The Girl With No Name (54 page)

‘I don’t mind,’ Charlotte replied. ‘It’s just nice to get out for a change.’

‘I thought we could go to the flicks,’ Harry said. ‘P’raps get a bite to eat first. Maybe go dancing after?’

Charlotte looked at him suspiciously. ‘Have you got the money, Harry?’ she asked. ‘I’m not going to duck on and off buses any more.’

‘Course I have.’ Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out two pound notes.

‘Harry! Where did you get all that?’

‘Earned it,’ Harry said. ‘Told you, I work down the docks now.’

‘But so much money!’

‘Nothing to spend it on till you came along. Come on, Lisa! Let’s have a night on the town.’

‘I can’t be late,’ Charlotte said. ‘I promised Miss Morrison.’

‘Bit of a dragon, is she?’

‘No, not at all.’ Charlotte spoke sharply. ‘She’s been very kind to me, and I promised.’

‘All right, all right.’ Harry held up his hands in surrender. ‘I don’t mind where we go.’ Still holding hands, they walked along the street and found a café. After a fish and chip supper they went into the Odeon and Harry led her to the back row of the stalls. Charlotte had never been to the cinema before. There had been no money for such extravagance while she was living in Kemble Street and no opportunity since. They settled into their seats and watched a cartoon before the main picture, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby in
The Road to Zanzibar
. As soon as the lights went down for the main film, Harry’s arm stole round Charlotte’s shoulders. At first she stiffened, but as he simply held her gently she gradually relaxed. This was Harry, after all. As the film continued he took her hand in his, gently kneading her other shoulder. She felt a quiver run through her and Harry felt it too. Without haste he gently slid his hand under her arm, so that his fingers rested on her breast. Charlotte felt a burst of heat flood through her and she turned a little towards him. It was all the encouragement he needed. He let go of her hand and, reaching over, turned her face to his. Gently at first he began to kiss her face, his lips roaming over her skin until it seemed on fire. He could feel her warmth and rising excitement and moved his mouth over hers. His lips were demanding, his tongue pushing between her lips. For a moment Charlotte thought of Billy, dear gentle Billy. She thought she’d been kissed before, but his kisses hadn’t aroused the response she felt to Harry’s. Billy was a boy, Harry was very much a man. Kissing her long and deep, his hands continued their exploration until his fingers began to caress her thighs through the light cotton of her skirt. Suddenly, she broke free and pushed him away.

‘What’s the matter, Lisa, doll?’ he whispered. ‘Doesn’t it feel good? Don’t you like it?’

Charlotte didn’t answer. She turned away from him and stared at the screen where Bing Crosby was singing ‘It’s Always You’ to Dorothy Lamour.

‘Come on, doll,’ Harry murmured. ‘It’s only a kiss and a cuddle.’ He reached for her hand again and stroked her palm with his thumb. ‘Only a kiss, because you’re so beautiful and I thought I’d lost you.’

Charlotte left her hand in his, but when he slipped his arm back round her shoulders again, she pulled away with a muttered, ‘No, Harry!’

Harry sighed and removed his arm. He knew he was going too fast for her, but somehow he couldn’t help himself. He’d felt her reaction to his touch and he was aching to go further.

When at last the film finished and the lights went up again, Charlotte looked along the back row and realised that it was all couples, and they’d been making use of the darkness in the same way. The National Anthem sounded through the cinema and everyone stood up. Charlotte stood straight and still; Harry, though on his feet, slouched against the back of the seat in front.

‘Harry,’ she hissed. ‘It’s the National Anthem.’

‘Not mine, it isn’t,’ he hissed back.

They walked out into the night. The darkness was complete and Harry produced a tiny pocket torch to light their way to the bus stop.

‘Where shall we go now?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got to get back,’ Charlotte said. ‘I told you I couldn’t be late.’

Harry sighed. ‘All right, doll. But we’ll do it again... next Saturday evening? I know a place we can go dancing. You like dancing?’

‘Yes,’ Charlotte said. ‘Very much.’

‘Good. Then I’ll come next Saturday. Same time. You tell that Morrison lady you’re going out again. She can’t stop you, can she?’

‘No,’ Charlotte agreed, ‘not if I’m not needed in the home.’

Before he left her outside the home, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close, so that she felt the strength of his body against the softness of her own. For a moment she clung to him, before he gently put her away from him.

‘In you go,’ he said. ‘See you next Saturday.’

‘Did you have a nice evening?’ Caroline asked as Charlotte came in through the front door for her. ‘What did you do?’

‘We had fish and chips and then went to the cinema.’

‘Sounds fun. What did you see?’

‘
The Road to Zanzibar
.’

‘Did you? I haven’t seen that one yet, but I enjoyed
The Road to Singapore
.’

Charlotte said goodnight and went up to her room under the eaves. As she lay in bed, she relived her evening with Harry, and it was a long time before she fell asleep.

Harry sauntered into Petticoat Lane next Saturday morning. It was a bright September day and he was feeling at one with the world. He’d finished an early shift at the docks and had the rest of the day ahead of him. In his pocket was a gold bracelet he’d ‘found’ in a bombed-out house in Kensington, probably lost in the flight of its owner. It was a heavy chain with a coiled snake as a clasp. It came from an affluent area, so he had hopes of it fetching a good price. He had thought of taking it in to Mr Ing, but decided against. It wasn’t that Mr Ing didn’t recognise the provenance of the pieces Harry brought him – he knew perfectly well they were stolen – but business was tough and he asked no questions. However, last time Harry had approached him, with a locket on a chain, Mr Ing had shaken his head.

‘No, young man, can’t take that. Too recognisable. Rozzers been watching my window.’

It was warning enough. Harry had taken the locket away and hadn’t been back since. He had sold it to Mikey Sharp for, he knew, a fraction of its true worth, but even so it had put a decent amount of cash into his pocket and had given him some more capital for his black market trade. The gold bracelet, too, was distinctive, but he thought he’d get a reasonable price from Mikey. Mikey had the contacts to sell it on quickly and discreetly and still make a tidy profit himself.

As he walked between the stalls he didn’t notice a young lad, known as Snout, keeping pace with him. Harry was thinking about Lisa, seeing her again this evening. Though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was longing to see her. He’d take her to the Palais and they would dance, and afterwards...?

He’d decided he’d buy her a present today. He’d never given her the blue bead bracelet he’d bought before she’d disappeared, but he wasn’t intending to give her that, he could afford something much better now, especially if he could sell Mikey the gold bracelet in his pocket.

‘The Jew-boy’s in the market,’ Snout reported to Ginger Allsop, Mikey’s number two. Ginger nodded.

‘Keep your eye on him, Snout. Mikey wants to know where he goes and what he does.’

The lad scampered off and soon picked up Harry again as he was inspecting some jewellery on a stall. He’d seen a brooch he thought Lisa would like; a silver butterfly with delicate filigree wings. It was expensive, but, Harry decided, he would come back and buy it when he’d done his deal with Mikey.

Ginger Allsop headed for the Black Bull and found Mikey sitting, as usual, in the back bar.

‘Jew-boy’s in the market,’ he said.

Mikey gave a wolfish grin. ‘Is he now? And where’s Parker?’

‘Haven’t seen him, Mikey.’

‘Well, bloody well go and find him! What’s the use of a tame copper if he ain’t around when you need him?’

‘What’ll I tell him?’

‘Tell him to keep watch. If the Jew comes here to sell me something I shall turn him down, tell ’im I’m thinking about it. When he goes back out into the street, that’s when Brenda does her bit and Parker arrests him, OK?’ He thought for a moment and then said, ‘Did Snout follow him last time he was here?’

‘Yeah, he lives in a room down the docks, but his stuff is stashed in a burnt-out in Shoreditch.’

‘OK. Stay away from here now and don’t let him see you if he comes here looking for me, right?’

‘Right, boss.’

‘But you lot be ready. If he makes a break for it, an’ he will, let ’im go.’

‘Let ’im go?’

Mikey leaned forward and very softly, told Ginger of his plan. Ginger grinned. ‘OK, boss, I’m on it.’

Ginger hurried back out into the Lane. It was a warm day and it was very busy. The crowds were out, strolling through the market, looking both for true bargains and for stuff from under the counter, but Snout was looking out for him and it wasn’t long before Ginger, too, could see Harry Black wandering among the stalls.

‘You know that rozzer what stands by the church at the end of the lane?’ Ginger said to Snout. ‘PC Parker.’

‘Yeah, the bloke with the moustache.’

‘That’s ’im. Well, tell him to come to my stall, fast as he likes. Say Ginger sent you. OK?’

‘What about Jew-boy?’

‘I’ll take care of ’im. You fetch the cop.’

Harry kept his hand in his pocket all the time he was in the market and there was the bracelet, heavy and comforting in his hand. Too many pickpockets in a place like this, he thought. They wouldn’t dare touch anyone working for Mikey Sharp, but Harry wasn’t, not any more. Harry was his own man. He threaded his way between the Saturday crowds and went into the Bull. He bought himself a drink and sat at the bar for a while, watching and waiting. When he was quite sure no one was interested in him, he walked through to the back, knocked on the door and, without waiting for an answer, went in. He would never have dared do that in the early days, but now he was a player, a man with a business of his own, Mikey’s equal.

‘Harry boy!’ Mikey greeted him with a grin. ‘Good to see you, mate. Drink?’

He poured a large measure of whisky from a bottle on the table and handed it to Harry. ‘Good to see you, son. What brings you?’

‘Just a bit of business.’ Harry looked round the room. A couple of Mikey’s men were at a table in the corner, big blokes with lived-in faces, who could make short work of any trouble, or troublemakers.

Mikey glanced across at them and with a curt nod of his head, said, ‘Charlie, Jumbo, get lost.’

The two men got to their feet and lumbered out of the room. Mikey waved Harry to a chair.

‘Well, now, Harry boy. What you got for me today?’

Harry drew the bracelet out of his pocket and laid it on the table. ‘Thought this might interest you, Mikey. Solid gold, this is. Worth a bomb!’

‘Liberated by a bomb, was it?’ Mikey, laughing at his own joke, picked it up, feeling its weight in his hand. He looked at the chain links and the snake clasp.

‘Nice piece, if it’s real.’

‘Course it’s real,’ retorted Harry. ‘Any fool can see that.’

For a moment Mikey’s face darkened – no one dared call him a fool – but then he looked up with a grin. ‘Snake’s a bit obvious,’ he said. ‘Difficult to shift something so easily recognised.’

‘Shouldn’t be a problem for a man with your contacts,’ Harry said.

Mikey was thinking the same, but his face showed nothing more than a vague interest. ‘Have to think about it, mate, sound a few people out, know what I mean?’

‘Not leaving it with you,’ Harry said.

‘No! Course you ain’t. Wouldn’t expect it, even though we done good business together before. No, you hang on to it, mate. I’ll put a few feelers out, see who’s in the market. Come back next week, I’ll have an answer and some money for you, too, most like.’

Harry scooped up the bracelet from the table and slid it back into his trouser pocket. ‘Next Saturday, then.’

Mikey lifted a hand. ‘I’ll be here,’ he said.

Harry left the room and walked out through the front bar. Mikey went to the side window and watched. If everything went to plan, the Jew-boy, Harry Black, wouldn’t be here next Saturday, wouldn’t be troubling him again, wouldn’t be setting up business on Mikey’s territory.

Outside in the street Harry paused, wondering if he should change his mind and get some sort of valuation for the bracelet from Mr Ing. As he stood there a young woman bumped into him, grabbing at him as she stumbled over the kerb. He put out a hand to catch her and she gave a piercing scream.

‘Let go of me! Let go of me! Take your hands off me. Police!’

From nowhere, it seemed to Harry, a copper in uniform appeared at his side and grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Now then, now then, what’s going on here?’

‘He’s took me bracelet!’ cried the woman. ‘Bumped into me and pulled it off me arm. He’s took me bracelet!’

The policeman’s grip tightened on Harry’s arm. Harry tried to twist free, but his arm was forced up behind him. ‘Now then, young man, let’s have a look in your pocket, shall we? See if this lady’s telling the truth.’

Harry had recognised the ‘lady’ concerned. Brenda, one of Mikey’s Sharp’s tarts. Harry had even used her himself once or twice. He glanced back at the pub and saw Mikey standing at the window, smiling. He’d been set up.

‘All right,’ he said, ‘it’s in my pocket.’ The cop relaxed his grip and reached out his hand to retrieve the bracelet. It was all Harry needed. With a violent twist he hooked his leg round that of his captor, bringing him crashing to the ground. He swung a punch at the girl, catching her full in the face so that she, too, collapsed on to the pavement, blood spouting from her nose. Ginger, Charlie and Jumbo exploded from the crowd, but Harry shoulder-charged Ginger, who fell against Charlie. Jumbo, roaring as he came in for the attack, grabbed Harry’s jacket, almost ripping it from his back. As he had so long ago in Hanau, he pulled his arms free, leaving Jumbo holding the torn jacket, but Harry himself free to streak off down the street. Several people made attempts to stop him, grabbing at him as he ran, but the street-rat, when in flight, was unstoppable. Within moments he was out of sight, weaving his way through the Saturday crowds into the maze of streets behind the market.