Widows

Chapter 15

Dolly was in the convent kitchen peeling potatoes for lunch. Her normal routine was to serve dinner to the children, but she’d decided to get in early today and help out. She was filled with so much energy that she had to release it somehow.

As Dolly had pulled into the grounds at around 7 a.m., it occurred to her that Bella would probably only now be getting in from her job. She worked so hard, probably for very little, and yet she was one of the strongest people Dolly had met. Linda was no doubt probably still in bed — she never listened to Dolly’s advice. Now, as for Shirley... Dolly smiled. Shirley was starting to come round to her way of thinking.

After helping the children to make their beds, Dolly had gone to the nursery to help feed the babies. As she entered the room, she’d been stunned breathless at the sight of a baby boy lying in the cot she had donated from her own nursery. She knew that her things were here and was delighted that they were being used, but she still found it very upsetting. One of the nuns had handed Dolly a bottle of warm milk and then, without a word, left the room.

Dolly had walked slowly toward her son’s cot and looked down at the unwanted child using it now. The nametag on the cot read, ‘Ben.’

‘Hello, Ben,’ Dolly had whispered, and the baby stretched and opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. They looked at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up and deciding that they’d no doubt get on. Dolly’s heart had jumped between two distinct feelings: sorrow at how anyone could not want Ben, and pride at knowing that she’d have been an amazing mum. Dolly had fed many babies at the convent since the loss of her own son, but this was the first time she’d leaned down into the very cot bought by Harry all those years ago and lifted out a perfect, beautiful baby boy. He lay content in her arms and, in that moment, all of Dolly’s feelings of loss connected to the past — her own and Ben’s — disappeared, and she focused only on the here and now. ‘I’m Dolly,’ she’d said testing the milk’s temperature on her wrist, ‘and I’m going to give you your breakfast.’

With the potatoes peeled, cut and boiling in a huge pan of water, Dolly fried up the mince and vegetables, thickening it with Bisto gravy granules before putting the lot into a large oven tray. She then mashed the potatoes, layered them on top of the mince and put everything into the oven to finish and crisp.

Dolly grated an entire block of cheese as she looked out of the window at the children playing in the garden. Beyond the garden fence, an unmarked police car with two bored-looking surveillance officers inside watched the convent. ‘Keep watching, boys,’ Dolly whispered to herself as she grated the cheese. ‘Cos I’m gonna do this... and I’m gonna do it right under Resnick’s nose.’

When Dolly finally left the convent after lunch, she drove to Knightsbridge and parked in the customer car park at Harrods. Entering the building through the main doors, she walked through various departments before stopping to try on a hat. While she turned this way and that, she looked in the mirror to see how close the officer tailing her was. She calculated she just had time to make it out of the corner door, onto the busy street and then down into the tube station before he’d be able to figure out exactly which way she went.

Once in the station, she bought a newspaper and then crossed to the ticket office and bought a return ticket to Leicester Square. She watched the reflections of people behind her in the ticket kiosk glass, but couldn’t see the officer who had been following her in Harrods, although she was still wary. Any one of the sea of unknown faces could be another plain-clothes waiting to pick up her tail.

After getting off the train, Dolly zigzagged her way to the bank, changing direction numerous times along the way to be absolutely certain that she wasn’t still being followed. She had stopped outside the Army and Navy Store on the Strand and done some window-shopping, but was more interested in the reflections than the goods. Once she was sure she was safe, she headed to the bank. She needed to check out the ledgers to see if Bill Grant was ever mentioned and she also needed some more money for the girls.

Shirley’s mum Audrey was frozen stiff; her feet were numb and even her fur-lined boots didn’t help in this weather. She stamped her feet and blew into her mitten-gloved hands. The bitter cold had made for poor trade so far today and she’d not sold a thing since ten o’clock. Audrey could murder a coffee, but didn’t like to keep drinking as it made her want to pee, which meant asking ‘Mushroom Features’ on the next stall to take care of hers. That meant ten pence for him, and then she’d have a hard time explaining to the greengrocer why the takings were low against the produce sold.

She tried occupying herself with people-watching and soon spotted Tony Fisher pull up in a flash-looking motor. She knew Tony of old — his mother and her mother had worked together down Covent Garden Market, before it was all cleared out and moved to Nine Elms. Last Audrey heard, Tony’s mum had a job cleaning for a big firm at the Aldwych.

She watched Tony get out the car — handsome bloke, she thought, well dressed, and the cashmere coat he had on his back must have set him back a few hundred quid. She shrugged. His poor old mother was cleaning offices and there he was, parading round like some model out of a fashion mag! She shook her head and straightened her stack of paper bags.

When she looked up again, Tony was walking directly toward her. She hid her fear and smiled at him. He nodded. Cheeky bugger’s going to demand a free apple or something most likely, thought Audrey. Although she’d known Tony all his life, she wasn’t under any illusion that this afforded her any favors; she knew his reputation. She nervously touched her woolly hat and noticed Mushroom Features flicking glances at Tony and then quickly back at her.

‘You got a problem?’ Tony asked him, pleasantly enough, and the squirt instantly turned his back on them. Audrey noticed that every other stall holder close by also took one look at Tony and then avoided eye contact. They knew trouble when they saw it.

‘Apples look nice, Audrey,’ Tony said with a beaming smile. He had been a cheeky lad when he was younger, but now there was menace to him and he was hard to read. Audrey polished and bagged an apple for him and vainly hoped that it really was all he wanted. Right now, Audrey was wishing she’d had much, much more coffee and had gone to the loo, leaving Mushroom Features to deal with Tony.

He bit into the apple and seemed pleased enough. Audrey breathed a small sigh of relief. But she knew Tony wasn’t just here for one apple.

‘Nice and sweet,’ Tony said, ‘just like your Shirley.’ Audrey’s smile disappeared in a split second. ‘Where’s she living these days?’

Audrey knew full well that the likes of Tony Fisher don’t turn up out of the blue for a friendly chat; they want something, and it’s usually something you don’t want to give. The thought of him wanting something from Shirley sent a shiver down her spine.

‘I haven’t seen her since her Terry’s funeral. Last she told me was she was going to Spain to do some modeling,’ Audrey said unconvincingly. Shirley was suddenly very flush with cash; had her baby got herself involved with the Fishers?

Tony gripped the edge of the stall. ‘I asked you where she’s living.’

‘She moves around a lot. Stays with friends — you know how it is.’

With one shove of his strong arm, Tony shook the stall so that the loosest fruit rolled off into the gutter that ran the length of the market.

‘Please don’t do that, Tony.’

‘Next shove it all goes over, and what for, eh, Aud? I just want to talk to her, that’s all.’

‘Leave her alone, eh? She’s been through so much...’

Tony noticed Audrey looking over his shoulder as she tailed off, before she gave a slight shake of her head.

‘Hi Mum, you seen that waste of space Greg about? That duff motor he got me is playing up again and I—’ As Shirley clocked Tony, the rest of her sentence stuck in her throat and the color drained from her face.

‘Hello, Shirley, how was Spain?’ Tony turned slowly and stared at her forehead with a menacing smile.

Audrey quickly jumped in. ‘I was just tellin’ Tony you’d been in Spain doing some modeling. He was askin’ where you was.’

Tony looked Shirley up and down, stopping to gawp at her tits. ‘You’re looking lovely, Shirl.’

‘Thank you,’ Shirley stuttered. She had no idea how to deal with the likes of Tony Fisher.

‘I was hoping we could go for a little chat. We’ll go to yours; it’ll be quiet there.’

Audrey jumped in again. ‘I’ll give you something to take back with you,’ she said, desperately trying to keep calm as she wrapped some carrots and handed them to Shirley, ‘She’s back with me at the moment, aren’t you, Shirl? There you go, you take those back with you. We can have them with tea. I won’t be far behind you. Not far behind you at all.’ Audrey knew that she couldn’t stop Tony from leaving the market with her daughter, but hoped beyond hope that if they went back to her house then Greg would still be there with his stupid mates.

‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ Shirley asked, nervously screwing the paper round the carrots till it ripped.

Tony grabbed her by the arm. ‘Let’s go. We can talk at your mum’s.’ He led Shirley toward his car, gripping her elbow so hard she was unable to resist.

Shirley glanced back at Audrey, who mouthed that she’d follow, but neither knew if she’d be able to follow quickly enough. The second Tony’s car pulled out of sight, Audrey threw her money belt at Mushroom Features and ran as fast as she could toward the pub, where she hoped to get a lift back to her flat. If there was no one who could help her, she’d run the whole way, fueled by the fear of what that bastard might do to her little girl.

Tony had to lift his feet high off the floor in Audrey’s kitchen to step his way through dirty laundry and rubbish bags. The ironing board was laden with creased clothes, the kitchen table still had dirty breakfast things on it, and a week’s worth of dirty dishes were stacked in the sink and all over the draining board. It was disgusting.

‘You in, Greg?’ Shirley shouted, but there was no reply. ‘I want a word with you about that car! Come down if you’re in!’

Tony took off his cashmere coat, folded it and placed it on the ironing board. ‘Just us,’ he whispered menacingly. He pulled two chairs out from the kitchen table, sat down in one and pointed at the other. ‘Sit down with me.’

Shirley was shaking. She wasn’t clever like Linda; she was scared and knew she was showing it. ‘I’ll make us a coffee,’ she said. Anything to keep her distance from Tony.

Tony had fancied Shirley ever since he first saw her five years ago, when she was still a teenager. Why she’d married that muttonhead Terry, he’d never know. Terry had brought her down the club to a private party once; Shirley must only have been about sixteen or seventeen at the time, but she was well stacked even then, fresh-looking and ripe for the taking. Tony crossed his legs and eased his crotch. He was turning himself on thinking about what he’d like to do to her.

Shirley was shaking uncontrollably, her hand trembling as she opened the fridge door to get the milk. Tony watched her bend her lovely head and sniff at the bottle.

She made a face. ‘It’ll have to be black,’ she said nervously as she flicked the kettle on.

Tony said nothing, just watched her. Every movement she made was sexy; the more flustered she got, the sexier she looked and the more it turned him on.

Shirley had to squeeze past him to get the coffee. As she did, he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her down onto his lap. She sat stiff-backed as he leaned forward and sniffed her neck. It smelt like fresh lemons. He touched the clear fresh skin and she shivered with fear as he moved his fingers up and down. Tony began to undo her shirt buttons.

‘You must know how gorgeous you are. Do you like what you do to men?’

‘No,’ Shirley stammered. ‘I don’t know... I don’t do anything on purpose.’ She tried to stop him by pushing his groping hands away but he grabbed her hard round the wrist and, with his other hand, undid another button. He let go of her wrist and was about to put his hand inside her shirt when Shirley jumped up off his knee and went for the coffee.

Tony laughed as he watched her trying to spoon out the granules, pour the boiling water and button up her shirt all at the same time. Her hands were shaking. He lit a cigarette and moved over to stand close behind her, squeezing against her body as he took the kettle out of her hands and poured the boiling water into the cup. Shirley tried to move away from him, but he placed his free arm around her waist and trapped her. ‘Shall we have that chat now?’ he asked.

‘If you like,’ Shirley said in a very small voice.

‘You know anything about Harry Rawlins’s ledgers?’

Shirley shook her head.

‘Terry ever mention them?’ Tony continued.

‘Nothing, I don’t know anything about them. I mean, I dunno even what they are.’

Tony drew on his cigarette and held it in his mouth, one arm still loose around her waist. The smoke stung her eyes, as it always did, but she was so terrified she hardly noticed.

Tony’s arm tightened round her hip, pulling her close to his body. He pushed his groin against her backside and she could feel how excited he was by the power he had over her. He was going to rape her, she was sure. He put the kettle down and pulled her shirt forward, roughly slipping his hand inside to cup her breast.

‘Lovely,’ he whispered, breathing cigarette smoke all over her.

‘What do you want?’ Shirley tried not to tremble but it was no good.

‘All in good time,’ Tony replied as he continued to fondle her. ‘Very nice. Firm but soft, all at the same time.’ Shirley’s trembling was putting him off. ‘Relax, will you? I ain’t gonna hurt you. I just want to know about those ledgers, darlin’, that’s all.’

‘I don’t know—’

Before Shirley could finish, Tony had pinned her arms against her side, taken his cigarette from his mouth and held it so close to her breast she could feel the heat.

‘Oh, God, no. Please don’t!’ Shirley screamed.

‘You still doing the beauty circuits, are you? I bet they don’t touch you with a barge pole if you’ve got the slightest blemish, do they? Sanctimonious bastards. I’d still touch every inch of you though, Shirl, don’t you worry about that. Now tell me where those ledgers are.’

‘I don’t know, Tony, I swear I don’t.’

As Tony moved the cigarette closer to her perfect skin, Shirley swiped at his hand and knocked his cigarette to the floor. ‘Bitch!’ he screamed, and hit her hard across the mouth with the back of his hand. She crumpled in a heap onto the floor. Her lip was cracked and a thin trickle of blood oozed out, poppy-red against her ashen skin. Tony gripped her by the hair, unzipped his trousers and began to force her head toward his crotch.

Greg had never been one for good timing, but for once he got it exactly right. The door to the kitchen swung open to reveal him in his punk leather gear and ear studs, his hair dyed pink and yellow. Behind him were his mates, Arch, with his Mohawk haircut and leopard-print T-shirt, and Fruity Tooty, who had a shaved head and thick black eye make-up, and was dressed in a full-length black leather trench coat. The three of them looked like characters out of a B-list horror movie. At first, as Tony Fisher quickly zipped up his fly, Greg thought he had caught his sister in a compromising position. He was about to walk out in embarrassment when he clocked Shirley’s terrified and bleeding face. He had no option but to stand his ground. ‘You all right, sis?’ he asked, scared out of his wits. He knew Tony Fisher and his reputation.

Greg’s mates were normally useless, but Fruity Tooty, seeing Shirley’s split and bloody lip — and not knowing Tony from Adam — gallantly stepped forward to have a go. Greg held him back, shaking his head. It would be a bad move. If he was honest, Greg wasn’t even certain that all three of them could take on Tony Fisher.

Tony laughed as he picked up his cashmere coat and slipped it over his shoulders. He walked up to the boys and stood nose to nose with Fruity. ‘I got a good memory for faces,’ he said, and tapped him on the cheek before leaving.

Fruity and Arch had no idea what had just happened. Greg knelt next to Shirley and hugged her for the first time in years. In sheer relief, she sobbed in his skinny little arms. She was shaking and holding her top together, trying to cover herself. Greg squeezed her tighter and tighter, till she could no longer tremble.

Eventually, Shirley calmed and the tears stopped. Greg helped her up off the floor and started to walk her through to her bedroom just as their mum burst in through the front door. Audrey was sweating like a stuck pig and was as red as a beetroot; she had indeed run pretty much the whole way home. Shirley took one look at her mum and burst into tears again. Audrey stepped forward and enveloped her little girl in her arms. A split lip was nothing compared to what Tony Fisher could have done.

Audrey looked at Greg. ‘Get the car sorted for your sister. Now. Go on.’

Greg, Arch and Fruity quietly left as Audrey took Shirley into the lounge and sat her down on the sofa.

‘How are you involved with the Fishers, darlin’?’ Audrey spoke calmly but firmly. ‘I know ’em of old, see, and I know they’re no good. No good at all.’ Shirley shook her head and snuggled deeper into her mum’s shoulder, her eyes closed and her fingers touching her split lip. ‘I’m your mother, Shirley, please talk to me. I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on.’

Shirley took a deep breath and swallowed. ‘He came onto me, Mum, but I don’t fancy him! I pushed him away and he got angry and gave me a back hander because I wouldn’t do what he wanted.’

Audrey stroked Shirley’s lovely long hair. ‘You sure it’s nothin’ else? Cos you’ve been flush with money lately.’

‘Honest — that’s all it was about. I told you the truth about the cash. I honestly found it in a suitcase of Terry’s.’

Shirley had never been very good at telling lies, and Audrey knew that when her daughter repeatedly used the word ‘honestly’ it meant she was lying.

Shirley got up and went into the bathroom. She splashed cold water over her face, took deep breaths to calm herself and looked at her split lip in the mirror. In her reflection, Shirley saw a strength that she hadn’t ever seen before; not in her eyes anyway. She’d seen it in Terry’s eyes, when he used to lie to her to protect her from the truth of where he was going and what he was doing. And Shirley was now doing exactly the same for her mum.

Audrey could never know that Shirley was getting the money from Dolly Rawlins, and she could never, ever know about their plans to rob a security wagon at gunpoint. Shirley could hardly even think it; it all still sounded so absurd.

Shirley knew that she had to tell Dolly about Tony Fisher, though, and quickly. Because if he hadn’t got what he wanted from her, he would be going after the others next.

Linda had been told to start at the arcade much earlier than usual because she’d been late the previous night. Charlie must have snitched to their boss — there’s no way he could have known otherwise. God, she wished she could tell them both to stuff their poxy job.

When she arrived, Charlie was hovering round the entrance, staring out along the road at the ambulance and police cars parked up by the alleyway to the Sports Club.

‘You should have been here earlier,’ Charlie said excitedly, not taking his eyes off the commotion.

‘I am ’effing early!’

‘No, no, I don’t mean for your shift. I mean you missed it. All the “blues and twos,” you know.’ Charlie had heard this expression on the telly and had no idea what it actually meant.

‘Can’t be arsed with other people’s problems, Charlie,’ Linda replied as she headed for the cash booth.

‘Can you be arsed with Tony Fisher?’ Linda turned and stared at Charlie’s worried face. ‘He popped in and asked if you was here.’

‘When?’ Linda asked, trying to sound as if Tony Fisher visiting her was a perfectly normal thing to happen.

‘Just after you knocked off last night.’

Linda walked back to Charlie, who was now, once again, more interested in the activity up the road. Linda kept her casual tone, ‘What did he say?’

‘I told you, he asked if you was here.’

‘And you said...?’

‘What do you think I said? I said “no,” cos you wasn’t.’ Linda remained silent, trying to work out what she should do. ‘I’d have said you wasn’t even if you was. Tony flamin’ Fisher, Linda! What’s going on?’

‘He fancies me, Charlie. Can you blame him?’ Linda walked away quickly before Charlie could ask anything else.

She sat in the cash booth, pretending to count the change into money bags, but she was making a terrible job of it. All she was really doing was making little stacks; she had no clue how much was in each. When Charlie came over and said he was going to pop up the road and take a closer look at what was going on, Linda jumped out of her skin and knocked all the coins onto the floor.

Ten minutes passed and Charlie hadn’t returned; Linda suspected he’d gone for a pint. But suddenly he was running through the arcade toward her. She’d never seen him run, not with his bad leg, but now he was doing a dead sprint and looked all flushed.

‘Boxer... it’s Boxer Davis!’ Charlie was panting for breath as he pressed his face against the glass of the cash booth. ‘Someone done the poor bastard in — he’s like a minute steak, I’ve bleedin’ never seen anythin’ like it — blood up the walls, blood everywhere... They found him in the back alley of the Sports Club under some rubbish, stiff as a board, and I heard the ambulance guy tell a copper he reckoned Boxer had been there all night and all day.’ Charlie was painting hard to get his breath back, the glass steaming up more and more with every exhale.

Linda just stared. As the news sank in, her body went cold and she could feel the blood drain from her face. ‘Boxer? Are you sure?’ Linda realized she didn’t need to ask — she knew how good Charlie was with gossip.

‘Course I’m sure,’ Charlie said, looking up at Linda. ‘He was over the road last night with his chips. I thought he must be back in the big time as he was lookin’ real good, dressed in a smart suit and—’ Charlie suddenly looked worried.

‘What?’ Linda whispered, not really wanting to know. ‘And what, Charlie?’

‘He was asking about you.’

‘What... what was he asking?’

‘Nothing really, he saw you and asked if you was Joe Pirelli’s missus.’

Without another word, Linda left the booth and went to the exit doors. She stood with the rest of the gawping spectators and looked up to where the ambulance was parked on the pavement. People around her were speculating. Perhaps the dead bloke had crossed a pimp or a dealer? Shagged the wrong bloke’s wife — or just been in the wrong alley at the wrong time? All bollocks. If only they knew.

Charlie appeared behind Linda. ‘Why are Boxer Davis and Tony Fisher both asking after you on the same day?’ he asked. ‘You’re not mixing with that lot, are you?’

‘That lot? Don’t pretend you know who “that lot” are.’ Linda snapped. She was being horrible to him but, right now, she had to be horrible to someone and he was closest. ‘I’m going back to work. You stand here for as long you like getting your kicks from someone else’s misery. Cos as long as Boxer’s lying dead just up there, you ain’t the saddest bastard in the street, are you, Charlie?’

‘He ain’t dead...’ Charlie mumbled as Linda stormed off. She paused and turned back.

‘What?’

‘He ain’t dead. He looks like a minute steak, but he ain’t dead.’

Back in the cash booth, Linda felt sick. Tony Fisher turning up at the arcade out of the blue was one thing, but Boxer showing his face on the same night asking questions about her was too much to cope with. And now he was fighting for his life in a rat-infested alley. Linda was terrified — there was no one to talk to here, no one who’d understand. All she wanted to do was get to Dolly, Bella and Shirley and warn them about... what? Linda had no idea what it all meant, but she’d never felt so out of her depth in her entire life.

She sat for nearly an hour thinking it over. All she kept coming back to was Bella. Bella would know what to do. Eventually she got a grip of herself.

‘Cover for me, Charlie, will ya?’ Linda shouted, swinging her jacket round and head and deftly slipping her arms into the sleeves.

‘No! You can’t go! You only just started your shift!’ he shouted after her as she barged past him.

Linda stopped. She had no intention of explaining anything to Charlie in detail, but she had to convince him to cover for her. Dolly had said right from the outset that they needed to go about their business as normal so as not to raise any alarm bells. Alarm bells were ringing in Linda’s head now and she needed Charlie on her side. ‘Don’t be a plum, Charlie. We cover for each other all the time.’

‘No, we don’t,’ said Charlie. ‘I cover for you all the time. I don’t need covering for cos I’m always here when I’m meant to be.’ He sounded like a wounded schoolboy who’d been turned down by the girl he fancied.

‘Look... I’ve really got to go,’ said Linda. ‘I can’t explain why. But I’ll make it up to you, honest I will.’ She tried a smile.

Charlie wasn’t fooled. ‘If you go, I’ll report you and you’ll be sacked.’

‘Why are you being like this?!’ Linda yelled.

‘Cos, apart from the minute steak up the road, I’m the saddest bastard in the street, apparently! And sad bastards do sad bastard things like drop their mates in it when they get treated like shit.’

‘You know what, Charlie — sod you and sod the job!’ Linda screamed. ‘Cos I ain’t staying.’

As she charged off down the street, Charlie looked after her and was just in time to see the ambulance doors slam shut. It crawled through the crowds, who ambled out of the way regardless of the lights and siren.

By the time Bella came off stage at the strip club, Linda was pacing the dressing room, as white as a sheet. She started talking the instant Bella walked in. ‘Boxer’s been beaten to within an inch of his life. He was asking about me in the arcade, so was Tony Fisher and...’

Bella, as Linda knew she would, took control. ‘Calm down, Linda. I can’t follow anything you’re saying. Calm down and start again.’

Linda took a deep breath and did just that. Once Bella was up to speed, Linda added, ‘This has to be cos of what Dolly told Boxer about Harry being alive. Don’t you think?’

‘Sounds like it’s all getting out of hand. And it sounds like the Fishers are scared.’

‘They’re scared? Bleedin’ ’ell Bella, I’m shitting meself. Dolly’s gonna have to sort this out. I mean if it was Tony who done over Boxer, just think what he could do to us!’

‘Do we know it was Tony?’ Bella asked, trying to be rational for both of them. Linda had jumped to that conclusion because he and Boxer were both in the arcade on the same night. But they had also both been asking about Linda, and that was something to worry about. Bella took time to think while she wiped the sweat from her face and got dressed. ‘I’ll call the convent and leave a message for Dolly to meet me here as soon as she can. You got someone who can stay with you tonight?’ The wry smile that crept across Linda’s face told Bella that her friend would be just fine. ‘Call him and get him to pick you up from here. Do we know that Shirley’s OK?’

The smile on Linda’s face vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She hadn’t even considered that Tony might have approached Shirley.

‘Call your friend,’ said Bella. ‘I’ll call Shirley and Dolly. Don’t worry. Expend some energy. Everything will be fine.’

Dolly was sitting in her ruined armchair sipping brandy and looking through the notes she’d made from her visit to the bank earlier. Three envelopes of cash sat on the coffee table in front of her and Wolf was tucked into her hip as usual. There’d been no reference to Bill Grant in Harry’s ledgers, not even a William, or a BG. It crossed Dolly’s mind that the man who visited her at the lock-up could have lied about his name. She’d have to ask Boxer. If he knew anything, she’d get it out of him.

The phone rang and Dolly jumped. No one ever called this late at night. It was Sister Amelia from the convent.

‘I have a message for you from Miss O’Reilly,’ she said. ‘It’s in relation to your mutual friend, Mr. Fisher. Miss O’Reilly says your presence is urgently required at her workplace.’ The nun didn’t seem surprised to have been used as an intermediary.

Dolly remained calm and controlled as she thanked Amelia and put the phone down. She downed her brandy and peered out of her curtains. The usual parking spot the police used was empty. She looked up and down the street but could see no parked cars that didn’t belong there. In case the police had changed tactics, she decided that she would still go through the rigmarole of zigzagging to make absolutely certain that she was not being followed.

The club where Bella worked was dark and seedy and it smelt of beer, cigarettes and fat sweaty men. No one noticed Dolly walk in because all eyes were on the stage. She stood at the back of the room, watching a girl in her early twenties performing and listening to the men tell each other what they’d like to do to her. Their crude innuendos made Dolly’s stomach churn, but their drunken heckles were worse. As the girl struggled to remove her bra and stay upright in her four inch heels, they shouted at her as though she was a piece of meat. When her song ended, she left the stage to laughter and a hail of flying bottles.

The soles of Dolly’s shoes stuck to the beer-soaked carpet as she tried to push toward the stage; the men, thinking she was a punter wanting a better view, wouldn’t let her past. She folded her arms around her handbag and made herself as small as possible; she’d have to wait for a break in the show. The idea of touching or being touched by these men repulsed her; some of them had their hands down the front of their trousers.

When the next record began, there was a loud cheer from the men before they settled down almost to silence. Dolly strained to look over the shoulders of the crowd immediately in front of her, and eventually found a spot from where she could see the stage. Bella was already moving down the catwalk, her oiled body glistening and swaying with the grace of a panther. She was dressed in a black leather mini-skirt, a black leather bra and black leather knee-high boots, and wielded a long black leather whip, which she cracked above her head. There was a look of wildness and overpowering sensuality about her as she swayed to the music, staring arrogantly at the men. She met their eyes, every one of them, and they were totally under her spell.

Dolly was as spellbound as the rest of the audience, but for a completely different reason. She is so strong, Dolly thought to herself. She recognized something similar in herself: a hidden, almost masculine strength that allowed her a measure of control over people like Boxer Davis. But what Bella had went beyond that. Dolly looked around the room and could see that the men weren’t speaking, or looking about, or laughing and joking — there were no disparaging comments, no jeers, no insults; they were mesmerized. In that moment, Dolly knew that Bella was exactly the right person to be their fourth man. As the men imagined Bella naked, Dolly imagined her dressed in an overall and ski-mask, wielding a shotgun instead of a whip. She smiled to herself. Those security guards will shit themselves, she thought.

As Bella’s routine went on, Dolly was shocked to see the bra and mini-skirt come off, revealing nothing but a tiny leather G-string. The boots stayed on and Bella stood with her legs wide open, gyrating her crotch at the front row. A great wave of howling broke out, and the men banged on the wooden stage, wolf whistling and whooping. The cheers grew louder as Bella slowly moved her head from side to side, licking her lips and curling her mouth in a snarl. Dolly clutched her handbag, transfixed. Bella seemed almost bored, detached, yet totally in control, while every man in the sordid room drooled over her sleek, toned body as if nothing and no one could touch her. In a month or two, Dolly promised silently, you’ll never have to do this again.

When Bella’s act was over, most of the men raced to the bar and Dolly took the opportunity to head toward the stage. As Bella picked up her discarded clothes, the drag queen walked on stage and was immediately greeted with boos and shrill whistles.

‘Bella!’ shouted Dolly over the racket.

Bella was still naked from the waist up. She stood in front of Dolly with her hands on her hips. ‘We got big trouble,’ she said. ‘Tony Fisher is on the warpath. Last night he turned up at the arcade asking after Linda. She wasn’t there, thank God, and she’s at home now with some fella watching over her. I’ve tried to call Shirley to make sure she’s OK, but there’s no reply. Then there’s the thing with Boxer. Do you think it’s connected to the Fishers?’

Dolly had no idea where to start, so she went with the last thing she had heard. ‘What thing with Boxer?’

Bella paused while she did up her bra. ‘I thought you would have heard? Boxer was found in an alley last night, outside the Sports Club. He’s been beaten to a pulp, apparently — properly smashed up. Dolly... Linda said it was awful.’

Just then, a drunk lurched into Dolly from behind. She turned and gave him a shove which made him fall through the door to the gents. She turned back to Bella. ‘Boxer was supposed to leave town!’ she said. ‘I gave him money and told him where to stay. I can’t take care of everything and I’m not responsible for what happened to him.’

Bella stared at Dolly. ‘I didn’t say you were, Dolly... but, seeing as you mentioned it, you were the one who dressed Boxer up in your old man’s cast-offs, gave him money to get pissed and told him Harry was still alive, knowing full well that Boxer’s incapable of keeping his mouth shut.’ Even in leather underwear, Bella was a formidable opponent.

Dolly didn’t respond to the criticism. Instead, she demanded, ‘Who’s watching over Linda?’

‘She didn’t say and I didn’t ask, but at least she’s not on her own. I’ve got no idea about Shirley, cos she’s not answering her phone.’

‘I’ll keep trying Shirley. Will you be OK?’ The instant the words left Dolly’s mouth, she knew they were unnecessary. Bella didn’t bother answering.

‘I’m sure Shirley will turn up as agreed tomorrow,’ Bella said. ‘We can fill her in about Tony and Boxer then. But we do need to talk about it, Dolly,’ she went on seriously. ‘None of us like what’s goin’ on, and it has to be sorted before one of us gets hurt.’

Dolly liked the way that Bella shot straight from the hip. ‘Listen, Bella, I’m not making light of what’s happened to Boxer or of Tony Fisher sniffing round and, whether you believe it or not, my priority is the safety of you girls. All of you. We will talk about it but we also got to keep it in perspective for Linda and Shirley. They ain’t like me and you. Tomorrow we need to focus on the job in hand, not be distracted by the Fishers, or an old drunk who could have just pissed off the wrong person for all we know.’

‘You don’t believe that for a second, Dolly Rawlins,’ said Bella. ‘And neither will anyone else.’ But she said it with a smile.

As Dolly pushed her way out of the club her heart was pounding. She clawed through the stench of men and beer, desperate to get to the fresh air beyond. Outside, she leaned against the wall and calmed herself down.

She had to hold it together. She had to hold it all together.

Bella was right about Boxer; she knew his beating must be connected to the lies she’d told him about Harry being alive. She knew it was her fault.

Although Dolly felt sorry for Boxer, she couldn’t bring herself to care that much. She’d given him his chance. She wasn’t heartless, she reasoned, but he was nowhere near as important to her as the widows — or the job they’d vowed to do. Nonetheless, she assured herself that when she got back home, she’d say a little prayer for Boxer Davis.