Trust Me (64 page)

Read Trust Me Online

Authors: Lesley Pearse

Tags: #Historical Fiction, #1947-1963

‘She was always an actress even as a little girl,’ Dulcie said. ‘What I don’t understand though is why if you wanted to marry her, she didn’t take you up on it? I mean, if she’d only used you to get to Sydney, and didn’t really care about you, surely she’d have been off immediately?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘That was the biggest puzzle when she first left. But now I know the truth about her, it strikes me she realized it would all come out in a wedding ceremony. You have to show documents, birth certificate, etc. I was talking too of taking her to Siam for a honeymoon, how could she explain that she didn’t have a passport?’

‘So you think she panicked?’

‘Well, I did keep pressing her, I thought she was twenty-one you, see, so she wouldn’t need her parents’ permission.’

Dulcie thought on this for a bit. ‘I can understand her running off because she didn’t want to be found to be a liar, or because she found someone she liked better. But why go if she was expecting a baby? That’s a time when any woman would want the security of a man who loves her. You’d think she’d have hung on at least until it was born, stringing you along about getting married.’

‘That’s the part I still can’t figure out,’ he said woefully. ‘Let’s go for a walk round, have some lunch, and it might come to us.’

Dulcie was entranced by Sydney. She thought it had everything, the beautiful harbour, glorious parks, fantastic shops, the hustle and bustle of London yet with clean air and sunshine. Perth was so new and flat that even if it was clean and admirable in almost every way, it was dull compared with Sydney. The city butted right on to the Circular Quay and there were winding, quite steep hills to take you away from the water front. The Botanical Gardens rivalled even Greenwich Park back home for its formal flowerbeds and exquisite trees and shrubs. Here at last there was history, maybe less than a couple of hundred years of it, and much of that very shameful, but it was astounding to think that a city of such beauty had been built by prisoners.

Rudie clearly loved it too, for he pointed out the marvels of engineering in the bridge, the volume of ships coming into the harbour, the many trees, the new tall buildings which he said would probably rival New York’s skyscrapers in time. He showed her pretty Victorian terraces with delicate lacy iron balconies, and spoke of the splendid museum, art gallery and theatres he hoped her could take her to while she was here.

Dulcie already liked Rudie. He was easy to be with, conversation flowed between them effortlessly. She thought maybe it was his artistic temperament which made him so different to other men she had met, he liked women’s company, he spoke of them affectionately, as equals. Yet one of the nicest things about him was his lack of ego. It was obvious from his clothes, quiet confidence and bearing that he was as successful as Jennifer Alcott had said, but he called himself a
painter,
rather than an artist, and referred to his work disparagingly as
daubs.
She had also learnt from Nancy that he intended to pay the entire hotel bill for as long as it was necessary for her to stay here. Though she felt a little embarrassed by such generosity, it was something of a relief for she’d been worried about the cost.

It was while they walked in the Botanical Gardens after lunch that he rather abruptly said he must talk now about what he knew of May’s present circumstances.

‘I didn’t want to launch into it as soon as you got here,’ he said with a big sigh. ‘I wanted to give you time to acclimatize and for us to get to know one another first. But I can see now it’s not going to get any easier through waiting.’

‘I’d rather know everything now,’ she said, thinking she felt so utterly at ease with him, nothing he could say would shock or embarrass her. ‘So fire away.’

‘It’s not too good,’ he said warningly. ‘You see, when I wrote to you, all I knew then was roughly where May was, and though I had some thoughts on how she was supporting herself, there was no proof. But I have tracked her down now and got that proof.’

‘Go on,’ Dulcie insisted. ‘Just spit it out.’

‘She’s working as a prostitute.’

Dulcie blanched, looking up at him in horror. It had been at the back of her mind, but she had dismissed it as over-active imagination. ‘How could she do that?’ she said in little more than a whisper. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

He nodded. ‘She’s not working the streets,’ he said quickly. ‘My source told me she’s at the top end of the market, calling on men in hotels. But in a way that makes it worse, because she’s undoubtedly got a pimp.’

‘What’s that?’ Dulcie asked.

‘A thug who looks after her, arranges it all and takes a huge part of her earnings,’ he said. ‘He controls her.’

‘I can’t imagine May letting anyone do that,’ Dulcie said.

‘I don’t suppose she’s got much choice. Girls don’t usually seek them out, they muscle in, they are dingoes, just about as low as you get. Often they run a whole mob of girls.’

A cold chill went down Dulcie’s spine. ‘What about the baby? Is he there with her? Have you found out his name and if he’s well cared for?’

‘She registered him as Noël Mark Taylor, father unknown. She was staying at an address in Surry Hills at the time of his birth. I went round there and asked about her. A neighbour said she had moved in around Christmastime with an older man, but they moved out around six weeks after the baby was born. The baby is still with her, but I have no way of discovering if she is looking after him properly.’

They continued to walk silently, Dulcie’s mind churning over what Rudie had told her. She was utterly appalled that her sister could stoop so low, yet she knew she must find her for the baby’s sake. He was her nephew after all.

‘Noël,’ Dulcie mused. ‘I wonder why she called him that, it’s usually a name for boys born at Christmas.’

‘My first thought was that it was the closest she could come to Rudolph without giving the game away,’ he said with a humourless laugh. ‘But maybe that’s wishful thinking.’

Dulcie counted back. ‘So he would have been conceived around August last year. How were things between you then?’

‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘I can’t see how she got up to anything then, I had a big exhibition on at that time, here in the city just around the corner from her office. She used to join me there as soon as she got out of work, she was excited by how many paintings I was selling, and all the stuff about me in the press. I might be a blind fool, but I really can’t believe she was two-timing me then. Later, yes, in October she became very moody and withdrawn, and just before she went in November she was impossible. But not then. She was the most loving in our whole time together.’

Dulcie heard the crack in his voice. ‘You still love her, don’t you?’

‘I don’t think you can love someone you never really knew,’ he said glumly. ‘All day today I’ve been so conscious of how I felt about her, because you are so alike physically. Your hair, eyes, even your voices have the same tone. But when you talk, and listen, I see the real difference. You only speak when you have something that needs saying, I think you prefer to listen. May chattered constantly, she was bright, breezy, often very funny too, but there was no depth to what she said. She didn’t ever listen, she was just waiting for a chance to give her views. Of course I didn’t see that at first, I suppose she cast a spell over me.’

Dulcie could understand that. For months after May left Esperance men were still asking after her, she’d made her mark there too.

‘Tell me where she lives now,’ she asked.

‘On the edge of King’s Cross in Darlinghurst. King’s Cross has the reputation of being the red light district, but in fact the real action takes place in Darlinghurst. In reality King’s Cross is a very bohemian community, a rich mixture of artists of all kinds, single people in flats and bed-sits, families and old people. It’s because of the bars, the strip clubs and night-clubs that it’s got a tawdry image. All the visitors to Sydney and the young people charge up there over the weekend, it does get a bit wild.’

‘So she’s between the two?’ Dulcie raised an eyebrow.

‘She’s got a flat in one of the big old terraced houses. All the girls living there are on the game. But I don’t think she’s lived there ever since she left Surry Hills. My guess is that she lived somewhere smarter for a while, perhaps still with the same older man, then he left her, so she had to find somewhere cheaper. Maybe she was forced into prostitution because I still can’t believe she’d choose such a life.’

Dulcie was touched that he still cared enough to find excuses for May. She remembered too how Sergeant Collins had spoken of young girls being lured into that way of life. ‘I’ll go there tonight,’ she said impulsively.

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Rudie said quickly, looking alarmed. ‘It’s no place to go at night. I think morning, around nine, would be the best time, you’d catch her unawares, when the other girls are sleeping.’

‘Tomorrow then?’

Rudie sighed. ‘I was going to suggest that you came to visit me. It’s only a ferry ride from the circular quay. I thought it would be best if you got used to Sydney before steaming in there.’

Dulcie shook her head. ‘I need to see her straight away, I can’t wait,’ she said. ‘Apart from anything else she might get wind I’m in town and vanish again. Besides, I have to see Noël is all right.’

Rudie made a defeated gesture with his hands. ‘Okay, for the baby’s sake. But I don’t like the thought of you going there alone.’

‘I shouldn’t think she’d let me in unless I was alone.’

‘I could come with you and wait around the corner. At least I’d be close if anything happened.’

‘What can happen in broad daylight?’ she asked, and smiled at him. ‘The worst she can do is tell me to push off. If she senses you’re close she’ll just be more tense.’

‘We’ll get a taxi up there now then,’ he said, taking her elbow and leading her towards the park gates. ‘Just so you can see where it is.’

Rudie asked the taxi driver to slow right down as they went down Forbes Street. The first thing that struck Dulcie was that it looked much like any ordinary working-class area, nothing at all to suggest it was a nest of vice. The tall, almost barrack-style terraced houses were grimy and lacking in paint, and there were no trees or window-boxes to soften the greyness of it. But it was quiet, the few people walking along it looked harmless, there were even a few children playing cricket.

‘That’s it, number 52,’ Rudie said, pointing to a house where the door was open, revealing a dark and grubby-looking hall. ‘The person who gave me the information thinks she’s on the top floor at the back.’

They drove straight back to the hotel afterwards as they were both expected for the evening meal. Rudie left immediately afterwards because Dulcie was so tired, but as he left he stopped for a moment and took both her hands.

‘Good luck for tomorrow,’ he said, his dark eyes full of concern. ‘Ring me as soon as you’ve seen her.’

Dulcie woke up before six the following morning, and unable to drift off again, she got up and sat by the window looking at the view of Sydney Harbour. There was a haze of mist just above the water, and the air was full of circling gulls. She could look right down on to the quay where she’d walked yesterday with Rudie, it had been crowded with people then, but now the birds had it all to themselves. A couple of pelicans sat like two old men on two capstans, egrets with their long thin beaks pecked at litter left from the night before. It was such a beautiful and peaceful scene she felt her eyes prickle with tears.

Just twenty-four hours ago she was still on the train, opening the blind to see the Blue Mountains. Who would have thought that in such a short time she could have experienced so much? It was as if she’d been turned upside down and shaken, loosening up all her ideals and principles, and injected with a whole new morality.

A couple of weeks ago she would have been shocked rigid to hear of anyone living with a man they weren’t married to. Now she knew her own sister had done that, had a baby, was selling her body and was almost certainly under the control of a pimp. And all this knowledge had come from a man she barely knew! A short while ago she would have wanted to believe that May’s downfall was entirely Rudie’s doing, but she knew better now. Rudie, with his almost transparent honesty, had shown her a side of May she could never even have dreamt of.

How odd it was too that she could talk of such shocking things, almost effortlessly, to a stranger, yet she couldn’t talk to her own husband about their problems within their marriage.

Now she was intending to go alone to that house in Forbes Street, to face her sister who would very likely be hostile. Yet she wasn’t really scared. Why was that?

It seemed to be something in the air in Sydney. All day yesterday she’d felt a kind of fizz inside her that she’d never experienced back in Esperance. She liked the crowds, the traffic, the noise and bustle. She wanted to walk alone around the streets and make this city her own. Was that why Bruce seemed afraid she wouldn’t want to come home?

‘You’ve got to go back,’ she reminded herself aloud. ‘You can’t run out on Ross.’

Yet just thinking of him made the fizz die within her. She had telephoned Bruce briefly last night just to say she was safe and Rudie was even nicer than they’d both expected. Bruce asked if he should run over and call Ross, but she’d said she was running out of change. A poor excuse, but she didn’t want to hear that bleakness in his voice.

Nancy had thoughtfully left an electric kettle in the room and a tray of tea things. She made some tea and took it back to the window, thinking about what she should wear today. She supposed just jeans and a jumper would be fine, casual enough not to draw attention to herself, and comfortable too if she ended up walking a long way.

At half past seven she went downstairs to have her breakfast. Nancy gave her a wide smile as she saw her coming down the stairs. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked.

Dulcie had taken to freckle-faced Nancy immediately, her London voice held good memories of her granny, the warmth with which she’d welcomed her to her hotel made her feel safe, and there was something about the woman’s bright eyes, a kind of happy glow from within her, which made her feel that before long they’d be firm friends.

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