Rock a Bye Baby (23 page)

Alan carried their luggage out to the car and laughingly noticed that they were travelling pretty light, both girls having only one bag each.

‘I’ll have more bags when I come back,’ crowed Rita.

Marcie said nothing. She wouldn’t be bringing anything back with the exception perhaps of a pair of tights. She’d seen some red ones that she thought would look good with a black mini dress in the winter. She’d seen a dress pattern she liked and the material – an old dress she’d spotted in a battered brown suitcase up in the attic.

Rita had forgotten her favourite red nail varnish so had to rush back into the house to fetch it.

‘Sit in the front with me while we wait for her Royal Highness, Marcie love,’ offered Alan. He stretched across the front seat to open the car door. ‘You can sit up front all the way if you like. There’s not a great deal of room at the back and our Rita normally falls asleep after thirty minutes of travel.’

Alan patted the length of leg above her knee. Normally she went bare legged at this time of year. Today, because they were off to London, she was
wearing tights and a lilac-coloured crimplene mini dress with a full-length zip down the front.

‘Don’t let our Rita’s openness get to you. There’s no secrets between me and Rita. None at all. She tells me everything.’

Having him try to reassure her did nothing except make her plunge to a deeper shade of crimson.

Alan leaned closer. ‘Look, love. What the eyes don’t see the heart don’t weep over. Your dad would prefer you not to bring any trouble to his castle, know what I mean? And you’re in love with this bloke and can’t help yourself. No need to be ashamed, you know. It’s only natural. Men and women have been doing it for ages.’ He grinned widely at the same time as taking a sliver of her hair and brushing it gently behind her ears. It felt nice, very soothing.

‘Let’s face it, Marcie, if your mum and dad and my mum and dad hadn’t been hot for each other, neither you nor me would be here, now, would we? But you’re not ready for family commitment, so it makes sense to take precautions. Relax. This is the nineteen sixties not the eighteen sixties. Science has provided the birth control pill. Make the most of it, darling. Go out and enjoy yourself.’

Despite his reassurances, Marcie still felt as though her face was on fire. In fact her whole body was burning with embarrassment. She badly needed to change the subject.

‘I wanted to ask you something. A favour,’ she said. Her long straight hair swung like skeins of silk as she jerked her head round to face him. ‘You remember Garth Davies, that funny bloke at the pictures?’

Alan nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘He’s been in a spot of bother, but it’s not his fault.’

She went on to tell him about Bully Price threatening to hurt his ginger cat if he didn’t do as they said. ‘I told him I’d tell on him if he didn’t leave Garth alone.’

‘Sounds like a boy working his way up to bigger things – like protection rackets and even a spot of larceny,’ said Alan. ‘So what did he say to that?’

‘He was cheeky at first. Then he threatened to beat my brothers up in school. I got angry. So I hit him.’

Alan threw his head back and laughed. ‘Good for you.’

‘The trouble is he might not take any notice of me. It needs someone who knows how to handle people like him.’ Marcie looked at him with pleading in her eyes. ‘Can you do anything?’

So that’s why the kids were ganging up on the spastic lad. Poor sod!

He grinned and patted her leg again. ‘For you, Marcie Brooks, I’d do anything. Like I said to you before, you’re the second daughter I never had.’ On seeing Rita on her way back to the car, he dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘And far less expensive!’

Alan Taylor had the sort of mind that twisted this way and that. They didn’t call him ‘The Dodger’ for nothing. Even as he drove he was thinking on how best to turn what Marcie had said to his advantage. From what she’d said, Bully Price had potential in some aspects of business he himself was involved in. Of course he’d need a bit of guidance and likely as not he’d do a stint in borstal before qualifying as an out-and-out incorrigible. Incorrigible! He liked that word. He’d read it somewhere, or likely Steph had and passed it on to him. Yeah. That was it. ‘That’s what you are,’ she’d said to him. ‘An incorrigible. That’s what they used to call criminals that refused to mend their ways.’

He’d laughed it off. He felt like laughing out loud now. Everything as regards the seduction of Marcie Brooks was going to plan. She trusted him more than she trusted her own dad. Couldn’t blame her really. Old Tony was a bit of a loser. Lost his wife, lost his job, lost his freedom. Pretty soon, if Alan played his cards right, he’d be losing his daughter.

And goodbye to Sheppey.

Alan wanted a cut of the big time. He had a club in the East End that was really doing well, but success came at a price. At present he was paying ‘insurance’ money to the Maltese Mafia – relatives of Tony Brooks. It was Tony who’d introduced them to him.

‘It’s normal procedure around these parts,’ Tony had explained. ‘Might as well keep it among friends. Right?’

Alan Taylor was no fool and realised he had no choice. The Maltese mob was in control – or at least they had been. Now the Kray twins were in the ascendant, taking over swathes of what had once been Maltese mob territory, including prostitution and protection money – insurance as they termed it.

Being a shrewd operator, Alan knew that if he didn’t pay his place could be torched. What he did know was that it was better to throw your lot in with the gang that was on the rise. He reckoned he could get a good deal if he went to them direct, asking them for ‘insurance’ before they came demanding it. It made sense.

He hadn’t told Tony, of course. Why should he? First as last it was his business. Anyway, Tony was a bit of a spent force, weighted down as he was with that family of his. Buried alive in Sheppey! Well, he wasn’t going to be that. He wanted to move onwards and upwards. He wanted to open more clubs and get in on the big time.

The only way he could get that was to move up to the smoke – the big city – London. The pavements weren’t exactly paved with gold, but that depended on what you were doing. Oh yes. Alan Taylor was poised to move up in the world. He’d leave Steph behind and Rita too, but he’d take Marcie, just as he’d once planned to take her mother.

The shopping turned out to be better than Marcie could have anticipated. Alan insisted on buying her a black and white dress she very much admired, plus a pair of black patent shoes with a low Cuban heel and ankle straps.

‘But don’t let our Rita know. She’ll only get jealous.’

Rita bought herself a pair of elastic-sided Chelsea boots and a pair of cream-coloured jeans to wear with them. By the time she’d bought herself a black top sprinkled with psychedelic swirls and a black felt hat, she didn’t have enough for the Crombie coat she wanted. Her father obliged.

‘And that’s your lot,’ he warned her. ‘No more shopping. I’ve got business to attend to.’

He drove them to a narrow cobbled street in the East End of London. The street was lined with terraced houses built of dark-red brick.

‘Won’t be long. There’s some blokes I’ve got to see.’

Kids stopped playing hopscotch or swinging from improvised swings – lengths of rope flung over lamp
posts. En masse they milled around the posh car and made faces through the windows.

A giant of a man came out of the house Alan Taylor had disappeared into and told the kids to shove off.

They didn’t need to be told twice. The big man stood on the pavement with his hands folded in front of him. The kids went back to their games.

Marcie lowered her head and looked beyond the man standing guard over the car.

‘Whose house is it?’

Rita shrugged. ‘No idea.’

She was sitting in the back taking each item out of the bag, scrutinising it and jabbering on about how good it was going to look on her and how much she was going to enjoy being a mod.

Marcie made no comment. Rita’s father had hidden the dress and shoes he’d bought her in the boot.

He’d smiled and winked at her. ‘We’ll meet up later – just the two of us. You can collect them then.’

She sighed. Alan Taylor was the most generous and kindest man she’d ever known.

Alan Taylor sat in the chair that was offered him. The twins sitting opposite nodded a swift greeting. Their faces were pale, their eyes unblinking and seemingly without any variation in colour. Their mother
had placed a tray containing a pot of tea, sugar, milk and cups and saucers on the table.

‘I’ll leave you boys to it,’ she said cheerily once she’d added a plate of mixed biscuits. It was as though her sons were boy scouts, not two of the most vicious gangsters in the East End.

Reggie took a biscuit from the plate. ‘I hear you’re a mate of Tony Brooks.’

‘Kind of. He does a few odd jobs for me – cleaning cars mostly.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘Just about all he’s fit for nowadays.’

He was feeling nervous, but knew it was unwise to show weakness. He got a cigar out plus a gold-plated lighter.

Ronnie shook his head. ‘Sorry, no smoking. Mum doesn’t like it.’

Alan didn’t like being told what to do but recognised when he had no choice. Both cigar and lighter were put away.

The big guy sent out to guard his motor came back in, went to Reggie and whispered in his ear. Then he went out again.

Alan wondered what was said. He wasn’t long finding out.

‘You’ve got two girls in your car.’

Alan nodded. ‘My daughter and her friend. They wanted to do a bit of shopping.’

Ronnie appeared to relax. ‘Glad to hear it. Should
always take care of the family, Alan. Know what I mean?’

‘I do indeed.’

‘Good.’ He leaned back, exchanged a look with his brother and laughed. ‘For a moment I thought they might be a couple of tarts.’

‘No offence,’ said Reggie, his teeth set in something between a grimace and a grin.

‘No offence taken,’ returned Alan.

He had no problem persuading them that his intentions were genuine. They expressed satisfaction that he’d come to him.

Alan congratulated himself. He struck a good deal and was told in no uncertain terms that their own boys would be waiting the next time his present ‘insurers’ came calling.

Alan congratulated himself. He was one step ahead of the game. His club was safe. His only problem was dealing with Tony’s reaction when he found out. There were tight family connections involved, but it couldn’t be helped. This was business. Tony had to understand that.

Heart in mouth, Marcie broached the subject she was dreading. ‘Look, Rita. Johnnie’s picking me up on Friday. We’re going away to Ramsgate, but I can’t go unless you cover for me. I’m sleeping over at your place. Right?’

Like a cat that’s stalking a sparrow, Rita narrowed
her eyes. ‘For two nights? That’s a big lie for your dad to swallow. Besides, I don’t know whether I can.’

The fact that Rita was being awkward roused Marcie to anger and caused her to blurt out the unspoken truth. ‘Don’t be such a cow, Rita. I’ve done the same for you often enough. I still would be if Pete hadn’t dumped you.’

Rita’s soft-skinned complexion turned stiff. She might as well have been fashioned from stone.

‘He did not dump me! I dumped him!’

The damage was done. Marcie decided to go the whole hog and tell it as it was.

‘You are such a liar, Rita Taylor! You told him you were pregnant when you weren’t and he didn’t want to know. He dumped you. You did
not
dump him!’

Rita’s natural bravado melted like a chocolate mask. Suddenly she burst into tears. Marcie felt immediate remorse.

‘Oh, Rita. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I know he meant a lot to you.’

Rita sobbed on her shoulder while Marcie patted her back.

Her dad came back, saw her crying and asked what the problem was.

His daughter straightened and promptly lied. ‘I got all overcome suddenly. We were talking about our mothers – our real ones, that is, not Babs or Steph. Old cows the pair of them.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly say that …’ Marcie couldn’t believe what she was saying, sticking up for her stepmother. They were hardly close. Rita was becoming aggravating of late. And selfish – very selfish.

Rita butted in. ‘Marcie wants me to lie for her on Friday and Saturday. She wants me to tell her dad that she’s staying with us, but she isn’t really. She’s going off with Johnnie, that rocker down from London.’

Alan turned in his seat. ‘Is that what you want?’

Marcie didn’t know what to say. Once again she was mortified that Rita was so forthright with her father.

He laughed. ‘Why not? Old Tony’s getting to be a miserable old sod. A girl deserves a bit of fun, I reckon. Of course we’ll lie for you.’

Rita looked dumbstruck. ‘But it wouldn’t be the truth.’

Alan grinned at his daughter. ‘Let’s face it, darling, you don’t always tell your dad the whole truth, do you now!’

Rita made a humphing sound and folded her arms across her ample chest. She pursed her lips. ‘You love Marcie more than me. And that’s the truth!’

‘Don’t talk rubbish. You’re my girl. Always have been, always will be. Tell you what, Rita. Come and sit in the front with your old dad.’

He patted his daughter’s plump knee just as he’d done to Marcie – though not so high up.

Rita jumped at the invitation. Marcie was ejected from the front seat and forced to sit in the back, not that she was worried about that. She watched as Rita flung her arms around her father’s neck and kissed his cheek.

‘You soft cow,’ said Alan and kissed her back. ‘Now let’s get going, shall we? Back to Sheep Dip by the Sea.’

He laughed at his own joke. Marcie had never heard him call Sheppey that before and in such a derogatory tone. He actually sounded as though he hated the place.

Still, none of her business.

It had been a long day. She slept all the way back, her head resting among Rita’s many purchases.

‘Come on, sleepy head. I want my stuff.’

Rita dragging the carrier bags from under her head woke her up.