The Dazzle of the Light

Chapter 2

9

Thursday morning

In a back street near the Haymarket, early in the grey morning, Ruby scrapes dog s**t from the underside of her shoe on the edge of the pavement. It’s only an ordinary shoe but it doesn’t deserve to stink. She finds a small puddle and taps the ball of her foot into the muddy water, shakes the shoe, then lifts her heel up to inspect the damage. The sticky mess is all gone, but she’ll smell it for the rest of the day unless she can distract herself.

She leans against a lamppost for a moment and watches a drayman rolling barrels into the cellar of a small public house. She has no desire to rush on with her errand. The iron hoops land hard against the cellar floor with a metallic clang and men’s shouts reverberate from below the ground. The noise fills the street.

Easing herself from the lamppost, Ruby turns and pushes on the door of an unprepossessing jeweller’s shop. The sign announces that it is closed, but she knows that the door will be unlocked.

Raymond Calladine is the owner of this particular emporium. To most of the world, he is a respectable jeweller, but to those in the know, he is a fence, just like Solly. He takes and sells on some of Solly’s better goods, after they’ve been lying in Solly’s secret hideaways for a while and are no longer missed by their original owners. Ruby has known Ray for years. Solly first sent her to him when she was little more than a child – before the war began. She had carried a small bag over her shoulder, innocent enough to anyone who saw her, even though she knew, aged twelve, that the bag was full of stolen watches.

Ray looks up and smiles when he sees her arrive. He has a face like a rat: small eyes and protruding teeth.

‘Good morning, Ruby.’ He greets her as an old friend. ‘Come in, come in out of the chill.’

She edges inside and her body tenses instinctively as he bustles about, shutting and locking the door behind her, lowering the blinds, making jokes about the weather.

The deal will happen as quickly as she can manage it and then she’ll escape back to the street and lose herself in a crowd. She lifts her handbag onto the counter, pulls off her gloves and begins to lay out what she’s brought.

‘How’s my friend Solly today?’ Ray stands so close to her that she can hear him breathing.

‘Grumbling about everything, you know how he is. Prices rising, people unwilling to pay, too many thieves about, not enough decent stuff to sell. Same as always.’ She drapes a gold bracelet next to a fine lady’s wristwatch, aligning them carefully.

‘And how about you, little Ruby? How are you?’

‘You know me, Ray’ she says, edging away. ‘Always looking out for the sparkles.’

‘This is a nice piece, isn’t it?’ He runs the nail of his forefinger down the bracelet. The nail is a little too long and lightly stained with tobacco at the tip. It needs clipping. ‘The wristwatch, too. I know just the right sort of buyer. Knew it as soon as I saw it over at Solly’s place.’

She can smell the scent of the pomade he wears on his hair. It is oily and sweet, and it sticks in the back of her throat, making her want to gag.

‘Good. Solly’s written his prices down for you. He says there’s no arguing or haggling. I’m to leave and flog them elsewhere if you won’t pay.’

He chuckles. ‘I know, I know. He doesn’t trust me any more than I trust him – but he’s got a good eye and he knows what sells. Tell him I’ll call again next week. Business is beginning to pick up again. People around here have money and they like to spend it. As long as they don’t recognise any of these as goods they might have mislaid a year ago, we’re all laughing, aren’t we?’

He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a pile of notes, folded, and places it on the counter.

‘And what about you? How do you fancy earning a spot of commission, while the doors are still closed?’

This was how it started with Ray, years ago. A few coins for a kiss and a hand down his trousers, and not a word to Solly. She doesn’t need his money these days. She doesn’t want it.

‘Thanks Ray, not today. I’ve got places to be.’

‘Ah, c’mon, sweetheart.’ He wraps an arm around her and his hand strokes the side of her waist. ‘I was thinking about you all night.’ His thumb begins to rub to a faster rhythm. ‘We’re so good together, me and my little girl.’ He leans in and kisses her ear, wetly, generating old sensations of repugnance.

‘f**k off, Ray. Not now. I’ve told you: I have places to be.’ She pushes him away and gathers up the cash. ‘People to see.’

‘Billy Walsh, you mean?’ There’s a sneer on his face.

‘I’m only here for Solly today. And for his money. So, now we’re done, I’ll be on my way.’

‘Steer clear of Billy. He’s no good for you.’

She rolls her eyes, tucks her handbag back under her arm, heads for the door and turns the key. ‘Goodbye, Ray.’

She steps on to the pavement and takes a deep breath of the air.

She can still smell the s**t.

She has little else to do before meeting Maggs later as planned, so decides to wander through St James’s Park and along the wide roads until she finds herself on a smart street in Kensington. She likes this part of London. There could be rich pickings here, if she were not having to dance to Annie Richmond’s tune and hand over her steals all the time. The rules will be different when she’s in charge. Billy might think she’s growing cocky, but she can take anything she wants, if she puts her mind to it.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, cursing herself for leaving her gloves on Ray’s counter. Cursing Ray. She checks her reflection in a shop window. She’s not wearing much make-up. She doesn’t look like a film star, but she’s dressed herself carefully for the day and her hat is smart enough. She tilts her head, beginning to imagine her story. Today, she decides, she is a well-connected young woman who has lost her purse and needs assistance. It’s an old trick she’s played a few times – although never in this part of town.

She could be an actress, if she wanted. Play in the movies.

She sees her mark long before he notices her. Of course, he will notice her. She will make certain of it. He is old, well over fifty, possibly sixty, and immaculately attired in a grey suit and dark overcoat. His hat is placed with care on his head, so he’s either very precise or else has a servant to check his appearance before he leaves the house. Even at a distance, she can see that his shoes have been polished.

He has just left the bank on the corner, which is a good sign.

He reaches inside his coat and pulls out a pocket watch. The gold shines, even on this dank morning. He’s a man of character and distinction. She likes him already.

She begins before he catches sight of her, rubbing her eyes hard to make them red. Then she walks towards him: a young woman, down on her luck, miserable about something that has devastated her world. He sees her, of course. She is fragile, beautiful and tragic. She pretends not to notice him, but then accidentally jolts his shoulder as she walks into him.

‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ she begins, her voice weak and faltering. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so very sorry.’

‘Not at all, don’t worry about it.’ He lifts his hat politely and peers down at her.

Ruby peeps up with shy eyes, like a startled animal, and gives him a watery smile. ‘Thank you.’

She makes as though to walk away, but, as she anticipated, he catches her arm and gives her an enquiring look.

‘If you don’t mind my saying so, you look quite out of sorts, miss. Is there anything wrong?’

A tear forms in Ruby’s right eye, and then another in the left. Two perfect globes of water begin to make their way down her cheeks. She can cry on demand – it is a trick she has practised for many hours in front of a mirror.

She begins to pour her story out with the tears: a failed love affair, a violent lover, the need to leave his house quickly – so quickly that she has forgotten her purse. She sobs out her desire to return to her parents’ home in Surrey and reconcile with her aging father. She is a miserable and penitent daughter, now without the means to journey home.

There is something sweet about the old man. Perhaps he has a daughter of a similar age. A daughter who is a little wilful sometimes, but dearly loved. Or perhaps he is charmed by the story of a reformed sinner with its hint of promiscuity and corrupted innocence? It matters not to Ruby as he lays an arm around her shoulder and conducts her to the shelter of a shop doorway.

He must help her. He will certainly help her. Where are her parents? She names a large town in Surrey, accessible by train, confident that it is a place he will know, but populous enough that he won’t press her for more detail. She has been foolish in her decision to come to London. She bitterly regrets wasting her life and her money on such a callous and unfeeling young man. Oh, what will her parents think – and however will she return home?

The tears fall much faster now. He is soon reaching into his coat for bank notes, pressing them on her and insisting she takes enough for a train journey, some food and a little more for any emergency that might arise along the way.

‘Oh, you are too kind, dear sir,’ Ruby eventually takes the notes from him. ‘How shall I repay you? Please do give me your name and address, and my father will, I know, make sure to send you what I owe.’

He will hear none of this. Ruby is grateful to hear that he does, indeed, have a daughter, not much older than her, who once foolishly threatened to throw her life away on a wastrel but was persuaded against this. He is still so thankful that her virtue was not compromised that he is glad to restore Ruby to her parents, who must, he is sure, be worried sick.

Ruby is glad that he’s decent. He’s not after anything more. She’s not really in the mood for a lecher.

Instead, she sniffs back her tears, dries her eyes with a handkerchief and bids him farewell. She only quickens her pace once she’s turned the corner of the street. Then she makes two further swift turns, to take herself completely away from him.

He was a dear – and far too easy.

She grins. She has reason to be cocky, and she now has money in her handbag, hidden carefully in the secret pocket of the lining. She won’t hand it over to Annie. She stands still for a moment, wondering what she might do with it.

She begins walking again, thoughts racing. He gave her a lot of money. Real cash – not something she has to pawn. She can spend it however she likes. She passes dressmakers, milliners, glove shops and florists. She moves lightly, her body humming with excitement at the possibilities. For a couple of hours, she can be whoever she wants to be – an heiress, a starlet, an exotic dancer or a high-stakes gambler from Monte Carlo waiting for Rudolph Valentino. She pulls the man’s gold watch from her pocket. It is half past nine. She has plenty of time to wander about the shops, trying on endless identities as she tries on hats, before joining up with Maggs and the others at Earl’s Court. She will certainly buy a new pair of gloves. She might even slip her hand into a few pockets, like she used to when she was younger. She should probably move to a different area, or at least a different street, though, just in case that dear gentleman realises he’s been picked. She thinks for a moment, then turns left, towards Chelsea.