Jacob Flowers had been satisfied at the outcome of the meeting with Temi Zammit, the son of the head of the notorious West End gang. Temi was willing to negotiate but had set the proviso that he wanted to be introduced to Miss Garrett. Jacob had tried to talk the man out of it, saying that Miss Garrett wasn’t the elegant beauty he’d been expecting and was more of a man than a woman. None the less, Temi had insisted and Jacob had agreed to arrange it.
Now back in his office, he perused yesterday’s newspaper as he waited for Elsie to bring him his lunch. His wife had been a disappointment of late and he’d expressed his displeasure by cutting off her spending money and disciplining her with her bible. He found a good whack around the head with the heavy book saved him damaging his hands on her. And how ironic, he thought and smiled, that the book that was filled with God’s love would be the same book that punished her.
He scanned the front page of the Evening Standard. Black out at five twenty-one in the evening until eight-thirty in the morning. Churchill is ill and has developed pneumonia. The Russians close on Smyela. Jacob had no idea where Smyela was or what its significance was in the war, and neither did he care. Bombers had knocked out enemy communications through the Brenner Pass. War, war, war. He was bored of it.
Elsie came into the office carrying a tray which she placed on his desk. He looked at the meal she’d prepared with the extra beef he’d acquired from Temi Zammit. His mouth salivated at the sight of the juicy looking steak. Thanks to his questionable contacts, rationing hadn’t affected their larder. As he cut into his steak, looking forward to seeing the blood ooze from the meat and onto his plate, he frowned when he realised that the steak was overcooked.
‘You useless woman!’ he screeched. ‘This steak isn’t rare. It’s practically incinerated.’
His eyes shot to the corner of the room where his wife sat. He glared at her accusingly as she trembled in her seat. ‘This isn’t fit for a dog to eat. Take it away,’ he ordered.
Elsie jumped to his command and went to pick up the tray. As she did, he grabbed her wrist, gripping it hard. With his eyes now fixed on the steak, a thought crossed his mind. ‘How did you manage to overcook this? Was your mind on something else? Were you thinking about another man?’ he asked, his voice calm, concealing his internal rage.
‘No, Jacob, not at all. I must have had the gas too high. I’m sorry, I’ll cook you a fresh steak.’
Jacob squeezed her wrist harder. ‘And waste good food?’
‘It won’t go to waste. I’ll have that steak for my supper this evening.’
‘Yes, you will,’ he said. ‘And you’ll eat it from the floor like an animal would. Take it away.’
Once he’d released his grip, Elsie picked up the tray with shaking hands. Once again, she’d dissatisfied him. She wasn’t trying her best to be a good wife and he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why.
‘Stop,’ he commanded before she left his office.
Elsie stood still, her back rod-straight.
‘Come back here,’ he said.
She turned around and walked hesitantly towards him but she wouldn’t meet his scrutinising gaze. Now he was sure she was hiding something.
‘Empty the tray on the side and bring it here,’ he said.
Elsie complied and when she handed him the wooden tray, Jacob quickly scraped his chair back and jumped to his feet. His sudden movement caused Elsie to flinch and at the same time, Jacob swept his arm through the air, smashing the tray against her head. The force of the blow knocked her sideways and onto the floor.
‘What did you and Mr Dymond discuss at the door the other day?’ he asked as she lay whimpering.
‘Nothing, Jacob, nothing. We didn’t speak,’ she answered weakly.
‘LIAR!’
‘I swear on the Holy Bible, no words were exchanged between us.’
‘Get up.’
Elsie rose to her feet unsteadily and Jacob noticed her cheek was hugely swollen. This wouldn’t do! Christmas Eve was less than one week away and she’d already invited the elders from her church to join them for carol singing around the piano. They were sure to notice her bruising.
‘Come with me,’ he said, leading her into the main house.
He walked her to the top of the stairs where he loosened a piece of carpet. ‘Wait here.’ He said, pointing to the top step before he descended the staircase. Standing at the bottom and looking up, he smiled wryly, telling Elsie, ‘Jump.’
She looked confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Throw yourself down the stairs.’
‘But… I can’t, Jacob. Please…’
‘Throw yourself down, woman, or I shall come up there and push you.’
‘No, Jacob… please… please…’
‘Fine, have it your way,’ he mumbled as he trudged back up the stairs.
Elsie held onto the bannister. ‘Please don’t do this,’ she begged as he unpeeled her fingers from the handrail.
‘I take no pleasure from this,’ he lied, ‘but you need to have an unfortunate accident which will render you unable to host for our guests on Christmas Eve.’
Elsie screamed but her pleas did nothing to abate Jacob’s determination. She wriggled and writhed which further frustrated him. He got behind her and with his arms around her waist, lifted her enough from the floor to launch her down the stairs.
She tumbled forward, her legs falling over her body and head as she flipped down. Then the somersault broke and she fell down the last few steps head-first on her back until landing crookedly on the floor.
Jacob had watched with pleasure, though he hadn’t liked the sound of her body thudding on the hard stairs. He could see and hear she was conscious and walked down to her, wondering if she had obtained any broken bones.
‘Oh my dear wife, what have you done?’ he asked, crouching beside her.
Her face was contorted in pain and she looked pale.
‘Don’t move,’ he said, ‘I’ll call for an ambulance.’
Minutes later, he stood over her again, disconcerted at her laboured breathing and now she appeared only semi-conscious. He’d only been gone a short time but her health appeared to have rapidly deteriorated. Yes, he’d wanted her injured but not dead! He knew he couldn’t live without her. Kneeling beside her, he lightly patted her cheek.
‘Speak to me, Elsie, speak to me.’
She made a garbled sound, her words impossible to understand.
‘An ambulance is on the way. Goodness, Elsie, I’ve warned you about that loose carpet at the top of the stairs on many occasions. I feel awful for not repairing it.’
‘My arm,’ she groaned, her words clearer, ‘hurts.’
‘Yes, Elsie, just lie still. The ambulance will be here shortly. And remember… you tripped on the loose carpet, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘Tripped.’
He heard the sound of the ambulance bell arriving and went to open the street door before rushing back to Elsie’s side.
‘You tripped. Understood?’
Elsie nodded affirmation. He knew he didn’t need to threaten her to make her obey. He could have said he’d cut out her tongue or something equally abhorrent but he was confident he didn’t need to. After all, Elsie Flowers was fully aware of his brutality. It was all she’d ever known.
*
Georgina tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Lord Hamilton to return with a sizeable amount of cash from the sale of at least one of the paintings. She felt sure she could trust the man but wished she’d been able to accompany him. But with the police probably still searching for her, she knew it would be foolhardy to make unnecessary trips outside.
Charlotte looked to be daydreaming as she dusted the furniture. Georgina could guess where the girl’s thoughts were – with PC Batten. She’d come home the night before with a stupid grin on her face and everything she said had been Tim this and Tim that. It was nice to see her happy but she worried that Charlotte was going to end up with a broken heart. After all, Tim worked for the police and as far as Georgina was concerned, they were more bent and corrupt than most criminals she knew.
‘I was thinking about Christmas,’ Charlotte said, turning to look at Georgina.
‘What about it?’ Christmas was little over a week away but it was the last thing on her mind.
‘Well, we should do something nice. Gerty’s here, Johnny doesn’t have any family and I’m sure Lord Hamilton would like to join us.’
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I’d rather Christmas passed me by. It’s just another reminder that I haven’t got my children with me.’
‘Oh… yeah… sorry, that was thoughtless of me. Shall we keep it just us two then?’
‘What’s Tim doing?’
‘He’s going to his sister’s. He, erm, invited me but—’
‘—Go. Tell him you’d love to spend Christmas Day with his family.’
‘But I can’t leave you by yourself.’
‘I’d rather you did. I’m not in the mood for Christmas or being jolly. In fact, if Father Christmas comes down that chimney saying ho ho ho, I think I’ll shoot the fat bastard.’
Charlotte laughed, which made Georgina smile. ‘You go with Tim, and don’t give a second thought about me.’
Before Charlotte could protest further, they heard a tap on the window and Dog jumped up barking. Charlotte pulled the curtain back.
‘It’s Benjamin,’ she said and rushed to let him in.
His unannounced visit didn’t come as a surprise to Georgina. She’d expected he might call in today and rose to her feet to greet him.
‘Good morning, or is it erm, afternoon,’ he said, looking awkward as usual.
‘Hello Benjamin. Please, sit down, Charlotte will make you some tea.’
Benjamin perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, placed his briefcase on the floor beside him and pushed his round-rimmed glasses up his nose. ‘I have some, erm, bad news but also some good.’
‘Tell me the bad news.’
‘The police raided The Penthouse building last night. They smashed their way in. They had a tip-off that you was hiding there.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Georgina replied.
‘You know?’
‘Yes. It was me who tipped them off. I wanted to see their reaction.’
‘I see. There were over fifteen officers. Was that the reaction you’d anticipated?’
‘To be honest, I thought they might send half a dozen coppers but not more than twice that amount.’
‘They obviously want you back.’
‘I think I’m going to have to put my plan into action sooner rather than later.’
‘Dare I ask?’
‘It’s best you don’t, Benjamin. So, what’s the good news?’
‘The, erm, bicycle shop sold quickly, which was surprising, and works are underway on the renovations to the restaurant. You’ll be needing someone to manage the place.’
Charlotte came back into the room with cups of tea. ‘What about Gerty?’ she suggested.
‘That’s not a bad idea. Pop upstairs and ask her to come down.’
‘Gerty’s here?’ Benjamin asked, sounding surprised.
‘Yes, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later,’ Georgina answered and rolled her eyes. It was a long story that had landed her in a load of trouble with the Zammits and was now costing her a lot of money to resolve.
A few minutes later, Gerty followed Charlotte into the room and beamed when she saw Benjamin.
‘Mr Harel, how lovely to see you,’ she said.
‘Yes, and you Gerty.’
Georgina eyed the girl up and down. She looked smart enough and had a friendly manner. Best of all, she knew she could rely on her. ‘Gerty, I have a proposition for you. My restaurant on Lavender Hill is going to operate as a café. I’d like you to work there and manage the place.’
Gerty glanced at Charlotte then back to Georgina, the colour draining from her face.
‘What’s wrong?’ Georgina asked, thinking that the girl looked scared.
‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just, well…’
‘I don’t bite, Gerty, just spit it out.’
‘Well, I appreciate the offer and everything but I’d rather keep the job I’ve already got.’
‘As a prostitute? Working for the Zammits at Piccadilly Circus?’
Gerty shoved her hands in her dress pockets and looked downwards. ‘Yeah. I know it ain’t everyone’s idea of a good job but it pays well and I’m me own boss. I wouldn’t earn as much if I worked in the café.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Georgina answered disappointedly.
‘But if you don’t mind, Miss Garrett, I can recommend someone else.’
‘Who?’
‘Babs, miss. I’m sure she’d be pleased to work there. I know where she lives and can take you to her.’
Georgina thought for a moment. Babs had been one of her women from Livingstone Road. She’d been a good worker and trustworthy too. She was quieter than Gerty but a nice girl. ‘All right. But you’ll have to bring Babs to me.’
‘I will, Miss Garrett. I’ll go straight round there now.’
*
Just over an hour had passed when Gerty returned alone.
‘Where’s Babs?’ Georgina asked.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Garrett, but she couldn’t come. It was ’orrible, broke my heart to see the state of her.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She’s got the cancer, miss. It looks like it’s eating her alive. There’s nothing left of Babs, thin as a bleedin’ rake, she is, and in terrible pain. I didn’t know ’cos I ain’t seen her for a year or more. She’s got a kid now an’ all.’
‘I see. Is there anyone looking after her?’
‘No, miss. Babs ain’t got no one. She’s worried sick about who’s gonna look after her baby when she dies. She reckons she’s only got weeks left. She’s in so much pain and hoping she don’t last much longer, but she’s holding on to have Christmas with the baby. Her poor lad, he’s gonna go in the children’s home. Me heart bleeds for him, I know what them places are like.’
Georgina rubbed her finger where her mother’s wedding ring had been, an idea formulating in her head. If Babs couldn’t come to her, then she’d go to Babs. ‘Take me to her,’ she told Gerty.
What she was about to propose to Babs would be a big ask. But if she could persuade the woman to agree with her suggestion, they’d both be better off.