Dark Fires Shall Burn (24 page)

‘Dot,' he says, uneasily. ‘He'll notice.'

‘I don't care.'

He can see that she means it.

The transaction is pulled off without a hitch, and soon Templeton has a bottle in a paper bag under his arms.

‘I won't be that bludger's beck-and-call girl,' Dot tells him as she slips her own bottle into her dustcoat pocket and turns to leave.

‘Don't make me go back there alone. Where are you going?' he asks, shriller than intended.

‘I'll see you later,' she says. ‘I cannot do it today.'

‘But you didn't even bring your coat!' he calls to her back as she hightails it down the street. He considers going after her, but Dolly will be home in an hour or so and he ought to give Snowy his drink and get started on the gutters.

Returning to the house, Templeton pushes open the back door. There is no sound from downstairs, so he ventures up. At the landing, he pauses at the voices behind the closed bedroom door.

‘Christ you're good. Fucken leave my cock singing.'

‘It's what you like me for.'

‘Absolutely.'

There is a pause. Templeton hears heavy steps on the floorboards and the scrape of a chair pushed back as someone stands up.

‘So, are you finally going to tell me what happened?'

‘Ran into Will Worthington, Jack Tooth's sidekick, down at the track,' Snowy answers Lorraine. ‘They caught Bob's sister, Florence, walking home from work. Got some revenge after Bob tried to shoot 'em from a car.'

‘His sister? He'll finish them for that!'

‘Girl's in the hospital now. Won't talk if she knows what's good for her.'

‘How'd you get the knock on your head then?'

‘I took Worthington by surprise. He thought I was one of 'em for a minute and clocked me. Went red as a beetroot when he realised it was me and apologised. I'll let him owe me one.'

‘Bob's sister had it coming though,' Lorraine replies. ‘Never liked the Rocks mob. Or Elsie Tipper, that he-she freak.'

‘It's low though. Sure as hell low, even for a dog like him. Doing that to a bloke's sister.' Snowy sighs.

‘Oh, you're getting soft in your old age,' Lorraine coos. ‘I'm sure you and your mates done worse in your time.'

‘Naaaww. I get what I likes when I likes it,' Snowy says, his voice wheedling. ‘Never had to force meself on a woman in me life. Come here and I'll show you again.'

‘Come off it! What is it you like to say? They get what's coming and all that?'

‘I never did nothing like that. What they did to that girl was savage.'

‘I think you need to let me put something on that bleeding slice on your ugly mug.' Her voice is soft. ‘You come on over here.'

The bottle Templeton holds tilts perilously. He stumbles forward to stop from dropping it, but it's like a greased football, and his shoulder hits the doorframe with a resounding thump.

‘What was that?'

‘I don't know!' Lorraine sounds panicked. ‘Everyone went to church, I swear. Dolly won't be back for at least another hour.'

‘Oh Christ, it's only Dot — or that little faggot — I asked them to go get me some whisky.' Snowy shouts: ‘Oi! Whoever you are. You come up here. You come here now or I'll fucking bury you!'

Templeton hears footsteps behind the door as he hurtles down to the kitchen, hitting his knee hard as he turns the hairpin corner around the stairs. He puts the whisky on the countertop and keeps going out the front. A block from the house, he slows, limping up the street, clutching his knee, not knowing what to make of what he heard. Except that Jackie is back in town — or perhaps he never even left.

He waits for almost an hour at the neck of the street, sheltered in an alleyway, convincing himself that Snowy didn't see him — or at least doesn't know how much he overheard. His imagination turns grotesque, contemplating what Jackie and the others had done to Bob's sister and called ‘revenge'. Finally Dot returns. Her hair is dishevelled from the wind, not being in its usual lacquered waves, and he notices how thin she is, her collarbone standing out sharply, milky-blue from the cold.

‘Dot!' he blurts, bursting to tell her what passed between Snowy and Lorraine, but before he can get the first words out she puts her hand to her lips and gestures down the street, towards the house: Snowy and Errol are pacing about on the front steps having a smoke. As he and Dot approach, Templeton can see that Snowy has put a plaster on his cheek over the cut and has had a shave. Both Snowy and Errol are in clean suits — it looks like their best clothes. Snowy leans back on his heels and watches them, saying nothing, just smirking as they have to squeeze past his bulk and Errol's to get inside.

Dolly and the girls have returned, and Templeton hears her barking commands at them. He's pinning everything on the hope that Snowy didn't see him eavesdropping outside the door — and if he did, because he left the whisky, perhaps Snowy will let it go. So far, so good.

‘Lorraine, take the key to my trunk and fetch the ermine stole.' Dolly has set up a vanity mirror on the card table and is busy scrutinising and powdering herself. ‘Roberta, darl, go into the second-largest hatbox in the cupboard and bring me the Sunday hat with the ostrich feathers,
not
the black rooster plume.'

‘You look lovely,' Roberta tells her.

‘I know that!' Dolly clasps her throat and wheezes, holding her handkerchief to her mouth. ‘Give me some air, I can't breathe.'

‘Yes, Dolly.'

Templeton and Dot sidle up to Annie, who is standing just inside the doorway. ‘What's going on?'

‘Snowy is taking her to lunch at the Trocadero. He's had a big win.'

‘No! Idiot,' Dolly hisses at Lorraine. ‘The ermine is
white
! That is the fox. Can't you tell the difference?'

‘Sorry,' Lorraine mutters, glaring darkly.

‘Don't you know what a bloody fox looks like?' Dolly blows a cloud of tobacco at her. Templeton smiles. ‘Annie, go into the kitchen and fill the hip flask that's in the third drawer, under the serviettes, with the brandy that's behind the false back in the top cupboard on your right. Fill it all
the way up, mind you. There's a lass. Boy! Boy, come here,' she bellows, and then there is a long pause of exasperation. ‘Boy!' she snaps, turning to him.

‘She means you, you know,' Dot says to Templeton.

‘Um, what?' he splutters.

‘You'd better get over there.' Dot nudges him.

‘Coming! Yes, ma'am?' He darts over and stands behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

‘Escort me upstairs, to my bedroom.' Her eyes narrow and she holds out her hand to him. He takes it, trembling.

Templeton has never been inside Dolly's room before. The mantle above the fire is crowded with fading portraits of her as a young woman; the bureau is overflowing with trinkets — little china-cat ornaments, mostly — and more than a dozen clocks, tapestries and rugs. The room is bulging. It's Captain Flint's treasure trove. He tries not to stare.

She does not say anything, and he fidgets. ‘Ma'am?'

‘Go and get some grease and come back here.' She turns the exhausted drapery of her neck to a full-length mirror, withdrawing vines of pearls from the jewellery box and slinging them around herself.

‘Grease?' he says under his breath as he takes the stairs back down in three large jumps. In the kitchen, he stands looking at the unhelpful surfaces and shelves. ‘What?' he mutters.

‘Butter,' Roberta says, following him, cigarette poised on her lower lip.

‘What?'

‘She wants butter. Or dripping. She needs to get her old rings on.'

‘Oh … thanks.' He takes the lid off the butter dish on the counter and walks back. ‘Wait, what do I need to do?'

‘Grease her up, baby. Grease her up.' Roberta waggles her fingers at him in amused pity. He swallows. ‘Old trout ain't as thin as she used to be.'

‘Mother of God,' he blurts. ‘She wants me to rub this … on her?'

‘That's not the worst of it. Worst is getting them off.' Roberta smirks, but not unkindly. ‘She nearly put me through the window one night trying to tug them off her.'

‘Oh, Jesus.' He carries the log of butter on its chipped dish. He sees Dot and Annie have joined her, and they're fussing about and hold up different coats for Dolly to inspect.

‘Better take off that good shirt.' Dolly tells him matter-of-factly after she looks him up and down.

With his back braced against the foot of the bed and Dolly sitting at her coiffeuse, he applies pinches of butter to each finger and works the rings on.

‘Three to each,' she demands. ‘The more the merrier.'

It is like turning nuts onto stiff bolts as he grunts and labours to get them down over each knuckle. She barely looks at him.

‘Dot, what do you think of my jewels, Dot?' Dolly asks.

‘They're beautiful.'

‘Do you think so?'

‘Yes —' She hesitates. Something is off. Dolly is never this friendly to Dot.

‘Would you fancy a box like this of your own some day?' Dolly's voice is low and her gaze is riveted on Dot's face.

‘I guess so.' Dot treads gingerly.

‘How about today? Right now?'

‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Oh, I think you do,' Dolly says.

‘What — what is this about?' Dot swallows.

‘There's twenty-five pounds missing from the strongbox. Do you want to tell me what you know about that?'

Dot blanches visibly. Over by the closet, Annie stops brushing the lint off Dolly's black coat.

‘What makes you think I took it?' Dot wets her lips.

‘You put it back and I'll forget it ever happened.' Dolly lowers her right hand slowly, rings in place, and gives her left to Templeton. ‘I'll tell you what. When I come back from lunch it's right where I left it and that's the end of it.'

Templeton knows how generous an offer this is, coming from the woman who cut a girl's face beyond recognition for far less.

‘I didn't take it,' Dot says, the expression in her eyes defiant, although Templeton sees that her hands are shaking.

‘Are you quite sure you didn't take it?'

‘Quite sure.'

‘She didn't take it, Dolly. Please!' Annie interrupts. ‘I'll vouch for her. She would never —'

‘Did I ask
you
?' Dolly roars as she draws herself up with considerable effort. Her hands are thick, wide paddles, heavy with gold.

‘It must have been someone else,' Annie flounders. ‘Lorraine! It must have been Lorraine. She's had it in for Dot since the start. Please, Dolly. You must search her things. The money will be there. Please. If you just look in Lorraine's case, I swear. Dot didn't do it. On my honour!'

‘And what is a whore's honour worth?' Dolly spits out at her.

Annie flinches as if she's been slapped.

‘Dolly!' Roberta says in horror. ‘I vouch for Dot too. I know she didn't take the money.'

‘You.' Dolly latches her snake-eyes onto Roberta. ‘Go to your room.'

Roberta hesitates, stricken. ‘I would prefer to stay.'

‘Do as you're told. I've seen the way you moon after her dark eyes, like a silly schoolgirl. Enough.'

Dot stands still in the middle of the bedroom. Templeton can see her triplicated in the mirror of the dressing table, can see the strong set of her chin catching the light.

Roberta's lip trembles and she erupts into tears. She hurries out, hand over her mouth, and he hears the thuds of her footfalls up the stairs.

‘You will be gone from this house,' Dolly waves at Dot, imperious. ‘You will not stop to collect your things. You will not dawdle around saying goodbye.'

‘But —' Templeton volunteers uncertainly.

‘And I will spare you your livelihood!' Dolly raises her voice over him. ‘I will not cut that fucking Jewess nose off your otherwise pretty face. Do you understand me? The boy too, he goes with you. I'm sick of the sight of him.'

‘What?' Templeton looks at Annie in shock.

‘Come on, Lucky.' Dot nods at him.

‘Annie?' he attempts, but she is looking fixedly down at the coat.

‘She stays here.' Dolly cuffs Annie's wrist and reels her close. ‘This one's not going anywhere. We've worked out a new arrangement, me and her. Sally, too — she's a good little earner.'

‘Annie, don't do this.' Dot grabs her roughly by the waist and pulls her away from Dolly. Annie is limp and will not speak. ‘How can you stay here and leave your brother?
Zdrajca
! Your own brother.'