‘I’ll stay on one condition — that is, stay here, in your bed and in the club — if you make it out on paper that I own half — half, Johnny, it’s only fair.’ She had him by the balls and she knew it. She got him another drink, a real stiff one, and cajoled him into signing half the club over to her. Then she undressed him and put him to bed. He lay snoring, mouth wide open, and she looked at him with distaste.
She called her lawyers to make sure the contract was legal, then left for work. All the way to Mayfair she was thinking that now she’d got one half she’d keep Johnny boozed up until she’d got the other half for herself.
Dora was squinting at the accounts when Arnie knocked on the door to tell her there was a gent waiting to see her, name of Stubbs, looked a bit of a punk.
‘Show him in, will you, Arnie? It’s all right, he works for Harry Driver. Apparently he’s a whiz-kid with the accounts. Maybe we should try him out, that bastard we’ve got costs us an arm and a leg.’
When Alex entered she could see that he’d made a great effort. His hair was slicked down, his suit pressed and his shoes polished until you could see your face in them. Dora felt sorry for him, the trouble he’d taken.
‘Well, you found the place, then. Can I get you a drink? Champagne? You name it and I’ll get it sent in.’
Alex said champagne would be just fine, and sat there like a dummy. He was all fingers and thumbs, and spilt the champagne as he poured it. He had to lick it off his hands. ‘Er, when I saw yer, you said somefink about Eddie. I come round to see if you got his address.’
Alex could hear his old cell-mate correcting him, ‘No, no — it’s not somefink, something, it’s a soft G.’ He caught Dora staring at him and looked away. She was checking him over and he knew it.
‘Like I told you, I’ve not seen him for a long time... They say you know all about taxes and accounting, Alex. How come? If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look like the pinstriped City type.’
Alex shuffled his feet, blushing. ‘Let’s just say I had a long time to study.’
Suddenly he looked up and gave her a shy smile. She smiled back and poured him some more champagne. ‘You certainly made a mess of your face... You know, accountants cost. Maybe I could let you have a look over our books. I’d be glad of a few tips and I’d pay you for your time.’
There was another knock at the door and Arnie appeared. Dora looked up, annoyed at the interruption, but he whispered something to her and she got up to look through the spyhole in the door.
Johnny, obviously very drunk, was leering around the bar. She flipped the cover back in place. ‘Arnie, get Cathy over to him and get him out fast as you can. There’s a big party due about eleven-thirty and they’re real money, I don’t want him around. If he won’t go quietly, bloody well haul him out.’
She clinked ice into a tall, thin glass and poured herself a glass of water.
‘Crazy, isn’t it? My dear husband, partner in a business that’s worth God knows how many thousands, and he’s out there boozing it up and carrying on with the girls.’ Dora lit a cigarette and put it in a holder, blew out the smoke and crossed her still perfect legs. ‘You be interested in doing the accounts, Alex? No need to mention it to Driver if you don’t want to.’
Alex murmured that he could always do with some extra, and if she handed over the books he’d contact her as soon as he’d been through them.
Dora got up and went to a wall safe, twirled the combination and turned, smiling and licking her lips. ‘Goes without saying there are two sets, but I’m sure you would know all about that. I can trust you, can’t I, Alex? I mean, these are private.’
Alex could feel her looking at him and flushed, put down his glass and told her she didn’t have to worry. She took out all the books and put them into a shopping bag. He was fascinated by her perfectly manicured long red nails.
‘I’m sure I can trust you, Alex, we go back a long way together, you and me. Here you are, dear, and I’ll wait to hear from you.’
Alex worked all night on Dora’s ledgers, and when he had finished he chucked down his chewed pencil. ‘Shit, that little tart’s worth a bleedin’ fortune...’
The club was a gold mine, but it was losing more than it needed to through mismanagement. Alex knew he could get back a lot of the tax the club was paying. She could be claiming for God knows how many more employees than she was. Alex quickly began to calculate the savings. He paced the small bedsit, constantly drawn back to the books. Dora was earning a living wage, but right in front of him he saw a way to make a lot more. When George arrived home at four in the morning, he was amazed to find Alex still working.
‘Whatcha up to, son? You been out? ‘Bout time yer got yer leg over...’
Alex quickly covered the books while George was hanging his coat in the small wardrobe they shared.
‘I’m movin’ out, George. Need a bigger place. Maybe you can get that bird you see to move in an’ keep the place tidy...’
George’s face fell, and Alex went to sit next to him on the bed. ‘I been offered a job. It’s straight, but... there’s another reason. You see, I need to find somebody, and I just got a lead on him. So, in a way, I’m killin’ two birds...’
George watched Alex undress, revealing his big body, and the powerful way he moved. He hung everything neatly on a hanger in the small wardrobe.
‘You want to tell me about it? I mean, who is he? Who you got this lead on then?’
‘It’s a relative, that’s all.’
‘Well, you make sure you don’t do nuffink that’ll put yer back inside.’
Alex turned to him. Sometimes he frightened George. His blue eyes were filled with hatred, and yet he had a soft smile. ‘I’ll never be put behind bars again — I’m going to make sure of that.’
During the flight to South Africa, Edward settled back in his seat. It would be a long journey with many stopovers for refuelling. He recalled BB telling him he had arrived in South Africa with only one hundred pounds and made millions — well, Edward had, after paying his fare, exactly eighty-five pounds to his name. He was, nevertheless, determined that he too would make his fortune.
Ahead of Edward lay his future, and he was itching to begin. He knew he was taking a chance, knew it, but he was ready for it — longed for it — and he would let nothing stand in his way, nothing and no one.
Edna Simpson waited at the airport for her daughter. The plane was delayed, and she paced up and down. The family had said all they could say on the subject, and they had made their decision. As soon as she got off the plane she would be taken to the Harley Street clinic where she was booked. The minor operation had been easily arranged. No one would find out, no one would know. Harriet was still a child, and the more Mrs Simpson thought about it the worse she felt. Her daughter had been a problem since the day she was born, when Mrs Simpson had almost died giving birth to her. It had been one heartache after another ever since.
‘God, why couldn’t she have been a boy?’ The season would soon be upon them, and Harriet’s ‘coming-out’ dance would go ahead as arranged. Mrs Simpson was so immersed in her own thoughts that she jumped.
‘Hello, Ma, dreadful bumpy ride, pilot was terrific.’
Mrs Simpson pursed her lips and kissed her daughter frostily on the cheek, then took her suitcase. They walked to the car, which was waiting outside the terminal.
‘We are going straight to Harley Street, everything’s arranged.’
Harriet beamed, said there was absolutely no need, she felt wonderful.
‘That is not quite the point, dear. You will only have to stay overnight, I’ll collect you in the morning and no one will be any the wiser. Now get in the car and don’t talk about it, I don’t want the chauffeur to know — talk about anything but you-know-what.’