‘Would you care to invest five hundred in a little business venture with me, Bri?’
She was intrigued.
‘What kind of business venture?’
Tommy took a deep breath and began to speak. And as Briony listened to him, to his plans, to his dreams, she felt a faint stirring in herself.
Chapter Nine
Briony looked around her and took in first the high ceilings, then the grey and gold flock on the walls, and lastly the rather garish chandeliers on the ceiling. She looked at Tommy who smiled at her. She nodded her head, smiling back.
The small stocky man with the handlebar moustaches, Mr Tillier the builder, grinned at them, showing pointed teeth.
‘I knew you’d like it. I ain’t overdone it, see? Now Nellie’s place is nice, but it ain’t got no class. All that red and burgundy, it looks what it is. This place, it’s got a bit of class, and as you’re having only a select clientele, well then, Bob’s your uncle.’
He watched the young couple as they walked from room to room. The boy, or man as he tried to think of him, was cute. Cute as a nine-bob note, and as bent, but the girl - and she was a girl-was a completely different kettle of fish. He’d put her at no more than seventeen or eighteen, though he had heard through the grapevine that she was only coming up to her fourteenth birthday. Well, he mused, she must have pleased someone into giving her the money that she’d been spending like water. Her voice was nice, she spoke well, but it was forced. She still slipped in a ‘bugger’ or a ‘bleeding’ when she spoke to the young man.
He watched her climb the staircase. He was proud of the staircase. It curved round, and any of the ladies who walked down it would be shown to their best advantage. The chandeliers above it were of real crystal, their light giving off a bluish hue that made even the worst skin look good. As toms grew older it seemed the skin was the first thing to go with most of them, so good lighting was a priority for a class house.
He followed them up the stairs and into the first bedroom. This was done out in deep blue and peach, the bed a large fourposter with deep blue velvet drapes around it. Hanging up on the wardrobe door was a woman’s wrapper of the same colour, as sheer as a spider’s web. This would be called the Blue Room. Briony checked that everything was to her satisfaction and, seeing a pair of ornate cherubs over the fireplace, their features picked out in gold leaf, shook her head decisively.
‘They’ll have to go, Mr Tillier. I don’t like them. A big mirror would be much more appropriate, I think.’
He nodded and wrote in his little notebook. She was cute all right. He’d thought they were a mistake himself. Although the walls to either side of the bed had large mirrors running the length of the panels, he thought that another mirror would not go amiss, especially when you thought of what the room was to be used for.
Both men followed Briony through the rest of the house. Each of them seemed to expect her to give the expert opinion and this she did, in a low voice that brooked no argument. There were now ten bedrooms of different sizes. The original six had been divided and rearranged and now there was plenty of room to accommodate ten men at a time. Briony walked down the stairs and through the hallway to the small offices set aside for herself and Tommy. Unlike the rest of the house these rooms were plain with good solid furniture. These were working rooms, and they looked it. Briony sat herself behind a mahogany desk and gently fingered the inkwells and the leather blotter in front of her. She was raring to go. In forty-eight hours she was opening the doors to the most select clientele she could gather. Thanks to Tommy’s knowledge of Nellie Deakins’ customers, they had arranged discreet invitations to the cream of London’s society. Briony looked at her tiny fob watch and stood up.
‘I have to go, Tommy, I’ll leave the rest to you. I want the cherubs gone by this evening, Mr Tillier. I’ll wish you both good day.’
She left them. Both men looked at one another and smiled.
‘How about a glass of madeira, Mr Tillier?’
‘That would be most excellent, Mr Lane.’
He took the proffered drink and was sorry the young lass had gone. She would have had the sense to offer him brandy.
Isabel sat in the park and chatted to Benedict in baby talk. She made a point of sitting away from the nannies and they allowed for this. Initially, they had praised the child and tried to strike up conversations, but once they found out who Isabel was, they respectfully kept their distance as they realised she did not want company. Then the chatter about Mrs Dumas had reached their ears, through a grapevine of scullery maids, tweenies, and finally cooks and butlers, until the knowledge that Henry Dumas had saddled his barren wife with the child of an unmarried woman, supposedly a widow of good standing, had resounded around London. Now they watched her carefully, seeing her obvious love for the child, and were frankly amazed by it.
Briony got out of her cab and told the cab driver to wait for her. She walked into Barking Park with a feeling of excitement at the prospect of seeing Benedict. She was dressed all in lilac, her hair pinned up in glorious tendrils under a matching hat. She walked with a dignity that was envied by most of the women who saw her, and her small-breasted figure looked just right for the fashions of the day.
Isabel saw her walking towards her and smiled widely. Benedict noticed her and started to clap chubby hands together, crowing with excitement. Briony sat down on the bench and looked into green eyes so like her own.
‘How is he?’
‘Thriving. Look at him. He doesn’t stop eating and poor Sally is run off her feet looking after him. How are you?’
Briony peeled off her gloves and took her son’s hands in her own.
‘I’m OK. We open up soon, so I’m really busy.’
Isabel just nodded at this. The fact that Briony was to open a bordello shocked her more than she liked to admit.
‘How’s your mother?’
‘Funny you should ask that, I’m going to see her today. Eileen’s bad again. It’s a shame because she started to get well for a while. Kerry and Bernie are fine as usual, and poor Rosalee ... well, Rosalee never changes except to get heavier.’
‘Did your mother take Eileen to the doctor I told you about?’
‘Oh, him, yes. He wanted her put away, but we’ll never allow that. We’ll look after her.’
The two women were quiet now, both admiring the child in the perambulator.
‘His hair’s getting darker.’
‘Yes, but he’s still got your red highlights. I think he’ll probably be a dark brown, like me.’
Briony nodded. She’d noticed that Isabel often tried to point out likenesses to herself in the child and far from being irritated by it, felt sorry for her. If poor Isabel had had a normal man and her own children she would have been an exemplary mother, her treatment of Benedict proved that.
‘I have something to tell you, Briony. I’ve been trying to find the words...’
She was alarmed at Isabel’s tone.
‘What? Is - is Ben...’
‘Oh no, nothing to do with him. Well, not directly anyway. We’re moving up to the West End. Henry’s bought a house in Belgravia and we feel it’s about time we moved away. This house is far too small really, and my father would see more of Benedict...’
There, it was said. She didn’t add that this monthly visit from Briony was worrying her. That she was frightened that now Benedict was getting older he might become too attached to the young redhead he saw in the park. That she was secretly jealous of the time he spent in his mother’s company.
She could not look into Briony’s eyes and see the hurt and confusion she knew she would find there. Instead she busied herself picking up the child and settling him on her lap. She kissed his downy head and hugged him to her. Briony watched as her son put his fingers up to Isabel’s mouth and she kissed them, pretending to bite them gently and making the child laugh. Briony felt as if a stone had been placed inside her chest. A big solid weight that would eventually drag her down.
‘I see.’ But she didn’t see. She didn’t see at all. She was shrewd enough to guess what was really behind the action. She wondered who wanted the move most, Henry or Isabel.
‘When will I see him then?’
‘Oh, we’ll sort that out in due course. I think it’s best if the visits are cut down anyway. He’s as bright as a button and might start saying your name, or when he’s talking he might tell someone about you. That would not be good for any of us, let alone the child.’
Briony licked dry lips.
‘But I must see him, Isabel. I have to see him sometimes.’
‘And you shall see him, I promise. Only we have to be careful. If Henry knew he was seeing you now ...’
She left the sentence unfinished.
Briony put her hand out to the child and he grasped her slim fingers, bringing them to his mouth to chew on them. Briony felt the tiny needle-sharp teeth as he gnawed and the familiar love for him overwhelmed her. If she was denied access to him she would die inside. Not an hour of the day went by but she thought of him. Everything else in her life was as nothing compared to this child.
‘But I have to see him, Isabel.’ Briony’s voice was louder than she’d intended and Isabel put her hand on her arm.
‘For goodness’ sake, keep your voice down. Do you want all the nannies to know our business and take it back to their houses with them?’
Briony shook her head and Isabel settled the boy once more in his carriage and stood up.
‘I really have to be going. I’ll be in touch soon.’
Briony nodded weakly as she watched her son being pushed away from her. Her eyes blurred as tears stung them and she stared after Isabel and the child until they disappeared out of the park gates.
Molly was force-feeding Rosalee when Briony arrived. Rosalee was going through one of her not-eating phases. She swung between a state of constant hunger and one of not eating a scrap. Either way she still got heavier and heavier. Briony walked in the door and, kissing Rosalee’s face, took the spoon from her mother and began to feed her sister. Molly watched as Rosalee ate every morsel Briony gave to her.
‘You’ve certainly got a way with her, Bri. I wish to God I had it.’
Molly poured out two mugs of tea as Briony finished feeding Rosalee, then, taking off her hat, perched it on Rosalee’s head and grinned at her.
Rosalee, looking ridiculous in the lilac confection, grinned back, saying her only words, ‘Bri Bri’ and clapping her hands together.
Molly tried to grab the hat off Rosalee’s head but Briony stayed her hand.
‘Oh, leave her alone, Mum, it’s only a hat.’
‘A hat that cost a small fortune.’
‘So what? I don’t mind, and it’s my hat, so why should you care?’
Molly sipped her steaming tea and shook her head.
‘I just saw Benedict. Isabel and Henry are moving up West with him. I think the days of letting me see him are numbered.’
Molly put a hand over her daughter’s and said, ‘Well, what did you expect, love? They won’t want you around now, will they? And it’s better for the boy.’
‘But I’m his mother, Mum. Me, not her!’
‘I know that. But, Briony love, he’s better off where he is and you must accept that. He’s their child now. Theirs. Not yours. You just try and remember that this way he will have everything he ever wants out of life.’
Briony nodded. She knew that what her mother said made sense, but when you loved someone as she loved Benedict, it didn’t make any difference.
‘That Kerry is getting to be a handful, Briony. She was caught singing in the pub again. I’ve scalped the arse off of her but it’s no good.’
Kerry, now twelve, was uncontrollable. She would sing in a midden if someone would listen.
‘Where is she now?’
‘She’s out with Bernie and Mother Jones. They’re pea picking.’
Briony was glad of the change in the conversation. She knew that her mother was all for Benedict being with the Dumases and it would only cause more rows if they discussed it further.
‘Pea picking? Well, she can sing to her heart’s content there.’
‘True, and she will, knowing her. When’s the house opening?’
‘In a couple of days. It’s finished, the girls are all interviewed and ready to go, and Tommy is sorting out the last few details today. We’ll need a few more strong men like Abel to keep a modicum of peace.’
Abel was now one of the men employed to dress in dinner suits and mingle with the guests. If there was any trouble they would deal with it as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.
Molly shook her head and smiled.
‘Imagine you owning two houses, I can’t believe it.’
Briony smiled despite herself. Her mother had changed her opinion on Nellie Deakins and the like when she had found out how much money was involved in the business. Also Abel, whom Briony knew to be her mother’s beau, had been offered a job at twice his old money and that made Molly happier still.
Kerry and Bernie burst through the door, bringing the smell of the open fields with them.
‘Hello, Briony!’
Both girls kissed her and then Rosalee was clapping her hands together to show her excitement. They both screamed with laughter as they saw the lilac hat perched on her short-cropped hair.
Molly busied herself making them some tea and a bite to eat. Kerry sat opposite Briony and grinned at her.
‘This house you’re opening up, will you have any entertainment there?’
Molly looked at Briony with raised eyebrows. ‘There’ll be plenty of entertainment there girl, don’t you worry about that.’
Kerry sighed loudly. ‘I don’t mean that kind of entertainment. I mean, will you have a band there playing music or anything?’
Briony shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Then you should. It’ll make it a bit different, wouldn’t it? From what I’ve heard, the people what go there have a drink and a natter first. Well, why not give them a bit of entertainment like?’