‘Such as, Kerry?’
She stood up and opened her arms wide.
‘Like me, of course! I know all the popular songs and I’d only need a piano player like. I don’t need no orchestra nor nothing. I can sing everything, you know that, Briony. It’d be good for you and good for me. I don’t want to end up in Myrdle Street in some sweat shop, I want to be a singer.’
Briony laughed at her sister’s outrageous suggestion. Kerry singing in a bordello? It was absurd.
‘Oh, come on, Bri. You know I could do it. Just give me one try and if it don’t work then that’s that ... Oh, Briony, answer me then!’
Kerry’s voice was sharp now. She wanted this so badly she could practically taste it.
‘Look, you’re twelve years old...’
Kerry interrupted her.
‘I want to sing, Mum, I don’t want to work there as a doxie, do I? I will put on a nice dress and hat and just do a few lively numbers to get everyone in a good mood. That’s all. Abel will be there to keep his eye on me, and Briony and Tommy. Where’s the bleeding harm in that?’
Striking a pose that looked ridiculous in her pea-picking clothes, she began to strut up and down the kitchen, singing:
‘Jeremiah Jones - a lady’s man was he - Every pretty girl he liked to spoon. Till he found a wife, and down beside the sea, Went to Margate for the honeymoon.’
Briony and Molly creased up with laughter as Kerry began. Coming to the chorus, she swept out her arms and roared at the top of her voice:
‘Hello, Hello, who’s your ladyfriend? Who’s the little girlie by your side...’
Molly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. As much as she scolded Kerry, she had to admit that the girl was talented and could be hilarious when the fancy took her.
Kerry knelt down in front of Briony and implored with her eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Bri. Give me a chance.’
Briony grinned. She had needed a bit of fun today and should have known it would come from Kerry.
‘I’ll talk to Tommy about it. But that’s all I can do, so don’t get your hopes up.’
Kerry cuddled her sister close and shrieked out loud in excitement.
‘Oh, thanks, Bri. Thanks. You won’t regret it.’
Briony looked at her mother. ‘What about you, Mum? What do you think?’
‘Abel will be there as she says, and you and Tommy. It can’t do any harm.’
None of them had noticed a jealous Bernie slip from the room.
Eileen came down the stairs and smiled at everyone and Briony looked at the thin vague-faced girl who had once been her bright and chatty sister, and felt depression descend again.
Sometimes life stank. And the worst of it all was, hers had hardly even started.
She tried to make conversation with her sisters for the rest of her time there, but her mind was on Benedict once more.
Briony had taken Kerry out shopping and bought her a green, high-necked, natural-waisted dress. It suited her perfectly and was respectable enough to please not only Briony but her mother and Abel as well. It had long sleeves with hanging three-quarter flounces in black lace. She had her black hair piled high on her head, and wore a large-brimmed black and green silk hat over it. She also had a green silk parasol which finished the outfit, and black button boots.
Briony stared at her, amazed. Kerry looked much older than her years, being taller than Briony already. She had on a small amount of make-up provided by Lil, one of the ‘girls’, and waited eagerly for Tommy to announce her.
‘Oh, Briony, I’m so nervous, I could get tom tick!’
Briony laughed. ‘Just relax. You’re the one who wanted this, remember. Now just stay here until you hear the piano start and then make your way out.’
She kissed her on the cheek and left her in the small ante-room behind the main lounge.
Briony herself, dressed all in lemon, looked a picture. She had deliberately worn a close-fitting dress that accentuated her slim frame while revealing nothing. That much would be left to the working girls, who were all dressed in little more than stays and wrappers. The air was thick with cigar smoke and as Briony looked around her she felt a thrill of anticipation. It was their first night and the place was packed out.
She knew that most of the gentlemen normally went to Nellie’s or other such establishments and wanted them to have such a good time here that they would come back again and again. Once more she blessed Tommy for arranging such a guest list. There were no Two Bob Joes in here, only men of means with respectable reputations. She was sure that the offer of a bit of entertainment would go down well, as the men liked to get a bit drunk before they retired to the bedrooms upstairs.
She made her way through the crowded room to the double doors where Abel stood surveying the room with a serious expression. A good-looking man grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to him. Briony shrugged him off good-naturedly and he grinned at her. Tommy, seeing the exchange, came over and introduced Briony to the man as his future wife. The customer apologised profusely before being dragged off by Tilly Rowlings who rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Briony as she did so.
‘I’ll just introduce Kerry and then I’ll be back, OK?’
Briony nodded at Tommy and smiled. She watched him stand on the tiny makeshift stage and call for quiet. Everyone looked at him expectantly and he cleared his throat and introduced the new singing sensation, Kerry Cavanagh.
Kerry came out on to the stage, her face white with worry but, hearing the clapping and cheering from the men, she seemed to take on a different persona. A saucy wink at her audience and putting all her weight on to the parasol, she stuck out her behind. After nodding at the pianist who started to play her first number, she wiggled her rump, much to the merriment of the audience, and began to sing:
‘Oh, what are we gonna do with Uncle Arthur? Uncle Arthur! The dirty old man!’
Briony was laughing with the rest when she turned her head and her heart froze inside her chest. Standing at the front of the little crowd was Henry Dumas. She could see him perfectly, and as she watched him looking at Kerry she felt the bile rise inside her. He would like Kerry, she was just his type. No more than a child.
Briony grabbed Tommy’s arm and pulled him from the room and through the hallway to the offices. Closing the door with a quiet thud, she faced him.
‘What’s Henry Dumas doing here, Tommy?’
He saw the whiteness of her face and shook his head.
‘I don’t know, he must have come with one of the others. Look, Briony, I’ll go out and keep me eye on him.’
‘I want him out of here now, Tommy, I mean it.’
‘You what? Our first night and you want me to sling someone out? Let me find out who he’s with first.’
Briony could feel her hands shaking.
‘You find out then, and after you find out, you give him the bad news. I don’t want him in this house. Not now, not ever.’
Tommy walked over to her and grabbed her arms.
‘Listen, Briony, you’re only a girl for all your grown-up looks and ways. If any of them knew you owned the best part of this place, there’d be trouble. As it is now they think I’ve got a sleeping partner. I let the word go round that it’s one of them, a rich bloke who’s invested in me. If I go out there and rock the boat with Henry Dumas, he could fuck all of this up for us. Get it? Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Briony saw the earnest expression in his eyes and felt the futility of it all. What Tommy said made sense. If Henry decided to make trouble for her then he could ruin them, and she knew he was capable of it. She heard Tommy leave the room and sat in the chair, staring at the blotter in front of her without seeing it.
You had to be rich as Croesus before you didn’t have to worry about anything. You had to be as rich as Solomon to know that you could do anything you wanted. Until then you had to keep your head down and kowtow to everyone and anyone. It was like gall to her, this knowledge. Henry Dumas had taken her childhood and her child. And still she had to pander to him. Indirectly, he still ruled her life.
Well, one day she would finish him. One day she would get even.
She would not venture out of the night. She did not know what she was capable of if she came face to face with him. On top of everything else they were taking her child to live far away from her. It was this, more than anything, that broke her heart.
Henry watched Kerry singing and was enthralled by her. He had had a lot to drink and now he felt a rosy glow enveloping him.
He walked unsteadily towards the stage and clasped his hands as the girl sang. She was singing a slow song now, and all the men and women around him were listening to the haunting voice, enjoying the sound and the timbre of it. Her little elfin face was captivating to him. He saw the jet black silky hair that framed it and felt a stabbing pain in his heart. She was exquisite.
As Kerry finished her last number, she bowed to the audience who clapped her whole-heartedly. She was as good as any of the singers at Drury Lane, or indeed at any music hall. And she was no more than a child. A large man in the front of the audience, loving the ballad she sang, took out his purse and threw a sovereign on to the small stage. The other men in the room, not wanting to be outdone, did the same and Kerry scrambled around the floor in all her finery, picking up the coins.
The pianist began to play a solo number and Kerry picked up her money as fast as she could, amazed at the reception she had received and the generosity shown her. As she picked up the last coin, a plump hand covered hers and she looked into the face of Henry Dumas.
‘Hello, my dear. You really are a very good singer.’ In his drink-fuddled brain he knew she reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite place who.
Kerry, though, knew him and, pulling her hand from under his, said: ‘Hello, Mr Dumas.’
Standing up, she walked across the little stage and back into the ante-room. She placed all the coins on the small table by the door and, taking off her gloves, began to count them. Henry Dumas followed her a few seconds later. Opening the door, he popped his head around it playfully, moustaches quivering in anticipation.
Kerry backed away from him.
‘How did you know my name, dear?’
Without thinking, she said: ‘I’m Briony’s sister.’
She watched him sober immediately as he registered exactly what she had said.
‘You’re Briony Cavanagh’s sister?’ His voice was full of surprise. As she opened her mouth to answer, he grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip.
‘Where is she? Is she here? Answer me, girl, where is the bitch?’
Kerry pulled away from him, rubbing her arm.
‘You touch me again, mister, and I’ll scream the bleeding place down!’
As she spoke Tommy came into the room.
‘I think you’d better leave the young lady alone, sir. Come along, I’m sure we can find you someone more suitable.’
He took Henry’s arm firmly and led him from the room. Kerry watched them go and bit her lip. How did he get in here tonight? Surely Briony hadn’t invited him?
She looked at the pile of coins but the excitement had gone from her now. She leant against the table and absentmindedly rubbed her arm where he had touched her.
Henry was so deep in drink he didn’t care any more. He had arrived at the stage where a shock or a loud noise can cause one of two reactions, maudlin sadness or great rage. Unfortunately for him, he felt great rage. As he walked through the room he tried unsucessfully to shrug off the iron grip of the young man escorting him. He saw his friend John Dennings embracing a young woman in a blue gauze wrapper, her huge breasts spilling out from white silk corsets. It made him feel sick.
All this flesh around him! He could smell cheap scent and fresh sweat. He could see garishly painted lips and eyes. He could feel the sexual charge of the men around him as they feasted their eyes on a bevy of young girls. But not young enough for him. They were women in his eyes, with breasts that jutted from their clothes in a disgusting fashion, hair between their muscular thighs and under their arms.
Tommy dragged him into the hallway, trying to prevent the trouble he knew was imminent. Without thinking, he pushed Henry into Briony’s office and the two came face to face for the first time in eighteen months.
Briony stood up, shocked, and as they looked at one another, Henry seemed to grow before her eyes. He stood erect and stared into the sea green eyes that his son had inherited. He laughed, a deep bitter sound that cut into her.
‘So, the slut is working, is she?’
Tommy watched the two warily. It was as if an electrical charge had been placed between them and he stared, fascinated as Briony stalked around the desk.
‘If I’m a slut, Henry Dumas, what does that make you? I can’t think why you’re here tonight. After all, the men who come to houses like this function normally. I wonder what they would say if they knew you were fancying a little girl - the girl they all clapped and cheered, without a bad thought in their heads towards her? Eh? Well answer me, Henry. If I remember rightly, you used to have a lot to say, most of it filth!’
‘I’ll finish you, Briony Cavanagh.’
She laughed at him now, her fear of him suddenly gone as she saw him for the pathetic fool he really was.
Her laugh goaded him. She was the cause of all his trouble. The reason for his wife’s mutiny; for his father-in-law’s happiness, that must therefore be Henry’s apparent happiness. Here was the mother of the child he hated and despised because he had fathered it, because it had sprung from his loins and been birthed by the slut standing before him, laughing. Laughing at him. Well, he’d soon put a stop to that. He swung back his arm to strike her and she picked up one of the heavy inkwells.