wooden bench beside his friend and admired him openly.
‘You’re looking really prosperous, Willy, what’s the scam?’
Willy took a large drink of beer and smiled. ‘I’m in with Dobson’s lot now. I tell you, Tommy, all the stories about him are true, but he’s a good bloke if you don’t cross him.’
Tommy nodded. Davie Dobson was the local hard man. He was good to people hereabouts in a lot of ways. It was known he would give money to women whose husbands had gone down before the beak, but he was also known to break a few bones when things weren’t going his way. He ran most of the girls on the streets hereabouts, as far as Stratford and some up West.
‘So what you doing for him then?’
‘I sort out deals for him. Little deals that he ain’t got the time or the inclination to bother with.’
What he actually meant was little girls. Willy procured them from the poorer families and then delivered them to Nellie Deakins’ house and other establishments all over the smoke. Dobson, who was trying to make himself look respectable in certain circles, needed stooges like Willy who’d go down if they got caught and do their time without a whimper, coming home to a good few quid and a steady job. Willy was to progress soon to delivering girls to the homes of certain prominent people whom Davie Dobson would then blackmail. It was the most lucrative business, because once they paid, they paid forever.
‘Could you get me in with him like, Willy? I could do with a regular job, and you don’t look like you’re starving from it.’
Willy swaggered in his seat.
‘I’ll have a word with him for you. Me and Dobson’s like that.’
‘You do that for me, Willy, and I’ll owe you one. Now seeing as how you’re in the dosh, you can get the next round in.’
Willy got up and went to the bar.
‘What do you do, young man?’ Tommy addressed James, who looked at him as if he was so much dirt.
‘Mind your own business, you nosy bastard!’
Tommy laughed and James frowned at him. He was only three feet six inches tall and already he was a hard man. That’s what life on the streets did for you.
Briony swept into the house in Oxlow Lane in a cloud of cold air and perfume. Molly went outside and picked up the hamper, dragging it through the door. Briony helped her get it on the table.
‘Where’s the girls?’
‘All gone up the Lane for some last-minute shopping. Eileen’s been promising them she’ll take them all week. Rosalee’s asleep upstairs.’
Briony removed her coat and hung it carefully on the nail behind the front door.
‘How are you, Mum?’
She and Molly had had a truce for nearly a year now. It was a truce that suited them both. Molly needed Briony’s wages, as they were called, and Briony had no intention of ever coming back to her mother’s house. Molly had resigned herself to Briony’s choice of career and now the two got on quite well.
‘I wanted to talk to you, Mum, I’m glad we’re alone.’
Briony put the kettle on the fire and started to make a fresh pot of tea while Molly unpacked the hamper.
‘It’s Henry - Mr Dumas. He’s losing interest in me.’
Molly pushed back her faded blonde hair and stared across at her daughter’s beautiful face. Every time she looked at Briony she marvelled where she could have come from. With that red hair and white skin, she was unlike any of the others. Unlike her parents or grandparents, though the Irish were often red-headed.
‘What you going to do then?’
Briony sighed. ‘I don’t know, Mum, but if I get me marching orders, the wages go with me.’
Molly knew this already and it scared her.
‘Have you got anything down below yet?’
‘I did have, but Cissy plucked them out for me.’Briony bit on her bottom lip. ‘He can’t stand it, see, Mum. Once I start to develop properly, he won’t want me any more. I had a show last week. The curse is on its way, I just know it.’
Molly nodded. Briony made the tea and took
‘You’re looking really prosperous, Willy, what’s the scam?’
Willy took a large drink of beer and smiled. ‘I’m in with Dobson’s lot now. I tell you, Tommy, all the stories about him are true, but he’s a good bloke if you don’t cross him.’
Tommy nodded. Davie Dobson was the local hard man. He was good to people hereabouts in a lot of ways. It was known he would give money to women whose husbands had gone down before the beak, but he was also known to break a few bones when things weren’t going his way. He ran most of the girls on the streets hereabouts, as far as Stratford and some up West.
‘So what you doing for him then?’
‘I sort out deals for him. Little deals that he ain’t got the time or the inclination to bother with.’
What he actually meant was little girls. Willy procured them from the poorer families and then delivered them to Nellie Deakins’ house and other establishments all over the smoke. Dobson, who was trying to make himself look respectable in certain circles, needed stooges like Willy who’d go down if they got caught and do their time without a whimper, coming home to a good few quid and a steady job. Willy was to progress soon to delivering girls to the homes of certain prominent people whom Davie Dobson would then blackmail. It was the most lucrative business, because once they paid, they paid forever.
‘Could you get me in with him like, Willy? I could do with a regular job, and you don’t look like you’re starving from it.’
Willy swaggered in his seat.
‘I’ll have a word with him for you. Me and Dobson’s like that.’
‘You do that for me, Willy, and I’ll owe you one. Now seeing as how you’re in the dosh, you can get the next round in.’
Willy got up and went to the bar.
‘What do you do, young man?’ Tommy addressed James, who looked at him as if he was so much dirt.
‘Mind your own business, you nosy bastard!’
Tommy laughed and James frowned at him. He was only three feet six inches tall and already he was a hard man. That’s what life on the streets did for you.
Briony swept into the house in Oxlow Lane in a cloud of cold air and perfume. Molly went outside and picked up the hamper, dragging it through the door. Briony helped her get it on the table.
‘Where’s the girls?’
‘All gone up the Lane for some last-minute shopping. Eileen’s been promising them she’ll take them all week. Rosalee’s asleep upstairs.’
Briony removed her coat and hung it carefully on the nail behind the front door.
‘How are you, Mum?’
She and Molly had had a truce for nearly a year now. It was a truce that suited them both. Molly needed Briony’s wages, as they were called, and Briony had no intention of ever coming back to her mother’s house. Molly had resigned herself to Briony’s choice of career and now the two got on quite well.
‘I wanted to talk to you, Mum, I’m glad we’re alone.’
Briony put the kettle on the fire and started to make a fresh pot of tea while Molly unpacked the hamper.
‘It’s Henry - Mr Dumas. He’s losing interest in me.’
Molly pushed back her faded blonde hair and stared across at her daughter’s beautiful face. Every time she looked at Briony she marvelled where she could have come from. With that red hair and white skin, she was unlike any of the others. Unlike her parents or grandparents, though the Irish were often red-headed.
‘What you going to do then?’
Briony sighed. ‘I don’t know, Mum, but if I get me marching orders, the wages go with me.’
Molly knew this already and it scared her.
‘Have you got anything down below yet?’
‘I did have, but Cissy plucked them out for me.’Briony bit on her bottom lip. ‘He can’t stand it, see, Mum. Once I start to develop properly, he won’t want me any more. I had a show last week. The curse is on its way, I just know it.’
Molly nodded. Briony made the tea and took
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