Goodnight Lady (33 page)

Benedict smiled craftily. ‘As if I would, Sal! But look at it, it’s covered in mud.’

‘It’ll clean, lad. You go and play with your dog.’

Nipper, deciding he liked the look of Briony, jumped up at her, putting his muddy paws on her coat.

‘Nipper! Get down! I’m sorry about that ...’

As Benedict looked into the lady’s face his words dried in his throat. It was like looking in a mirror.

‘Hello, Benedict. Your nanny was just telling me all about you. What a wonderful dog.’ Briony’s voice was quavering with emotion. It took every ounce of her willpower not to grab hold of him and crush him to her chest.

Benedict stared into the green eyes so like his own and said, ‘Yes, he is a wonderful dog. Excuse me, but do I know you?’

Briony shook her head and answered, ‘No, you don’t know me.’

‘How strange. I feel as if I know you from somewhere.’

Briony and Benedict locked eyes. Tommy watched them as they sized each other up. Benedict was so like her it was uncanny. The same heart-shaped face, the same high cheekbones, and the same green eyes. Benedict was like the spit out of her mouth, as his mother would have said. He was going to be handsome, and if he had his mother’s nature as well as her looks he would be one hell of a man. Looking at Briony and Benedict together, he felt the pull that Briony must experience and understood then exactly what kept her going in life. She looked after everyone, even old Solly Goldstern, but the one person she really wanted to take care of was out of her jurisdiction. She couldn’t put him to bed, wipe away his tears, or hold him in her arms. No wonder she had gone for Dumas as she had. At the end of the day, he had got everything and she had got nothing.

‘Would you like an ice cream, son?’ Tommy’s voice broke the momentary closeness.

‘Oh, yes please.’ Benedict’s eyes were bright.

‘You take him, Bri, I’ll chat to Sally for a while.’

Briony stood up and walked with Benedict to get the ice cream. He held on to her arm and they chatted together. Sally watched them go with fear in her heart.

‘It’s not a good idea, Mr Lane. He’s at an age when he’ll talk about things, in company like.’

Tommy lit himself a cheroot and shook his head in dismissal. ‘Who gives a fuck. Certainly not me, love. She’s every right to see him if she wants.’

Sally kept quiet but the thought scared her.

Briony and Benedict chatted together and enjoyed themselves. Briony listened to all his boyish talk and drank it inside herself. Benedict, guessing he had a sympathetic ear, poured out all his doings, good and bad, with a fervour.

When he was walking home with Sally later in the day he said, ‘I don’t think I’ll mention the nice lady to Mama, she’d think she was a bit common. But I liked her, didn’t you, Sal?’

Sally smiled in relief.

‘I think you’re right there, young Master Ben. Your ma or your pa wouldn’t like her one bit. But we can keep her friendship our secret can’t we?’

‘Do you think we’ll ever see her again, Sal?’ He stroked the dog’s coat as it walked beside him.

‘Oh, yes, young Benedict, I have a feeling we’ll see her again. - In fact, I can guarantee it.’

Briony liked Mariah and liked the way she ran her houses. Both women were fighters and survivors which gave them a bond, something neither had expected. But now they owned just about every house in London between them, they were also adversaries. Although both worked their respective patches it was only natural that they would at certain times poach one another’s girls or customers. It was an unwritten rule of business.

Mariah wanted to cement their newfound friendship with something tangible. Not just because she liked Briony, though she liked her a lot, but because Briony’s newfound status with Tommy Lane also made her a threat in certain ways. If push ever came to shove, Briony could take what was Mariah’s at the drop of a hat. She was certain that Briony was too straight and fair for such skulduggery, but there was nothing in Mariah’s book like an insurance policy. A guarantee. Which was the reason Briony was sitting in her house now, with a cup of tea and a slice of Battenberg.

Briony wiped her sticky fingers on a napkin and grinned at Mariah amiably. Her afternoon with Benedict had made her happy with the whole world.

‘Now then, we’ve had the tea and cake, you’ve offered me a stiff drink, which I declined, and we’ve run out of chit-chat. So come on then, girl, spit it out, what’s the rub?’

Mariah laughed with her.

‘I have a proposition to put to you, Briony, which, if you agree, will really bring us in money.’

Briony lit a cigarette. Blowing out the smoke in a large billowing cloud, she said, ‘Go on.’

Mariah sat back in her chair, her large breasts heaving under the strain of her tight bodice. Briony wondered briefly if they would escape their confines and burst out into the warmth of the room.

‘There’s a house up for sale, Berwick Manor. It was used through the war as a hospital. The place is in a right mess. It’s going for a song, and I mean a song. The thing is, between us we could restore it. It’s perfect for what we’d want. It stands in its own land, it’s big, it’s got plenty of rooms. We could really make it pay.’

Briony nodded.

Mariah took a deep breath. Briony was not making this easy for her.

‘If we both invested equal amounts of capital in it, we could make it a showplace. Private functions, our best girls working there, catering for the elite. I know you have a few faces. Well, so do I. We could double up our clients
and
our takings. It’s a good investment.’

Briony smiled slowly.

‘I know the old manor. Who don’t? We walked past it often enough when we was kids pea picking. Kerry used to say, “I wish I lived there!” It’s a nice property, you’re right. It’s in a good location, too. We could cater to the London mob without them having to go too far. We could have weekend parties like, theme parties. Ancient Greece, French nights!’

Briony’s enthusiasm pleased Mariah who knew now that the idea was sold. All she had to do was collect the collateral.

‘Yeah, we could start them Friday and they could go on ’til the Sunday night. There’s a banqueting hall there where the punters could eat, plus plenty of outhouses for livestock and that. It could pretty much be self-contained. The grounds are enormous, acres of fields, even the old Berwick pond, ducks and all! It’s very picturesque, perfect for the monied man. Near to London and discreet. Just the place for a weekend in the country.’

‘How much is this going to rush me then? Only if it’s going for a song, it must need a lot of work on it.’

‘Oh, it does, Bri. I’m not gonna try and spin you about that, girl. It needs a major redec for a start, from carpets to curtains. It ain’t been touched since 1919, then it was boarded up and put on the market. In the last six or seven years it ain’t even seen a broom. But think of how it could be!’

Briony grinned. ‘I am. I know just the girls to work it, too. Young, pretty, wanting to make a quick few grand to set up on their own. It would be so easy. So how much money are you looking at?’

‘Off hand, Bri, I’d say about ten thousand each. To get it off to a good start. By my figures we’d recoup that within the first three months of opening.’

She passed over a book where she had broken down the costs. Briony scanned the pages for ten minutes while Mariah smoked a cigarette.

Briony was impressed. Mariah had even allowed for an odd job man. It was well thought out, and it was viable. Two things Briony found hard to resist.

‘Shall I tell you something, Mariah?’

She smiled. ‘What?’

‘I’m in. I’m in up to me bleeding neck! This is going to be a real money spinner. It’s class, Mariah, real class.’ She shook her head in wonderment.

Mariah clapped her hands together in excitement.

‘I’m glad, Bri. I think me and you could make a good team.’

‘Plus, together as working partners, we can’t tread on each other’s toes, can we?’

Mariah saw the crafty look on Briony’s face and knew she had been rumbled. Sobering now, she said, ‘Well, Briony, there’s that to it as well, I suppose.’

‘Oh, don’t take on, Mariah. I admire your foresight. I’d have thought of something like this in your position. But I can tell you now, I wouldn’t turn on the hand that fed me. When we had all that business with Henry and his mob you was a good mate. I’d never forget that. Friends abound in our position, but good mates are few and far between.’

Mariah’s face softened and Briony saw a glimmer of the girl she had once been. Big, beautiful and innately nice. Mariah was a nice person, except it seemed too small an epithet for her huge frame.

 

Rupert and Jonathan were roaring drunk and the noise was beginning to disturb the other customers. Tommy watched them without intervening. He thought they were ponces, though he had given up arguing the fact with Briony. He watched her, dressed in a cream sheath dress, walk over to their table and cajole them into quieting down. He shook his head and walked behind the bar to pour himself a decent scotch. When the punters first arrived, they were given real drinks. When they were drunk, they were served from the ‘cottage’ bottles, the watered-down versions. They paid top price and Tommy’s excuse was, he was doing them a favour.

As Briony walked towards him he motioned with his head for her to the offices. Briony followed him, stopping at tables to chat for a few seconds and waving at other customers. In the office the thumping beat of the Charleston reverberated through the walls.

‘How’d it go round your mother’s?’

‘It’s like a mad house, but Eileen’s all right. She seems happy enough. Tomorrow it will all be over!’

‘You look really lovely tonight, Bri. Really beautiful.’

She kissed him. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He poured her a drink and she sipped it gratefully.

‘That Ben ... he’s like you, Bri. I don’t just mean in looks but personality. You had the same naivety when I first met you.’

‘When I saved your arse, you mean?’

Tommy laughed, remembering.

‘He is a lovely boy though, Bri.’

She pushed her hair into place with one hand and nodded. ‘I know. It takes a lot for me to leave him. I feel like picking him up and taking him away. But even as I am now, with all my connections, my so-called friends, I know I couldn’t do it. If push came to shove the courts would take that bastard’s side.’

Tommy pulled her into his arms.

‘You’ll survive, Bri. That’s your greatest talent. You see him, you watch him from a distance. He’ll be all right.’

Briony looked up into his face and he saw the hurt she felt.

‘Sometimes, in the night, I see him. I wonder if he’s ill or feeling frightened, you know? And I’m not there to comfort him. To see he’s all right...’

‘Look, whatever you think of Isabel Dumas, she loves the boy. She loves him with all her heart.’

‘But she’s not his mother, is she? His real mother. I am.’

‘And you’re a good mother, in your own way.’

Briony pulled away from him and laughed scornfully. ‘Oh, yeah, I was a great mother me. I let them walk off with him. Take him from me and bring him up, a pervert and a frustrated spinster! Because that’s all she is, she’s only married in name, no other way. He couldn’t get it up with a woman, she told me that herself. I must have been stark staring mad!’

‘Not mad, Bri, young. Young and foolish. But think about it. Without him, you have all this.’ He swept his arms out to encompass the whole room.

Briony nodded slowly.

‘Yeah, I have everything and nothing. Because without my boy, this is sweet fuck all.’

Tommy shoved her hard in the chest, sending her drink flying everywhere.

‘Oh, save me the self-pity, for Gawd’s sake, Bri. You can’t have him and that’s that! You have a lot more than anyone of our station could even dream of. You could have more children, but you won’t. Don’t you think I might want a baby, a child of me own? No, of course not. You only think of yourself. Sometimes, Bri, you really wind me up, do you know that? I sometimes dream at nights of a son or a daughter, our child. OURS, not fucking Dumas’. Mine and yours! A red-headed little girl I could take out, could love, or a boy with your eyes and my hair, a boy we could bring up together, could give everything to. So don’t try and put your silly poxy self-pity on to me all the time. I’m sorry, right, heart sorry. But don’t you ever put down my achievements like that again. We worked hard to get where we are and if you would rather give it up for that boy, you’re a fool. Because with him, you’d have been scratching in the dirt, his arse would be hanging out of his trousers, your sisters would be in sweat shops working for a living and the bleeding wedding wouldn’t be taking place tomorrow, because you couldn’t buy your sister a bridegroom!’

Briony stood stock still. Tommy had never spoken like this to her before. It was a shock and a revelation. Suddenly she saw the real loneliness in his face. The sadness in his eyes. He was right, of course, in everything he said. But being right didn’t mean she had to stand there and take it. He had embarrassed her with what he said, stung her to the quick, humiliated her. She felt her face burning and before she could think the words tumbled out of her mouth.

‘I’ll never give you a child, Tommy Lane, you or anyone else. So think on that! You crawl all over me, night after night, and I hate it. I hate everything about it. I allow you to use my body, that’s all. I feel nothing for you physically, and you know it. You’ve always known it. But still you want it, still you’re there, night after night, with your stupid pawing and your wet lips. You sicken me! You’re no better than Dumas, no better than the men who come to our houses. Your prick rules your head.

‘But, not me, mate, not me! I have a child, and if I can’t have him, I don’t want any! Not by you or anyone else.’