When he heard the commotion, he had grimaced to himself, for he guessed the little quirk his employer had of occasionally beating up young girls and women had got the better of him again. There could be trouble over this if he had done her harm, because Ray had told him he had warned him not to hurt her in any way. He knew why too: the girl was lined up to go to Vera’s whorehouse the following week. ‘Installed before Christmas and working like a good ’un by the New Year,’ was the way Ray put it, and if she was damaged in any way, he knew full well Vera wouldn’t want her, or pay for her, till she was healed and could be of some use.
The chauffeur moved round to the front door of the house, though he knew that it was more than his life was worth to interfere. That was, until he heard the unmistakable sound of someone falling down the stairs. He knew then that his employer might have killed the girl. It wouldn’t be the first time either, he knew, and it had sickened him when he had heard his heavies boasting about it.
Anyway, he decided, whether Collingsworth liked it or not, he couldn’t leave someone who might well need help at the bottom of the stairs so he waited till all was quiet beyond the door before he cautiously opened it. Mindful of the blackout, he had to shut it behind him before he could turn on his torch and then his heart skipped a beat, for it was no young girl there but the battered and bruised body of his employer, and though he was as naked as the day he was born, his clothes lay in a heap on top of him.
Had the girl done him in? Fought for her honour, like? Dear Christ, she was in one heap of trouble, whichever way it was. Will leant across, felt for the pulse in his employer’s neck and was relieved that he was alive at least, so it wouldn’t be the gallows for that young girl, whoever she was.
But the man was still unconscious and the wound Will saw on the back of his head was bleeding profusely. He tried to stanch that with his handkerchief before shaking him gently and whispering, ‘Mr Collingsworth, sir. Mr Collingsworth. Wake up, sir. Wake up.’
He was relieved to see his employer’s eyes flutter open, even though he did shut them straight away, growling out irritably, ‘Turn that bloody torch away from my face, you fool. Nearly damned well blinded me. And where the hell am I anyway?’
But the chauffeur didn’t have to answer that, because the events of that evening had begun to seep into Collingsworth’s brain and consummate rage filled his entire body. ‘Help me into my clothes, man. Don’t just stand there,’ he commanded.
Will did most of the dressing, for Collingsworth was disorientated and badly co-ordinated. Though the chauffeur thought he should go to hospital to be checked over, particularly for the head injury, which was still seeping blood and matting in his sparse hair, even through the handkerchief, he said nothing. He knew that these people from the underworld seldom visited doctors or hospitals in the normal way. They had their own people to attend them, who were paid well to keep their mouths shut.
Will Baker didn’t like the colour of Collingsworth’s face at all and noted how he had to help him to his feet once he was dressed and then prevent him falling flat on his face as, taking almost all his weight, he semi-carried the man to his car.
‘Where to, boss?’
‘Home. Where else, you bloody fool?’
In Collingsworth’s house, in full light, the man looked worse and the chauffeur was worried enough to say, ‘Shall I ring the doctor, sir?’ knowing that he had a special doctor attend him.
But his employer brushed the suggestion away impatiently. ‘It’s not a doctor I want but that man Morris. Find him and bring him here.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The chauffeur had taken Ray to the casino, so he was likely spending the money Collingsworth had given him that evening.
It had been Ray that had put Will in line for a job with Collingsworth after meeting him in a pub one night. They had been at school together, though not special friends, but that night they caught up with news of one another. Will, feeling very sorry for himself, told Ray of being invalided out of the army after his lungs were buggered up after the rout at Dunkirk.
Ray, on the other hand, never specified what he actually did for a living, or how he had evaded the call-up, but he did tell Will that he might be able to do him a favour.
‘My boss is in need of a chauffeur and general dogsbody since the last one was called up. You can drive, I suppose?’
‘Well, yes, but with petrol rationed I wouldn’t imagine there will be much work in that line at the moment.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Ray had said. ‘This man, as well as being incredibly rich, has his finger in so many pies. Rationing of anything doesn’t seem to apply to him. Anyway, no harm in having a chat.’
Will agreed there wasn’t, but when he met Edwin Collingsworth he hadn’t liked him at all. The more he knew about him, the more his dislike and unease grew. Yet a job was a job, and better than no damned thing at all.
His fear, when he had been made aware of the extent of his injuries, was that he’d be unable to provide for his wife, Betty, and he knew she had been frightened of that too. It was even more important now that she was expecting their first child. It always gave him pride when he placed his wage packet into her hand on a Friday night and saw that special smile on her face. He would go to hell and back in order that she and the child would not go short.
Collingsworth paid well, Will had to admit, though sometimes he demanded more than his pound of flesh and his Betty would kick up about it though he never discussed his work with her. He knew she would disapprove of most of it, and if she just had a hint of some of the things he had seen done, the things he had been asked to cover up, or provide an alibi for, she would probably demand he give it up. And just where would they be then? Up the creek without a paddle, that’s where. Anyway, it was far better for Betty, and much safer for her, to know nothing and to think he had a regular sort of job.
Ray was surprised to hear that Collingsworth had returned home before the morning, for it wasn’t even midnight, but ask as he might, Will said he knew nothing about anything. All he knew was that he was told to fetch him and that was what he was doing. Ray knew he was lying, though he didn’t blame him because it was always safer for a person to keep their head down. He had seen Collingsworth in a temper and it was a frightening spectacle.
In Will’s absence, Collingsworth had called his doctor, who had come round immediately, shaved the hair around the head wound and then cleaned and stitched it so that the first thing that Ray noticed was the large white bandage encircling the man’s head.
‘Good God, Edwin! What happened to you?’
‘You might well ask, and the answer is being fool enough to be left in with that she-devil.’
Ray’s mouth dropped agape. ‘Molly?’ he said incredulously. ‘Molly did that to you?’
‘What do you think?’ Collingsworth spat out.
‘But how? I mean, there is nothing to her.’
‘That is neither here nor there,’ Collingsworth snapped. ‘You said she would be ready and waiting, that she knew the score.’
‘She did,’ Ray said. ‘I mean, I told her she had to be nice to you, very nice, and I asked her if she knew what I meant and she said that of course she did.’
Surely, Ray thought suddenly, she wasn’t so naive as to think that being ‘nice’ was offering him a cup of tea and a biscuit or two?
‘Oh, she was nice all right,’ Collingsworth snapped. ‘So nice that not content with knocking me out, she pushed me down the bleeding stairs.’ He went on to recount to Ray what had happened in the apartment. ‘She bloody near killed me,’ he said at the end. ‘She might have succeeded if Will hadn’t found me and brought me home, and I want to know what you are going to do about it.’
‘What do you want me to