Nameless (28 page)

Ruby looked at baby Billy, so pretty in his christening gown, and couldn’t help but think of all the things that she had missed with her own children. Their christenings, yes – but also their first days at school, their first boyfriends and girlfriends, the everyday joys and pains of a family life. She’d been cheated of all that.

‘Clear off, Betsy,’ snapped Ruby, wanting to swat the woman who had once been her best mate away like an irritating gnat. It was painful, to see the baby close-up like this. When she’d held baby Nadine shortly after her birth, it had cut her like a knife. And now time had gone by again – and Joe and Betsy had Billy to complete their family. And what did she have? Nothing. She had to talk to Joe about this now. It was
important
.

Betsy’s face scrunched up in outrage. She was already royally pissed off because Vi had pitched up with such a flourish, and upstaged her without even seeming to try. Now
Ruby
was acting up.

Ruby confronted her one-time friend. Betsy hated Joe spending time with anyone but her. She’d been sick with temper when Vi had befriended Ruby, consumed with envy when Ruby made a success of her life – and twisted up with bitterness over Vi’s elevation to the aristocracy.

‘Go on – clear off,’ said Ruby again, her voice harder.

‘You going to let her speak to me like that?’ Betsy demanded of Joe.

Vi came up, looking concerned. ‘What on earth are you all up to? People are looking.’

‘Nothing, Vi.’ Joe turned to his wife. ‘Give us a minute, Bets, OK?’ he said.

‘I don’t know
what
this is all about, but I don’t think this is the time or the place, do you?’ said Betsy hotly, her eyes skipping angrily from Ruby to Vi and back again.

‘A minute!’ snapped Joe, and Betsy subsided and sloped off to her folks. Vi went with her, casting questioning looks back at Ruby. Joe turned to his sister. ‘I’m going to get stick for a week over that,’ he informed her.

‘Good. You deserve it. You
lied
to me.’

‘Let it go now, Rubes. The boy’s gone. The girl’s happy.’

‘The boy was dark-skinned, like me,’ said Ruby softly. ‘Did you know that?’

Joe stared at her face. ‘No. What? What d’you mean?’

‘The girl was pure white, but the boy was dark.’

‘Jesus. I didn’t see the kid. Charlie never said.’

‘Is that why Charlie had him murdered? Charlie and Dad hated me because I looked a little coloured, a little
dusky.
So did the baby. I guess that was all the reason Charlie needed to see the poor little sod off.’

Joe was silent, taking it in. ‘Jesus,’ he said again, shaking his head. ‘Can that happen? One twin white, the other . . .’

‘I think it’s rare,’ said Ruby. ‘But when there’s black blood in the family, it can happen, yes. It can come out. Didn’t you ever wonder why Cornelius Bray kept the girl, and not the boy, too?’

‘No. I didn’t. Look, it’s all dead and gone now, Ruby. Black or white or fucking
purple
, what’s it matter? The little nipper was a
bastard
, and you were Charlie’s sister. That was what bothered him. That people were going to laugh about it behind his back, the high and mighty Charlie Darke who ran the streets, he couldn’t even control his own sister, she was putting it about like a common whore and having kids out of wedlock. Sorry. But that was Charlie, you know it was.’

Ruby was silent for a long moment. ‘I hate him,’ she said.

Joe shrugged. ‘You think he cares? Don’t make me laugh.’

‘Did you know the man who did it?’ asked Ruby.

‘Fuck it, no, I
didn’t
. And you know what? Even if I
did
, I wouldn’t tell you his name. All that’s water under the bridge, girl. Do yourself a favour. Forget it.’

With that, Joe turned his back on her and rejoined his wife and his family, all of them laughing and smiling on this happy day.

Ruby stood alone, an outsider as always, and watched, and thought:
No. I can’t forget it. I wish I could, but I can’t.

70

1967

‘Steady,’ said Kit. ‘Don’t rush.’

Gilda smiled at him, and lay back on the double bed in the room they’d rented for the night. They’d met up for a drink in the Long Bar near Maidstone, then driven away in their separate cars, very careful that they were unobserved and not followed.

They weren’t. Kit made absolutely sure about that, and finally they pulled into a cheap little hotel on the outskirts of a small town, and booked a room.

‘Shit. I’ve stayed in better dosshouses than this,’ said Gilda when they were shown up to the room.

It was shabby, to say the least. There was peeling nicotine-stained wallpaper, tired dusty light fittings, rugs so threadbare you had to be careful not to get your feet caught in the open loops and go arse over tit.

But there was a bed. Gilda went straight to it, and threw herself back on it, bouncing up and down a few times to test the springs. They bit back.

‘Ow!You know what, my gran had these old metal springs,’ she said, laughing. ‘You used to get on the bed and there’d be this big dip in the middle, your bum would be touching the floor. Fuck me, I wouldn’t have thought there was a bed this old left in the
world
.’

Kit locked the door and watched her, bouncing around and giggling like a teenager. He had to smile.

‘It’s a bed,’ he said. ‘Beyond that, who cares?’

Kit sat down, swung his legs up onto the bed. It was a damned uncomfortable bed, she was right about that. But he was in it, with Gilda, and she was an itch he had been trying to resist scratching for a long time. Gilda swooped on him immediately, her mouth fastening over his like a suction hoover.

‘What’s the hurry?’ he said, easing her away.

Gilda smiled and lay back. ‘I’ve fancied you ever since I first saw you,’ she sighed, sitting up to peel off her coat. She flung it aside. ‘And it’s mutual, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Kit, pulling her back to him.

He’d had lots of women, but Gilda was something special. She was forbidden fruit, for a start. Everyone knew that Gilda was Tito Danieri’s bit of fluff, and that Tito was a hard man, into all the rackets, and not to be crossed. Also, he was in tight with Mr Ward. Kit wasn’t comfortable having Gilda because of his loyalty to Michael. So he had resisted her – even when she’d made it pretty obvious that she was hot for him.

Now, he’d given in to the impulse. But on his own terms, not hers. Out of the way where no one could see. A few brisk bonks and then it would be over, he promised himself. She’d be out of his system and no harm done.

‘Let’s get our clothes off . . .’ said Gilda, pulling at his tie.

‘Easy,’ he said. ‘We’ve got all night.’

‘It’ll take all night, to do all that I want to do to you,’ she said, her ocean-green eyes smoky with lust.

There were clearly some advantages to the older woman. Kit lay back and let her remove his jacket, shirt and tie. She ran her hands admiringly over his taut muscles, then slid her hand down, right down inside his trousers to feel his erection. She moaned and pulled off her pants, the gold charm-bracelet rattling with every move she made; then she knelt up on the bed and straddled him.

Gilda unbuttoned her cream-coloured blouse, and slipped it off her shoulders in a slither of silk. Then she unhooked her white bra and let the straps fall down over her arms so that he could see her dark-nippled breasts.

She smiled into his eyes and unfastened his belt, unzipped him.

‘Lift up,’ she ordered.

Kit raised his hips off the bed and she pulled down his trousers and underpants.

‘Oh, that’s better,’ she said, stroking him, then moving a little and guiding him easily inside her. She moved down onto him with a gasp, wriggling her hips to take him right inside.

Kit felt like he was about to come straight away, but he held back even though he was excited almost beyond bearing. This was
Tito’s
girl. He was breaking his own rules here, he
knew
this was wrong. But, oh, it was good. She’d been taunting him for so long, enticing him, and now, at last, they were here.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, grasping her breasts.

‘You too,’ she groaned, and set to work.

It was a long night, and Kit woke in the morning exhausted and satisfied, with Gilda’s arm across his chest and the gold charm-bracelet right in his eyeline. A horseshoe, a fish and a shamrock for luck.

Luck. Would they need luck for this? He thought they would.

He wondered if Tito had bought the bracelet for her – he probably had – but the thought was an uncomfortable one and he swept it aside. All right, he felt bad about this. But not
that
bad. All through his life he had been like this – it was as if something had been cut off, cauterized, somewhere deep inside him. He didn’t think he had the capacity to care deeply about anything. He didn’t think he would ever lose his head over any woman, he was sure he would never fall in love.

But here he was. With Gilda.

He saw that she was awake too, her sea-green eyes smiling into his.

‘I don’t know anything about you,’ she said.

He kissed her lightly. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. What you like . . . ?’

‘I like you.’

‘I
know
that. What you hate. What frightens you . . . ?’

‘Nothing frightens me.’

‘Something
must.’

Kit lay back and thought about it. ‘Fire,’ he said at last.

‘What?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t like to feel the heat of a fire. Weird, yeah? So come on. What frightens
you
?’

Gilda’s smile slipped. ‘Tito frightens me,’ she said.

Kit said nothing.

Suddenly she smiled again and put her arms around his neck. ‘Kiss me,’ she ordered.

Michael was asking his contacts about Ruby Darke. He found her so fascinating. So cool, so remote. And yet so downright
sexy.

‘Her brother Charlie’s in stir,’ said Michael’s mate over a cognac.

‘He did the Post Office robbery, back in the day,’ said Michael. He knew about that. Everyone did.

‘After which his brother Joe took over the family firm.’

‘Yeah, but where does Ruby fit in?’

His friend smiled. ‘She don’t. There was a big scandal, Ted Darke’s missus was playing away with some coon in a jazz club. Got herself up the duff with Ruby. It’s a wonder the old man didn’t murder the girl, but word is he was a bit of a religious nutter: Thou shalt not kill, et cetera. Ruby’s straight. Into legitimate business, that’s all.’

‘What about the mother?’

‘I heard she died having Ruby, the poor cow.’

71

1967

It cost them just a pound to get in to the Happening at Alexandra Palace. They were wearing their lacy minidresses, lots of beads. Mandy also wore a too-large white ten-gallon hat that kept falling over her eyes, and a yellow poncho.

Late into the evening, Daisy heard that someone had been stabbed at the back of the hall but the police didn’t come because they had to get an entry warrant and at midnight it was clear that the gig would be over before
that
happened. Up on stage, the Crazy World of Arthur Brown was dressed in an insect costume.

Daisy could only see the stage at a far distance, and the searchlights winked on and off constantly, alternately dazzling her and then leaving her blind. She could hear the roar of the Gibson guitars and the shrieking gutsy wail of Eric Burden and his New Animals. There was a huge screen hung from the balcony, and projected onto it in multicolours was an amoeba or something, constantly dividing and reforming. Daisy thought that if she stared at it for long enough, she’d go mad.

‘Isn’t it
great
?’ demanded Mandy, jigging about alongside her in the midst of a huge, heaving, sweating throng of other bodies.

It was pretty great. Pretty scary too, ten thousand people packed into the Ally Pally for a mad night of psychedelic fun. Mandy rummaged around in her string bag and then shoved a pill into Daisy’s hand.

‘It’s just speed,’ she said. ‘Nothing nasty – it just gives you a lift.’

Daisy took it and suddenly she felt supercharged, all senses heightened. There was a guy squatting nearby tripping out by smoking banana scrapings, and someone ripped a fire extinguisher from the wall and started spraying the crowd with it.

Daisy and Mandy got soaked, and instead of being furious with the fool, for some reason Daisy found this enormously funny. She laughed until she thought she was going to be sick, and started thinking about her staid, boring mother, who would be so outraged to see her daughter in such a happening place.

‘I’m liberated,’ shouted Daisy, and started ripping her clothes off.

‘You’re high as a kite,’ said Mandy, trying hard to get Daisy’s clothes back on.

On top of the Ally Pally’s organ, forty feet up in the air, a man in a purple shirt was beckoning others to follow him. People in floral shirts and hipster loon pants started climbing the scaffolding. One man had a lit candle gripped in his teeth. Another was swinging like a monkey from the scaffolding, about to fall.

‘Please come down from the scaffolding!’ blared a loudspeaker suddenly.

Nobody took any notice.

‘If you don’t get down from the scaffolding, the show will be stopped!’

Daisy found this hilarious. The people kept climbing upward. She ran forward to join them, but then all the lights went out. When they went back on again, everyone was coming down off the scaffolding. A long-haired young man with a white-painted beard came down near her and grinned at her and passed her the plastic daffodil he’d had clamped between his teeth.

‘A token of love,’ he said. His eyes looked like saucers.

‘Let’s have a love-in,’ said Daisy, and suddenly this seemed like the most excellent idea. She and Mandy stripped naked but for their beads and coloured headbands, and the young man and his friend did the same. Mandy supported Daisy from behind, and the young man’s friend held him from behind, and the two connected, Daisy’s thighs locking around the young man’s waist as he stood there with his friend’s arms around him. It was a moment of complete communal love, with everyone around them observing and encouraging them to let it happen.