Authors: Carol Rivers
Marie caught up with her on the steps. ‘Vesta, come in the bedroom. It will be better on our own.’
‘Mum wouldn’t like that.’
‘It will take time for her to understand.’
Vesta drew away. She didn’t want to speak to Marie alone. She might let out her big secret. And even Marie wouldn’t understand about Bill. ‘I have to go now. Here’s
Teddy.’ Vesta hurried down the steps as his car drew up. She opened the door and sat in. She couldn’t resist calling back, ‘After all, you wouldn’t want Teddy darkening the
doorstep, would you?’ But the moment she said it, she was sorry. She had wanted to hurt and she had. Marie was staring after her with watery, sad eyes.
Vesta forced back the tears as Teddy drove off with a powerful roar.
It was early evening when Bing and Marie walked down to Island Gardens. His arm lay lightly around her shoulders as they gazed over the dark waters of the Thames. On the other
side of the river, the lights of Greenwich sparkled like tiny diamonds. The air was cold but not frosty and the sky above a cloudless dark blue.
‘So Vesta turned up after all,’ he murmured after listening to all Marie had told him. ‘That was a surprise.’
‘I think she felt guilty about Christmas.’
‘Your mum must have been upset when she left.’
‘Yes. She doesn’t approve of them living in sin.’
‘Your mum ain’t religious, is she?’
‘No, but it’s what people will think.’ She leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘Things might have been different if Vesta had listened to Flo Davis.’
‘Teddy would never admit to being the father of her child.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Talking of living in sin,’ Bing said slowly, ‘what would you say to a spring wedding?’
‘What, ours?’
‘My boss is letting out rooms in his house in Manchester Road and has given us first refusal. If you give the nod, I’ll move in and do it up, ready for, say, April or May.’
‘I don’t know. Mum might be lonely.’
‘We could wait for ever for others to get sorted.’ He bent to kiss her, his hands moving over her back and pressing her against him. ‘I have a new song to sing you but
I’m gonna save it till the day we’re married.’
As a lone vessel hooted somewhere out on the river, he kissed her again; a kiss that reminded her just how much she loved him.
It was a Saturday in the middle of January when Pedro stormed into the dressing room.
‘Where’s our money?’ demanded Shirley, as she put on her coat. ‘We’ve not had a penny for weeks.’
Pedro ignored her.
‘Come with me,’ he told Marie.
She quickly did up her blouse. It wasn’t often that Pedro ventured into the dressing room, and she wondered what he wanted.
‘What are you up to?’ demanded Rose, standing in his way. ‘Are you paying her before us?’
‘No, you silly cow. It’s nothing to do with that.’ Pedro pushed her back and glared at Marie. ‘Hurry up!’
Marie picked up her coat and bag. She knew they were all staring suspiciously after her.
Striding through the empty club, Pedro led the way to the small room behind the bar. A long wooden draining board was cluttered with unwashed glasses. Stacks of wooden crates stood next to an
opening in the floor. Marie saw the draymen’s boards beneath. It was the entrance to the cellars.
‘Is Dad down there?’ she asked anxiously.
‘He’s so drunk he’s fallen over.’
‘Me dad wouldn’t do that.’
Pedro pointed a finger in her face. ‘If he’s not up them stairs quick he gets locked in for the night.’
Marie went to the trap door. She didn’t want to go down in the dark. The smell was awful.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Pedro demanded.
Stepping down to the first wooden stair, she held on to the draymen’s boards. The only light below came from a lantern nailed to a pillar. As she descended, the air reeked of decay. There
were scuffling noises all around and she knew there must be rats.
When she reached the bottom, she stood still. Cobwebs hung from the pillars and cast deep shadows. To her right a big barrel was turned on its side. Her father was sitting beside it on the wet
sawdust.
‘Dad, what happened?’ She went on her knees beside him.
‘The barrel fell on top of me and the ale spilled out.’
‘Pedro said you’d been drinking.’
He shook his head wearily. ‘No, my strength just gave out. That’s why I dropped the barrel.’
Marie pulled his arm round her shoulders. ‘I’ll help you to stand.’
Marie managed to help him to his feet, but he soon sank down again. ‘It’s no use, my dear. My legs are too weak.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll go and get Bing.’
He grasped her hand as she went to leave. ‘Be careful. Pedro is unpredictable.’
She nodded, giving a brief smile. ‘Bing will know what to do.’
‘Well, where is he?’ Pedro demanded when she climbed out of the cellar.
‘I need help to lift him.’
‘If he’s too drunk to get himself up those stairs, a night on his arse sobering up will teach him a lesson.’
Marie wanted to slap his face. Her hands folded into fists as she said defiantly, ‘He’s not drunk. He’s exhausted. The work you make him do is too heavy.’
‘He’s lucky to have a job.’ Pedro gripped her arm and pushed her out of the room.
‘I’m going to get a friend to help.’
Pedro just shrugged. ‘You’ll have to be quick as I’m closing up and the trap door’s going down.’
With a smirk on his face, he returned to the room.
Marie felt her blood run cold. She turned and ran out. Her heart was thumping as she hurried into the cold night. She looked around for Bing’s car and saw the dark shape under the
lamplight.
‘Bing, is that you?’
A car door banged. ‘Marie, what’s wrong?’
‘Dad’s fallen over in the cellar,’ she gasped. ‘I tried to help him, but he’s so weak he can’t walk.’
‘Didn’t anyone help him?’
‘Pedro accused him of being drunk. He said a night down there would teach him a lesson.’
Bing slipped his arm around her. ‘I’ll soon put a stop to his tricks. Where is the cellar?’
‘In the room behind the bar on the floor by some crates. There’s a trap door the draymen use for the barrels.’
He nodded, pushing her towards the car and opening the door. ‘Get in and keep warm. I won’t be long.’
‘Please be careful,’ she shouted from the open window. She didn’t want Bing to get into trouble like Charlie had. But, neither did she want her father locked in a cold cellar
all night.
Bing made his way through the narrow door and down the steps into the Duke’s. The room was deserted and in darkness, except for a pale light shining from a room behind
the bar. A tall man, wearing a dirty half-apron, appeared in the doorway.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded, as Bing strode towards him.
‘A friend of Hector Haskins.’
‘Then you ain’t welcome here.’
‘Don’t worry, chum, I ain’t planning to stay.’
The man, who Bing took to be Pedro, reached behind the bar. The blade of a knife glinted.
Bing froze. ‘I’m not after trouble,’ he said, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up. ‘I just want the old man.’
‘He ain’t going nowhere.’
Bing stared steadily into his dark eyes. ‘Don’t sound like a bright idea to me.’
‘You’ve got a big mouth, mister.’
‘So they tell me.’ Bing watched the tip of the knife point towards him. He wondered how handy Pedro was with it.
‘You ain’t a copper, are you?’
Bing shrugged. ‘No, I take care of my own business.’
The barman moved forward, the knife at waist level. Bing stepped back, lifting his hands from his sides. ‘Listen, Hector’s ruffled your feathers, right? But do you really want to
land yourself in hot water with your boss?’
‘What do you know about that?’ Pedro demanded sourly.
‘Enough to guess that, if the old man died, Wally wouldn’t thank you for the trouble of dumping him. Wally’s a busy man and a corpse turning up on his doorstep will give him
aggro.’ Bing held his breath. He could almost hear Pedro’s mind working. ‘Or you could step aside and let me take him.’
Bing glanced left and right. What escape route was there if Pedro should attack him? He looked for a chair he could grab to defend himself with, but they were all stacked by the tables.
To his surprise, Pedro retreated a few steps. He jabbed the knife towards the room. ‘Don’t try nothing clever or you’ll both regret it. I’ll give you five
minutes.’
Bing made for the room and, as Marie had said, found the trap door by a stack of crates. As he lifted it, the stink made his eyes water. A wooden flight of steps ended in semi-darkness on the
cellar floor.
‘Hector?’ he yelled, as he made his way down. A lantern flickered and gave light to the shadows. He looked up the stairs. Was Pedro planning to trick him?
‘Help!’ a voice shouted, and Bing hurried the last few steps. Making his way to an overturned barrel, he found Hector beside it.
‘Bing, is that you?’ Hector asked weakly. ‘Thank God. I thought that Pedro had done something to Marie.’
‘No worries there, she’s safe in the car,’ he whispered. ‘And you’re gonna be sitting beside her in no time at all.’
‘Be careful of Pedro.’
‘I’ve clocked him, don’t worry.’
Hector’s face was ghost-like in the eerie gloom. ‘I’m afraid I’m too weak to walk very far.’
‘Don’t worry, it’s a fireman’s lift for you.’
Before Hector could reply Bing thrust his hands under Hector’s limp body and hauled him up. Without pausing, he shoved his shoulder into Hector’s middle. One good pull and he was
over his shoulder. Standing up straight, right arm locked on Hector’s legs, he made his way back to the stairs. The smell of the rats and filth choked him and he paused for one last
breath.
The stairs creaked as he went up. A rat shot out from the crumbling walls. He took a sharp breath as his knees and thighs knotted. Cuffing the sweat quickly from his eyes, he found himself at
last in the room above.
Pedro was waiting for him, and he pressed cold steel to Bing’s throat. ‘I don’t know who you are, but you’re trouble.’
The palms of Bing’s hands filled with sweat. He felt the tip of the knife slide up to his jaw. He waited for the rip of skin, knowing that, with Hector on top of him, he was helpless.
Pedro laughed. Then, kicking hard at Bing’s backside, he sent him sprawling. It was only by luck that Bing didn’t fall, managing to steady both himself and Hector. The effort cost
him dearly as, winded and half-blinded by the sweat in his eyes, he shuffled his way out and across the room.
One day, he promised himself, he’d pay another call here and it wouldn’t be to shake the man’s hand. But it was Hector he was concerned for and, finding the short flight of
steps, he fumbled for the latch and let himself out.
Vesta walked around the room that she was rapidly beginning to tire of. Once, she had admired Teddy’s taste, now she was beginning to see its flaws. The dark-coloured
drapes shut out what sunlight could creep through the small windows, and the bare walls were bereft of family photographs or pictures. Teddy seemed to have no family or friends, and now, it seemed,
she didn’t either. She missed working at the Blue Flamingo and meeting people. But Teddy insisted she was destined for better things, which was why he approved of Bill.
Vesta looked out of the window and down onto the street to see if the big, chauffeur-driven car had arrived. It was a miserable January day, cold and gloomy. Why did Teddy have to leave her
today of all days? He said it was to go on business, but she suspected he was seeing other women again. They had quarrelled last night, and this morning Teddy had left without even waking her to
say goodbye.
The unhappy scene was still on her mind. ‘Can’t you go some other time?’ she had begged him when he told her that he had to be away. ‘I can’t read for Bill on my
own.’
‘Don’t whinge,’ he’d told her as he packed his bag. ‘All you’ll have to do is learn a few lines. What could be simpler? Even for you.’
‘What if I go wrong?’
‘You won’t.’
‘When will you be back?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Teddy, do you love me still?’
He’d turned, looking very angry. ‘If you let Bill down, you won’t get your chance again. I’ve put a lot of work into getting your career off the ground and all you can do
is complain. Do you want to go on the stage or not?’
She had tried not to cry. Tears only made him more angry. ‘Yes, I do, but—’
‘In this business there are no “buts”,’ he’d bellowed at her. ‘If you find a golden goose, you look after it. And Bill is your golden goose. I’ve done
all I can for you. Now you have to stand on your own two feet.’
She could smell him on the pillow. It was all she could do to talk herself into getting ready. She didn’t really want to be on her own with Bill. She still couldn’t forget what had
happened at Christmas.
Vesta took a sip of the gin and lime she had mixed. Did she look glamorous enough? Were these the right clothes to wear? ‘Teddy, are you with someone else?’ she whispered aloud.
Moving quickly across the room, she gazed into the long art deco mirror. The dress fitted her like a glove, just as Teddy had said it did. She loved it when they went up to the West End and to
the big stores. After their last shopping spree at New Year, Teddy had taken her to Bill’s apartment in Bloomsbury and shown her off.
His apartment was sumptuous. It was modern, unlike Ossmingley Manor, with paintings on the walls she didn’t understand at all, like squiggles and shapes, and lots of shiny floors that had
big furry rugs on them. During the evening, she had been introduced to some wealthy businessmen. At first, she had felt out of place and shy. But in no time at all, after their flattering
compliments, she was soon at ease. Sipping one of Bill’s famous cocktails, and smoking a cigarette that Teddy had inserted into a long cigarette holder for her, she had revelled in the
attention.
Vesta gazed once more in the mirror. How different she was from the shabbily dressed girl of last year! The deep crimson dress had a flirtatious flare to the skirt and draped in folds over her
legs. The shoulders were padded, just like the Hollywood actresses wore. She’d had her blonde waves permed fashionably, allowing the small, plate-shaped hat, the very latest in fashion, to
sit elegantly on her head.