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  ‘No, Miss Garrett. I dunno what happened but they all went their own ways. Did you hear about your dad’s mate, Ray? He was killed when a bomb landed on his house.’

  ‘Yes, I heard. Very sad. Listen to me, Fleur. This is very important. When you get out of here, I want you to look Charlotte up. Make sure you do.’

  Georgina’s lifelong best friend, and Charlotte’s older sister, Molly, had sent a letter last week that had briefly mentioned Charlotte. Molly lived on a farm in Kent with her husband, Oppo, and her son, Edward. They weren’t the only ones. Fanny Mipple, Molly and Charlotte’s mother, also lived with them. Her thoughts went back to the letter. Molly had said the farm was doing well and Oppo had taken on a couple of land girls to help in the fields. She’d said the weather was mild and they were getting ready for Christmas and that Charlotte was doing well in London. She said Aunty Esme had taken a trip to Swansea which she very much enjoyed. Aunty Esme was coded information for the whereabouts of Lash’s gypsy family. They travelled the country and sometimes went to Ireland but Georgina was pleased to know they were in Wales. She hadn’t relished the thought of having to cross the sea to get to her children. And though it was wonderful to receive news from Molly, she now wished that she hadn’t allowed her friend to write. She feared that when she made her escape, the police would be sure to look for her on the farm and she didn’t want Molly upset.

  Bringing her mind back to the present, Georgina said to Fleur, ‘Right, keep your head down, stay out of Miss Kenny’s way and come to me if you get any bother.’

  ‘Thanks, Miss Garrett. I will.’

  Fleur slipped out of the cell and Georgina closed the door. From the sound of the laughter drifting in from the corridors, it appeared the mood on the block had lifted. She lay on her bed and closed her eyes, a small smile on her face. Now she knew she had Jinny’s job, by this time next week, she’d be out of Camden Castle for good.

  4

  Charlotte opened the door to the large bedroom and, with a sweeping motion of her arm, stated, ‘The flat comes fully furnished and the bed is brand new.’

  She watched PC Timothy Batten’s face to gauge his reaction. His hazel eyes were wide and Charlotte was pleased to see he looked suitably impressed. She couldn’t help noticing his fine features and how attractive he was but men were, and always would be, off the agenda.

  ‘The other bedroom isn’t furnished but that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?’ she asked, knowing the young police constable was a single man.

  ‘No, not at all. I don’t really need two bedrooms. In fact, I don’t really need a whole apartment. Just a room would do. This place is smashing but I’m not sure I can afford it.’

  ‘Of course you can. I’m letting the place go at fifty per cent discount but if you want it, you’d best be quick. First come, first served.’

  PC Batten glanced around the room and sucked in a sharp breath. ‘This house was Georgina Garrett’s knocking shop. I don’t think my station sergeant would be too happy about me renting here.’

  ‘I’ll have you know that this place is very respectable now. There’s a lord lives upstairs. Look, it’s up to you. There’s a housing shortage so there’ll be plenty of folk ready to bite me hand off for a nice place like this. I thought I was doing you a favour but forget it. Now, if you don’t mind,’ Charlotte said, gesturing to the front door.

  ‘No, wait, sorry. Perhaps I was being a bit hasty. You’re right, it’s not easy to find a decent place to live… I’ll take it.’

  Charlotte hid a smile of triumph and shook his hand. His touch left her feeling slightly flushed but she quickly dismissed her feelings. ‘I’ll get the paperwork drawn up. You can move in straight away if you like?’

  ‘Yes, I will, thanks. I’ve cricked my neck sleeping on my sister’s sofa and her kids don’t give me much peace. I’ll collect my things and be back later. Here’s four weeks’ rent.’

  Charlotte exchanged the money for the keys, pleased with her transaction. She’d always vowed that she’d never rent out the apartment intended for Georgina on her release but reckoned her mentor would be proud of what she’d done. She’d used her brain and now she had a copper in the building to keep the Naylor brothers at bay. Genius!

  As Charlotte showed him to the front door, Lord Hamilton was coming in and stopped to look suspiciously at the policeman.

  ‘This is PC Timothy Batten. He’ll be living in here,’ she said, pointing to the ground floor apartment. ‘Lord Hamilton lives upstairs,’ she added.

  ‘I see. Pleased to meet you,’ Lord Hamilton answered haughtily, then brushed past saying, ‘Excuse me. Charlotte, a word when you have a moment.’

  She nodded, but wondered what could be bothering him. Lord Hamilton wasn’t his usual friendly and flamboyant self; if anything, she thought he’d been quite rude.

  PC Batten left and Charlotte headed straight upstairs. She tapped on Lord Hamilton’s door.

  ‘Has he gone?’ he asked, poking his head through and looking left to right.

  ‘Yes, to fetch his stuff. He’ll be back soon.’

  ‘Come in, come in,’ he said urgently in a hushed voice.

  In the lounge, she questioned, ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Oh, my dear girl, how could you rent the apartment to a police constable?’ he asked, sounding flummoxed.

  ‘I don’t see what the problem is. I noticed him looking at the cards on the noticeboard in the newsagent and asked him if he was after somewhere to live. What’s wrong with having a copper here? It’ll keep them Naylor brothers off me back.’

  Lord Hamilton sighed and swept his arm across the room, indicating to the oil paintings on the wall. ‘These, my dear, these are the problem.’

  ‘What, are they pinched?’

  ‘No, they’re reproductions.’

  ‘There’s nothing illegal about reproductions, is there?’

  ‘No, but there is if one is selling them as originals. You see my point?’

  ‘So, that’s your game, you sly old bugger,’ Charlotte said with a chortle. ‘I shouldn’t worry. Just don’t invite PC Batten in. Anyway, he’ll be at work all day. He won’t see what you’re up to.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Charlotte. The last thing I need is the Metropolitan Police taking an interest in my activities.’

  Charlotte wasn’t surprised at Lord Quentin’s revelation. She’d always suspected there was something dodgy about him and still wasn’t convinced that he really was a lord. ‘Do you paint them yourself?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ he laughed, ‘I can’t even paint a matchstick man. Paintings of this quality require tremendous skill and talent. It’s quite rare, you know.’

  ‘Do you have someone who paints them for you?’

  ‘I did, but not these ones. They were painted many, many years ago, long before you were born. Unfortunately, I can’t sell them as originals as the originals are hung in galleries, at least they were before the war. Now I suspect they’ve been shipped off to somewhere safe.’

  ‘So you’re stuck with them?’

  ‘For the time being. They’re worthless as repros but would be worth an absolute small fortune on the black market as originals.’

  ‘If you say so. It’s all a bit above my head. Anyway, just keep PC Batten at arm’s length and I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ve gotta dash. I need to go and see Mr Harel about getting the tenancy papers drawn up. See ya.’

  Charlotte drove to Clapham Junction where Benjamin Harel’s father, Ezzy, owned a jewellery shop. Benjamin had been Georgina’s trusted accountant and the manager of The Penthouse Club, but now worked freelance from a small office in the back of his father’s shop. He’d been a great help to Charlotte since Georgina’s arrest but she hadn’t seen much of him lately. She felt sure that he’d think her decision to rent to a policeman was a wise one. It would stop the Naylors from demanding money from her, though sadly, it wouldn’t keep them from extorting cash from Ezzy Harel.

  *

  John
ny sat at a table in the corner of the Halfway House and sucked on his cigar as he kept his eyes on the pub door. He hadn’t seen much of the old gang lately and was looking forward to working again with the Barker twins, Ned, and Max the Axe. Though to get them on board, he knew he’d have to use his charm and wit to persuade them that his idea was a viable and profitable one. After all, since Miss Garrett had been banged up, none of them had been particularly successful. He himself had had the pleasure of His Majesty’s hospitality for a year in Wandsworth prison. And from what Max had told him, the others were only scraping by. There was no doubt in Johnny’s mind that his old gang mates worked better together rather than alone. So if Miss Garrett wasn’t around to organise them, Johnny had decided that he would take up the reins.

  Ned was first to come in, his flat cap pulled low and his neck hunkered down into the collar of his donkey jacket. Short and with a slim build, he carried himself like an old man though he was only forty-something. He spotted Johnny and came over, extending his hand to greet him.

  ‘Hello, mate, good to see ya,’ Ned said, smiling to reveal his yellowed teeth.

  ‘And you, Ned, thanks for coming.’

  ‘I got word from Max that you wanted a meet. Cor, talk about putting a smile on me boat race. How ya doing, me old mucker?’

  ‘Yeah, good, Ned. Sit down, I’ll get you a drink.’

  ‘Bottle of stout, none of that shit out the pipes.’

  Johnny stood at the brown painted bar and looked to the door again when the Barker twins came in.

  ‘Johnny Dymond, fancy seeing you here,’ one said.

  ‘Two halves,’ the other added, grinning.

  ‘You timed that well,’ Johnny laughed and shook their hands. There was a time when he could have told the brothers apart. Both in their early thirties, Nobby had a rounder face than Eric and his brown hair was slightly more receded, but now he wasn’t sure who was who.

  Once they sat at the table, Ned was the first to speak. ‘So, what’s this all about, Johnny? You didn’t call us together ’cos you’ve missed us.’

  ‘But I have, Ned. I’ve missed you all. You’re right though, I do have a proposal – but let’s wait ’til Max gets here before we discuss it.’

  ‘I knew it,’ one of the twins said. ‘I knew there was something. Is it Miss Garrett? Are we gonna bust her out of gaol?’

  ‘No, but I wish it was. If I thought we could get her out of that place, I’d be bang on it.’

  ‘Yeah, me an’ all. I can’t fucking stand thinking of her rotting in there. She don’t deserve it. At least that Nancy fucking Austin got her face blown orf. Serves her right. It was one thing to try and take over the business but a fucking disgrace to have fitted up Miss Garrett like that,’ Ned said with disgust, then sniffed some snuff off the back of his hand.

  For a moment, the way Ned’s nose was wrinkling, Johnny thought the man was going to sneeze so he leaned to one side out of the way.

  ‘Bleedin’ stuff makes me hooter feel funny every time,’ Ned moaned, his eyes watering.

  ‘’Ere, Ned, have a smoke instead,’ one of the twins offered. ‘Don’t put no more of that shit up your nose.’

  ‘Yeah, I fink I will, cheers, mate.’

  ‘First things first, gentlemen,’ Johnny said and held his glass of double whisky in the air. ‘Cheers, to old friends and absent ones.’

  ‘Yeah, to old friends,’ the men said in unison.

  ‘I gotta ask,’ he continued, looking at the twins, ‘who the fuck is who?’

  Nobby and Eric chuckled.

  Then Ned chipped in, ‘He’s Nobby, you can tell.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m the best looking one,’ Nobby said, grinning.

  Johnny looked from one twin to the other. There were subtle differences in their features but nothing obvious.

  ‘I’ll make it easy for you,’ Nobby said and pointed to a small mole on his cheek, close to his ear. ‘Eric ain’t got one.’

  With that cleared up, Johnny checked his watch, wondering what was keeping Max. It wasn’t like the man to be late for a meeting and when Johnny had suggested it, Max had seemed keen. Johnny had expected to walk in the pub and find Max ready, eager and waiting. He was surprised that the man wasn’t already here.

  ‘You look like life has been treating you well, Johnny. What you been up to? I heard you got yourself banged up, you silly git,’ Nobby said, always more talkative than his brother.

  ‘Yeah, I ain’t as young as I used to be and not as fast. I got caught legging it from a poxy little job. But, you know me. I’m back on me feet again and I’ve been doing a bit of this, that and the other. What about you?’

  ‘We’ve been doing all right. We’ve got a cousin who works in the kitchens at Chelsea Barracks. He’s been getting us butter, eggs, bacon and all sorts that we can sell on. And our nephew has got a job on a farm in Surrey. He’s managed to get his hands on the odd pig or two. Mum’s been claiming rations for our gran who pegged it last year and our old man claimed on the government compensation scheme for the house getting blown up. He got fifty quid. It’s been tiding us over.’

  ‘Sorry about your house,’ Johnny said.

  ‘No need, mate. It’s still standing. The bombs missed it but our dad’s a crafty bugger.’

  ‘Cor, blimey, sounds like you’ve got a right bleedin’ dodgy family,’ Ned said with a chortle.

  Johnny got another round of drinks and checked his watch again. Nearly half an hour had passed and there was still no sign of Max.

  ‘It seems Max has stood us up,’ he said, but then the pub door opened again and Johnny was pleased to see his friend from boyhood breeze in.

  ‘Better late than never,’ Johnny said, rising to his feet to greet him.

  ‘Sorry about that. I got caught up in a row with some Yank and Gerty. Fucking liberty-taking wankers. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘No, mate, we’re all right. What happened?’

  ‘Let me get meself a pint,’ Max said, ‘Give me a minute to calm down. I’m fucking seething.’

  Johnny saw Ned’s eyebrows raise and noticed Max’s knuckles were bleeding. He’d clearly been involved in a fight and knew whoever had been at the receiving end of Max’s fists would be in a mess now. From the age of ten, Max had gained a reputation for fighting. He had a short fuse and explosive temper. He’d once told Johnny that he never felt pain. He’d keep going until his opponent was on the floor. And if his fists weren’t enough, he’d brandish his tomahawk axe – a gift from his grandfather, apparently stolen from a real Native American Indian – hence his nickname, Max the Axe. It had been his fearless character that had first caught the attention of Norman Wilcox, who’d quickly recruited him to his gang. Max had then brought Johnny in, but unfortunately they’d soon found themselves working for Norman’s mad son, Billy. Max had been one of the few blokes who hadn’t been scared of Billy Wilcox. Johnny had feared Billy and felt no shame in admitting it. He’d been secretly pleased when Billy had been murdered and Miss Garrett had eventually taken over, though at first he’d been disgruntled about working for a woman.

  Max returned to the table and sat next to Johnny. He drank a few glugs of beer and then sighed. ‘That’s better,’ he said.

  ‘So, what happened to you?’ Ned asked.

  ‘Fucking Yanks, taking the piss. I heard Gerty upstairs screaming so went up and found this American GI trying to get hold of her.’

  ‘Ha, I bet you sorted him out, eh, Max?’ Ned said.

  ‘Fucking right, I did. Cheeky bastard. Turns out she’s been working up town for the Zammits, and this American GI took a shine to her. Followed her home.’

  ‘What, Gerty’s one of the Piccadilly Commandos?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘Yeah, she’s raking it in.’

  ‘If she’s on the game for the Zammits, shouldn’t they be looking after her?’

  ‘I suppose so but there ain’t much they can do once she’s off work and at home,’ Max answered.

  ‘I’ve heard about
the Zammits,’ Nobby said, shaking his head. ‘They’ve got a hold on all the girls uptown. It ain’t right, is it? I mean, they ain’t even English and they’re profiting off the back of our women. What with the fucking Ities first and now the Maltese. Anyhow, is Gerty all right?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. I told her to give me a shout if she gets any more trouble from her punters.’

  ‘You fancy her, don’t ya?’ Ned asked.

  ‘No, but she’s a nice girl.’

  ‘Dirty Gerty,’ Ned laughed, ‘That’s what all the other brasses used to call her when they worked for Miss Garrett. But you’re right, Max, she is a nice girl. A tart wiv a heart.’

  ‘Yeah, and probably with a dose of something an’ all,’ Max laughed. ‘Trust me to get lumbered with her living upstairs from me.’

  ‘It could have been worse. You could’ve had Johnny up there,’ Ned added.

  ‘Yeah, thanks, mate,’ Johnny smiled. ‘Right, let’s get down to business, shall we?’

  ‘I’ve been dying to hear this,’ Max said and the others nodded in agreement.

  Johnny glanced from one face to the other and lowered his voice. It felt nice to have the familiar faces around him. Men he trusted with his life. He missed the days when they’d worked for Miss Garrett and, thanks to her ingenuity, had made a good living. But without her, they’d all drifted back to doing small, petty jobs for themselves. Now Johnny had decided it was time to think in the way Miss Garrett had and turn over something worth turning over. ‘I’ve got a job in mind, a good earner for us all. But I ain’t gonna lie, there’s risks involved.’

  ‘Ain’t there always?’ Ned said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘But it’s never worried us before.’

  ‘Yeah, but we had Miss Garrett watching our backs then,’ Eric pointed out.

  ‘If you don’t want in, just say. It would be a shame ’cos there’s no one else I’d rather work with than you, Eric… all of you. I trust you lot and I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t believe we could pull it off. Do you want in or out?’ Johnny asked, hoping the twins would come on board.