Finding Eadie, page 24
She was staring down into a basement that could have easily been a bomb shelter, if it wasn’t for the tremor through her feet or the huge man standing by the door.
Alice and Ursula were on a darkened street in Chelsea, and Alice’s chest was already tightening, but her friend hadn’t taken no for an answer. She had been simultaneously sceptical and worried when Alice had told her about the plan with Joe Stevenson—and concerned that Alice wouldn’t be able to play her part convincingly. That’s when Ursula had told her she knew just the place where they could rub shoulders with the sort of streetwise people she was trying to deceive: ‘Somewhere you’re as likely to find a villain as a vamp,’ she’d said in her trademark ironic tone. Alice felt every bit the vamp now in the black crepe trousers and luxurious cream silk blouse that Ursula had saved all her clothing coupons for, just the type of ridiculously extravagant outfit that Ursula’s heroine, Katharine Hepburn, wore.
‘This is certainly it,’ Ursula replied, smiling with Elizabeth Arden’s de rigueur red-coated lips. Then she fixed Alice with a purposeful stare. ‘Ready?’
Alice had barely recognised her own reflection in the mirror—but she could certainly imagine that woman on Joe Stevenson’s arm.
She pressed her lips together, then remembered to breathe, and followed Ursula down.
The Gateway, or ‘The Gates’ as Ursula called it, had long been a haven for the arty crowd. She’d said that you truly were just as likely to bump into a truck driver or a bus conductor here as a writer or a criminal. It was the meeting place for the Chelsea Arts Club but also for the homosexual crowd, as well as one or two scurrilous characters, and that was what Alice was banking on tonight.
‘Good evening, Miss Rousson,’ said the muscle-bound doorman.
‘Hello, Ronny,’ Ursula replied, smiling as he opened the door and they stepped inside.
Green velvet curtains opened to reveal a wall of smoke and dancers, and, off to one side, a jazz band, the four musicians stooped like musical notes. It was a small space—just thirty-five by eighteen feet—and Alice stood entranced. It had been a real worry that she might get panicked underground, but she quickly forgot about that because this was unlike anywhere she’d ever been. Clusters of people fanned out like a spinning roulette wheel into the centre of the room. Men and women sat at scattered tables, while others leaned on the wooden shelf that ran around the edges, resting elbows as they drank, cigarettes lengthening fingers. Glimpses of the walls showed murals of London—fashionable Londoners, scenes from the ‘Gates’ and vivid renditions of city icons, all painted, Ursula had told her, by students from Chelsea Arts Club. It was a kaleidoscope of music and laughter, of dancing and conversation, like a colourful cabaret in full swing, and for a moment she forgot the reason she was there.
She followed Ursula, squeezing through the crowd as they headed to the bar at the other side and waited to get served. Ursula moved out of the way to let a man in a trilby and patterned scarf squeeze past, balancing a tray of drinks, then she shuffled closer to the bar.
As Alice stood and waited, she noticed her friend watching a group at a nearby table. They were playing a boisterous game of cards, the two men and three women heckling each other, then shrieking as a woman won. The men wore gauche suits, and two of the women didn’t appear to care that there was a luxury tax on cosmetics or a rationing on their clothes, still in fur jackets and glistening jewels. Their uproar died down and the winner collected her cards, slender arms and neck craned forwards as she checked her fellow players had given up their money. Satisfied, she smiled and sat back in her chair, elegantly positioning a cigarette holder between her lips and turning sideways so one of the gentlemen could light it. The match flickered, illuminating her face, and she glanced up, catching Ursula’s eye where she stood at the bar. They held each other’s gaze for a second, then one of her companions said something to her and she turned away.
‘Here you go,’ Ursula said, returning with two glasses. ‘You need to have more patience than Joan of Arc if you want to get a drink here.’
‘What is it?’
‘Gin Fizz.’
‘Thank you.’ Alice took a sip and winced at the bitter taste. ‘What do we do now, dance?’ she asked uncertainly.
‘Not yet. First, you’ve got to watch. See those two over there?’ Ursula indicated the opposite corner. ‘What do you make of them?’
One was potbellied, casually dressed and wore a battered fedora, while the other was in an immaculate three-piece suit and kept his head down, examining his cuticles as his companion talked animatedly in his ear.
‘The one in the suit is the crime boss and the other one’s his henchman?’
Ursula rolled her eyes. ‘No, Alice. That’s Ted Ware, the new owner, and I’m pretty sure the one in the suit recently lost the club to him in a poker game.’
Alice grimaced. ‘What about those ones over there?’ she asked, staring at three men drinking at the bar. ‘Are they crooks?’
‘No. Isn’t it obvious? They’re policemen.’
‘Oh—’
Ursula leaned nearer as she explained. ‘Look how closely they’re sitting together, the way they’re using their hands to communicate—it’s evident they work together. And see the way they’re glancing at each other and then around them? They’re talking about something serious … but they don’t want to be overheard.’
Alice screwed up her face. ‘I don’t see it. Isn’t it just because it’s noisy down here?’
Ursula sighed dramatically. ‘See, you’re far too naive. I think this plan of yours is a really bad idea. And I’d have thought you’d have learned by now, Alice,’ she added worriedly, ‘that you can’t trust anyone. Especially men.’
Alice thought again, as she had a hundred times, about Theo, and how disappointed she was in him. But this was a completely different situation.
She let Ursula’s frustration settle before she answered. ‘I told you, if Olive trusts Joe, then that’s good enough for me.’
‘And you’re certain you won’t let Michael go with you?’
‘Absolutely not, I’m not going back on my word.’
It was touching that her friend was so concerned, but Alice really didn’t think a crash course in character observation was going to help at this late stage. Yes, it might make her less nervous around the people Joe was about to introduce her to, and therefore less likely to give herself away, but as far as she could see the people down here didn’t look like hardened criminals anyway. She cast her eyes about for some shady characters but all she noticed were people having fun. A group of nurses noisily celebrated a birthday, and onlookers cheered as first the birthday girl then other members of the group were propelled into the middle of their circle to dance. Alice couldn’t help but smile as the crowd’s excitement grew, the clapping building to a crescendo as the birthday girl’s footwork got faster in response, threatening to topple her. We could all do with a bit of cheer, Alice thought; the week’s news from Europe had been particularly disturbing. It was rumoured that in Warsaw thousands of the Jewish community had been killed as they’d resisted deportation.
The dancers linked arms behind each other’s backs and twirled clockwise, bumping into one another as their feet struggled to keep pace, the musicians playing ever faster. Then the song ended, and the dancers broke apart.
‘They don’t look like they’re going to cause too much trouble,’ Alice commented and downed the last of her drink.
While the band took a break, Ursula explained how to read a person’s body language, from their nervous gestures and anxious energy right down to how you should shake hands when you met them—unless your palms were sweaty, of course.
‘See that one in a red dress over there?’ Ursula pointed to a young woman with a female partner on the dance floor. The woman swayed and bobbed with such easy rhythm that Alice guessed she hadn’t only had one drink. When she placed her hands around her partner’s neck and kissed her, Alice shyly looked away. ‘She’s new to the scene,’ Ursula said as she continued watching their embrace.
‘What do you mean?’
Ursula explained how more and more women were experimenting; women who, in the increasing absence of men, decided to try a relationship with another woman. Of course, the Gates was the ideal place for this.
Alice didn’t ask how Ursula could tell; she wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer. But she did know that the knot in her stomach had loosened and she was actually enjoying herself; she felt just like Patricia Reece’s detective Mary Dray as she scrutinised everyone with Ursula’s help. ‘You’ve surprised me,’ Alice told her, wishing she’d known how to do this before, as it might have been useful with Theo.
‘What, twice in one week?’ Ursula said, and they both laughed.
Ursula waved to a group on the other side of the bar, who waved back.
‘You know a lot of people here,’ Alice said, ‘don’t you?’
Ursula surveyed the room, her mouth curving into a half smile, then she grew serious. ‘Yes, I suppose I do. Although there are some individuals I’d never mix with, on the other side of that green door, and I’ve seen things I would have preferred to avoid, but this unlikely group are the closest I’ve got to family.’
Alice nodded. ‘I know.’
‘But I don’t think you do.’ Ursula’s cheerful bravado was replaced with candour. ‘It’s the only place where people like me can really be ourselves, free of prying eyes and prejudice. The only place where we can show and receive affection, and not be judged.’
‘I’m sorry. You’re right, I don’t know, but I’m glad I came. And I’m glad you’ve trusted me enough to be yourself around me.’
‘Hmm, wish I could say the same to you!’ Ursula replied and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.
They were sipping their drinks, listening to conversations ebb and flow around them, when the card winner suddenly materialised.
Ursula smiled at her and kissed her cheek. ‘Alice, this is Bridget.’
Bridget extended her hand. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Alice,’ she said in a rich velvety tone. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Her face was angular, a wide brow set above intense green eyes. She was taller than Ursula, by a good foot or so, and dressed conservatively: navy trousers and a cornflower-blue blouse with an exquisite diamond leaf brooch pinned near her collarbone. This outfit was in keeping with her medical profession, which Ursula had mentioned. See, Alice thought, I am getting the hang of reading people. ‘Pleased to meet you too,’ she said, then blurted, ‘We’re on the lookout for criminals.’
Ursula and Bridget exchanged a look, and Ursula whispered something to her before she placed a Sobranie between her lips.
Bridget leaned forwards so Alice could hear her. ‘I’m sorry about your situation.’
‘Thank you … and that reminds me, I really should go,’ she said, looking at her watch; she was meeting Joe Stevenson in less than twelve hours’ time.
Ursula rolled her eyes. ‘You can’t go yet, we’re not finished!’
‘It was nice to meet you, Bridget,’ Alice said. ‘I’m sure I’ll see you again.’
‘Likewise.’
They shook hands, then Alice turned to Ursula. ‘Are you sure about everything I told you?’
‘If I don’t hear from you by four o’clock, I will go to Marylebone Lane Police Station and ask for Sergeant Mildred Burns—she knows everything.’
Alice quickly nodded and gave them both a reassuring smile.
‘You be careful then,’ said Bridget.
‘I will.’
As Alice turned to leave, Ursula stopped her with a hand on her arm. ‘Remember, you need to look him in the eye and make sure your body language isn’t defensive.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘Accept your fear, don’t fight it. Don’t forget that anxiety is there for a reason, so let it work for you, protect you.’ Her lips quirked. ‘I should know. I’m good at pretending.’
The band had come back on, and Bridget stood watching them, her body moving gently to the music. Ursula glanced over at her and smiled, radiant and happy in a way she could only be in private or here at the Gates.
‘Are you as good an actor as Katharine Hepburn?’ Alice asked.
Ursula kissed her on both cheeks and whispered, ‘Nearly.’
Thirty-six
LONDON, 7 MAY 1943
‘Thank you,’ Alice said, forcing a smile as Joe opened the car door for her to slip into the passenger seat.
When she’d arrived ten minutes early, he’d already been waiting at their midday rendezvous in the green Austin 8 two-seat tourer, yet he seemed preoccupied. Was he was having second thoughts?
‘It looks like it might rain,’ she said, looking up at the leaden sky as her fingers toyed with the buckle on her bag—then she realised her fidgeting made her look agitated.
‘Don’t worry, the roof can go up if it does,’ he said, glancing at her clothes.
They headed west, picking up the A4 as they wound through Hammersmith and out towards Chiswick in a tense silence. The denser housing soon gave way to tree-lined streets and larger detached homes, and he stole another glance.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Well … I think you might have overdone it with the outfit,’ he said, eyes roaming over her navy polka-dot dress.
‘What do you mean?’
It had taken her ages to get ready as she’d barely been able to close the zipper, her hands had been shaking so hard.
‘You’re just a bit … overdressed, that’s all.’
Alice turned away and caught her reflection in the window, her red lips gleaming. In her mind the image was replaced by Ursula’s face, before it morphed into her mother’s, and she abruptly looked away. ‘What shall I do?’ She had taken a handkerchief from her bag, ready to wipe her lipstick off, when Joe’s words made her freeze.
‘I don’t know, Alice Cotton. Why don’t you tell me?’
She looked sideways and caught his eye. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘Elizabeth called me … she mentioned you might come looking for some help.’
He turned his attention back to the road, and she carried on watching his profile.
‘Does Olive know?’
‘Not yet.’
The traffic was dwindling, the pavements becoming less populated as they headed into the suburbs. She had no idea where they were going, and Ursula was the only person she’d confided in this time and who knew what Alice was doing.
‘What else did she say?’
‘She told me that you’re a good ’un.’
Alice wondered if there might be something between Joe and Elizabeth, or even between him and Olive, or if there was another reason for the apparent bond between the three of them.
‘What’s he like, your boss?’ she asked, her voice apprehensive as she considered the man she was about to meet.
‘He’s as slippery as they come,’ Joe replied unsmiling. ‘But he’ll be charming. Just tell him what you told me about your friends. Don’t think about it too much or it won’t come out as natural. And the less you say the better; then there’s not so much to remember that might trip you up. He’ll ask lots of questions.’
‘Will there be any children there?’
‘No, of course not,’ he said, looking at her as they pulled up at a traffic light. ‘I wouldn’t take you there.’
She thought of the newspaper descriptions of the homes with dirt and maggots, and of Eadie lying in a similarly infested crib, and her skin prickled and grew cold.
‘But you know where they are … the houses where they keep the children before the handovers?’ she said, swallowing away her emotion.
‘Yes.’
The lights changed, and Joe crunched the gears before the Austin accelerated away in a cloud of exhaust, a horn blaring behind them.
‘So,’ Alice said, ‘what do you know?’
‘Not much. She told me about your cousin’s baby, and that you might try to contact me.’
‘You could have said so to begin with.’
‘It was after we first met; besides, I’m just getting my own back,’ he said and smiled.
She relaxed into the leather seat, relieved to have one less pretence. ‘I appreciate your help.’
‘I figure if you’re prepared to show up like this, well … then you must be desperate.’
‘If you’ve spoken to Elizabeth, then you’d know that I am. But not as much as my cousin.’ Olive still didn’t know that it was her baby they were searching for, and there wasn’t any reason to change that now.
Joe’s thumbs drummed on the steering wheel as he drove, and she wondered if he too felt nervous. ‘I told her I don’t know where your cousin’s baby is. That’s got nothing to do with my line of work.’
They drove for another few minutes in a thoughtful silence, and Alice considered why Joe was prepared to take the risk to help.
‘What exactly do you do for them?’ she asked, noticing how tight his grip was on the steering wheel.
‘I’m a driver, but never for the kids.’
‘Why haven’t you gone to the police yet, with everything you know?’
‘I have. But when you’ve done time, they’re not inclined to believe you. And I figured I’m more useful to Olive this way. I’ve been giving her enough information to help, but not enough to make her an accessory,’ he said solemnly. ‘Besides, these people are cleverer than that—it will take more than me and a journalist to shut them down.’
‘But you’ve given her enough to get the law changed …’
‘Yes, enough to do that,’ he said and sighed heavily.
She was still staring, thinking about her own experiences with the police, when he turned and caught her eye. A look passed between them, and she questioned again who Joe Stevenson really was: hero or villain, or something in between?
He slowed down and turned into a road where tall fences and overgrown hedges shielded the buildings behind, and only a few cars were parked in driveways. He pulled to a stop halfway down and turned the engine off, then leaned over the dashboard to survey the street.
