2 The Imposter (37 page)

Eventually, both with bloodied lips and noses, they broke apart.

More pedestrians had stopped to watch. A man approaching on the pavement took a step forward as if he were going to help, but stopped.

Edward rested his hand against the wall and breathed heavily. Joseph wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, then cleaned that with his handkerchief. The top four or five buttons of his shirt had been ripped out and the shirt gaped untidily. Edward’s jacket had gashed beneath the shoulder, the sleeve hanging loose and the lining exposed, and his trousers were ripped above the knee. They stared at each other for five or six seconds. Joseph looked at Edward with disgust. Edward’s sudden avalanche of anger was spent and he suddenly felt hollowed out and desperate. He started to say something but Joseph eyed him with open contempt and the words were stopped by a tight twist of despair in his throat. He felt a sudden loss and a sense of helplessness.

Joseph straightened his ruined shirt, trying––futilely––to close it. He flagged a passing cab. Edward stayed where he was, propped against the wall, and watched Joseph’s long legs as he trotted over to where the driver had stopped and got in. The cab merged with the traffic and disappeared around a corner.

Edward found a bar and ordered a drink. His hands were still shaking. He bought a carton of untipped Gauloises. He remembered something that Joseph had said to him as they waited in the first class lounge at Northolt yesterday. He had mentioned, very casually in the middle of some conversation, that Edward had been more patient than he deserved in light of his slovenly attitude to keeping the flat clean and most people would have abandoned him by now. “I’d understand if that’s how you felt,” he’d added, trying to be guileless. It had been a clumsy hint so that he wouldn’t have to come out with what he wanted to say more directly today. Edward had ignored it but now he wished he had not. It would have made things easier, and he would have been better able to control the conversation and, therefore, his temper. Things might have been salvaged but now he knew that serious damage had been done. He knocked back his drink. All right, he would find somewhere else. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.

48

EVE MURPHY LOOKED AT HER REFLECTION in the mirror. She was in the Ladies’ Powder Room at Vincanto, the chic new restaurant that had opened in Theatreland. She turned: front to the side. She was wearing the dress that Joseph had given her. He was very sweet like that, with all the presents and the surprises. It had been a Valentine’s gift, wrapped in expensive paper, sealed with ribbons and a huge bow. She could hardly believe the dress inside: a black rayon crepe with beaded and studded bodice, a modified sweetheart neckline, sleeves with darted headers and shirred elbows and a self belt. Her friend had actually gasped when Eve held it up for her. She had gone on and on about how much a dress like that must have cost, and how could Joseph afford it, and what about all the coupons you’d need, where had he got those from, and what would people
think
? Eve had explained it the same way Joseph had explained it to her when he had given her the watch, the necklace, the broach: he said he had been lucky on the dogs.

She knew that wasn’t true. Eve was the daughter of a policeman and she was not a stupid girl. She did not know exactly how Joseph came by these things, but she knew it wasn’t legitimate. She had considered giving the first gift back to him, but they were so nice and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings and she couldn’t see the harm in accepting them. One gift had led to the other and then to the next and by that time she had decided it would have been churlish to hand them back and so she had kept them. And why shouldn’t she have some of the nicer things in life?

She thought of her Uncle Charlie. She had been worried about his proposal for the first few days but he hadn’t asked much of her––so far, at least––and she had allowed herself to relax about it a little. He had arranged to meet her three times and they had chatted about things, usually over a coffee in one of the new coffee bars that were springing up in Mayfair and Kensington. It was just little pieces of information every now and again: who Joseph was going out with, what had she heard about his aunt and uncle, his friends and the other members of his family? None of it seemed dangerous or damaging and she had started to believe that perhaps she could manage her uncle, give him just enough to keep him satisfied but no more. It wasn’t as if Joseph told her very much about his business, after all. How could she be expected to tell him things that she didn’t know? She had told him that and he had appeared to believe it.

She checked her make-up in the glass. She looked lovely. As she collected her handbag she realised that she was a little drunk. She was a very moderate drinker and she had allowed Joseph to pour her a second glass of wine with dinner. It was all going to her head. She would have to put a stop to that.

Vincanto was especially nice. They had been to plenty of other places, fancy establishments, but they usually ended up here. She felt special as she made her way back into the dining room. She knew she was pretty, she was beautifully dressed and waiting for her at the table was her beau, and wasn’t he a cracker?

“You took your time,” he said, grinning at her.

“Had to make sure my make-up looked alright.”

“What are you on about, girl? You look a million dollars.”

The table was lit by a candle and the warm golden light flickered across his face. She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach. The light danced in his dark eyes, his olive skin framed by his jet black hair with that errant strand that curled above his left eye. He was so handsome. Such a
dish
. He could have had anyone he wanted and she had no idea why he was interested in her.

Their waiter arrived at the table with an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

“This is our best bottle, sir,” he said. “Bollinger Extra Quality Brut, 1943.”

Joseph took the bottle and turned it in his hand. “Looks blinding,” he said. “Thank you. I’ll do the honours myself.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” He took the hint and backed away.

“I’m not sure I can manage another glass,” Eve said.

“Nonsense,” he told her. “Just the one. If you don’t want it all, you don’t have to drink it.”

“It looks too expensive to waste.” She screwed up her nose. “Is it?”

“It’s not cheap, but that don’t matter. We need a splash to celebrate.” He shifted awkwardly in his chair. “We’ve been serious for ages now, ain’t we? Five months, and then all the time from before. I haven’t been out with anyone for as long as I’ve been with you. I wasn’t planning it, you know. Out where I was, with no women for so long, I had it in my mind that I’d stay a single lad for a while.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I met you again, didn’t I? It’s got me thinking––I’ve never been with someone like you before. I’m serious, Eve––I can’t hardly stop thinking about you.”

“Joseph––”

“Hold on. I’ve been building myself up to say this all day and I want to get it out straight. It’s like I said, see, I’m serious about us. You and me. I want to prove it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

Joseph ignored her. He stood and then lowered himself to one knee.

“What are you doing?” she almost squealed.

He took a box from his pocket and opened it. “What do you think about us getting married?”

She looked: inside the box was a diamond ring. It had a large oval stone in the centre, set in platinum, and accented with smaller pear-shaped stones all the way around.

She gaped at him. “Oh, my goodness. I––I––” She took the ring and turned it in her fingers. Her mouth opened and closed as she searched for words.

“So what do you say?

“I don’t know
what
to say.”

“Well say something, girl! You’re not going to leave me here like this, are you?––I feel like a right bloody lemon.”

She slipped the ring onto her finger. “Yes,” she said with sudden impetuousness. “Oh, yes, of course!”

“Terrific.”

Eve hadn’t noticed, but the other diners had stopped their conversations to observe them. With her happy acceptance, several of them started to applaud. It quickly spread around the room until, finally, Joseph stood and declared that everyone should have a glass of champagne on him and, then, once the drink had been poured and he had popped the cork on their bottle, he orchestrated a toast. Eve knew that he was enjoying the spectacle, barely able to keep the grin off his face. He waited until the hubbub died down and the other customers returned their attention to their plates.

“I’ve been thinking about how we ought to go about things. I’m not one for a long engagement. The way I see it, you get engaged to someone, that’s that, there’s no sense in waiting ages to make it official. Best get cracking, right?”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

“I do. There are some things we’ll have to sort out. We’ll need to book the church and a place for the knees up after. And then there’s where to go afterwards. A nice little honeymoon. We’ll have a think about that.”

“Where would we live?”

“My place, I reckon. Doc’s moving out, anyway––he wouldn’t want to share the gaff with a couple of lovebirds, would he? Eventually we’ll get ourselves a place in the country.”

Eve removed the ring from her finger. She twisted and turned it, the light refracting against the diamond. How much must it have cost? She had no idea. Her life had moved so quickly over the last few weeks. She had no idea how she had managed to snare someone like Joseph Costello, but, as she watched him laughing and joking with the waiter, she replaced the ring on her finger and shivered with a warm, excited tingling.

She was still aglow with happiness when the four men came inside. At first, she thought that they must be a party of diners but then Joseph saw them too, and she noticed tension stiffening his body, and then she wondered whether they might be here for something else. Two went to the bar. The manager followed after them, his voice fraught, and then she noticed that they were both holding short metal bars. The man opened the bar and stepped behind it, held his jemmy up behind his shoulder and then swung it, like a cricket bat, straight through the rack of bottles.

The colourful glass smashed. Some of the other diners screamed.

“What’s going on?” she said, her throat closing with panic.

His dark eyes glittered coldly. “Don’t look at them. They’re not here for us.”

“What are they here for?”

“They work for a man I know.”

The men made their way through the restaurant. They each carried a large paper bag and, as they passed from table to table, they ordered the frightened diners to remove their valuables and deposit them into the bags. Wallets, watches, jewellery––it all went inside until the paper bulged.

“Well, look here,” said one of the men as he reached their table. “I know you, don’t I?”

“I don’t know––do you?”

The man was large and dressed neatly in an Edwardian suit with many buttons and velvet facings. “You’re Joseph Costello.”

“That’s right. Don’t recognise you, though.”

“No. But you know who we work for.”

“I can guess.”

“Sure you can, Joseph. Mind if I call you Joseph?”

“Where is he?”

“He ain’t here. But he sends his best regards.”

“Good of him.”

The man’s eye fell to the table and settled on the empty box. “Been buying some tomfoolery, Joseph?” He picked up the box and turned it over. He saw the logo and whistled appreciatively. “Tiffany? My word.
Expensive
tomfoolery. Let’s have a butcher’s at it then.”

The colour leeched out of Joseph’s face. “I don’t think so.”

Eve self-consciously covered her left hand with her right. Slowly, she moved them both towards the lip of the table and was about to drop them beneath the tablecloth before the man noticed her doing it and tutted, shaking his head. “Not so fast, darling,” he grinned at her. He pulled back his jacket to reveal the butt of a revolver stuffed into the front of his trousers. “Let’s stay best friends when this is all said and done, alright? Best to avoid unpleasantness, I always say. You’d agree with that, wouldn’t you, Joseph? We don’t want a nasty argument.”

“Just show him,” he said to her through gritted teeth.

She reluctantly raised her right hand, uncovering the left. The diamonds glittered on her finger, refracting the candlelight.

“Stone the bleeding crows. Will you look at that? The size of it! How much that set you back, then?

“Enough.”

“You two lovebirds getting engaged?”

Joseph glared up at him. “If you’re going to do it, do it. Get on with it.”

“Easy there, pal. Mind your place. You ain’t the one with the shooter, remember. Let’s have it, then, darling. Take it off. Chop chop. And your watch and wallet, Joseph. Quick as you like.”

Eve fought back the tears. Joseph did as he was told, his eyes half-closed, the line of his jaw set straight and firm as he clenched his teeth. She knew about his temper but she had never seen him as dead in the eyes as this before and it frightened her. He was a prideful man and this––to be emasculated before his fiancée on the night of their engagement––it must have been the purest, most dreadful humiliation for him. The man didn’t seem concerned with that, nor with the murderous look on Joseph’s face; he took the watch and wallet and dropped them into the bag, draping his fingers over the stippled butt as a reminder that he should be civil as he turned his attention to her. She choked a sob as she worked the ring off her finger and gave it to him. “There you go,” he said, the diamonds glittering in his palm. He dropped the ring into the paper bag with everything else. “That wasn’t so hard. I’ll leave you the box.”

“Just go,” Joseph muttered.

“Patience, sport. We will––just as soon as we’ve done everything we came here to do. This place is one of your family’s, isn’t it? Under Costello protection. The fellow over there needs to pay attention to that. Your lot are finished in Soho, china. If he wants to avoid unnecessary accidents in the future he really needs to speak to Jack. Know what I mean? The alternatives just ain’t so reliable no more.”