Widows

Dolly’s partnership with Harry had been a very special one. They had met when she was running her late father’s antique and junk stall in Petticoat Lane, but it wasn’t Harry’s flash E-type Jag, his good looks and charm that had drawn her to him, although of course she noticed them. No, the connection went much deeper than that.

When Harry proposed with a solitaire diamond ring, he took Dolly’s breath away. Harry’s mother Iris had been equally breathless, but for very different reasons. She couldn’t believe that her son wanted to marry a girl she saw as a common money-grabbing little tart. Iris had brought up her only son single-handedly after his father was imprisoned for armed robbery and died of cancer shortly after his release. She established a very successful — and apparently legitimate — antiques business, made sure Harry got a good education, and saw that he traveled extensively to further his knowledge of antique art, silver and precious stones. By the time he took over the business, Iris was struggling with arthritis and blinding migraines and ready to retire. Her final ambition for her only child was to see him married to a rich young woman with class and social connections. It was the first time Harry had ever defied his mother.

Dolly never told Harry about the day she had called on Iris in the elegant St. John’s Wood flat her doting son had bought. Not exactly elegant in those days, Dolly was nevertheless not quite the brassy blonde that Iris had envisaged. She was attractive, broad for a woman and with hands that had seen hard work, but she was demure, feminine and quietly spoken. Iris had gathered herself and offered tea.

‘No thank you, Mrs. Rawlins,’ Dolly had replied. Iris winced at the girl’s East End accent. ‘I just want you to know that I love Harry and whether you like it or not, we are going to get married. Your constant disapproval and threats only drive us closer, because he loves and needs me.’

Dolly had paused for Iris to respond — to apologize if she had any sense. Instead, Iris slowly looked Dolly up and down, sneering at her ordinary clothes and unimaginative flat shoes.

Dolly shrugged and went on. ‘My dad was a dealer in the antiques business and he knew your husband, so don’t give me all your airs and graces. Everyone knows he fenced stolen goods and done ten years in Pentonville for armed robbery. Everyone knows you used the proceeds to run the business while he was inside. And let’s be honest, you were lucky to get away with it.’

No one had ever talked to Iris like that before. ‘Are you pregnant?’ she asked, gobsmacked.

Dolly smoothed her pencil skirt. ‘No, Mrs. Rawlins, I’m not, but I do want a family, and if you want to be a part of it then you should zip your mouth. Harry and me are getting married, with or without your permission, and threatening to cut him out of the business is just cutting off your nose to spite your face.’ Dolly turned to leave. ‘I’ll show myself out.’

‘If it’s money you want,’ said Iris. ‘I’ll write you a check here and now. Name your price.’

Dolly held out her left hand with its diamond solitaire engagement ring.

‘I want the gold band to go with this, cos you don’t have enough money to pay me off. He’s all I want and I am going to make him happy. Like I said, you can be part of our lives or not, it’s up to you.’

Once again, Dolly headed for the door. Once again, Iris’s words made her pause.

‘If you’re thinking of running the antique business with Harry you’d better lose that common East End accent.’

‘I intend to, Mrs. Rawlins.’ Dolly glanced over her shoulder and looked Iris square in the eyes. ‘Just as you managed to lose yours.’

Eddie Rawlins, the cousin Dolly couldn’t stand, breezed in with his cheeks flushed from the cold, and interrupted her thoughts. He was similar in looks to Harry, but whereas Harry had been strong and muscular, Eddie seemed like a weak version.

He rubbed his hands and gestured out of the window at the funeral cortege. ‘They’re all here,’ he said, beaming. ‘Hell of a turn out. The Fishers are here, not to mention the law watching in a car down the road. You can’t even see the end of the line, there must be fifty cars out there!’

Dolly bit her lip. She hadn’t wanted it this way but Iris had insisted: Harry was an important man who had to be buried in style. Dolly knew how much Iris must be hurting too, so she had given her what she wanted. She’d never be thanked for it, but it would make Dolly’s life less stressful in the long run.

Collecting her black leather handbag, Dolly stood and smoothed her skirt, checking herself in the hallway mirror on the way out. Just as she got to the front door, Eddie stopped her and took a small brown packet from his pocket. He leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice even though they were completely alone.

‘This is for you, Dolly. I know it’s probably not appropriate right now, but the law’s been sniffin’ round my place and Harry gave me this to pass on to you if anything ever happened to him.’