Bryce Courtenay - The Potato Factory

He glanced down at his front, admiring the tiny, almost invisible finger pluck seam where the cigar hole had previously been.

'A capital job, m'dear, and most skilfully completed!'

He glanced slyly at Hannah, so that his double meaning would not be lost to her.

'Yer most welcome, I'm sure, sir,' Hannah said, returning his knowing look. 'Yer always welcome to me 'umble mouth!'

Sir Jasper pulled himself up to his full height, which was by no means impressive. 'Mrs Solomons, I must remind you, each of us has our place and you would do well to remember yours! Let me be quite clear, we shall have no blackmail here, do you hear?'

Hannah had half expected his return to pomposity, for she was well aware that the masculine mind is directed largely from below the waist, and that there is nothing so restoring to the male ego as the return of his trousers. Even so, she was not of a mind to apologise. She knew enough of these matters to be certain that the priggish policeman would be back for more in due course. The next time she would tempt him further with a good spanking. The back of the hairbrush on his noble little botty. Hannah felt confident that her relationship with the Upper Marshal was far from over.

Hannah answered sweetly, 'Blackmail, sir? I can't rightly say that I knows what ya is talkin' about.' Then abruptly changing the subject Hannah looked ingenuously at Sir Jasper. 'Ya ain't answered me question sir. What shall become of our 'umble family? If me 'usband should be transported, 'ow shall we live?' She lowered her voice and its tearful character returned. 'With 'im gorn yer condemning us to the work'ouse!'

'Why, Mrs Solomons, you are by all accounts a resourceful woman. I feel sure your, er… dockside establishments bring you a handsome return?'

Hannah feigned surprise. 'I'm sure I don't knows what ya mean, sir. If what ya said was goin' on, but what I said wasn't, but could be, that is, if a person was forced into supportin'

'er four starving kids without an 'usband, if such establishments were to 'appen to be about to… open?'

'Yes, well, I dare say if you are prepared to co-operate fully, the bank isn't too interested in your, er… other businesses.'

Hannah sniffed, reaching into her handbag for a dainty handkerchief and touching it to each eye in what she supposed was a genteel gesture, she looked imploringly up at Sir Jasper. 'Am I so bold as to believe, sir, that ya would turn the self-same blind eye to the establishment what is at me poor 'usband's 'ouse in Bell Alley?'

'The printing shop or the brothel?'

'No, sir, not the printin', definitely not the printin'. Me, what can't read nor write 'as no use for a printin' shop.'

'Ah! You are sprung, madam!' Sir Jasper laughed. 'So you do know Egyptian Mary? You wish to continue your husband's partnership? Two sows in the same trough, eh?' Sir Jasper chuckled at his own joke. 'Well, well, well, well! I would be surprised if Egyptian Mary would countenance such an arrangement, she is a woman of some pepper. Still, I guess you would know, eh?'

'No, sir, I does not!' Hannah snorted. 'Ya quite mistake me meanin'. I want me 'usband's so called partner arrested! It were 'er what turned 'im to queer screenin' and printin' unlawful paper, if such a thing 'as been done by 'im! It ain't fair if she goes free! That's a blatant miscarriage o' justice, that is!'

'But there is no evidence to implicate her in his forgery,' Sir Jasper said frowning. 'We can't let you continue to run six bawdy houses and arrest her for running but one! Why, madam, we'd be the laughing stock of the City!'

'It ain't the same!' Hannah countered. 'I takes me earnin's from the criminal classes, the filth! Them what don't know, and never can know any better! What I does is as natural to them as stealin', they's born to it, it's a social 'abit, normal as breathin', I cater for them what doesn't 'ave no 'ope of risin' up from a life o' crime and grog!'

'I can't possibly entertain such a preposterous idea, Mrs Solomons!' In point of fact, though, Sir Jasper, who shared the contemporary social views that the criminal poor were born and not created by environment or circumstances, was not unimpressed with Hannah's argument. 'I must remind you, justice is blind. Running a bawdy house of whatever kind is an equal crime against the law. If we are to overlook the one kind, your kind, we must do the same for her kind, what?' Sir Jasper lifted his chin and looked down at Hannah across his florid nose. 'British justice must prevail, there's an end to it now, the matter bears no further discussion!'

Hannah was not prepared to concede. 'Yer actual law, yes! That I'll grant ya is the same! But what about yer lot, the upper classes? What about yer morals? What about yer standards o' society? Me 'umble customers can't get no better. They ain't got no morals and they ain't got no standards what can be upheld. But what o' yer lot? What this Egyptian whore is runnin' is causin' the destruction of the moral standards o' the better classes! Them what's born to morals and standards and must set an example for the 'onest poor!'

'Clever argument, as a matter of fact, dashed clever!' Sir Jasper seemed genuinely impressed. 'Madam, I commend you for your reasoning, but…'

Hannah's interruption was of perfect timing. 'I really don't think I could give me complete co-operation, me absolute best o' information and 'elp in the matter o' me 'usband and the printin' press, if ya was to turn a blind eye to this den of iniquity and sinfulness what 'as caught me darlin' Ikey in a web spun by this 'orrible, 'eathen, Egyptian whore!'

Sir Jasper, taken aback by this sudden change of attack from Hannah, seemed momentarily lost for words. He paced the few steps left to him in the tiny room. 'Hmm! Very awkward.' He glanced at Hannah. 'I don't suppose it would make any great difference if I told you Egyptian Mary is English? Her name is Mary Abacus. Not her real name, carries an abacus see, damned clever at calculations, London as the bells of St Clements, not a drop of wog in her, born in Rosemary Lane, tough as a brigade boot, lots of ginger, hands deformed, some sort of bizarre accident down at the docks on Jacob's Island.'

Hannah was now breathing heavily. The Mary she knew, who carried the Chinee contraption wherever she went, was a drunken whore who had also taken to the opium pipe, usually the end of the road for her kind. Hannah was an expert in such women. Their last stop was a brothel such as hers, thereafter they would be soon dragged from the river with a boatman's hook, or found with their ears and nose and fingertips eaten by rats, their body submerged in some putrid cesspool or rotting in a dark, evil smelling alley. It was almost beyond believing that this Egyptian whore might be the same Mary. That bastard Marley knew all the time -the miserable sod owed her two sov! Ikey had chosen this nemmo scumbag above his own wife to partner him in the high-class brothel of her dreams. The humiliation was too impossible to bear!

Now Hannah, visibly shaking, glared at Sir Jasper. 'If that filthy whore don't get the boat then ya can stick yer threats up yer arse! I'll take me chances with the law. This very night all six o' me places shall become netherkens where the desperate poor can stay for tuppence a night, you'll 'ave to prove otherwise and all I can say is you'll 'ave a bleedin'

'ard time doin' it!'

Sir Jasper, much taken aback by Hannah's fury, brought his hands up to his chest as though to protect himself from the battery of words she hurled at him.

'Hush, hush, m'dear, you'll do yourself a harm,' he cried in alarm. 'I shall see what we can do!'

'Not good enough, sir!'

'Hell hath no fury, eh?'

Sir Jasper was sufficiently sensitive to realise with some delight that Hannah's venom was largely directed towards her husband. Now she confirmed this, her scorn evident as she spoke. 'Ya can 'ave 'im, 'e ain't no good to me no more, I 'ope the bastard rots in 'ell!'