Queen of Thieves Read online

  ‘Go on, you’d better get up there, he’ll be here soon.’

  ‘But isn’t it better to wait in the parlour?’ I said.

  She waved her hands in the air: ‘I can’t be receiving guests in my scullery, Alice! There’s a baby here and it’s just not presentable. I have made my best room upstairs and the front ready for you to have a little chat. Just go on up.’

  The bedroom door creaked open and I stepped lightly across the floorboards and sat on a chair by the window, peering out of the heavy drapes into the street below. The whole room smelled of furniture polish because behind me stood the most enormous mahogany bed which was filled with feather pillows. I walked over and touched the bedspread, which was in red silk with little Chinese ladies on it. It was the kind of bed a princess might sleep in. I sat on the edge of it and had a little bounce, just for fun. There were no squeaking bedsprings and no bed bugs either, I was pretty certain of that.

  I began to wonder what kind of a bedroom the captain would provide for his staff? Even a poky little attic room would do for me. I was getting so excited to meet him when I heard a heavy footfall on the stairs and a handsome blond-haired man in a light tweed suit pushed the door open.

  Mrs Tibbs peered over his shoulder from the landing.

  ‘You must be Alice,’ he said. ‘You’re just perfect.’

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted,’ she said with a tight smile.

  I heard the key turning in the lock and glanced up into this stranger’s face, as he moved towards me with a look in his eyes that I’d seen round our way, when a fella had some business with one of the girls from the back alleys.

  ‘Why has Mrs Tibbs locked the door?’ I said. ‘Can you get her to open it, please?’

  I didn’t like being locked in there with a strange fella.

  He was already pulling off a fine pair of leather gloves and he took off his gold-rimmed glasses and put them on the table by the bed.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said.

  The penny dropped for me. I leapt to my feet and made for the door, but he blocked my path.

  ‘Now, then… I thought we were going to be friends,’ he said, but I didn’t feel like being friendly to him, I just wanted to get out of there, so I kicked him in the shins, quite hard.

  ‘Oh, you little devil!’ he spat, baring his beautiful white teeth. Then he slapped me with the back of his fist, so that I fell back on to the bed, my face smarting like hell.

  Before I could get up, he had me pinioned and his free hand was tearing at my knickers. I thrashed around and spat in his face, so he slapped me again and I started to cry.

  ‘Please, mister, there’s been a mistake…’

  His moustache bristled against my face and his breath smelled of tobacco: ‘No mistake. I know what you are here for as well as you do.’

  I screamed, drumming my heels on the floor and he tussled with me so that he had me face down on the bed, to stifle my cries. I’ve always been strong and I’m no stranger to fighting these days but back then, I was just an innocent girl and against a big fella like him, I didn’t stand a chance.

  The next thing I knew, he flipped me over to face him, and my nostrils were filled with his expensive cologne as he lay on top of me. I felt something hard jabbing at me between my thighs.

  I clamped my legs together, but he used all his might to force them apart. The harder I fought, the more pleasure he got out of it.

  ‘Come on, you little bitch,’ he leered as he pushed his way into me.

  A searing pain tore through me and still he didn’t stop. He was grunting and sweating and then suddenly it was over, and he rolled off and got up.

  I lay on my side, all the fight beaten out of me, pain coursing through my broken body, blood seeping crimson on to the crisp, white sheets.

  He gazed at me for a moment and then leaned over and stroked my hair: ‘You have such a pretty face. You’re much nicer when you are not snarling at me, Alice. That really was your first time, wasn’t it?’

  I was sobbing so hard I didn’t reply.

  Then he chucked me a pound note on the bed, buttoned up his fly, turned on his heel and left.

  I didn’t have the energy to run away, so I just lay there, numbly staring at the ceiling. He’d only been gone a moment when Mrs Tibbs appeared.

  Her hands flew up to her face at the sight of me: ‘Oh my dear, what has happened?! I thought he was going to offer you a job but look at the state of you! You’re like the wreck of the Hesperus!’

  I sat up, shaking and barely able to string a sentence together: ‘Please help me, I’m bleeding.’

  Mrs Tibbs rushed around the room, peeking out of the curtains.

  Then she came to me and hugged me tight: ‘He’s gone. There’s no sign of him out there. You poor, poor little mouse. You sweet, innocent little dear. You have a good cry. What a beastly man! He’s tricked us all.’

  ‘I want Lim. I want my brother!’ I sobbed. ‘He’ll kill him.’

  ‘Oh, he’s busy at work tonight, my love,’ she said. ‘He left me strict instructions that you are to stay here until the morning and I daren’t cross him, that wouldn’t be right, would it? And you can’t leave, not now, not in this state.’

  She swept my fringe back from my face and lowered her voice to a whisper: ‘The thing is, the captain is such a respectable gent. I don’t know what you said to make him behave in the way he did, but you are just a girl from the slums whose mother’s in the asylum, aren’t you?

  ‘They’ll say you’re mad like her and making up stories if you tell anyone. I think you need to keep this a secret. That’s the best way. People like him get away with all sorts. They’ll say girls like you just do this for the money then feel bad about it afterwards, so you cry wolf.’

  Her fingers crept over the bedspread: ‘And, why, there’s a pound he’s left you! That’s lucky ain’t it?’

  She handed it to me: ‘Here, you’d better take it and I will bring you some warm milk with my special drops in it to help you sleep. And you can let me have a look at you and see what I can do to make it better? How’s that for an idea?’

  I sank back on to the pillow and closed my eyes, wishing the nightmare would go away but I was too weak to fight any more.

  I woke at first light feeling groggy and light-headed but I found the bedroom door unlocked.

  Mrs Tibbs was asleep in the rocking chair downstairs so I grabbed my boots from beside the range, not even stopping to fasten my laces, before I lifted the latch into the street. The knocker-up was still banging on windows to turf people out of bed to get to their factory jobs as I limped home through the city, past the costermongers wheeling their barrow loads of fruit and vegetables and last night’s drunks lolling in the gutter.

  My new pinafore was torn where the captain had grappled with me and every step I took lead to searing pain inside but still I walked on to get to the Seven Dials, where I knew I’d be safe.

  When I got in, Lim was nowhere to be seen. I squatted in the corner of the kitchen, waiting and waiting for him to return.

  The gaslamps had been lit by the time he barrelled through the front door, drunk as a lord. ‘I had a great win at the spielers, Alice.’ He was waving paper money around. A fistful of cash, the like of which I’d never seen.

  ‘Fella wants me to buy in to his business ’cos I’m so good at the cards. I’m thinking about it. Could be the start of something big.’

  He waved two ten-pound notes under my nose.

  I sat in silence.

  ‘What’s up, Alice?’ he said, grabbing a crust of bread and chewing it thoughtfully. ‘How did your job interview go?’

  ‘Something bad happened,’ I began and started to sob.

  Lim put his arms around me and the whole story came tumbling out.

  ‘So, will you find him and kill him, Lim, for what he done to me?’ I said, looking up into his face, searching for the rage that I knew he must be feeling for what happened; that someon
e hurt his little sister in that way.

  But his eyes were inky, like deep, dark pools, and so cold.

  ‘Sounds like a good way for you to make money, Alice,’ he said. ‘You’re pretty, Mrs Tibbs can keep an eye out so you don’t get beaten or hurt. What do you say?’

  ‘You want me to sell myself to men. To go on the game?’

  ‘I want you to earn your keep,’ he said, brushing me off him. ‘I’ve got business interests of my own now. I can’t look after you, I have to think of my own gang.’

  His gang. Lim’s gang.

  ‘But what about us?’ I blubbed. ‘You said it was you and me always.’

  ‘I ain’t a charity,’ he said. ‘Brothers and sisters ain’t in this game together when they grow up. It’s not like that in the real world, that was just kids’ stuff, us nicking bits of fruit. We can’t make a living off a few silly dances and half a pound of stolen apples, Alice! There’s plenty of work for girls, you just have to know how to roll the fellas and get the most out of them with what God gave you.’

  I couldn’t believe my ears and I sat there with my jaw practically on the floor.

  There was no let up from him: ‘I’ve seen the way men look at you. You’d be a fool to waste your good looks any other way.’

  But I wasn’t listening to the rest of what he said because I was running through the door, up the lane, away from our home and everything in it, away from the Seven Dials and the life Lim had planned out for me.

  And no matter how far I ran, or how much I stole over the years that followed, the truth of it sat with me like a lead weight on my chest.

  I had been sold by my own brother, like a lamb to the slaughter.

  Chapter Fourteen

  NELL

  Holloway, London, February 1947

  When they set me free from Holloway Jail, two weeks after Joseph was adopted my whole body still ached with the grief of being parted from my baby.

  It was a sentence I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

  As I walked away from the prison at first light, my eyes were blinded by tears and my head was full of thoughts about Joseph’s little pink fingers clasping mine, the curve of his cheeks, his babyish smell and soft, downy blond hair. As Joseph grew up, his laugh, his walk, his voice, would all bear traces of me.

  But he would be loved and enjoyed and cherished by another woman, one that the world said was better than me, because she was married.

  Snowflakes were falling as I made my way down the Holloway Road, in a thick, pea-souper of a freezing fog, with feet like blocks of ice. The wind whipped through me, chilling me to the bone as I shuffled along through a foot of snow which made the houses look like they were dusted in icing sugar. My teeth were chattering as I pulled my coat close around me against the cold, but the dress I had on was just a thin summer frock with roses printed on it, the one given to me by Alice Diamond. I hated it now, as much as I despised her, with every fibre of my being.

  Every step I made was a step closer to home and my goal of getting even with the monster who had lied to me and ruined my life.

  The muffled thud of horses’ hooves approaching made me spin around. I came face to face with a milkman, with a half-lit ciggie dangling from his lips.

  ‘You’re up early! Need a lift, love?’

  I nodded gratefully, handed him the suitcase and clambered up on to the cart.

  ‘You won’t find a bus for love nor money,’ he said, helping me up. ‘Drivers are on strike. Coalmen are on strike. Half the flaming world’s on strike, except me,’ he grumbled. ‘Makes me wonder whether the war was worth winning if this is the peace we get.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I had no idea.’

  He eyed me suspiciously: ‘You ain’t be in clink, have you?’

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘It’s just I don’t read the papers much and we haven’t got a radiogram in the house.’

  He drew on his cigarette and then coughed, deeply and spat in the gutter: ‘Running away, are you?’

  I set my face to the wind: ‘I’m going back where I belong.’

  With suitcase in hand, I made my way down through the city as people wrapped like mummies battled against the elements. There was an eerie silence as I crossed Waterloo Bridge and the grey waters of the River Thames swirled beneath me. When I got to the other side and the stone steps which led down to my street, I had to catch my breath.

  Tenison Street and Howley Terrace had survived everything the Germans could chuck at them during the Blitz but now the wrecking ball had done its worst. The wastepaper factory had gone, the Feathers pub had a ‘closed’ sign on it and the windows were boarded up, so that was surely next in line for demolition.

  Piles of bricks and plaster, homes crushed to matchsticks, and a row of cobbles were the only proof that people had made this their community. Kids had played, families had struggled, hopes were raised and dashed in the sculleries and the backyards of Waterloo.

  Now all that was left of my childhood was a pile of rubble and bitter memories; a love for a baby I couldn’t keep and a pipedream of bettering myself with The Forty Thieves, only to be played for a fool.

  I decided then, staring at the ruins of my life, that I would take back what I was owed; my happiness.

  When a brewer’s dray came past, I hitched a lift down to the Elephant and Castle. By the time I got there, I could barely feel my fingers, which were turning blue.

  The tenements of Queen’s Buildings loomed up ahead. Greying flannelette bedsheets stiff with frost were strung high up between the flats. Crossing the frozen courtyard, I ignored the stares from snot-nosed kids using a lump of ice as a football, which skittered across the filthy ground.

  I hesitated for a moment, before climbing the stairs to the third floor and tapping softly on the door of number 32.

  A blast of heat escaped when the door swung open, as if a furnace was blazing inside, and the smell of toast wafted down the hall, making my stomach rumble.

  Alice Diamond stood there beaming.

  ‘Nell! As I live and breathe! It’s good to see you,’ she said, pulling me into a warm, motherly embrace.

  ‘Welcome home, love.’

  There was only one way to get to her. If friends were close, enemies had to be closer. I had learned that the hard way.

  ‘Thanks, Alice,’ I said, allowing myself to be enveloped in her arms, ‘I missed you so much. It’s good to be back in the gang.’

  She didn’t know it, but I was plotting to be the best hoister in the whole of London because this time, I would steal from the person who was least expecting it; from the Queen of Thieves herself.

  And what’s more, I had my eye on one thing in particular.

  Her crown.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ALICE

  Elephant and Castle, London, February 1947

  Nell was like a waif and stray when she turned up on my doorstep that winter’s morning. I don’t know what they are feeding them in clink these days but it ain’t a patch on the good old-fashioned prison diet from my day, with plenty of suet.

  I pinched her hollow cheeks and steered her to the kitchen table. Bacon was sizzling in a pan on the stove, and Molly slid a couple of slices on to a plate and brought them over.

  It was the most delicious thing she’d tasted in ages judging by the way she wolfed it all down.

  I was pleased to see there wasn’t a pram in sight.

  ‘Gave the baby away, did you?’ I said, pouring some tea and watching her intently

  ‘Had him adopted, posh couple,’ she replied, eventually, fighting back tears.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ I said, gently. I knew it couldn’t have been an easy choice for her to make, but it was the right one, as far as I was concerned. ‘You’ll forget in time. You’re young.’

  She nodded but there was a look on her face, as if talking about him was like a knife twisting inside her.

  Luckily, I had more pressing matters to discuss with young Nell, to take her mind off
it: ‘We’ve got lots of work for you to do, to keep you busy, ain’t we, Molly? And besides, you still owe me for all the things I taught you already, not to mention the nice underwear you took from me.’

  Her mouth fell open, like a stupid fish caught on a line: ‘But I thought it was a present…’

  ‘It was on tick,’ I said with a laugh. ‘You don’t think any of this comes for free, do you, Nell? I ain’t a bleeding charity!’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Nell, shutting her trap, sharpish. Snowflakes were still coming down outside the window and she didn’t want to be chucked out in the street. She knew which side her bread was buttered. ‘I want to work. Just tell me what you need me to do.’

  ‘Well, that’s the right attitude,’ I replied, settling myself down on my favourite chair. ‘I was worried you’d lost your love of hoisting. Things have been getting more difficult up West. Cozzers are clamping down on law breaking and the likes of us.’

  ‘Yeah, times have been hard since you were having a nice time putting your feet up in the Holloway Hotel,’ said Molly, puffing on a smoke and flicking ash into her tea-cup.

  ‘It weren’t a bleeding holiday,’ said Nell, her jaw tightening.

  ‘That’s not what I heard,’ Molly replied, with a smirk, flicking her red hair over her shoulders. ‘Apparently you were the star singer in church and got yourself some extra privileges sucking up to that baby-snatcher of a matron, didn’t you?’

  Now, most of my girls would have kicked off at that, even against Molly, but Nell didn’t flinch. She just eyed her coolly. I found that a bit troubling because it was out of character, but I put it down to her being tired from the emotion of handing over her baby and the fact that she’d just had her first decent meal since leaving the nick.

  ‘I hope you ain’t got too religious to be hoisting,’ I said, smoothly, ‘Because while you were saying three Hail Mary’s the miners went on strike and the rations got cut.

  ‘People need a bit extra these days, just to get by. In fact, I’ve been helping your mum out since she moved down this way.’