Playing Around (12 page)

Angie’s enthusiasm seemed to wane momentarily, and she took a long moment cutting a slice from one of her boiled potatoes. ‘Me and Jackie are probably staying round our friend Marilyn’s. With a few of the others.’ A stranger would have thought she was speaking matter-of-factly, but Sarah could hear the guilty hesitation in her granddaughter’s voice. ‘We’re going out dancing. I’m not sure where yet.’ She left the potato speared, uneaten, on her fork. ‘Mum’s driving me mad about going out again, and she said she hates me going out in short skirts.’

‘You take no notice, babe, you look lovely. Really pretty.’

Angie dropped her chin. ‘It’s nothing to do with how I look, Nan. Not really. She just doesn’t like the fact that I’ve started having a life of my own. That I’m not some little kid still. Not her slave any more. But I couldn’t carry on like that, Nan. I couldn’t.’

‘Don’t upset yourself, pet. I know how she gets.’ She put down her knife and fork and reached out for Angie’s hand. ‘And I also know what it means when you say you’re staying round a friend’s. I had it enough off your mum when she was a girl.’

‘I am, Nan, I’m—’

‘Listen to me, Angie. If you’re going to a party, promise me you’ll look after yourself.’

‘Nan …’

‘Promise me, Ange.’ She went to pick up her fork again then changed her mind. ‘And you know you can come and stay here any time you want. Doesn’t matter how late. If you need somewhere, don’t you dare think you can’t just turn up. All right?’

As he eased the Humber into the kerb, Bobby Sykes ducked his head to get a good look at the decaying row of terraced houses in the Plaistow backstreet.

‘Bloody hell, Dave.’ He whistled softly. ‘Fancy living in this shit-heap.’

‘This shit-heap is near the underground, Bob.’

Bobby didn’t know what sort of a reply he should give, so he said nothing and just watched as David shot his cuffs, pulling them just so, leaving an even half-inch of pure white Sea Island cotton showing under his dark grey, lightweight suit, making him look every bit the prosperous, urbane businessman.

David then felt around under the car seat until he located the length of lead piping he had stashed there, which he then wrapped in an anonymous, white hand towel.

‘Get the dogs’ leads on, Bob.’

As Duke and Duchess were transformed by their choke chains from snoozing teddy bears into snarling threats, Bobby took a closer look at the terrace and wondered why the boss was worrying himself so much about a poxy row of houses. He knew he wasn’t blessed with the most agile of brains, but he preferred it that way. He was quite content to provide the muscle. But this puzzled him. What was it all about?’

In the past, Bobby had managed to get his head round the niceties of running the protection racket – the core of Dave’s business – the clubs and the snooker halls, well, as much as he needed to understand to do his job properly. And the way the money could be raked in from managing the girls, that was obvious, even to him, but this property lark his guvnor was getting into was well beyond his understanding.

Dave had tried to explain about buying houses at rock-bottom prices and then dividing them into flats, and Bobby had followed him that far, but then Dave had told him about getting bent mortgages on all the separate bits of the property or something, and that’s when he had lost him. But apparently it all brought in a lot of dough. And, as long as it got him his wages to take home to Maureen of a Friday, that’s all Bobby was interested in. He’d leave the big time and the figuring out to Dave.

David pulled on a pair of soft leather gloves and gestured, with a jerk of his head, for Bobby to follow him.

With the exception of number six, every house in the terrace had boarded-up windows and doors, and, with its little tub of pansies by the step, the clean, freshly painted woodwork, and the neat, lace curtains shading the windows, it stood out like a single, perfect tooth in a rotting skull.

David rapped on the polished brass knocker and waited.

He and Bobby heard a chain going on and bolts being shot, then saw the door being opened the merest crack.

‘Yes?’ It was an elderly voice, probably a man’s, but so frail they couldn’t be certain.

‘Cyril?’ David asked. ‘Cyril Watson?’

‘Who’s that? Is that you, Jim?’

‘No, Mr Watson,’ answered David. ‘It’s me, Mr Tennyson. Ronald Tennyson. From the council.’

‘I don’t know no Mr Tennyson.’

‘I’ve come about the house. I’ve come to help you.’

‘Show me your papers.’ A parchment yellow hand appeared, palm outstretched. ‘I’m not talking till I’ve seen your papers.’

Before the old man knew what was happening, David had grabbed his wrist, and had yanked him, hard, until he was pulled up tight against the door jamb.

‘Now, Cyril,’ David hissed at him through the narrow opening, ‘you either slip that chain and let me in to talk to you, or I’m going to kick it down with you behind it, and snap your skinny arm right out of its socket.’

Bobby stood there impassively, with the dogs straining and whining for action.

‘All right, all right. But let go. You’re hurting me.’

‘I’ll let go when you undo that chain.’

As David listened to Cyril fumbling around and finally unhooking it, he kept hold of the old man’s arm, twisting it round in an agonizing arc. ‘Don’t get no ideas, Granddad, I’ve got two dogs out here that haven’t eaten since yesterday.’

The very slightest look of shame clouded Bobby’s face for the very slightest of moments, as he followed his boss along the gleaming, polish-scented passage into the fragile old man’s home.

‘Hello, Nick,’ Vi purred into the telephone. ‘Yeah, long time no see. How are you?’

‘I’m great, my love. Great. And all the better for hearing from you.’

Nick was an old flame of Vi’s, who, while not nearly
as
attractive as Chas, and also a good fifteen years older, had been a very generous lover.

In financial terms at least.

For as many years as Vi could remember, Nick had been her saviour. And he didn’t only have money, he had contacts. When Angie had been little more than a baby, it was Nick who had got Vi the council place on the Becontree housing estate in Dagenham. She had only mentioned how fed up she was living with her mum in Lancaster Buildings and, within a few weeks, she was moving.

It was also Nick who put the occasional fifty quid through the letterbox, even when she wasn’t seeing him.

He had never been much good in bed, but Vi knew enough tricks and techniques to convince even someone as dull as Nick that he was a raging stud, a romeo of the very first order. His generosity had always made it more than worth the effort. Vi liked nice things, nice restaurants, nice clothes and an easy life, and Nick was the sort of bloke who made sure she had all those things. He was a really decent sort.

But that was the trouble. Who wanted decent? Vi was always attracted by excitement. That was why she was always leaving the poor sod in the lurch.

She had dropped him – this time – six weeks ago, when Chas had come on the scene. Going for the short-term benefit had always been a problem with Vi, and Nick had, at times, been more like a boomerang than a boyfriend. But Vi just couldn’t resist a handsome new face, even though she usually wound up paying the price for her impetuosity. This time, the price was having to make an extra special effort with Nick so she wouldn’t be spending Saturday night all on her tod.

She’d have to get round him, get back in his good
books
, make him want her as much as she wanted his big fat wallet. And she had every confidence that she would do exactly that. After all, she’d done it plenty of times before.

But even though Vi prided herself on giving men what they wanted – their full money’s worth, in fact – she would have been horrified if anyone had so much as suggested that what she was doing was prostituting herself. In Violet Knight’s selfish, self-deluding world, there were her rules and there were rules for other people, and other people were the ones who led sordid, unpleasant lives. Vi merely had a good time; did things to stop herself being bored. She couldn’t help it if she wasn’t satisfied with the humdrum life that suited the likes of Tilly Murray and the other pathetic wives on the estate.

And a good time was what Vi intended to have tonight. Sod Chas and his bloody wife, and their stupid Masonic dinner dance. She’d make her own arrangements.

‘What a lovely thing to say,’ she cooed into the phone. ‘I’ve missed you, you know, Nick. It’s been hard looking after Mum while she’s been so poorly. But you know I’ve got no choice.’

‘You’re a good girl, Violet. There’s not many around who’d give up their time to look after their old mother, and to bring up their little sister all alone.’

Without missing a beat, Vi launched into an elaboration of the tale that had served her so well over the years. ‘Mum’s no trouble, Nick, and let’s face it, she gave up her life for me and young Angie when she was widowed. I just feel I owe her, that’s all.’ At least the old bag had some uses, even if it was only as an alibi.

‘How’s she doing?’

‘Much better, thanks. And my cousin Susan’s come
down
from Newcastle to give me a break. Sitting in with Mum for a few days. I don’t like putting too much responsibility on Angie, she’s only a kid after all.’

‘You’re kind, do you know that, Violet? There’s not many young women about who’d bring up their kid sister and have her call them Mum. They’d be ashamed to have the neighbours putting two and two together and coming up with five. Really kind.’

Bloody kind, she thought, especially as I’ve not got a cousin Susan, Angie’s obviously my own kid, and I’ve not talked to my old dragon of a mother since I can’t even remember when. ‘Don’t be daft, Nick. But that’s why I’m calling. Having this bit of time to myself, I wondered …’

‘I’ll be round to pick you up at eight. How’s that?’

‘Smashing.’ She paused. ‘What shall I wear?’

‘Something really nice, darling. I’m going to give you a great big treat after all you’ve been through. I’m cancelling the do I was going to and I’m taking you up the West End for a meal and dancing. Then we are going to go back to your place for a little night cap, and …’

‘Nick,’ she giggled, rolling her eyes in anticipation of the big non-event, ‘you are such a naughty boy. You’ll have me blushing.’

Sonia closed her eyes and stretched out in the sweetly scented bath, with the bubbles right up to her chin. Her hand stroked up and down her thigh as she pictured in her mind what Mikey had done to her in the alley behind the Canvas Club. Christ, he made her randy just thinking about him and the things he did to her. She had never known a man like him.

She slipped a finger inside herself and moaned softly. She wanted him so badly she couldn’t wait until tonight.

But it was more than the excitement of the fantastic sex, Sonia had never felt so passionately about any man before, had never dared to take such risks, and had certainly never seriously considered leaving David for anyone. Even though she had been unfaithful to him since the day they had met, she had been discreet, careful, not wanting to gamble losing her very nice life, or, knowing David’s temper and his fondness for violence, even losing her looks. But her feelings for Mikey were different; they had grown during these past few months into something she had barely recognized at first, then, when she had realized what was happening, they had completely surprised her, frightened her almost. She was helpless to do anything about it, and was no longer the one in control. Mikey was the man she wanted, wanted to be with for the rest of her life.

Wanted so badly …

She bit down hard on her bottom lip as she came to a fast, shuddering orgasm, picturing what Mikey would soon be doing to her again.

Aching for his touch, she took a deep breath and sank down under the foaming water.

Jackie and Angie walked towards the sea front from Clacton Station in the miserable dampness of a dull, misty twilight. They were supposed to have arrived early in the afternoon, but having completely misjudged how far away Clacton actually was, they had missed daylight completely. To make matters worse, now they had finally arrived, the place was practically empty.

‘Hours we were on that train.’ Angie stopped to rub her heel. Why had she worn her new go-go boots without breaking them in? She was already getting blisters; by the time they got to wherever it was Jackie
was
taking her they’d be rubbed up to the size of poached eggs. And the black-and-white, op-art mini dress, with its skimpy halter-neck and cut-out midriff that Jackie had helped her botch together on Saturday afternoon –
you’ll only wear it once or twice, it doesn’t matter if the machining’s wonky
– was as good as useless against the chill of the evening air.

‘I didn’t think we were ever going to get here.’ Angie shivered. ‘And I’m sure it’s going to start raining. I don’t know why I ever said I’d—’

‘Ange, don’t go on. All right?’ Jackie, in a red-and-green striped affair that looked more like a little boy’s rugby shirt than a dress, was almost as cold as Angie, although she would never have admitted it. ‘You’re doing my head in, moaning all the time.’

‘I’m not moaning, it’s …’ She waved her arms around in a pathetic show of disappointment. ‘I don’t know. After spending all that money on the ticket and coming all this way, I thought at least something would be happening.’

‘Ten minutes ago. On that train,’ snapped Jackie, marching forward with angry deliberation. ‘You were worried that too much was going to be happening. That we’d be threatened by gangs of greasers. I wish you’d make up your flipping mind about what you want and what you don’t want.’

‘I’m sorry, I just wish—’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘We’ll be down the front in a minute.’ Jackie could barely spit the words past her gritted teeth. ‘You see. It’ll be great. Wonderful. Where it’s all flaming happening.’

At that precise moment, they found themselves passing the town hall. It was a stately brick building, set back behind a manicured lawn, and, stuck in the grass,
was
a notice-board which listed forthcoming events. Unfortunately, the highlights, as far as the month of May was concerned, seemed to be an over-60s tea dance, two whist drives, and a junior badminton competition. Not really what the girls had been hoping for.