Lynda Plante - The Talisman

She felt he was smothering her, but she didn’t move, she couldn’t, he was holding her so tightly, but he didn’t frighten her. She looked up at last into his handsome face. ‘I belong to you, I do, I know it.’

He held her at arm’s length and said in a harsh voice that she belonged to no one but herself, least of all to him. He flicked up the collar of his black cashmere coat and smiled, but his eyes were holding on to her — dark, black eyes. ‘Maybe one day, when I’ve made it, I’ll come back for you, just don’t lose yourself, Harry, don’t grow into a woman.’

She spoke so softly, looking down at her old riding boot, ‘Everyone has to grow up, Edward.’

He turned away, faced the wall. ‘I have a brother, you know, younger than me...’

‘What about him?’

‘Well, I have to succeed for both of us, you see. I owe him... I owe him.’

She could barely hear him, and moved a little closer. His fists were clenched as he fought his emotion and she saw his face twist with anger. ‘Why am I telling you this, why?’ Neither spoke for long moments until he whispered, ‘I owe him his freedom.’ The word ‘freedom’ hammered inside his head and he struck out at the wall, his back to her. His voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘That was my father’s name — Freedom — he was a Romany gypsy, a gyppo... You see what I mean, you don’t know me.’

‘I think it’s a beautiful name... Freedom.’

Hearing her say it with such gentleness calmed him, but he still wouldn’t turn and face her.

‘He always loved my brother best. He bought him a dog once, I remember. I wanted a dog so badly, but I pretended not to like it. One night, one night, Harry, we had this argument... You wouldn’t understand, you couldn’t, I’m a liar and a cheat, I’m cheap... I come from the slums, Harry, real poor, you know? But I won this scholarship and... and...’

She remained standing, not moving closer, just standing there. He could feel her behind him. He pressed his head against the brick wall and the tears streamed down his face.

He turned to her, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. Her huge eyes looked deep into his. She was so different from all the women he had known — it was a direct gaze, innocent, and she wasn’t frightened by what he had told her. It was a terrible puzzle to her — his disconnected words showed his anguish and torment. She didn’t even lift her arms when he cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her gently, chastely, on her wonderful mouth, so soft and warm. A loving kiss. She loved him and he knew that he loved her. He held her face until his fingers marked her cheeks.

But Harriet was a child.

He turned on his heel and walked out. She stood staring after him. It was the most decent thing he had ever done in his life.

Dora had been in tears all day. Johnny Mask had been picked up for black marketeering. Not only that — when he was arrested they discovered that he had also skipped conscription. He chose to go into the army rather than jail, and so arrived at his tasteless apartment with his head shorn and wearing a corporal’s uniform.

He was philosophical about it all, reckoning that the war wouldn’t last all that long, and by the time they’d got him trained he would be back at the club. Dora wept buckets, she could see him opening fire on rows of Germans and being shot to pieces.

‘Darlin’, listen to me, I’ll be confined to bleedin’ barracks for three months before they can even ship me over. What you howlin’ for? I keep on tellin’ you I’ll be all right, for Chrissake... Dora, will you shut it!’

She gulped and mopped her tear-stained face. With Johnny gone, who was going to run the club? Who was going to look after her? She started up again, her face puckering, and he threw his arms up and threatened to slap her around, he had work to do and she was part of it.

‘They got me on a load of gin, but I got a warehouse full of stuff scheduled to come in tomorrow night. Now I can’t trust any of those sons of bitches I got workin’ for me, so I need someone on the inside.’

Dora started to think, her little brain teetered around and she tossed a few names to Johnny, who shook his head.

‘Yer not wiv me, are yer, you stupid cow? Look, you know the club racket — you should do, you’ve been runnin’ it wiv me long enough, even get the girls in for me, so...’

Dora suddenly felt the tears departing. Sharp as a tack, she picked up on what he was saying. She wasn’t going to be ditched, far from it.

‘I’ll be able to get out on weekend leave, right? All you gotta do is run the place until I’m fancy free again. I can even start a racket going down the barracks so I’ll need you even more on the outside, workin’ for me.’

Dora gaped, then threw her arms around his neck, kissing him, and he had to shove her away. ‘We got no time for that stuff. First I’ll take you over the accounts, the orders, who you got to bung a few quid to on the side so we don’t get any aggro from the law... Dora! Siddown and fuckin’ pay attention! Gawd almighty... I must be outta me head.’

Dora sat, attentive, and Johnny opened the safe, taking out papers, and to her stunned amazement, rolls and rolls of banknotes.

‘An’ another fing, Dora, you handle this right an’ I might even make an honest woman of you, when I’m out, like... Don’t start howlin’ again!’

She was over the moon, he was going to marry her — she asked if he really meant it? He relented and sat her on his knee, saying she’d never let him down, all the years they’d been together she’d never let him down and he appreciated it. Of course he meant what he said — when he got out of the army he would marry her. ‘Here we go! It’s not real, it’s what they call a zircon, but no one would know it’s not the real fing. You like it? I got it off Harry the Jew over in Paddington, does it fit?’

The ring, three sizes too big, sparkled as Dora held out her hand. She was so happy she danced around the bed. ‘Johnny, I love it, I just love it, and it’s perfect... Hey, I’m engaged, I’m engaged!’

He tossed his head and grinned. He liked the way she was so tickled, but he was also making sure she would tell everyone she was his ‘intended’. There were reasons behind it — he reckoned that if the lads knew this woman who was running the place was not just a tart they might leave her alone.

Dora sat at the reproduction antique desk and began sorting through the papers — who had to be paid off, who to order the booze from, who to welcome into the club and who to warn off. He had two good men for the door and the bar, and an ‘inside man’, who would be the one she would signal to if a customer was giving trouble.

‘Fing is, Dora, we gotta keep up the nice class of our customers. We can clean up, officers, you know — elbow the likes of me, we don’t want the riff-raff in, keep it classy. That goes for the girls too, an’ make sure they’re clean, any with a dose get ‘em out quick.’

He went to great lengths to show Dora the bookkeeping. One set for the government, one set for Mr Mask. She was to bank only the takings from book one, everything else went into the safe. They didn’t want to be copped for taxes and busted, they had to keep it legal and straight.

Dora ended up with so many instructions and lists of arrangements that had to be made over the next month that her head reeled.

‘Another fing, gel — now we’re an official couple you don’t lay the customers. It don’t look right, you’re the boss, an’ you gotta act like one, so you get respect, understand me? So you stick to ginger ale. I hear one word you get yourself legless and I’ll be out an’ you’ll be for it.’

They spent the night together, Johnny so eager to get Dora clued up that he was unable to get a hard-on. She giggled and said it didn’t matter, they would have lots of time for that when they were married.