A Mother's Secret

Book 1: Battersea Tavern

by Kitty Neale

Genres: Family Life; World War II; Sagas

Synopsis

The heartwrenching new novel from bestselling author Kitty Neale

Can she put right the secrets of the past?

London, 1939. Winnie Berry has been the landlady of the Battersea Tavern for nearly twenty-five years, and the pub is like home to her - a place of tears and laughter, full of customers that feel like family. A place where she's learned to avoid the quick fists of her husband, and where she's raised her beloved son, David.

He's inherited his father's lazy streak and can't seem to hold down a job, but when war is declared Winnie is determined to keep her son safe. She's still haunted by the choice she made years ago as a desperate young woman, and she won't make the same mistake of letting her family be taken from her...

But when a young woman crosses her path, the secrets of Winnie's past threaten to turn her world upside down. There's nothing stronger than a mother's love - but can it ever have a second chance?

The first book in The Battersea Tavern series

Release date: March 4, 2021

Publisher: Orion Publishing Group

Print pages: 400

Sample

1

3 September 1939Battersea, London

‘Well, that’s it, then,’ Winnie Berry said, sighing heavily as she reached across from her armchair to turn off the wireless. ‘You heard the man, we’re at war with Germany. I’d best get downstairs and make sure everything’s shipshape.’

Her husband, Brian, was sitting in the wingback armchair opposite her with yesterday’s newspaper across his lap. As he tapped out the tobacco from his pipe, he looked over his black-rimmed glasses and Winnie could tell from his scowl that his mood was dark.

‘Did I say you could turn the wireless off?’ he asked ominously.

‘No, but…’ Winnie answered, searching for something to say that wouldn’t rile him again.

‘Then turn it back on, woman!’ Brian barked.

His loud and abrupt tone caused Winnie to flinch, even though she knew she should be used to his aggression by now. After all, he rarely spoke to her unless it was to shout his orders or to complain about something that, apparently, she’d done wrong. But at least he didn’t raise his hands to her so much these days.

Winnie pushed her plump body out of the chair and quickly turned the wireless on again. She’d learned years ago that it was easier to do Brian’s bidding rather than to argue with him. She much preferred to have a quiet and peaceful life.

‘I… erm, I’d better open up or I’ll have the customers banging down the doors. Shall I pour you another cuppa before I go?’ she asked meekly, looking at Brian for a response.

He sucked on his pipe with his eyes closed and his head resting on the back of the green armchair. It grated on Winnie. She knew there’d be a large grease mark left there from the pomade he used on his thick, brown hair. She thought he was lucky not to have gone bald like his father had. At sixty-three, eighteen years older than she was, Brian had aged well with just a little light greying around his temples. But his brow was deeply lined and she thought it was because he was always frowning.

Smoke curled around his face but Brian didn’t even so much as offer her a grunt.

‘Suit yourself,’ she muttered under her breath as she slipped from the front room above their pub.

As she went downstairs, Winnie smoothed her navy-blue dress over her ample body and patted her mid-brown, waved hair. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes wafted up the stairs but she was used to the aroma from the pub and quite liked it. She’d been the landlady of the Battersea Tavern for nearly a quarter of a century and the familiar smell of the place brought her comfort. It was home. The walls had seen her tears and heard her laughter – the customers had become like family. And it was the place where she’d raised her beloved son, David.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Winnie heard someone hammering on the door.

‘Here we go,’ she said to herself. ‘Hang on, I’m coming!’ she shouted. Her customers were early today but, no doubt, the announcement of war had brought them out.

She assumed it would be Leonard Garwood, one of her regulars. A quiet old boy who always sat in the same spot at the end of the bar. Or maybe it would be Hilda Duff, a loud-mouthed, peroxide blonde who was, unfortunately, the much older sister of Winnie’s barmaid, Rachel Robb. Whoever was knocking, it wasn’t Rachel. The girl would never bang so loudly.

Winnie unbolted the door and her heart sank when she saw it was indeed the notorious Hilda Duff. The young woman’s grey, calf-length coat with a small velvet collar had once looked smart, but now it was grubby, and her greasy hair poked out from a green cloche hat.

‘Have you heard, Win?’ Hilda asked. ‘That Chamberlain bloke has only gawn and declared war on Germany! Quick, let me in. I need a large whisky to calm me nerves.’

Winnie rolled her eyes and stood to one side for Hilda to pass. The woman could find any excuse for having a large whisky but the strong spirit fuelled her vicious tongue and Winnie hoped she wouldn’t have to throw her out of her pub again.

‘Where’s my sister?’ Hilda asked as her sunken blue eyes scanned the room.

‘She’ll be here any minute.’

‘Give us a large whisky, then,’ Hilda said and leaned her forearms on the bar.

‘Let me see your money first.’

‘Oh, come off it, Winnie. You know I’m good for it,’ Hilda said, but their conversation was interrupted suddenly by the unmistakable wailing noise of the air-raid sirens. ‘Christ almighty, the bleedin’ Jerries are coming! We’ve got to take cover!’

Winnie could see that Hilda was visibly shaking and her eyes were wide with fear. ‘It’s all right, love, it’s probably a false alarm. They’ll just be testing them, that’s all,’ she offered reassuringly.

‘Do you reckon? Oh, Winnie, I don’t mind telling you, I’m scared out of me wits. The thought of a bomb landing on me head…’

‘I won’t have talk like that in here, thank you very much. You’ll put me customers off their ale. ’Ere, get this down your neck,’ Winnie said firmly and she poured Hilda a drink.

The woman downed it and it seemed to settle her nerves. ‘Thanks, Win, I needed that. Cor, don’t they make a bleedin’ racket? It’s enough to scare the rats out of the sewers.’

Winnie felt a gush of fresh, crisp air as the door opened and Rachel bustled in wearing a burgundy wool coat which matched her fashionable felt hat. Rachel was dainty with light blonde hair, and she thought the girl looked a picture – unlike her sister, Hilda, whose clothes needed to go in the boiling pot. Hilda, at thirty-nine, was seventeen years older than Rachel and it showed.

‘Sorry I’m late, Winnie. There’s mayhem going on out there,’ Rachel said as she hurried towards the dark brown-painted counter. ‘Everyone’s running around like headless chickens. It ain’t for real, is it? The siren.’

‘No, love, I shouldn’t think so. But if you’re worried, get yourself down to the cellar. It could do with a good sweep through.’

‘No, I’m not worried. The Germans would be stupid if they wasted any of their bombs on Battersea,’ Rachel answered. She went through to the back where Winnie knew she’d be slinging her coat over the newel post at the bottom of the stairs.

‘See that?’ Hilda asked, her mouth set in a grim line.

‘What?’

‘She walked straight past me. Didn’t even say hello.’

‘Well, she’s probably still smarting over what you said to her last night.’

‘What? She’s got the hump cos I told her she oughta find herself a decent bloke to look after her?’

‘Hilda, that’s not exactly how you said it,’ Winnie remarked.

Rachel reappeared and stood behind the bar with her hands on her hips. ‘No, that’s not what you said at all. As usual, you were drunk, so you probably don’t remember telling me that I’ll end up an old spinster because no bloke would put up with me. According to you, I’m spoilt, selfish, stuck-up and haughty. Thanks. It’s nice to know you think so highly of me.’

‘You silly cow. You know you shouldn’t take any notice of what I say when I’ve had a drink.’

‘But you’ve always had a drink,’ Rachel snapped.

‘Oh, don’t start again. We can’t all be Miss Goody-Two-Shoes like you. Maybe there was some truth in what I said last night – you need to get down off your high horse and take your hoity-toity nose out of the air.’

Winnie interrupted, saying firmly, ‘All right, ladies, that’ll do. It’s bad enough with that wailing siren outside. I won’t have cat fights across my bar.’

‘Yeah, sorry, Win. I’ll go and fetch the mixers up,’ Rachel replied and threw her sister a dirty look before heading towards the cellar.

Once they were alone, Winnie leaned over the bar and whispered to Hilda, ‘You could try being kinder to Rachel. She’s a good girl, you know.’

‘That girl has always been the bane of my life. You don’t know the ’alf of it, so keep your bleedin’ nose out,’ Hilda answered, snarling, before turning on her heel and stamping out.

‘Thank goodness for that!’ Winnie muttered as the door closed behind Hilda and the air-raid sirens fell silent. At last she had two minutes to think clearly – Britain was at war! Her mind raced with fears of David being conscripted. She’d seen the state of many soldiers who’d returned from fighting in the Great War. They had been broken in body and mind, and could never be fixed. Thousands hadn’t come home at all. She couldn’t abide the thought of that fate for her son and a shudder ran down her spine.

‘You all right?’ Rachel asked as she plonked a crate of bottles on the bar.

‘Yes, love, I’m fine,’ Winnie lied.

‘Hilda’s buggered off, then?’

‘Yes, but she’ll probably be back before we close to have another whisky. She can be the nicest of people, but it’s such a shame to see a woman in the state she gets herself into.’

‘She’s always been the same, nice as pie one minute and then, well, you know. Yet the cheeky cow has got the nerve to slate me. I’m not stuck-up, am I?’

‘No, love, you’re just selective,’ Winnie answered diplomatically, hiding a smile. She thought Rachel could be aloof at times, though she was always polite and friendly to the customers. Rachel had no real girlfriends and Winnie had never known her to court a man. It wasn’t as if she was short of offers – being a good-looking barmaid, she attracted plenty of attention, albeit mostly unwanted on Rachel’s part. Though from what Rachel had said about her past, she couldn’t blame the girl for being guarded.

‘Do you know, Win, I’m sure the worry of Hilda sent my dear old mum to an early grave. But then she had fourteen kids, so she was always worried about one or other of us.’

‘I’m sure she was. You all may have grown up, but you’d still have been her babies. I feel the same about my David.’

Rachel giggled as she stacked the mixers on a shelf behind the bar.

‘What’s so funny?’ Winnie asked.

‘I just can’t see David as a baby,’ Rachel answered.

Indeed, David was far from being a baby. He was a grown man of twenty-three but Winnie still mollycoddled him, much to her husband’s disapproval. He thought she should cut the apron strings and that David should fly the nest. But she was happy to have their son at home where she knew he was safe and cared for. After the casualties she’d seen from the Great War, the thought of David having to join up with the British army and fight the Germans terrified her.



David Berry sat astride his motorbike and threw a half-smoked cigarette to the ground. ‘Yeah, all right, Ted, I’ll go to the dance on Saturday night and hopefully one of the girls will put out this time.’

‘You wanna try your luck with Maureen. She fancies you,’ Ted answered from under the car bonnet where his head was buried in the engine he was working on. ‘So do most of the girls around here, you lucky sod,’ he mumbled.

‘Maureen! I wouldn’t go near her if my life depended on it. Her nose would get in the way. Ain’t you noticed the size of her hooter?’

‘Yeah, but she’s got a nice pair of tits,’ Ted said and he emerged from under the bonnet to wipe his greasy spanner with an oily cloth.

‘Maybe, but I still wouldn’t touch her.’

‘Who’ve you got your eye on, then?’

David smiled wryly. ‘That would be telling, mate,’ he answered, thinking of Rachel Robb, his mother’s pretty barmaid.

‘You’re a sly bugger, you. Anyway, shouldn’t you be at work?’

‘I jacked it in. I couldn’t stand the old bastard breathing down me neck and getting on at me all the time to pull me weight. So I told him where he could stick his job.’

‘Bloody hell, Dave, that’s the fourth job in as many months. What you gonna do now? Cadge some money off your old girl again?’

‘Yeah, probably. She’s a soft touch.’

‘Long as your old man don’t find out.’

‘He won’t. The lazy git hardly gets up from his chair.’

‘But if he did, he’d give you a good clout round the ear.’

‘He’d have to catch me first,’ David answered.

‘Talking of a clip round the ears, did you hear about Mickey?’

‘No, what about him?’

‘He got a right pasting from Errol Hampton. I bumped into his sister yesterday. She said Mickey’s face looks like a smashed-up tomato. He’s got teeth missing and everything.’

David’s blood ran cold. He’d seen Errol three days earlier and the man had asked after Mickey’s whereabouts. David had known that Errol wasn’t asking because he wanted to pay Mickey a friendly visit. Hoping to keep in favour with Errol, he’d revealed Mickey’s whereabouts. After all, Errol wasn’t the sort of bloke you’d want to fall out with! ‘Bloody hell. How did Errol find out that Mickey was hiding out at his sister’s place?’ he asked, hoping that Ted didn’t suspect him of telling on Mickey.

‘Dunno. I wouldn’t be surprised if Errol put pressure on someone to grass him up. Plenty of people knew where Mickey was hiding and not many of them would have stood up to Errol.’

‘I suppose not, but you’d like to think you could rely on your mates.’

‘Maybe, Dave, but would you take a beating from Errol to protect Mickey?’

‘Yeah, course I would, and so would you. That’s what mates are for; we watch each other’s backs. Anyway, I’d best get off,’ he said and revved his engine. ‘I’ll see you Saturday, Ted. And send me best to Mickey,’ he called before he sped off.



Twenty minutes later, David walked through the door of the Battersea Tavern. He made his way through the hazy smoke-filled pub, spotting the familiar customers supping their half-pints. His mother was serving and, as usual, Len was at the end of the bar. Then his eyes fell on Rachel.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said with a cheeky wink as he approached her.

At just over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he towered over Rachel’s petite frame.

‘What are you doing here at this time of the day?’ she asked.

‘I’ve come to see the best-looking barmaid in Battersea.’

‘Don’t give me that crap, David. You’ve lost your job again, haven’t you?’

‘Yep,’ he replied shortly. ‘What you doing Saturday night? Fancy coming to the dance with me?’

‘And how are you gonna afford to buy me a drink, if you ain’t got a job? You needn’t think I’m letting you take me out on your mother’s hard-earned money.’

‘Your loss,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders as he sauntered off. Bloody condescending cow, he thought. He’d been trying it on for years with Rachel but she’d rejected all his advances. That made her more of a challenge and, truth be known, he enjoyed the chase. Most girls fell quickly for his swarthy good looks and easy charm but Rachel was different. They were almost the same age but she treated him like a boy and it got right up his nose. One day in the not-too-distant future, he intended to show her that he was a real man.

‘Hello, Son,’ his mum said cheerily as she almost waddled along the bar towards him. ‘You on your lunch break? I can do you a nice corned-beef sandwich, if you like?’

‘Yeah, thanks, Mum, that would be smashing,’ he answered and followed her through to a small back kitchen.

‘I suppose you’ve heard about the war?’ she asked as she sliced the bread.

‘It was only a matter of time. I’ve just been to see Ted. He’s dug an Anderson shelter in his backyard and the silly beggar only got inside it when that siren sounded earlier.’

‘Better safe than sorry, I suppose,’ his mum told him. ‘I mean, it could’ve been genuine. One minute the Prime Minister is on the wireless, telling us we’re at war, the next thing you know, the sirens are wailing. From what Rachel told me, there was a lot of panic on the streets.’

‘I weren’t bothered, was you?’

‘Course not, Son, you know me. It would take a darn sight more than an air-raid siren to get me out of this pub.’

‘Yeah, I bet the Jerries haven’t come across someone like you before.’

‘Did you ask after Ted’s mother? I heard her gout has flared up again.’

‘No, Mum, he never said anything. But he was on at me to go to the dance on Saturday.’

‘Aw, that’s nice. Are you going?’

‘I’d like to, but the thing is,’ he said, quickly glancing from left to right to check he wasn’t being overheard, ‘I’m a bit strapped for cash…’

‘Oh, David, you’ve been given your cards again, haven’t you?’

‘No, I walked. And if you’d heard the way Atkinson spoke to me, you would have told me to jack it in. I won’t tell you the language he used because you’d be round there like a hare out of a trap and pulling him over the coals,’ he said, elaborating on the truth. In fact, Mr Atkinson had been very patient with him, but he wasn’t going to tell his mother that – he wanted her sympathy and the contents of her purse.

‘The cheeky sod!’ she said heatedly. ‘I’ll give him a piece of my mind the next time he shows his face in here.’

‘Leave it, Mum, it ain’t worth losing customers over.’

‘Yeah, all right, if you say so. I must admit, he spends a fair bit over the bar. Anyway, there’s a couple of quid in my purse, so help yourself. Just don’t tell your father.’

‘Thanks, Mum, you’re a gem.’

David wasted no time in emptying the contents of his mother’s purse and tucked into the sandwich she’d made him. ‘Any chance of a cuppa to wash this down?’ he asked, knowing she’d readily jump to his request.

As his mother made his drink, David smiled inwardly. She was a doormat. He’d grown up watching her pander to his father’s every whim, and he’d seen her get many a back-hander when she was slow to obey him. David tried to blot out the memories of his mother crying and her using make-up to conceal a black eye. He hated the way his father treated her but David had soon discovered that he could get what he wanted from her by being nice. He didn’t see the need for violence and wasn’t a fighter. His father had once called him a coward but David didn’t care what the man thought of him. His dad had never shown any respect for his mother and not once did she stand up for herself. As far as he was concerned, they were the cowards, not him. He had worked out exactly how to get the attention he felt he deserved from his mother, and she fell for it every time.

‘I’ll be out front, if you want anything,’ she said and ruffled his hair as she passed.

Bloody hell, thought David. He’d already told her enough times about mucking up his hairstyle. Still, it was a small price to pay in exchange for a full stomach and a pocket full of cash. And now he knew exactly where he’d be heading to spend his money.

2

Winnie threw her legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed her tired eyes. The morning sun was shining through a crack in the curtains and when she turned to look at Brian, the rays were illuminating his sleeping face. She sighed and shook her head. His features looked soft when he slept, but she knew that the moment his eyes opened, his frown would return. She’d once loved the man, but, over the years, he’d worn her down and now that love had been replaced with contempt. She didn’t entirely blame him for his cold ways and felt sure that she’d been a part of him becoming a miserable bugger. However, before her thoughts went any further, Brian’s eyes slowly opened. The instant he saw her, he grimaced.

‘What are you doing sitting there? Put the kettle on, woman,’ he growled.

‘Good morning to you too,’ Winnie answered sarcastically and she heaved her weary body up.

She made her way through to the larger, upstairs kitchen and yawned as she filled the kettle. The previous day had been a busy one with all the locals coming in to talk about the declaration of war. By the time she’d called last orders, Winnie had been sick to the back teeth of hearing about it. After cleaning up, she’d waited for David to come home but had eventually nodded off in the armchair. When she’d woken in the early hours, she’d been relieved to find David in his bed and so, finally, she’d gone to her own.

‘Morning, Mum,’ David said as he came into the kitchen.

Winnie was surprised to see her son up and about so early. When he was out of work, he’d normally stay in his bed until midday.

‘Morning, love. You were late home last night.’

‘Yeah, me and the boys went to the pictures and then over to Ted’s place. I didn’t realise how late it was. It’s the last time we’ll be able to see a film for a while. Ted said he heard on the wireless that they’re closing the Granada and all cinemas today.’

‘Yeah, I heard about that an’ all. I reckon there’s worry that if a bomb drops a load of people will get hurt at the same time. I suppose there’ll be lots of changes now. There’s already kids being evacuated to safer places outside of London.’

‘They reckon all our cities will be targets, especially the docks.’

‘I’d rather not think about that, so that’s enough talk of war. What did you see at the flicks? Anything good?’

‘That George Formby film. It was really funny.’

‘Oh, I love him. Mind you, I ain’t been to the cinema in yonks. Your father’s hardly likely to take me and I can’t leave Rachel by herself downstairs.’

There had been a time when Winnie had asked David to work behind the bar but he’d done nothing but moan about it so she hadn’t asked again. She could do with a break, but as much as she loved her boy, she was fully aware that he had a lazy streak, just like his father. There was no chance of Brian helping out either. He used to pull pints with her but nowadays her husband only balanced the books for the pub, and as far as he was concerned, it was her job to do the rest of the work involved.

‘Mum, could you lend me a few bob?’

‘I gave you a couple of quid yesterday. You ain’t gone through that already, have you?’

‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘Blimey, David, money goes through your hands like water,’ Winnie said and tutted. She went to a tin on a shelf next to the larder and emptied out several coins onto the kitchen table. ‘There, that’s all I’ve got, so make it last.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said and kissed her cheek before scooping up the coins.

‘You’d better not be scrounging money off your mother again,’ Brian said, his voice low and rumbling.

Winnie jumped and turned to see him standing in the kitchen doorway, his large frame almost filling it. ‘No, Brian. I – erm…’

‘I thought as bloody much,’ he interrupted, glaring at his son. ‘Give it back to her, every bleedin’ penny. You’re good for nothing, David. What must people think of you, eh? You’ll never amount to anything and I won’t have a son of mine sponging off his mother!’

‘But it’s all right for you to sponge off her?’ David retorted as he slapped the money down onto the table.

Winnie gasped and her hand flew over her mouth. David’s boldness was sure to enrage his father.

‘I do not! This is my pub, I pay the bills, and I ain’t standing for any backchat from you,’ Brian snarled as he marched across the kitchen towards his son.

Winnie reacted instinctively and quickly leapt in front of her husband. ‘No, Brian, please,’ she pleaded, blocking his path.

He pushed her roughly to one side. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet. She saw Brian with his fists clenched ready to punch David.

‘No!’ she screamed, the sound long and harrowing.

Her plea fell on deaf ears and with horror she saw Brian swing his arm forward. David dodged the blow, a smirk on his face.

‘I’ll have you,’ Brian ground out through gritted teeth, and he threw another punch.

Again, David managed to move away in time. ‘Come on then, old man, but you’ll have to be quicker than that.’

‘Stop it! Stop it, the pair of you!’ Winnie screeched and ran in between them. She was used to breaking up the odd scuffle or two in her pub but never between her son and husband.

‘He’s asking for it,’ Brian barked.

‘Enough! David, apologise to your father, this instant.’

‘What? Say sorry to him? Never,’ he answered defiantly.

‘You bloody well will! You live under his roof, so you show him some respect.’

A look of shock passed over her son’s face. There was a long, silent pause, and then, to Winnie’s relief, he said a half-hearted, ‘Sorry.’

‘Good. Now, Brian, go and sit down in the front room and I’ll bring you a cup of tea. David, go to your room and get dressed. And we’ll say no more about it.’

Both men walked off and Winnie drew in a deep breath. She’d never spoken so firmly to either of them and had been taken aback when they’d done as they were told. Her heart was still pounding but she was pleased she’d managed to diffuse the fraught situation. She’d have words with David later. She had to discourage him from giving his father backchat because, at the end of the day, it was more than likely that she’d be the one to feel Brian’s wrath, probably with a smack across her face, or worse.



David had been happy to retreat to his room. Despite his bravado, his father’s attempted assault had left him shaken. He ran his hands through his coarse, brown hair and stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. Thankfully, his dad wasn’t as quick as he used to be and David had been spared a hard whack. But his pockets were empty again and he desperately needed to lay his hands on some cash.

He heard a light tap on the door and his mother popped her head round.

‘You all right, Son?’

‘Yeah, I suppose so.’

She crept in quietly and closed the door behind her. ‘You shouldn’t talk to your father like that. You know what he’s like.’

‘Yes, I do. I’ve seen you get enough lumps off him. He’s a bully, Mum. I can’t stand him.’

‘Please don’t talk about your dad like that. Whatever his faults, he’s still your father.’

‘Huh, some dad, eh! All he cares about is what people think of him and money.’

‘He ain’t all bad. We’ve got somewhere nice to live and we don’t go short, do we?’

‘That’s got nothing to do with him! It’s you who runs this place. His name might be over the door but apart from looking after the takings like some old miser, he doesn’t lift a finger to help you,’ he blurted angrily.

His mother didn’t say anything but just looked at him. Feeling a pang of guilt, David lowered his eyes to the floor. He did nothing to help his mother either, but he soon reasoned that it wasn’t his responsibility to do so – it was his father’s.

‘When he was younger, your dad did more,’ she said finally, ‘so just hold your tongue around him in future, please. And stay out of his way.’

‘Yeah, all right,’ he answered reluctantly.

As his mother went to leave his room, he added quickly, ‘About that money, Mum…’

‘I’ll slip you a few bob downstairs. And do your best to find another job today, eh, love?’

‘Don’t worry, I will. Thanks, Mum.’

Once she’d closed the door, David threw himself down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d cocked up, and the few bob she’d promised him wouldn’t be enough to bail him out. He’d need more than that if he intended on keeping his face from being rearranged like Mickey’s had been. He knew of only one place where the sort of sum he required would be readily available – the cash register behind the bar. But getting to it without his mother or Rachel spotting him would be tricky. He didn’t want to be caught with his hands in the till because that would be the end of his mother bank-rolling him. If he was going to get away with daylight robbery, he’d have to be canny. And with no other option available to him, he sat up and thought about how to pull it off.



An hour later, spruced up and with a plan in place, David was feeling confident. The pub wouldn’t be open for a while yet and the till wouldn’t be full until nearer lunchtime closing. He’d wait. After all, he couldn’t go outside and run the risk of bumping into Errol Hampton. The local hard man had made it clear that if David didn’t cough up the money that was owed, Errol would rip his face off. The thought filled him with dread as he knew Errol wasn’t one for offering idle threats. Mickey was proof of that. If Errol said he was going to give David a beating, then he meant it!

He could have kicked himself. He felt stupid for having been sucked in by Errol. It had started with a few friendly card games but had soon progressed to playing for money. The stakes had steadily increased and when he’d gambled away all his cash, Errol persuaded him to keep playing and offered him a loan. David had been desperate to win back the money he’d lost so he’d readily accepted the offer. He’d lost that money too and then Errol informed him of the added interest on the loan. He could see now it had all been a ploy to fleece him and he wouldn’t be surprised if the cards had been rigged. He realised that Mickey must have been fooled by Errol too and shuddered at the thought of what had happened to him. Mickey had got off lightly with just a smashed-up face. Some hadn’t been so lucky and had been left with broken bones. In fact, the bloke who lived down the end of the street and walked with a limp had been one of Errol’s victims. He hadn’t limped until his run-in with Errol.

There was only one good thing to come out of it, he thought; it had taught him a lesson, and once he?