then he went and cleared a table for us in the corner so we could sit down. I was joshing Lily about him, trying to cheer us both up because I wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of going out to work, and I knew she wasn’t, either, when she suddenly opened her bag and pulled out a scrap of newspaper. ‘You seen this? It was in Tuesday’s paper.’
‘Let’s have a look. Police are hunting the killer of Edith Parker, a twenty-six-year-old former dance hostess, who was found strangled in her Soho flat yesterday. Doesn’t say anything about the other business. Perhaps Bridget was making it up.’
Lily shook her head. ‘Who’d make up a thing like that? Anyway, they’ve got it all wrong. Edie was only twenty-three, not twenty-six, and she didn’t live in Soho, either. Oh, Rene, it’s horrible. I told Ted I didn’t want to come out, and he was ever so nice about it, but then he went out and I thought I’d better come. I mean, there’s the rent, and…you know.’
‘Come on, Lily. You know how Edie was. Weak in the head—you said it yourself. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but it’s her own fault if she got into trouble. Look at the way she went off with that chap from the shelter.’
‘He offered her three pounds. I heard him.’
‘There you are, then. Double the money—you know what that means.’
‘No French letter.’
‘You wouldn’t have gone with him, would you?’
Lily shook her head.
‘There you are, then. You’ve got to know how to handle them, that’s all.’ She still looked doubtful, so I said, ‘Come on, Lil, it’s all right. We’ll look out for each other, won’t we?’
‘I suppose so. But Rene—’
She never got any further, because some idiot, stinking like a distillery, plonks himself down at our table. I was about to say, ‘Do you mind?’ but he cut straight in with, ‘How’s Henry?’
I said, ‘I don’t know anyone called Henry.’
‘Well you should, he’s your husband.’
‘Not me, dear, I don’t have a husband.’
‘Yes you do.’ He thumped the table. ‘Henry.’
‘No, dear. You’re thinking of somebody else.’
‘Have you divorced him?’
‘How could I divorce him when I never had him in the first place?’
‘Poor Henry, fancy getting divorced…’
This was beginning to get on my nerves, and I was about to tell him so when Lily jumped up, saying, ‘Oh, I can’t bear it! Bloody men, all the time. Why can’t we have some peace and quiet?’
He turned to her and said, ‘Are you going to marry him, then?’
‘Who?’
‘Henry! You couldn’t do better. Straight as a die, he is. Don’t know what’s the matter with her,’ jerking his head at me, ‘divorcing him like that.’
Lily said, ‘Oh, get out of my way,’ and made to push past him.
He put out a hand to stop her and I thought, here we go again, when I heard someone say, ‘This gentleman giving you trouble?’
I thought, I know that voice, and sure enough when I turned round there was the warden, Harry Nolan. He took the man by his arm and said, ‘Time to go, mate.’ Lily and I got behind the table pretty sharpish at that, expecting trouble, because he was a little runt of a man, and with Harry being so big, well, that’s when they’re usually spoiling for a fight, wanting to prove themselves, but he didn’t say a word. Just left, quiet as a lamb. We thanked Harry, then Lily said she ought to be going—despite what she’d said, I reckon she was worried in case Ted came in and saw she wasn’t working. I was about to go with her, when Harry asked if he could buy me a drink. I thought, oh, why not? I could do with a bit of Dutch courage, and besides, it’s not often I meet a man I actually want to pass the time of day with, free and gratis, so I might as well enjoy a bit of decent company for a change. I told Lily I’d catch up with her, and sat back down again.
‘You feeling a bit better now, Rene?’
‘I’m not so bad.’
He said, ‘I’m glad. That was a bad business, all round.’
I felt a bit awkward, talking about it. I mean, I know he knows, and he knows I know he knows, but all the same. And it was hard to make him out, because there wasn’t any sort of… suggestiveness, if you see what I mean. And he could be married with five kids, for all I know, although I have to say he hasn’t got a look of that. There were a lot of people in the pub, and we could hear Ale Mary in the passage outside, singing away over all the racket. To change the subject, I said, ‘Bit early for her, isn’t it?’
‘Be thankful for small mercies. At least it’s not the Old Testament.’
‘Not unless there’s a Book of Marie Lloyd.’
Harry laughed. ‘I’ll bet she hasn’t enjoyed herself so much in years.’
‘Wish I could say the same. It’s enough to make anyone go off their head, all this.’
‘Oh, cheer up, it’s not so bad. I heard a good story yesterday. One of the chaps in our ARP is a dentist. He had a man come in for a new set of teeth, and do you know what he’d done? He was a bit quiet about it, but they got it out of him in the end: he’s with the AFS and he’s on the hose for the first time, the fire’s nearly out and he hasn’t been home in three days so he thinks it’s a good chance to clean his teeth. He takes them out and holds them up in the water, but of course he hadn’t reckoned on the pressure, and they shoot out of his hand and go sailing through the air, straight into the fire!’
‘No!’
‘Honestly. Flying right through the air, snapping away like anything.’
‘They never.’
‘Well, that’s what he said.’
‘Snapping?’ It was such a funny picture, I couldn’t stop laughing.
‘Well, I don’t know if that was strictly true, but it makes a good story, doesn’t it?’
‘Priceless…’
‘It’s nice to see you laugh, Rene.’
‘Snapping…oh, dear, you’ve really cheered me up.’
‘You look lovely when you smile.’
There was a bit of a pause after that, with neither of us knowing quite what to say, so I stood up. ‘I’d best be going.’
Harry stood, too. ‘Yes. I’m glad you’re feeling a bit brighter.’
‘Well, I’ve got you to thank for that, haven’t I?’
‘All part of the service. Take care of yourself, Rene.’
It was just about dark outside. All the way to my patch I kept thinking of Harry saying I look lovely when I smile, then telling myself not to be soft. Being in this business can take you two ways: one where you don’t trust men because you see all the bad side, and the other where it makes you want a bit of romance more than ever, to have the contrast with the other thing. That’s why so many have ponces, but it’s no use if you have to pay a man to stay with you. Except of course that they’re your own sort because they understand the life.
But with Harry… Well, I don’t know, because you do get these types, every so often; they’ll give you money and help you out and not want anything for it, but it’s all done to make them feel a better person, so even if they don’t get the physical satisfaction, they get another sort. There’s a lot of men have a fascination with women like us, but with this particular type of person, it takes them in a different way from the usual. I’m not saying there’s wrong in it, and I wouldn’t refuse the money, why should I? But Harry hasn’t offered me anything more than you would an ordinary woman, so I can’t make it out. But I like him. Yes, I do. But I’m not getting my hopes up, because even if a man thinks he can forget you’ve been a tart, I don’t reckon that’s true—it’ll always come back later. First quarrel, and he’ll throw it right back in your face how he’s picked you up out of the gutter. But then I said to myself, I’m not going to think about Harry any more tonight, because I’m working.
I had an appointment with one of my regulars at my flat— Raymond the Barber, I call him, because he always wants to comb my hair. Puts a towel across my shoulders and calls me ‘Madam’ and all the rest of it. He comes to see me about once a month. I charge him two pounds for it, being a bit out of the ordinary. Mind you, I have to pretend to tip him. First thing he does, he gives me a couple of shillings and I have to put them in my handbag so I can bring them out after and give him, and he says, ‘Oh, thank you, Madam.’ You get a fair bit of that sort of thing. I’ve got my button-boot man, too, who comes to see me, he’s another one. He’s got these boots he brings with him and he likes me to walk up and down in front of him wearing nothing but. They don’t half pinch! Still, it makes a change from the usual.
I had a fair bit of business after that, and then I’d just come back out onto the street when a man comes shooting past and nearly knocks me flying. I thought, what’s this, I’m being robbed, and I shouted out. Not that he’d get much, mind you, because I keep my money in my shoe, not my handbag, and he’d have a job finding that. Anyway, he wasn’t a thief, just a young fellow in a hurry—uniform of some sort, all apologetic, nice manners and the rest of it. Said he was looking for a pal who’d given him the slip. I said, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of a pal to me.’
‘Well, he’s not, really, he’s a funny chap. But you haven’t seen anyone, have you?’
‘I’ve only just got here, dear. I can ask my friend round the corner, if you like.’
‘I didn’t see anyone.’
‘Well you wouldn’t, would you, the way you were going?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that, I—’
‘Never mind. I meant the other corner. Where you were heading. Let’s have a look, shall we?’
I shone my torch across the pavement, but Lily wasn’t there. ‘She’s busy, dear. I’d give it up, if I were you.’
‘Yes…’ he sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. I say…are you, I mean, do you…could…that is, could I buy you a drink?’
Here we go, I thought. ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that, dear. It’ll be two pounds unless you’re after something special.’ I said two pounds because I had him down for a novice and I thought I might as well take ten shillings more for the extra bother—I’m not a bloody nursemaid, after all.
‘Special? Heavens, no…’ He laughed nervously. ‘What do, I mean, where…?’
‘Come along with me.’
When we got back to my flat I saw he was RAF. Nineteen or twenty, I suppose, with a sort of baby look to him—big dark eyes with long lashes and lovely wavy hair—but as if the face hadn’t taken on its proper shape yet, if you know what I mean. Blushing like fury, of course. He said, ‘Look here, I don’t know the form… Name’s Gervase.’
Blimey, I thought, you couldn’t make it up, could you? ‘That’s nice, dear. I’m Rene.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ He put his hand out for me to shake.
‘It’s all right, dear, it’s not a garden party.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ He put both hands behind his back, and looked down at his feet. I thought, I’ve got my work cut out here.
‘Haven’t you forgotten something, dear?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t—’
‘The money.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’
At least they’re quick, the first time. Afterwards, he said he wanted to talk. That’s something else you get a lot of, and it’s always the same: hard luck stories. The wife’s left or the girl won’t marry them or they’re miserable. Once you’ve heard one man feeling sorry for himself, you’ve heard them all.
I mean, I’m not one of these ‘Get your trousers off and get on with it’ merchants, I like to keep it polite, but you don’t want them hanging around afterwards, especially if they’re going to come over all moral and try to save you—well! I tell you, I’ve had clergymen in here giving me a sermon about what a tragedy it is to live like I do and how I ought to repent and all the rest of it, when not five minutes before they’ve been begging me to talk all manner of filth to get them excited. Funny, you’d think they’d see how ridiculous it is, but they never do. And men say women are stupid! Although now I come to think of it, I suppose we must be, because we put up with it, don’t we?
Not that I thought I was going to get that from this boy, but I wasn’t in the mood, so I said, ‘No, you’ve had what you’ve paid for,’ and he said he’d give me more money. I told him a pound. He gave it to me, then he said, ‘Will you put your arms round me?’
‘Very well, dear, if that’s what you want.’ Then blow me if he didn’t start to cry! I’ve got one arm round him and one eye on the clock, I’m patting him on the back like a baby and half-listening, and he talks and talks. He was going on about how he’s afraid he’ll let down his family and his chums and how it wasn’t like he thought it would be—the air force, I suppose he meant—and he didn’t know if he could fight, and then he said how ashamed he was at coming to see me. I thought, that’s a bit rich, so I said, ‘Well, if that’s the case, dear, you’d better be going, hadn’t you?’ He apologised and said something about getting carried away because it was a relief to talk to someone, and then he sort of checked himself, like he’d been about to tell me something else. Then he started on about this pal who’d run out on him and what a good flyer he was, and how he seemed to be fearless, but how he hardly ever spoke to anyone, and how some of the other fellows liked a joke but this one never joined in, and a whole lot more like that, but I wasn’t interested to hear it, I was thinking of how soon I could get rid of him and back downstairs, so I’m at the mirror putting on lipstick, nodding away: ‘Yes, well, never mind…’
‘I don’t understand,’ he kept saying. ‘If only I could understand.’
I said, ‘Oh, everybody feels like that sometimes. It’s a funny old world, after all.’
‘Do they really?’ He looked at me with these great big wet eyes and just for a moment it reminded me so much of my Tommy that I almost went and gave him a proper cuddle, but then I thought, that won’t do. It was touching, though, because some of these boys are so young, really, and when you think what they have to do… But I hadn’t time for any more of it, so I said, ‘Come on, dear. Off you go.’
He gave himself a little shake, and said, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve bored you.’
‘Oh, don’t you worry about that.’
‘You’ve been very kind.’
‘Only doing my job, dear. Come back any time. Ta-ta.’
Then he said he’d got to go and find this queer chum of his, and off he went.
I went back out, too. It was pretty quiet, so I thought I’d nip round the corner for a chat to Lily, see if she wanted a cup of tea, but she wasn’t there. I stayed on for a bit—a couple more, then nothing for half an hour, and Lily still wasn’t back, so I thought, oh, well… Then, just as I was about to go in, I heard footsteps, not very steady, and this mournful voice, like a fog-horn: ‘Poor old Henry…’ with a great beery belch that echoed up and down the street and had me chuckling all the way up the stairs. Poor old Henry! I’ll tell that to Lily tomorrow, when I see her.