Georgina, dressed and ready to go, paced back and forth, stopping every few seconds to pull back the curtains a crack to glance out the window, eagerly waiting for Johnny to turn up. The sun hadn’t yet risen and the street was in darkness. She didn’t expect Johnny to arrive for at least a couple of hours but she’d hardly slept again and had been awake since four. Though this time, rather than lying awake listening for every sound, on edge and ready to run, her insomnia had been caused by the anticipation of seeing her children.
‘Blimey, Georgina, you’re up at a sparrow’s fart. Johnny won’t be here for a while yet.’
‘I’m sorry if I woke you,’ Georgina said and turned away from the window to look at Charlotte. In the low lamplight, she could see the girl’s head was showing a distinct bruise from her injury of the previous night. But she was pleased to see that Charlotte didn’t seem to be too adversely affected from her experience.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Charlotte asked.
‘No reason. Just making sure you’re all right.’
‘Yeah, I’ll live, unlike some of them poor beggars last night.’
‘Try not to dwell on it, eh?’
‘I won’t. Don’t worry about me. You just make sure you have a lovely time with your kids.’
‘I can’t wait,’ she answered, turning back to the window.
She could hear Charlotte in the kitchen and smelt the aroma of bread toasting. And though her mouth watered, she couldn’t face food. Her stomach was doing somersaults.
‘Some toast and jam and a strong cuppa,’ Charlotte said, coming back into the front room and offering her a tray.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t eat. I’ll take some sandwiches for me and Johnny. Maybe I’ll feel a bit more settled later. But I’ll have the cuppa, thanks.’
Charlotte pulled off bits of the toast and fed them to Dog. ‘What a waste,’ she moaned in jest. ‘He’s getting good rationed food, the spoilt mutt. I put loads of butter on this.’
Hours later, Georgina turned off the table lamp, turned on the wireless and pulled open the curtains to see sunlight flooding in through the taped windows, drenching the room in a golden hue. She was glad of the good weather for their trip to Wales. As she gazed out onto the street, she saw PC Batten leaving the house. She thought he looked very smart in his uniform with polished silver buttons down the front of his jacket, and his helmet gave him added height. And then it struck her that she didn’t feel the usual repulsion towards him that she’d normally feel about a copper. What was different about him? Was it because Charlotte had developed feelings for him? Of course, the girl hadn’t admitted it – she had in fact fervently denied it – but Georgina could tell that Charlotte was falling for him. As long as Charlotte didn’t get her heart broken, Georgina didn’t mind her being in love with a policeman, especially as it could work to her advantage.
Now that PC Batten was out of the way, she was eager to get going and was delighted when she finally saw Johnny driving towards the house. ‘At last,’ she said to herself, then called to Charlotte, ‘Johnny’s here.’
Charlotte came through from the kitchen with sandwiches and bottles of pop. ‘There you go,’ she said, handing the bundle to Georgina. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
As Georgina climbed into her old car, dressed in her workman clothes, she refrained from looking up and down the street. She didn’t want to act suspiciously or appear nervous.
‘Good morning, Miss Garrett. You’re looking… erm…’
‘Like a bloke,’ she answered, smiling at Johnny.
‘Yeah, like a bloke,’ he laughed.
‘I think it’s about time you called me Georgina. No, you’d better make it George, for now.’
‘Oh, I dunno, Miss Garrett, it wouldn’t feel right. You’re the guvnor.’
‘Not anymore, Johnny.’
‘Yeah you are. Anyway, what have you got there? I’m famished.’
As Johnny set off, Georgina unwrapped a corned beef sandwich for him.
‘Thanks,’ he said, driving with one hand on the steering wheel. ‘I reckon we should arrive before teatime.’
‘I hope so. Have you got the map?’
‘Yep, and some petrol coupons. Don’t take the piss but there’s a flask of tea under your seat an’ all. Oh, and a handgun for you.’
Georgina sat low in her seat with her flat cap pulled down, watching the sights of London pass. It was heart-wrenching to see so many buildings bombed and turned to rubble, queues outside shops, housewives desperate for their meagre rations, and the distinct lack of children playing in the streets or on their way to school. When she’d given Selina to Lash’s parents, it had been with reluctance but she’d known it was for the best. The decision had been made when her daughter was just months old and bombs were dropping all around them. Mary had talked her into it and Lash’s parents had readily agreed. But at the time, she could never have imagined that the war would still be raging years later and children would be separated from their parents, evacuated to safety. Damn you, Hitler, she thought, looking at a group of soldiers proudly wearing their khaki uniforms. They were getting on a tram, going to gawd knows where. She wondered if they’d been waved off from home by mothers and wives. Were they on their way back to war? Would they return to London or would their blood be spilled on foreign lands?
‘When will this bloody war be over with?’ she said, her mood dampened.
‘Christ knows! It’s been going on too long now.’
The rhythmic motion of the car relaxed her and she felt the tension lifting from her shoulders. Her eyelids began to feel heavy and as the car trundled out of London and into the winding country lanes, Georgina drifted into sleep.
She found herself with David, his arms around her as she breathed in his scent. He was whispering something in her ear but she couldn’t quite hear him. Now they were in his office and drinking champagne, laughing about the enormous carrot hiding behind the curtains. She pulled her gun from her clutch bag and David applauded her as she shot the potato sitting at his desk. Lash came in and carried her away. David gave chase, waving his gun in the air. Georgina held tightly around Lash’s neck and then she heard the gunshot. Lash fell to the floor. She screamed. Then David pointed his gun at her.
She woke to Johnny’s voice as he gentle nudged her arm. ‘Miss Garrett… Miss Garrett…’
‘What… I think I’ve been asleep.’
‘Yes, for hours but I woke you up ’cos it sounded like you were having a bad dream.’
‘Thanks. Where are we?’ she asked, looking out the window at the unfamiliar countryside.
‘Not long now. I’ve seen the sea a few times. About an hour away, I reckon.’
‘Blimey, thanks, Johnny. I’ve been asleep for most of the journey.’
‘You have and it’s been nice and peaceful,’ he said with a laugh.
*
They drove up a hill, the road seemed endless, but the higher they got, the faster her heart pounded. She knew that on the other side of the hill, Lash’s family would be camped and she’d finally hold her children in her longing arms. But she feared how they might react to her. Selina wouldn’t know her and Alfie may have forgotten her. Would they be scared? Excited? Shy? What did they look like now? She imagined Alfie would be the image of his father with dark hair and eyes. Would Selina look like her? Her mind raced as the car went over the brow of the hill.
Georgina tried to peer through the trees to the valley below but her view was too obscured. ‘Hurry up, Johnny, they should be down there. Can’t you drive any faster?’
‘Sorry, Miss Garrett, but I’ve gotta take it slow on these bends.’
Halfway down, still she couldn’t see the caravans or the horses.
The road curved to the left and then she spotted three vardos, alone, next to a stream where three horses were grazing. ‘There!’ she exclaimed excitedly, ‘Over there.’
At the bottom of the hill, Johnny brought the car to a stop and Georgina took a deep breath. ‘Wait here,’ she told him. ‘I’ll be back soon. Let me speak to Lash’s parents first. They’ll offer us a bed for the night but I don’t want them to be on the defence because I’ve walked in with a man.’
As Georgina approached the three caravans, she looked up and down the valley, wondering where the others were. And where were her children? Something didn’t feel right.
She stood outside the first vardo, painted green and decorated with small but elaborate red and pink flowers. The large wheels and steps up were red, and gold coloured curtains dressed the small windows. The front door was framed by intricate wood carvings, as was a wooden box attached to the undercarriage. A wooden stand with a tin wash basin stood outside and smoke belched from the small chimney. Someone must be home.
‘Hello,’ she shouted, and waited.
The door opened and a lady with black hair tied high on her head came out, wiping her hands on a cloth. She wore an apron over her long, black dress and a red crotched shawl over her shoulders.
‘Sastibe (hello), Georgina.’
‘Sastibe,’ she parroted, unsure of who the woman was.
‘Come inside. The pot is hot.’
Georgina followed the woman inside and as she did, memories of being in Lash’s parents’ vardo came flooding back.
‘Besh (sit). Martya (spirit of the night) told me you would be coming.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.’
The woman, her face etched with the tales of a thousand lives, sat opposite Georgina at a small table. ‘I’m Rukeli, your husband’s Beebee (aunt). I’ve seen you many times through my third yak (eye).’
‘Thank you for inviting me in, Rukeli. Can you tell me where my children are?’
‘Zeravo (left) to the ocean. Your Sastro (father-in-law) made it so. Your children are with their niamo (relatives) and they travel a lundo drom (long road).’
Georgina couldn’t believe what she was hearing and hoped her confusion was because of her limited understanding of their language.
‘I’m sorry, please speak to me in my tongue. Are you telling me my children aren’t here?’
‘Yes, Georgina. It is for the best.’
Georgina’s teeth clenched and she jumped to her feet, anger cursing through her veins. ‘You’ve no right to keep my children from me,’ she screeched, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.
‘The world is at war. Your children cannot come back to you yet.’
‘I still have a right to see them!’ she shouted, running her hand through her short hair.
‘We thought it might upset them. Your children are settled, loved and cared for. Seeing you would unsettle them. You must have patience, Georgina.’
‘They’re my children,’ she ground out and felt tears stinging her eyes.
‘Understand, child, they are safe and this decision was taken in agreement with the elders.’
Georgina placed her hands on the table and leaned towards Rukeli, her voice quieter now. ‘Where are they? And don’t tell me all that rubbish about across oceans and long roads. I want to know exactly where my children are.’
Rukeli pushed herself to her feet and hobbled across the caravan to attend to the pot on the stove. ‘You’ve had a long journey to find disappointment. I cannot tell you what you want to know. But I can offer you refreshment.’
‘I don’t want bloody refreshment. I want to see my babies!’
Rukeli turned quickly from the pot, her eyes blazing. ‘Check yourself, Georgina. Check your tone and remember who you are addressing. Barearav! (respect).’
Georgina lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, acutely aware of the reverence she should be showing Lash’s aunt.
‘You and your friend must rest.’
‘Thank you, Rukeli, but I can’t stay, not without my children,’ she sighed.
‘Your children will be brought to you in good time. And do not think they have forgotten you. We tell them stories of their mother and father. Alfie remembers you. He says you are the boss. And Selina is curious. She has your eyes.’
A sob caught in Georgina’s throat that she tried to suppress. Her hand went over her mouth as tears fell unashamedly.
‘They are happy, Georgina. Let us take care of them with your blessing.’
Georgina recalled a conversation she’d had with Lash, when he had wanted to take Alfie to be with his family and she’d disagreed. He had asked to take Alfie with her blessing but the conversation had turned into an argument. The last words they’d shared before his death had been spoken in anger, something she had always regretted and had to live with. Now, with hesitancy, she nodded, unable to speak, and Rukeli came towards her. She took Georgina’s hand in her own and closed her eyes.
‘I see the man on fire,’ she said and shuddered.
It had been Lash’s aunt who had foreseen that Lash would die and she would be with the ‘man on fire’. David Maynard had been that man, horrifically burned in a bomb blast. ‘What do you see, Rukeli?’ she asked curiously, even though she didn’t really believe in fortune telling.
‘He is on your mind. You are angry with someone else.’
‘He’s dead. I will avenge his death.’
Rukeli pulled her hand away and bustled past Georgina.
‘He lives in your heart alongside Lash.’
‘He does.’
‘Buino. The man on fire was buino (proud). He has passed over, Georgina. I do not feel his mulo (spirit of the dead). And you will not have revenge.’
Georgina swallowed hard. Lash had always sworn by Rukeli’s visions. He’d said his aunt was never wrong. More tears stung her eyes. She had nothing. No children. No man to love her. And now she’d been told that she wouldn’t even have her revenge. But she sat and listened to Rukeli who was happy to recount heartwarming tales of Alfie and Selina’s adventures.
Finally, Georgina bid farewell to Rukeli but hated leaving without having had the opportunity to hold her children. Back in the car, Johnny looked puzzled.
‘Just drive,’ she told him, fighting to hold back more tears.
Her arms were still empty but as they embarked on the arduous journey back to London, Georgina’s grief turned to bitter anger. Everything had been taken from her. And regardless of what Rukeli had said, now it was time to seek retribution.
*
Johnny had struggled to keep his eyes open for the last couple of hours of the journey home from Wales and had smoked three cigars in an attempt to keep him awake. Thankfully, Miss Garrett hadn’t complained about the smell. The fresh air blasting his face from the open window had helped to keep him alert.
His heart went out to his guvnor. She’d been so solemn after discovering she couldn’t see her kids. And Lash’s aunt had said that Miss Garrett wouldn’t get any revenge on David’s killer. Not that Johnny gave it much credence. He thought all that palm reading and tea leaf rubbish was just a gimmick used on the end of Brighton Pier to fool the gullible folk to part with their money. But, if that’s what it took for Miss Garrett to back down about wanting to pay back The Top, then who was he to question it? The trouble was, The Top was powerful and could easily get rid of Miss Garrett. In fact, Johnny wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t already a target on her head. After all, Miss Garrett had once been a terrific force in Battersea and Johnny was sure she’d soon regain her crown. The Top might not like that notion! And he doubted very much that Miss Garrett could take him down first.
He’d dropped her off in the early hours, arranging to pick her up again that evening. Now he was looking forward to his bed and trudged up the stairs to his flat. After driving almost non-stop for hours, every step was an effort and his body felt stiff and ached. His back was sore too. The thought of Daisy popped into his head. She was never far from his mind but it was the smallest of things that would bring her to the forefront. This time, his aching back. He remembered Daisy’s back had been painful once and he’d massaged her, which of course had led to them making love. Ah, making sweet love with Daisy. She’d taken him to levels of ecstasy that he’d never known existed. He missed her and knew he always would. Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer do… He’d sung that song to her on her deathbed. She’d said yes, of course she’d marry him. But poor, beautiful, delicate Daisy had died before Johnny could make her his wife.
His precious thoughts of Daisy were quickly dismissed when he neared the top step and noticed that the door was ajar. Johnny stopped dead in his tracks.
Reaching inside his coat for his gun, Johnny walked through the darkness in a calculated manner towards his flat, ready to shoot if he had to. He flung the door open wider, holding his gun in front of him, and then he slowly tiptoed inside. It was black, almost impossible to see anything. He listened, but all he could hear was the sound of his heart thumping. Edging further in, he flicked on a light switch and glanced around the lounge in disgust at the disarray. The sofa cushions lay ripped on the floor. The contents of drawers had been thrown around and the wireless was smashed. Even the wastepaper bin had been emptied.
He moved from the lounge to the kitchenette and then the bedroom to find each room in the same mess. But whoever had been in was long gone now. He felt relieved but at the same time, would have liked to catch the bastards in the act and put a couple of bullets in them.
Johnny tucked his gun away back in his pocket, closed the front door and went straight to his hiding place. It was clear that someone had been looking for something and he guessed they were probably searching for the money from his recent job.
Stepping over his clothes strewn across the bedroom floor, he pushed an old trunk to one side and then removed a piece of skirting board. He reached into the hollow he’d made in the wall, pleased when his fingertips touched a cloth bag. Pulling out the bag, he looked inside, to see his wad of notes and a gun. They hadn’t found his stash but he knew they’d be back and wondered who they were. Now he realised it was a good job that he hadn’t been home, and shuddered at the thought of what they might have done to him if they’d caught him off-guard.
Johnny’s heart raced as he frantically tried to think of what to do next. He couldn’t stay here but he didn’t know who he was running from. What if it was The Top? He was taking Miss Garrett there later. He could be offering himself up, like a lamb to the slaughter of a sacrifice.
Grabbing a few necessities and with the cloth bag, Johnny fled his flat and raced round to Max’s house. His good friend wouldn’t mind him kipping there for what was left of the night and at least together they had strength in numbers. Two men with guns was better than one.