Tiger Bay Blues (17 page)

‘Murphy, what’s happening here?’ An officer walked up to them. Even in her distressed state, Edyth recognised the sergeant’s stripes on his tunic.

‘Anna and the girls took a dislike to a newcomer muscling in. Fortunately for her, Sam and his boys came to the rescue before they stripped, scalped and killed her. Although, as you see, they made a start.’

‘Good for Sam and his boys.’

‘They’re not a bad lot when they’re not gambling in the street or drinking after hours.’

‘Or flogging on stuff that’s fallen out of a ship’s container.’ The sergeant slipped his fingers beneath Edyth’s chin and turned her head to the street light. ‘Bit young to be on the game, aren’t you, miss?’

‘I’m a respectable girl –’ Edyth began hotly.

‘Yes, well, we’ll find out just how respectable down the station. Cuff her, Murphy.’

‘And put her in the back of the van with the other girls, Sarge? She’ll never reach Maria Street alive.’

‘You can walk her there.’

‘She’s half dead.’

‘It’s only a ten-minute stroll. Carry her if you have to,’ the sergeant said shortly. ‘This is best sorted at the station and I’m dying for a cuppa. I haven’t had a morsel since teatime. My stomach thinks my throat is cut.’

Panic-stricken, Edyth watched Murphy snap a handcuff on to one of his wrists and the second on to hers. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about, miss.’ Murphy started walking. ‘Come on, the station’s only just down the road.’

Edyth looked around as she was jerked forward. ‘My case! My handbag!’

Even the officers who were still loading the girls into the back of the van stopped and glanced up and down the street.

‘I had an overnight case, a red plaid Gladstone, and a white leather handbag.’

‘Nothing here, miss.’ Murphy continued to move and she was forced to follow.

She tried to stand her ground. ‘But I’ve been robbed. All my things, my purse … I had over five pounds in it, and my bank book …’

‘A likely story,’ the sergeant sneered.

‘I did,’
Edyth countered forcefully.

‘Just tell me one thing: if you had a fiver, why aren’t you tucked up safe and sound in a bed somewhere instead of working the street?’ the sergeant asked.

‘I told you, I wasn’t trying to pick up anyone. I’ve been robbed. Aren’t you even going to look for my case and bag?’

‘I’ve looked and I’ll look again.’ The sergeant stared ostentatiously at the pavement beneath the lamp. ‘I can tell you one thing, miss: if your bags ever existed outside of your imagination they’re not here now. Come on, Murphy, the sooner we get to Maria Street the sooner we can get a cuppa.’

‘And one of them jam doughnuts the missus made earlier, Sarge?’

‘Mrs Murphy does us proud, Murphy. Keep two back for me, will you?’

Chapter Nine

Barely able to walk for the aching in her entire body, furious at being robbed and mistaken for a streetwalker, first by a group of common prostitutes and then by police officers, Edyth found herself being pushed through the doors of the largest police station she had ever seen. The reception area was dark and dingy. The walls were covered in sickly, yellow-green, brick-shaped tiles; above them the plastered walls were painted a nicotine yellow that might once have been white. The wood-block floor was scuffed and stained by things she’d rather not think about, and the stench was overwhelming – sweat, vomit and urine spiced with a hint of carbolic.

An officer was sitting on a high stool behind a reception desk chatting to three women, who were weighed down by cheap, paste jewellery and plastered with more make-up than Edyth had seen anyone wearing, on or off stage.

The officers were propelling the girls they’d unloaded from the van through the doors, past the desk and down a corridor. All four fought every inch of the way. Edyth saw that two of the constables had lost their helmets, including the young one whom Murphy had called Jones. Despite her predicament she noticed that he was not only handsome but looked more like a choirboy than an officer of the law. He had deep scratches on his face and blushed crimson every time one of the women or his fellow officers shouted at him.

Murphy unlocked the cuff that fastened his wrist to hers, slipped it off and snapped it around an iron bar set in front of the desk.

‘Book her in for me, Pugh?’ he said to the desk clerk. ‘I’m getting tea for the sergeant.’ He disappeared down the corridor.

‘Bastard! Locking us up, just for trying to earn an honest living,’ Anna yelled at the top of her voice after him.

‘I’ll talk to you when you show me your tax bill marked “paid”, Anna,’ Murphy called back.

The officer behind the desk shook his head. ‘Come on, Anna. Less of the name-calling. You know the drill. You play fair with us and we’ll play fair with you.’

‘Albert Pugh is right, Anna,’ said one of the women at the desk.

‘You shut your face, Lettie Marshall,’ Anna screamed in temper.

‘Common, that’s what she is,’ Lettie said to her companions. She looked back at Constable Pugh, lifted her skirt and kicked her leg in his direction before following her companions out of the door.

Pugh watched them go, then turned to Edyth, ‘The boys tell me you’re the cause of all this upset.’ He opened a book, picked up a pencil, licked the end and tutted at her.

‘I haven’t done anything,’ Edyth protested. ‘Those women attacked me.’

‘They wouldn’t have done that without good reason, now would they?’ he asked calmly.

‘Bitch!’ Anna flung a final insult at Edyth before she was bundled out of sight. Her face had turned a murky shade of green and Edyth wondered if she was ill or if the effect was down to the harsh light of the naked lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling.

Feeling faint, she leaned on the counter for support.

‘Stand up straight, miss,’ Pugh barked. ‘Can’t have prisoners lolling about making the place look untidy.’

A man appeared in the open doorway of an office next to the counter. Edyth was accustomed to seeing tall men. Her father, Harry and Uncle Joey were all over six feet, and her Uncle Victor was over six-and-a-half-feet. This man looked both taller and broader. He was in shirtsleeves but his stance and demeanour left her in no doubt that he was in command. The moment he appeared, all the officers who spotted him straightened to attention.

Pugh murmured, ‘Inspector.’

The man glanced up the corridor. The women were still shouting, but their noise was drowned out by the ringing of footsteps, the clang of metal doors slamming shut and keys turning in locks. He looked enquiringly at the desk clerk.

‘Anna and her girls attacked this …’ Pugh paused long enough to make the word sound like an insult,
‘lady’
for touting for trade on their patch. Sam and his boys rescued her.’

‘Magistrates job?’

‘We haven’t formally charged any of them yet, sir. We’ll let Anna and her girls cool off in the cells. But I doubt this …’ he eyed Edyth as if she were a stray dog, ‘person, will want to make a formal complaint.’

‘If she was on Anna’s patch, charge her with disturbing the peace. She looks fit enough to hear the standard caution. Empty her pockets. Take her stockings and anything that’s left of her clothes that she could hang herself with.’

‘Sir,’ Pugh snapped to attention.

The Inspector flicked his gaze over Edyth’s tattered dress. She lifted her free hand and clutched the handkerchief the Negro had given her even more tightly to her exposed bust-shaper.

‘Find out who she is and where she’s from, Pugh, then lock her up. There’s no point in rousting out her relatives before morning, that’s if she has any who’ll own her.’

Murphy walked down the corridor carrying two mugs, a plate of doughnuts balanced on top of one of them. ‘One of the boys just said that Anna told him the girl arrived at the church in a taxi. She walked down the alley past the church and came out about ten minutes later. Then she started touting.’

The Inspector stared at Edyth, ‘Why go down the alley past the church, miss? There’s no doss house down there.’

Edyth gathered together the ragged remains of her clothes and dignity. ‘I wasn’t looking for a doss house.’

‘I can’t wait for you to tell me what you were looking for in Bute Street this early in the morning,’ he said. He moved out of the doorway, caught hold of her chin and turned her head, first one way then another. ‘The girls did a good job on you. You’re covered in bites and scratches. All superficial but they could get infected if they’re not swabbed. Want us to call out the police doctor, miss?’

‘No.’

‘There’s not a lot left of her frock.’ Murphy placed the mugs and plate of doughnuts on the desk.

The Inspector examined Edyth’s scalp. ‘There are a couple of bloody spots here where they pulled out her hair. Are you sure that you don’t want us to call the doctor?’

‘I am sure,’ Edyth repeated.

‘You’ll have to sign a statement to the effect.’

‘Give it to me and I will.’ Edyth managed to keep her voice steady although she was quaking inside.

‘Do you want to press charges of assault on Anna and the other girls?’

Edyth blanched when she thought of the trouble that would cause not only Peter, but her parents. Her mother would be upset and her father - she visualised the newspaper headlines: LABOUR MP’S DAUGHTER IN BRAWL WITH STREETWALKERS IN TIGER BAY.’

‘No,’ she said firmly.

‘No to the doctor or no to pressing charges?’ Pugh poised his pencil over the book on the desk.

‘No to both,’ Edyth answered.

‘Your first time in Bute Street, miss – or is it madam?’ the Inspector asked.

His inference was obvious. Edyth was furious but she sensed she had nothing to gain by offending him. ‘No,’ she answered coldly but not impolitely. ‘The last time I was here I attended a party in Moore’s shopping offices.’

‘I’m surprised the old man let you in. He’s particular about who walks through his doors – during office hours. His grandson’s more open-minded. So I take it you visited Charlie Moore? Private party, was it?’

‘I visited the shipping offices, not Charlie Moore.’ Edyth recalled Charlie’s attack on Judy Hamilton and guessed what kind of ‘parties’ he held in his rooms.

‘So you know Charlie Moore. Were you waiting for him or just hanging about on the off-chance he’d appear?’ The Inspector returned to the doorway, leaned against the post and crossed his arms over his barrel chest.

‘I only know Charlie Moore socially. And I certainly wasn’t waiting for him.’

‘Only socially?’ Murphy whistled derisively.

‘There are plenty of opportunities for a young girl like you to make a living without resorting to streetwalking, so why do it?’ the Inspector asked bluntly.

Edyth looked down. To her horror the handkerchief had slipped and she noticed that it wasn’t just her frock that had been torn to the waist, but also her petticoat. She snatched at the edges of her dress and held them together.

The Inspector saw her scrabbling. ‘Get her a shirt, Murphy.’

‘Sir.’ The officer immediately ran up a flight of stairs and through a door marked ‘Private.’

Edyth continued to stand in silence. She was very aware of the men around her, and the noise coming from the unseen end of the corridor where the girls who’d attacked her were still shouting insults at the officers who’d locked them up.

Murphy eventually returned with a freshly laundered blue cotton collarless shirt. He thrust it at Edyth, ‘I want it back. Washed and ironed.’

‘Of course. Thank you.’ Edyth took it gratefully and hugged it close, but she didn’t risk exposing any more of herself by trying to put it on.

‘We need your name and address, miss.’ Pugh filched one of Murphy’s doughnuts.

Edyth opened her mouth then shut it again. She couldn’t possibly give the police her parents’ names and address. Both of them would be furious with her for leaving Swansea so late in the day and that was without everything that had happened to her since, that she sensed they would quite rightly blame her for bringing on herself.

‘Miss?’ Pugh prompted.

‘I haven’t done anything other than stand in the street in front of the church,’ she said earnestly.

‘You’re about to be charged with disturbing the peace.’

‘All I was doing was standing on a pavement,’ she repeated.

‘At half-past one in the morning on a streetwalkers’ rabbit run.’

‘I thought it was an ordinary road. I’m a decent, respectable girl.’ Edyth was beginning to realise just how difficult it would be to prove that.

‘I don’t know many respectable young ladies eccentric enough to walk down Bute Street at one in the morning.’ Murphy looked sceptically at her over the edge of his mug of tea.

‘I am respectable,’ she reiterated.

‘Come on, love, don’t make this any harder on yourself than it already is,’ coaxed Pugh, who resembled a kindly grandfather more than an officer of the law. ‘Let’s have your story.’

‘There is no story, only the truth. I was attacked,’ Edyth insisted.

‘Because you were touting for trade on another girl’s patch,’ Murphy reminded her.

‘I most certainly was not. And that is insulting.’ Edyth was trembling but she was determined not to break down in front of the officers.

‘Let me guess,’ the Inspector said in a conversational tone. ‘You went into service and found yourself laid off because of the recession. Your money ran out and you didn’t want to go home because things are hard enough there without one more mouth to feed, so you thought you’d try your luck down here?’

‘I was never in service. I am respectable –’

‘We’re short-tempered at the best of times, love, and you’re trying our patience.’ Murphy rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

‘It’s the truth. Why won’t you believe me?’ Edyth demanded.

‘You’re a fair actress, you talk better than some on the game and you’re easier on the eye than most. But we’re not born yesterday.’ Murphy finished his tea and wiped his moustache with the back of his hand.

Desperate, Edyth said the one thing she had been anxious to avoid. ‘I am an acquaintance of Reverend Slater. If you talk to him he will vouch for me.’

‘Reverend Richards’s new curate?’ Murphy asked in astonishment.

‘He was out when I called at the vicarage. I intended to arrive there earlier but my train was held up for over two hours outside Bridgend. You can check that if you like. I didn’t reach Cardiff station until after midnight. The woman who answered the door at the vicarage wouldn’t let me in.’

‘I’m not surprised. Lizzie Mack knows better than to let in trouble, especially after midnight.’ Murphy pulled a packet of Senior Service cigarettes from his tunic pocket.

‘That was why I was standing on the street,’ Edyth insisted. ‘And it was there the women attacked me.’

‘You’re a right comedienne, love.’ Pugh dropped his pencil and leaned on his elbows.

‘Why are you questioning me instead of trying to find my handbag and overnight case?’

‘This is Bute Street. The bag and case will be in the dock by now,’ Murphy declared flatly.

‘Empty,’ Pugh added philosophically.

‘Come on, love, stop wasting our time.’ Pugh’s tone hardened. ‘The sooner you give us your name and address, the sooner we can put you in a nice cosy cell.’

Edyth swayed on her feet.

‘Get her a chair,’ the Inspector ordered.

Murphy pushed a chair behind Edyth. Still clutching the shirt, she sat down, but she continued to meet the officers’ stares.

‘Right, let’s try again.’ Pugh picked up his pencil.

‘Name? Address? Occupation?’

A constable burst through the doors shouldering a man whose head was swathed in bandages.

‘Trouble, Smith?’ the Inspector enquired laconically.

‘Punch-up in the open-air casino outside the Packet. Pastor Holsten’s patched up the minor casualties. We sent one major to the infirmary. This is the card sharp who started it. Apparently, he had two aces up his sleeve.’

‘Any more coming in?’ The Inspector filched one of Murphy’s cigarettes and lit it.

‘Only one. Pastor Holsten offered to bring him in so the rest of the boys on the beat can clear the street.’

‘Good evening, officers, Sergeant.’ A tall, spare man came in supporting another casualty.

‘Pastor, I hear you’re being a Good Samaritan again.’ The Sergeant beckoned to Murphy to take the injured man from Micah Holsten.

Edyth blanched when she recognised the Pastor as one of the musicians who had played at Bella’s wedding. From the look on his face, it was also obvious that he remembered her.

Micah Holsten thrust the man he was helping at Constable Murphy. As soon as his hands were free he tipped his hat. ‘It’s a fine night, Miss Evans.’

‘You know this lady?’

‘I do, Inspector Cummings.’

‘Then you can tell us who she is.’

Edyth shook her head and he understood her instantly.

‘She is a most respectable young lady. I had no idea you ever visited the docks, Miss Evans.’