‘The bastard! Did you get the law on him?’
‘No, I was too ashamed.’
‘But why, you daft mare? You ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘I just couldn’t face it, Doris. I haven’t told anyone, not even my brother. Dick would kill Maurice Derivale if he knew, and I wouldn’t want that on my conscience. Instead, I’ve come up with another idea.’
‘Oh yeah. What are you gonna do then? Cut his balls off? It’d be no more than he deserves.’
‘I wish I could,’ Emma said, pausing as she chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t want to risk taking in lodgers now, but…well…I think I might take up your suggestion.’
‘My suggestion? What do you mean?’
‘Doris, I know you said you’re giving up the
game, and you probably don’t want to get involved, but what I want to do is this…’
When Emma had finished speaking, Doris replied in astonishment and her voice was high. ‘What? You want me to come to live with you and to help turn your house into a brothel?’
‘Why are you so shocked? It was you who gave me the idea.’
‘Yeah, but I never expected you to take it seriously. Blimey, Emma, have you got any idea what you’re letting yourself in for?’
‘No, not really, but I’ve got a few plans. I think we could live on the ground floor, turning the dining room into a bedroom for Tinker and me. You could have the study. It isn’t huge, but will take a single bed and a wardrobe. That will leave the whole of the upstairs free for the business.’
‘Yeah, that makes sense, but I still don’t think you’ve thought it through. Christ, Emma, you just ain’t the type to be a madam!’
‘I know that, and that’s why I’m asking you to come in with me.’ Then seeing the expression on Doris’s face, she added hastily, ‘You won’t have to sleep with…with the clients. You see, I thought that maybe I could see to the practical side of things–looking after the rooms, the cleaning, along with the finances–whilst you take over the rest. You could recruit the girls and when we’re up and running, you could act as a sort of hostess.’
‘I dunno, Em. Like I said, I want to get out of the game. After all these years, I want a fresh start, to live a normal life.’
Emma played her last card, her expression earnest. ‘I understand, but if you change your mind, well, I’ll give you a good share of the profits. You won’t have any rent to pay, or keep, and will be able to build up a nice little nest egg. One day you might even save enough to buy a place of your own.’
Doris was silent for a moment, her eyes shadowed, but then she said, ‘It’s tempting, I’ll admit that, but I’ll have to think about it. But even if I agree to come in with you, are you really sure you know what you’re doing? There’ll be risks involved, and one of them would be the police. If they get wind of the place, we could both end up in the nick.’
‘Yes, I’ve thought about that, but I think the risk is minimal. My house is in an ideal spot. It faces the Common, we aren’t overlooked, and you’ve got to admit that it’s a quiet area at night.’
‘Yeah, but all that would change when punters start knocking at the door.’
‘The drive is sheltered by shrubbery, and surely they won’t all turn up at once? We could think of some sort of front, put up a plaque or something to explain the callers. Maybe say it’s a dance academy or something like that?’
‘Blimey, Em, you really are a dark horse. I had no idea you had such a devious mind.’
‘I’m not devious, Doris, just desperate. I need to make money, enough to ensure my daughter’s future. Not only that, I want to be my own woman, a woman who is never dependent on a man again.’
Once again Doris was quiet whilst Emma sat facing her, holding her breath, thinking, Oh, let her agree. Please let her agree.
Finally Doris looked up and their eyes met. ‘All right, Em, I’ve thought about it. With all my earnings on the game going into paying the rent and looking after Mum, I’ve no savings. I haven’t any skills and if I get a job of some sort, it won’t pay much and may not even be enough to scrape by. I’d certainly never be in a position to buy a place of my own.’
‘Does…does that mean…?’
For the first time since her mother’s death, Doris chuckled. ‘Yeah, I’m in. When do we start?’
‘As soon as you’ve packed your bags.’
‘Well, love, there’s no time like the present,’ Doris said, rising to her feet.
In less than three months, the business was up and running. Doris had recruited the girls, all of whom were glad to give up working the streets. Emma was relieved that Doris was dealing with that side of the business, finding herself unable to relate to these women who sold their bodies for money.
At first Emma had tried, greeting the girls when they turned up for work; but her attitude obviously rubbed them up the wrong way and she knew they had taken to calling her Lady Muck, a name that Dick had once used.
The girls Doris had recruited seemed harder, blowsier than Doris herself, and though they may have had good reasons for turning to prostitution, Emma didn’t want to know, preferring to keep things on a business footing. A deal had been cut, one that gave Emma a percentage of the girls’ earnings that Doris had assured her was fair.
Nowadays, Emma kept out of the way, concentrating instead of keeping their girls’ rooms sparkling clean and dealing with the accounts. When the men called, she kept out of sight, leaving Doris to take them upstairs to make their selection.
Emma frowned, unable to help shuddering when she thought about what went on above her head, but with money now rolling in, she closed her mind to it.
One evening, at about eight o’clock, there was a knock on the door. Assuming it was a client, Emma left Doris to answer it. When the drawing-room door swung open, Emma stiffened.
‘Goodness! Hello stranger,’ she said, rising to her feet.
‘What’s going on, Em?’ Dick snapped.
‘Going on? What do you mean?’
‘There’s word on the grapevine that you’re running a knocking shop. Tell me it ain’t true.’
Emma reddened and, lowering her eyes, she nodded. ‘It’s true.’
‘You must be fucking joking.’
‘Please don’t swear, Dick.’
His laugh was derisive. ‘Don’t swear! You’re a fucking madam, but you’ve got the cheek to tell me not to swear! Well, let me tell you, I don’t use bad language nowadays because Mandy wouldn’t like it, but you’re enough to make a bleedin’ saint
swear!’ He lifted a hand, fingers raking through his hair. ‘Christ, I can’t believe this. My sister, running a knocking shop! Have you gone out of your mind?’
‘No, Dick, I’m doing this because I haven’t any choice.’
‘No choice! What the hell are you talking about? Has someone forced you into this, because if they have I’ll take their bloody head off.’
‘No, it isn’t like that. Look, I was desperate for money. You know I tried taking in lodgers, but it didn’t work. This seemed the only answer.’
‘The only answer?’ Dick yelled. ‘Of course it ain’t the only answer. If you needed money you should have come to me.’
‘Don’t be silly. The costs of running this house are exorbitant, and that’s without buying food. You couldn’t have helped me.’
‘Hark at yourself! I see you’re still spouting your big words. Huh, exorbitant indeed. You’re just making excuses, Em. You don’t have to stay in this place. You could find something smaller; in fact, do anything rather than running a bloody brothel.’
‘Leave and go where? I can’t sell this place, Horace saw to that, and if I left here to go somewhere else I’d have rent to pay.’
‘Decent women don’t run brothels. Blimey, my Mandy would rather live in a hovel and take on cleaning jobs than do this.’
‘Well, bully for her, but I’ve lived in a hovel, Dick, we both have, and there is no way I intend to go back to that. I want a better life for my daughter, one in which she wants for nothing, and this is the way to achieve that.’
‘What! Having a mother who’s a madam? You’re out of your mind.’ His voice softened suddenly, becoming a plea. ‘Please, Em, see sense. You got to close this place down.’
‘No, Dick, I haven’t
got
to do anything.’
‘Christ,’ he cried, fingers once again raking his hair in agitation, ‘when I was told what you’re up to, I nearly died of shame. God knows what Luke will say when he hears about it. Please, Em, please see sense.’
‘For the first time in ages I
am
seeing sense. For once, I have plenty of food in the cupboard and my daughter has decent clothes on her back.’
Dick’s face darkened. ‘Either you pack this game in or you’ll never see me again. You’ll be no sister of mine.’
Emma hid her feelings, concealed her sadness in a show of bravado. ‘If that’s how you want it, that’s fine with me.’
For a moment, Dick stood glaring at her, but then he yelled, ‘Right, sod you, I’m off and you won’t see me again. Luke either, when I write to tell him what you’re up to.’
With that, Dick swung on his heels and the
door slammed shut behind him. Emma slumped. She had acted with bravado, but now the ramifications of her actions hit her. She knew that Dick meant every word he had said, that she was losing her brother, but oh, she was just starting to make money. After struggling for so long, after trying to take in lodgers, only to be raped, she now had a good income, one that she couldn’t–and wouldn’t–give up.
There was a small cry. Their angry voices had disturbed Tinker and, forcing herself to overcome her tears, Emma went to the bedroom, quietening her daughter down. All the time her mind churned. She and her brothers had grown distant, all leading their own lives, but even so, the thought of never seeing Luke or Dick again was hard for Emma to bear. What should she do? Should she close down? And if she did, how was she going to survive?
Emma’s head began to thump, the pain a band around her forehead. She felt drained, torn in two, but finally, irrevocably, unable to think of any other way, she knew she had to carry on–had to run the brothel to secure her financial security. She fought to push her brothers from her mind, her survival instincts kicking in as she hardened her heart once more, putting up emotional barriers. Frozen-faced, she left her daughter’s side to return to the drawing room.
* * *
‘Well, that’s another night over with,’ Doris said as she closed the door at the end of business. ‘We didn’t do bad, but Jenny’s leaving.’
‘Leaving! Why?’
‘’Cos she’s up the spout.’
‘What! You’re telling me that one of the punters got her pregnant?’
‘No, you daft cow. It’s her old man’s, and her third kid. You could have knocked me down with a feather when she told me she’s four months gone. I didn’t see any sign of it.’
‘My God, I had no idea that Jenny’s married, and has a family.’
‘She ain’t the only one that’s married. Eva is too.’
‘Do their husbands know that they’re…they’re…’
‘Prostitutes,’ Doris finished for her. ‘Blimey, Em, the word still sticks in your craw, doesn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘They ain’t a bad bunch. All right, they’re on the game, but they ain’t robbers or murderers. And to answer your question, yes, sometimes the husbands know. Oh, don’t look so shocked. A lot of prostitutes are married women. They like the money, the means to buy what their husband’s wages can’t provide. I know one girl whose old man knows what’s going on, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think he enjoys the extra cash too.’
Emma shook her head, unable to comprehend how a man could let his wife sell her body. What sort of men were they? She scowled, shaking her head. She shouldn’t be surprised–nothing men did should surprise her any more. She took the money Doris proffered, counted it, and handed the woman her cut.
‘You’ll have to scout around for a replacement for Jenny.’
‘Yeah, I’ll get on to it first thing tomorrow. But what’s up, Em? You’re a bit down in the mouth.’
‘Oh, it’s my brother. He went mad about the brothel.’
‘Well, that ain’t surprising really. He’ll get over it.’
‘No, I don’t think so. He’s changed so much, courting a girl in the Sally Army, and unless I close down I won’t see him again.’
‘What are you gonna do?’
‘I’m not shutting shop, that’s for sure.’ Emma sighed heavily. ‘Maybe he’ll come round eventually, but I won’t count on it.’
Doris offered more words of sympathy, but then said she was bone tired and was going to turn in.
‘Yes, me too,’ Emma said. She still found herself having to push thoughts of Dick away, concentrating instead on the cleaning she would have to undertake in the morning. She hated going
upstairs, hated changing the sheets on the beds, holding them away from her as if contaminated. Every room seemed to smell of sex and cheap perfume, but cleaning them was preferable to taking on Doris’s role, something she could never do.
Emma went to her room, where standing by the cot, she gazed down at Tinker. The night’s takings were still clutched in her hand, and though she hated what she was doing, what the house had become, the money would ensure her daughter’s future. Yes, she had lost Dick, and Luke, but not for Tinker the poverty they had known. An icy coldness encased her heart. As long as there were men willing to pay for their so-called pleasure, she would let them, and the cash would continue to roll in.
Horace Bell steepled his fingers under his chin. Several months had passed since he’d arranged to have Emma checked on. He’d left, expecting to let the past go, but the thought of Emma profiting from the house–
his house
–had played on his mind. He’d been told that she was struggling, trying to take in lodgers, and if Maurice Derivale’s report was accurate, so hard up that the house would probably fall around her ears from lack of maintenance. Huh, lodgers! Even if she filled every room, she’d never be a rich woman. Horace smiled in satisfaction at the thought.
So be it, he decided, all emotional feelings for the property now dead–as dead as his marriage. He wouldn’t check up on Emma again and his only remaining regret was that, legally, she was still his wife. For a moment Horace frowned, annoyed that the man’s report on Emma had included mention of the child. A girl. Thankfully he had got out before he’d been lumbered with the brat. A brat he was convinced wasn’t his.