Mrs Harris could not quite follow her, particularly as Evelyne had always gone to such lengths to educate her boys. ‘You sayin’, ducks, that you wish you’d not educated the lads so much? You think that’s where it went wrong?’
Evelyne laughed. It was strange, because it sounded so alien, even to herself. She shook her head. ‘No, I think what I’m trying to say is — I didn’t know until he’d gone what it was to have such a gentle soul love me. I miss him with every breath I take, I look for him down every street. Sometimes I think I hear his voice and my heart lifts, because I can remember now what it was like to run into his arms, run to him and have him sweep me off my feet... I can remember so much I had forgotten while he was alive, and it’s all that keeps me going. I’m scared, though, scared of when I run out of these memories, so scared...’
‘Well, love, that’s when the grieving’s over...’
‘Ah, that will be when I die, then.’
Mrs Harris sighed. Nothing really made sense to her any more. She was sorry for Evelyne, but everyone had their problems and she was sure the boy would turn up.
‘He almost killed his teacher, the man’s in hospital. Why he would do a thing like that I just don’t understand.’
Mrs Harris couldn’t provide any answers, she just nodded and made soothing noises. Alex sounded like a bad lot to her and she was afraid her friend would have nothing but trouble. It seemed so unfair to have one son at Cambridge, doing well, and the other on the run from the law, but that was life.
Dora, Mrs Harris’ youngest, swept in with her bleached blonde hair and scarlet-painted nails, teetering in heels so high that Mrs Harris didn’t know how she could walk. She was wearing a new dress, and was in high spirits as usual. She had brought a huge bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates. “Ello, Mum, these are for you... Hello, Mrs Stubbs, how you doin’, all right, are you? I’d love a cuppa, Mum.’
Both the older women knew what Dora was up to, you could tell with one look. She even carried her gas mask in a special embroidered bag. She tucked a bundle of pound notes under the tin on the mantel and gave Evelyne a wink.
‘You can take that money back, Dora, I won’t have it.’
‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mum... an’ I got some chewing gum for the kids, here, from their Auntie Dora.’
Evelyne sipped her tea and murmured that she really should be going, but the warmth of the kitchen and Dora’s cheerful chatter made her forget her troubles. ‘So how’s things, Mrs Stubbs? Your two boys doing well, are they? Mum says you got one at university, that’s somethin’, ain’t it? I always said education was worth the trouble, but there again it’s no good tryin’ for it if you’ve not got what it takes. Me? Well, I was never good at nuffink at school. Me fortune’s in me face, isn’t that right, Mum? Gawd ‘elp us, is that the time? I gotta rush.’
Dora was up and out before Mrs Harris could say a word. As the door closed behind her, her mother banged on the table with the flat of her hand. ‘I know what she’s doin’, Evie, an’ I know no amount of tryin’ will stop her. She’s with the American airmen, an’ it’s a different one every night. It’s breaking my heart. If her father knew he’d turn in his grave.’
Evelyne stared vacantly ahead, remembering how she had bathed Dora when she was just a baby. That had been the time when she was pregnant with Edward, living with the Harrises. The years had passed so quickly, and now Dora was a woman — and, by the look of her, a very knowing one, most certainly up to no good.
Both women, wrapped in their own thoughts, sighed, and dipped Dora’s black-market biscuits into their tepid tea.
Dora giggled as she was helped over the corrugated iron fence. She swiped at Johnny with her handbag, and said that she’d been in some dives before, but this had to be the worst. Johnny carried her over a puddle and put her down in the passageway. The red bulb cast a warm glow over the dank, whitewashed corridor. ‘Difference is, Dora, this is my place, an’ wait ‘til you see the rooms. I got them all done up fine, all we need now are the customers, an’ that’s your job. Come on love, let me show you.’
Dora had to admit Johnny was a fast worker, and she loved him more than ever. She agreed to contact the girls she knew at the airbases, and put them in touch with him. Here they would have free beds, free drinks, and would pay the management a percentage of their fees.
Sid and Alex were put to work on three more of Johnny’s establishments. The two boys worked hard, and Johnny gave them a ‘tenner’ a week. He had to admit the kids really put their backs into the painting, and they were always ready and willing to do anything he asked. Alex was particularly good, and one day when he helped to cash up the evening’s takings, Johnny was amazed at how fast the boy could handle figures. ‘Eh, son, how old are you?’
Alex lied and said he was eighteen, and Johnny gave him an extra couple of quid, saying he might be useful when it came to doing the books. The following week he took Alex with him on his Friday round-up, and was very impressed. The boy was as sharp as a tack with money, even suggesting a couple of ways for Johnny to make extra cash. For instance, he and Sid could make up a few sandwiches, deliver them to the brothels, and they could charge a ridiculous amount to the girls and their clients.
So Sid and Alex added a string to their bow, and business was good enough to buy them new suits and shoes, and flash ties and fedoras like their idol, Johnny.
One of Johnny’s bouncers at the Angel club had taken Alex under his wing, and they would work out at the local gym. Alex’s skinny body filled out with weight training, and his personality changed with it. He liked the look of his body now, the frame tight and muscular.
He and Sid had been up to the West End to ‘kit themselves up’, as Sid put it. They had visited all the menswear stores, and had even been down Jermyn Street. Sid couldn’t believe the way Alex lingered outside one of the posh tailors in Jermyn Street. ‘Do us a favour, yer don’t want nuffink like that! I mean, it’s like old-fashioned, ain’t it? An’ look at the price, just look what they got a nerve askin’ fer a ordinary suit what you wouldn’t be seen dead in.’
Alex liked the suit, liked the plain styling of it. But his money wouldn’t run to the navy pinstripe. He recognized the difference in the cloth, never mind the cut, when they paraded in front of Tooley’s Menswear’s window and saw a brown suit. He wished he had stuck to the dark blue, but Sid had been so persuasive, insisting the brown suited him. ‘Well, what yer fink? Couple o’ smarties, eh?’
‘I should ‘ave got the blue.’
‘Bleedin’ hell, I never known a man go on more about ‘is gear than you, Alex. The brown’s very nice, an’ yer can’t see yerself from the back. It’s a lovely cut, an’ the Slim Jim tie’s fantastic.’
Unlike Sid, he had chosen plain shirts, one white and one cream. He alternated them, inspecting them each time they came back from the laundry. Sid had offered him a pair of cufflinks, the sort Johnny would wear. They were theatrical masks with red chips of glass for eyes. Sid thought they were real class, but Alex refused them. Instead he bought a pair from Woolworth’s. They were plain rolled gold, and he was very careful not to get them wet in case they went green.
Sid watched Alex as he carefully tied a tea towel around his waist and rolled up his shirtsleeves before cutting the sandwiches for the club. He sliced the bread carefully. ‘You just gonna look at me workin’ then, Sid? Ain’t you got the butter ready yet?’
Sid set to work, managing to get margarine on his sleeve as he slapped it on the bread. Alex had finished cutting bread and while he waited for Sid, he combed his hair and studied his face in the mirror.