Horace leaned back in his chair, lifting a glass to his lips and savouring the taste of fine brandy. They could both rot in hell, both Emma and her bastard, whilst he went on to make even more money.
‘Felicity,’ he shouted, pleased to see how his latest mistress sashayed into the room. This one was a bit different, a high-class filly, and if she played her cards right she could stay longer than the others. ‘Get me another drink,’ he ordered.
‘Is that all you’d like?’ she asked huskily.
‘It’ll do to start with,’ he said, all thoughts of Emma and the past fading as Felicity moved towards him.
Emma was smiling as she counted the takings. Another year had passed, but she’d been so busy that many of the earlier events of 1952 had gone unnoticed by her. Of course she’d been saddened when King George died in February, but after suffering a lung condition, at least he had died peacefully in his sleep.
If thoughts of her family invaded her mind, Emma would push them away, and in order to survive emotionally a hard shell had grown around her heart that she was determined nobody would be able to crack. Luke was the only one she still heard from, his letters infrequent but reading like sermons as he continued to beg her to give up the brothel. She didn’t answer them these days, but now she put her takings aside and picked up his last one to read again.
Dear Emma
,Dick has written to tell me that despite my prayers, you are still running a house of sin. Emma, please, can’t you see that it’s an abomination in God’s eyes? Our Saviour is loving and forgiving, and it is not too late to turn to Him…
Emma could read no more and, scrunching the letter into a ball, she tossed it into the bin, forcing Luke’s sanctimonious words from her mind as Doris entered the room.
‘We’ve done well, but there’s still not enough profit to buy the empty house next door,’ Emma told her.
‘Blimey, love, that’s a bit ambitious.’
‘I know, but after what happened last night, I’d like the business entirely separate from the house.’
‘But it’s already separate. We live down here and the rest goes on upstairs.’
‘I know that,’ Emma said impatiently, ‘but we all use the same entrance, and clients have to cross the hall to go upstairs. When that one turned nasty last night, it could have woken Tinker and I don’t want that happening again.’
‘All right, I know it was a bit hairy, but I dealt with it and it doesn’t happen very often. Most punters leave without a murmur. It’s just that the
bloke couldn’t perform and blamed Rose, wanting his money back.’
Emma sighed. Yes, Doris had dealt with it, but it could have been worse. What if the punter had forced his way into their private rooms? Oh, if only the clients didn’t have to infringe on their private quarters, albeit by using only the front door and hall.
An idea suddenly formed, one that could solve the problem, and Emma’s eyes lit up. ‘If we had a separate staircase, a way to turn the top floor into a self-contained flat, it would make all the difference.’
‘I suppose it could be done, but it won’t be easy. You’ve told me that the house isn’t in your name so are you sure you can alter it?’
‘I haven’t heard from my husband since he left me,’ Emma said dismissively, ‘and I doubt a builder would want to see the deeds to the house.’
‘You hope,’ Doris said.
Emma shrugged off Doris’s concern, asking instead, ‘How is Rose? Will she be able to work tonight?’
‘With a split lip, I doubt it.’
Emma huffed, annoyed that they were likely to be a girl short. ‘l hope she recovers soon or there’ll be a drop in profits.’
‘You and your profits. Honestly, Emma, I can’t get over how much you’ve changed. When I met
you just over a year ago you were so innocent, so high and mighty, and horrified at the idea of running a brothel, but now look at you, willing to work girls even if they aren’t really up to it.’
‘I wasn’t just an innocent, I was a fool.’
‘No, love, not a fool. You just had a bit of bad luck.’
‘Bad luck? I was raped, Doris!’
‘Christ, when are you gonna let it go? You’ve become bitter, twisted and hard as nails. All right, that bastard Derivale raped you, but it was a long time ago now.’
‘To you, maybe, but I can’t forget it, and never will.’
‘Oh, I see, so you’re saying that because I was a prostitute, rape wouldn’t have affected me?’
‘No, I’m not saying that, but you have to admit that for you, it wouldn’t have been as bad.’
Doris’s face hardened and she reared to her feet. ‘I’ve got a lot to thank you for, Emma, and you’ve been good to me, but sometimes you go too far. Despite running a brothel, you still think yourself a cut above the rest of us and I’m just about sick of it.’
Doris stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her, whilst Emma’s lips thinned. Who the bloody hell did Doris think she was? Yes, it was true, she’d grown hard, but after what she had been through it was hardly surprising.
She had lost her family and, all right, she was running a brothel, but it was just a means to an end. A way of making money, lots of money. She wanted to be rich, to never let a man, any man, have control over her again–not her father, not her husband, not another Maurice Derivale. They were all pigs and she would use them–use their weaknesses–to make her fortune.
Emma eventually calmed down, and with this came the realisation that Doris was right. She
had
said that rape wouldn’t have been as bad for her. Now she lowered her eyes in shame. She owed Doris an apology and, rising to her feet, Emma made for the kitchen, but as she passed the street door, someone rattled the letterbox.
‘Dick!’ she exclaimed, surprised when she saw her brother on the step. Had he changed his mind? Had he decided not to cast her out? ‘Would you like to come in?’ she asked eagerly.
Dick’s expression showed his distaste. ‘Is this still a knocking shop?’
‘If that’s what you want to call it.’
‘In that case, I won’t come in.’
Emma’s expression hardened. ‘What do you want, Dick? After all this time, have you come to give me another lecture?’
‘Would it do any good?’
‘No, so don’t waste your breath.’
‘All right, I won’t, but I was hoping that you’d have come to your senses. Anyway, just so you know, I’ve got my call-up papers and I’m off to do my national service.’
‘What about your stall?’
‘Mandy’s brother is going to run it for me, and when I’ve finished my stint in the army, I’m gonna become a Salvationist and me and Mandy are going to get married.’
‘I’m pleased for you.’
‘Don’t give me that, Em. You don’t give a sod about me, or anyone else in the family.’
‘That isn’t true.’
‘Yes it is. When was the last time you went to see Archie and James?’
Emma lowered her eyes guiltily. It was true, she hadn’t been to see James and Archie, convincing herself that it was for their own good, yet in truth she was ashamed and feared the inevitable questions from Alice about how she made her money. Hiding her feelings she said brusquely, ‘Oh, and you go to visit them regularly, do you?’
‘Well, no, but if Alice has them with her when she comes to the market, we always have a little chat.’
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ Emma said sarcastically.
‘You don’t care about the girls either.’
‘For God’s sake, come off it, Dick! You know I
tried to write to them, but Dad returned my letters.’
‘So you just gave up.’
‘Eventually, yes, but what about you? Have you been in touch with them?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘So who are you to stand in judgement of me?’
‘What about Luke? I know he’s been writing to you.’
‘Oh yes, he writes, but his letters read like sermons.’
‘You’re running a knocking shop so what do you expect? Like me, he’s ashamed of you.’
Emma bristled. ‘Just why have you come to see me, Dick? I can’t believe it’s just to tell me that you’re off to do your national service.’
‘If you must know, it was Mandy’s idea. She said everyone can be saved and I should give it another go.’
‘I don’t need saving, thank you. I’m fine.’
‘No you’re not, Em, you’re a tart and our mum must be turning in her grave.’
Emma blanched but fought to hide her feelings, forcing her voice to drip with sarcasm instead. ‘Hark at you, Mr Perfect all of a sudden. Just go away, Dick. Go and do your national service and maybe it’ll make you grow up. At least I hope so.’
‘I’m going, and it’ll be the last you’ll see of me.
As I said before, you’re no sister of mine, and I’m glad that Mum ain’t alive to see what you’ve become.’
Emma slammed the door, marching to the kitchen with her back stiff. How dare he throw their mother in her face!
She walked to the window, gazing out on the garden, her arms folded defensively across her chest.
‘I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that before.’
She spun round to see Doris in the doorway. ‘No, it’s me who should apologise. You’re right, I have been acting like Lady Muck and I’m not surprised at my nickname, but it won’t happen again.’
Doris smiled. ‘No, Emma, if truth be known you
are
a bit different from the rest of us. You run this place, but you don’t sleep with the punters.’
‘Nor do you, Doris, not any more, and I couldn’t manage without you.’ Emma didn’t want to think about Dick, about the things he had said, and now pulled out a chair. She needed distraction. ‘Come on, let’s sit down and see if we can plan some alterations to the house.’
‘Who was that at the door?’
‘It was my brother, but we won’t be seeing him again.’
Doris sat down, her hand reaching out to cover Emma’s. ‘Did he have a go at you?’
‘Yes, but it doesn’t matter. It would take a lot
more than Dick to upset me these days.’ She forced a smile, willing it to be true, and grabbed a notepad and pencil. ‘Let’s forget my brother. As I said, I’d like to turn the house into two self-contained flats. If we can somehow have a staircase installed, do you think the clients would mind using the side entrance?’
‘Leave it out, love. Most of the punters skulk up the front stairs, and though they’re pretty shielded by shrubs, I’m sure they’d prefer to scuttle around to the side of the house.’
‘Good, that’s one problem solved. But we’ll need to have a bathroom put in down here.’
‘Yeah, and a kitchen upstairs.’
Emma’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I don’t think the girls will need a kitchen. After all, they’re not here to cook meals.’
Doris chuckled. ‘Yeah, you’re right. As long as they’ve got somewhere to make a drink between punters, they’ll be happy.’
Emma drew a rough sketch, but was flummoxed by how to fit in a separate staircase. ‘It’s no good, Doris. I need someone to give me advice, a builder.’
‘I know just the bloke. He’s a bit of a rough diamond, and won’t ask any questions. If you give him the job he’ll do it on the cheap for cash.’
‘That’s fine with me,’ Emma said, relieved she wouldn’t have to worry about the deeds, ‘but when can you get hold of him?’
‘I could pop down to see him now, if you like.’
‘Yes, do that. If he can find a way to install a staircase and gives me a good price, the job’s his.’
‘Right, you’re on.’ As she stood, Doris added, ‘You may get a bit of a shock when you see Terry Green. He’s a big bloke and looks intimidating, but he’s a bit of a softie really.’
‘As long as he can get the job done, I don’t care what he looks like.’
Doris giggled as she left the room, saying over her shoulder, ‘I still can’t wait to see your face when you meet him. See you later, love.’
As soon as Doris left, Emma went back to her plans. She wanted as little disruption to the business as possible, and somehow the girls would have to carry on working. She frowned, tapping the pencil on her teeth. The building work was going to be noisy but, once completed, maybe they could extend their hours, the girls seeing punters during the day. It would increase profits, but to see if it was feasible, she’d have to speak to Doris.
She heard a cry and rose to her feet. Tinker was waking from her afternoon nap. At the moment Emma was able to keep the business activities away from her daughter, more so when they were self-contained, but when Tinker was older a separate house would be imperative. She
had
to make more money.
‘Emma, this is Terry Green,’ Doris said later that day.
Oh my God, Emma thought, her neck craning as she looked up at the man. He was at least six feet three, with massive shoulders, but as he looked down on her she saw that his smile was gentle. ‘Er…how do you do, Mr Green?’
‘Terry, call me Terry, Mrs Bell. Doris tells me that you want some work done on the house?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, but then saw Doris doing a fair imitation of a gorilla behind Terry’s back. Choking back laughter and holding a hand over her mouth, she spluttered, ‘Please, would you excuse me for a moment,’ and was only just able to make it to the hall before doubling over with mirth.
‘Well, that’s nice, ain’t it?’ Doris said as she joined her. ‘It’s good to see you having a laugh for a change, but fancy scooting out like that. I’ve
told Terry to sit down and I’m off to make him a cup of tea. I just hope he didn’t hear you laughing your socks off.’
‘But it’s your fault! You were prancing about like a gorilla. If you ask me, it’s lucky he didn’t see you.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about Terry. I told you, he’s a lovely bloke, but when you talk to him you’re in for a treat.’
‘What do you mean?’
Doris grinned. ‘I think I’ll leave you to find out for yourself.’
‘God, I’ve left Tinker in there. He isn’t a sandwich short of a picnic, is he?’
‘Oh, no, Terry’s bright enough, but I’m not saying anything else. Anyway, you’d best get back in.’
Fearing for her daughter, Emma rushed to the drawing room, but then halted on the threshold. Terry was holding Tinker in the air, bouncing her up and down in massive hands, and what was more, Tinker was giggling, obviously loving it.