‘You’ve got a way with kids,’ Doris said as she watched them depart. ‘I reckon you’d make a
smashing dad–and I wouldn’t mind being a mum one day,’ she said hopefully.
Terry knew he had to nip this in the bud. Doris was making her feelings more and more obvious. ‘Yeah, I might have a way with Tinker, but I’m getting nowhere with her mother.’
‘Emma! Don’t tell me you’ve got your eye on Emma.’
‘Well, you’ve got to admit she’s a smasher.’
‘You haven’t got a chance. Emma isn’t interested in men.’
‘Blimey…don’t tell me she prefers women?’
‘No, of course not, but she hates men. Not only that, Emma’s frigid.’
Terry stared at Doris, sure that it wasn’t true. It was just sour grapes, it had to be.
‘Come on,’ she now said, ‘it’s time for us to open up.’
Terry, his mind still on Emma, rose to his feet and followed Doris upstairs. Only ten minutes later the girls began to arrive, their banter at first going over his head. In the small sitting room they used to wait for punters, Lena put the kettle on, and the noise of cups rattling finally broke into his thoughts.
‘Here, Terry, my old man is talking about buying a car,’ Maureen chirped.
Terry smiled thinly, noting Maureen’s blousy appearance. Her skirt was short, revealing pudgy
knees, and her tight sweater low cut. ‘Is he? New or second-hand?’
‘He fancies a new one, but I’ll have to increase my shifts to raise the money.’
Maureen’s husband knew that she was on the game, and it never ceased to amaze Terry. ‘How does your old man feel about that?’
‘Oh, he won’t mind. He’s a funny sod and when we’re at it, he loves me to describe how the punters perform.’ She winked. ‘It sort of titillates him, if you know what I mean.’
Lena, a slim thirty-year-old with bleached, platinum-blonde hair, paused with the teapot in her hand, lips pursed. ‘It sounds a bit sick, if you ask me,’ she commented. ‘Blimey, if my old man found out what I was up to, he’d kill me.’
‘My boyfriend knows, but never mentions it,’ said Jane, the youngest of the group, her innocent face belying her trade. ‘He’s happy to take the money I earn and most of it goes down his throat in whisky.’
‘You’re mad to put up with it. I’ve told you before, you should tell him that what you earn is yours, and if he doesn’t like it, he can bugger off,’ Lena snapped.
‘Yeah, you’ve told me, and if you remember, when I took your advice all I had to show for it was a black eye.’
‘So leave him.’
‘Oh, no, I couldn’t do that,’ Jane protested, raising a hand to flick long, dark hair away from her face. ‘He might be a drinker, but he cares about me.’
‘Cares about you? Are you mad, girl?’ Maureen said. ‘If my old man so much as raised a finger to me, I’d tear his head off and you should do the same.’
Their doorbell rang and Terry went down to answer it, returning with another of the girls.
‘Watcha,’ said Elsie, a redhead who tottered on high heels. Her eyes swept over them and, sensing the atmosphere, she added, ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s nothing,’ Doris said, ‘just a difference of opinion. Now, before any punters arrive, I want a word with you about the rooms. The girls on the evening shift have complained about the state they’re left in and Mrs Bell isn’t happy about it. She cleans the rooms every morning, and they’re immaculate when you start work, but by the time you leave they’re a tip. She doesn’t mind changing the sheets, but that should be all that needs doing. You, for instance, Lena, left face powder all over the dressing table yesterday.’
‘Oh, I do beg your pardon, I’m sure,’ Lena said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she folded pudgy arms defensively under her huge bust. ‘Didn’t Her Highness like clearing it up?’
‘That’s enough,’ Doris snapped. ‘This house is
Mrs Bell’s and if it wasn’t for her, you’d be plying your trade on the streets.’
‘Yeah, maybe, but she does all right out of us, taking a good percentage of what we earn.’
‘And you do all right too. You’re well looked after, safe, but if you’d prefer a pimp, you’re welcome to leave. That goes for all of you.’
‘I ain’t complaining,’ Maureen protested, ‘but I don’t leave my room in a mess.’
‘I know. But as for the rest of you, I’ve said my piece and we’ll leave it at that.’
There were a few murmurs of dissent, but Doris ignored them, and as the doorbell rang again, the girls fussed with their appearances whilst Doris went downstairs to let in the first punter of the day.
Terry kept out of the way, knowing his presence could put a punter off, but he remained in hearing distance whilst the man made his selection. In his fifties he was a familiar face, a regular. As usual he chose Jane. The man had never caused any problems, paying up without complaint, and Terry relaxed.
Jane led the man to her room, and Terry closed his mind to what went on inside. He knew that within half an hour, Jane would be available again, and as she was a popular girl, more men would follow. He grimaced. He was a minder, for Gawd’s sake, but couldn’t help his prudish attitude. He
looked after the girls, liked them, but there wasn’t one he would touch with a barge pole. His mind drifted back to Emma, still unable to believe what Doris had said. Once again he was sure that it was sour grapes, Doris only saying that because he refused to show any interest in her.
A month later, Emma was walking towards the grocer’s when she saw the young man walking towards her, and halted in her tracks. He drew closer, his face set and unsmiling, whereas Emma’s lips turned upwards.
‘My goodness, Luke, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You never mentioned that you were coming over.’
‘I had to get permission to leave my studies, but I just had to come.’ His eyes went to the pushchair. ‘She’s beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘So pretty…so innocent.’
Emma saw that Tinker was frowning as she looked up at Luke and was saddened. This was her uncle yet, like the rest of her family, he was a stranger to her.
‘I suppose you’ve heard that Dick is doing his national service. Have you been to see anyone else?’
‘No, Emma. I travelled from Ireland for one specific purpose, and that is to see you. You’ve ignored my letters but I have to make you see the error of your ways.’
Luke’s voice was pompous, older-sounding than his years, and Emma protested, ‘Oh no, not another sermon.’
‘Emma, can’t you see that what you are doing is an abomination? Before I left for Ireland I feared for you. I warned you there would be a time when you became desperate and told you to go to Dick. Yet even I didn’t foresee this. When Dick first wrote to tell me what you were up to, I was shocked to the core, but felt sure you would come to your senses. It seems I was wrong. I have prayed for you, constantly, but you’re still running a house of sin.’
Emma’s back was rigid. Luke had been her favourite brother, but the young man standing before her now a stranger. ‘Well, Luke, I’m sorry that you’ve had to be dragged away from your studies, but I’m doing what I have to do in order to survive.’
‘There are other ways, Emma. You must stop. You must find a decent way to make a living. If you turn to God, pray for redemption, He will help you.’
‘God! Don’t make me laugh. Where was God when I was half starving? Where was God when I tried to earn a so-called decent living? Where was God when I was raped by my first lodger?’
Luke blanched, but then recovered his equilibrium. ‘Oh, Emma, I am so sorry to hear that you have suffered, but you have a daughter, a beautiful innocent child. How can you bring her up in a brothel? How can you taint her with your sinful ways?’
Emma’s eyes were rounded with shock as she listened to her brother. Sinful, he thought her sinful, yet in truth she felt more sinned against. Without any understanding of what she had been through, he was judging her, and her voice now echoed her anger.
‘How dare you? I don’t sleep with the clients and never will. As for my daughter, she will
not
be tainted and I’ll see to that. Now I suggest you go back to Ireland and in future keep your nose out of my business.’
‘No, Emma, I’m not going anywhere until you’ve come to your senses.’
‘I didn’t invite you here, Luke, and I certainly don’t have to listen to you.’
‘Please, Emma, please…for the sake of your child…’
Tinker was crying now, obviously upset by the argument.
Swinging the pushchair round, Emma spat, ‘Just go away, Luke. Save your lectures and sermons for those that want to hear them.’
Emma didn’t look back as she marched home,
her shopping forgotten as anger coursed through her veins.
It took a while to comfort Tinker, and Emma stayed with her, holding her hand until she fell asleep. She then crept from the room, the encounter with Luke and his harsh words consuming her mind. Now that her anger had abated, she felt a wave of sadness. Why did her brothers have to be so judgemental? She wasn’t like the girls, she didn’t sleep with the punters, and if they weren’t using her house, they would only ply their trade elsewhere, perhaps facing the dangers of the streets.
For a while Emma just sat, reliving her childhood and the relationship she had once shared with her brothers–a relationship that because she wouldn’t do as they asked had become well and truly severed. Luke, like Dick, wanted her to close the business, but she had no intention of doing that, no intention of ever returning to a life of poverty. On that thought, Emma rose to her feet and, grabbing her cleaning materials, decided to tackle some housework, vigorously polishing her furniture whilst her heart grew even harder as she forced her brother from her mind.
An hour later she peeped in on Tinker, finding her daughter awake.
‘Hello, darling.’
‘Where’s Tewwy?’
‘He’s busy, darling.’
‘Want Tewwy!’
Emma could see that a tantrum was imminent, and felt a wave of annoyance. Terry was the only one who seemed to have any control over her daughter. She had hoped to keep the child away from the man, but it seemed impossible. From the start, she should have kept to her resolution that these private quarters remained private and off limits to Terry.
Of course it didn’t help that Doris welcomed the man in every time he knocked on the door, and now she couldn’t think of a good excuse to keep him out.
‘You’ll see Terry soon,’ she promised, taking Tinker through to the kitchen where she poured her a glass of juice.
The child began to play with her numerous toys, and as Emma watched her, she couldn’t help thinking of her sisters and how little they had had in comparison. Peg or rag dolls had been their playthings, but things had improved when her father married Polly. At that thought, Luke entered her mind again, but she forced him away, forced them all away. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, think about her family.
Her idea of opening in the afternoon had paid dividends and the money was rolling in. She had
already almost replenished the money laid out on the alterations, and soon she’d be able to replace more of the furniture that she’d been forced to sell. She just hoped that Doris had spoken to the girls, ensuring that they kept the rooms up to scratch.
Half an hour later there was a knock on the front door. Emma picked Tinker up, and went to answer it. Surely it wasn’t Luke? Surely he hadn’t come back to give her another lecture? Frowning, she opened the door to see a middle-aged man sporting a trilby hat.
‘Yes, can I help you?’
He looked furtively over his shoulder and, seeing this action she snapped, ‘Use the side entrance.’
His brow rose, and for a moment Emma thought she saw a hint of amusement in his eyes, but then after briefly raising his hat, he said, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ before walking back down the front steps and heading around the corner of the house.
Emma sharply closed the door, annoyed. It didn’t happen often that clients knocked on the front door, but any intrusion from the business side of the house into her private quarters annoyed her. Maybe they should make the sign larger, the small plaque at the bottom of the drive only saying ‘French Lessons’ with an arrow pointing to the
side entrance. French lessons–what a joke–but it mostly did the trick.
With a sigh, Emma decided to talk to Terry about making the directions more obvious, and then settling Tinker with her toys again, she began to clean the cooker. Doris said she was obsessed with cleaning, but Emma didn’t care. She wanted everything perfect, every room sparkling clean, and anyway, she didn’t want Tinker picking up any germs.
It was ten o’clock at night when Emma heard the door at the top of the stairs opening and footsteps hurrying down the stairs. It was unusual for Doris to take a break at this time, and she felt a shiver of apprehension when she saw the expression on her friend’s face as she burst into the room.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘We’ve got a problem, Em, and a big one.’
‘I didn’t hear anything. Is someone causing trouble again?’
‘Yeah, but not in the way you think.’ Doris flopped down beside Emma, exhaling loudly. ‘There’s someone upstairs who wants a backhander and I don’t think we’ve got a lot of choice.’
‘Doris, for God’s sake, what are you talking about?’
‘It’s a copper, from CID, and if you want to keep this place open we’ll have to keep him sweet.’
‘No! I can’t believe it. Surely you’ve got it wrong! Plain clothes or not, he’s still a policeman.’
‘Gawd, wake up, girl. All right, most coppers are straight, and those in uniform are the best, but even so, there are a few bent ones.’
‘How much does he want?’
‘I dunno. He insists on talking to you.’
‘No, no, I don’t want to. Can’t you do it?’
‘I tried, but he ain’t having it. For once, girl, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty.’
Doris had warned her that this might happen, but she hadn’t believed her. Emma wanted to run, to hide, but knew she had to see this man. ‘All right, bring him down.’
When the man walked into the room, Emma’s jaw dropped.
‘Good evening, ma’am,’ he said, and though this time he wasn’t wearing his hat, Emma immediately recognised him.