Queen of the Mersey Read Online Free PDF Page B

he liked her in return. He was much better dressed than the other customers, in a loud, tweed suit and a canary yellow waistcoat. A bachelor in his thirties, he earned his living in mysterious ways. It was rumoured he was a fence, handling stolen property, and could get anything at a price.
    She fluttered her black eyelashes, stiff with mascara. ‘That’ll be ninepence altogether.’
    Derek leant over and peered down the front of her purple satin blouse. ‘And cheap at the price,’ he said with a suggestive wink.
    ‘Don’t be cheeky.’ Agnes twisted her lips, painted purple to match the blouse, into what she assumed was an appealing moue, then helped herself to a Woodbine.
    ‘What’s a bobby dazzler like you doing in a dump like this?’ Derek enquired.
    ‘You asked me that last night and the night before. I told you, earning me living. I’m a widder. I’ve got meself and a girl of fourteen to support.’
    ‘Pity about the girl. I’ve been thinking, if it wasn’t for her, you and me could take off and have some great times together.’
    ‘Oh, yeah! And pigs might fly,’ Agnes snorted. She heard the same sort of thing from men at least once a week. She was a good-looking woman, handsome, with big, dark eyes in a heavily painted face and a slightly too large nose. Her brown hair had been dyed blonde and was tightly permed in tiny curls covering her well-shaped head.
    ‘I mean it,’ Derek Norris insisted. ‘I’ve had my eye on you, Aggie. We’d make a good pair. Any minute now, I’m off to London to make me fortune. There’ll be all sorts of rich pickings there once this bloody war starts.’
    ‘London!’ Agnes breathed, images of Mayfair and Piccadilly and Buckingham Palace racing through her mind.
    ‘London.’ Derek gave an emphatic nod.
    ‘I’d love to go to a nightclub. I’ve only seen them on the pictures.’
    ‘We’ll go to a nightclub on our very first night.’
    ‘You’re having me on. We hardly know each other.’
    ‘I beg to differ, Aggie. I think we know each other very well. We’re the same type. We take risks, like nice clothes, a good time. Have you ever drunk a cocktail?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You’d love ’em, they’d be right up your street. I can just see you walking down the Strand in a fur coat; mink or sable, the best there is.’
    Agnes could see it too, very clearly. She glanced at him through lowered lids.
    He had a daring face; she could imagine him taking risks. His eyes were small and a bit puffy, and he had a snub nose and a rather feminine mouth but, all in all, she found him attractive. At least he was clean, he looked after himself, and evidently had a few bob in his pocket. He had ideas. He was an adventurer.
    And he made her laugh, the way he imitated film stars; James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart, as well as Edward G. Robinson.
    ‘How do I know you’re not married?’ she asked pertly.
    ‘You’ll just have to take my word for it that I’m not. The truth is, I’ve never met a woman I fancied enough to take all the way to the altar.’ He flashed her a sly grin, as if to say he’d met the woman now.
    The landlord, Con Garrett, pushed his way past behind the bar. He put his hands squarely on her hips and pressed himself briefly against her. Agnes nudged him sharply in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Gerroff!’ she snarled.
    ‘That’s not what you said the other night,’ he whispered, fortunately not loud enough for Derek to hear. She didn’t want him knowing she was a woman of easy virtue. A barmaid’s wages didn’t go far when you liked smart clothes and jewellery, and an extra quid or two came in handy whenever she fancied a new outfit. Derek had kept himself more or less to himself the nights he came and hopefully hadn’t heard she was willing to do a turn when she was broke. He was living temporarily with his sister in Chaucer Street, a woman she’d never heard of who was unlikely to have heard of Agnes Tate.
    ‘What d’you say, Aggie?’ Derek said cajolingly. ‘About London, that is.’
    Agnes sighed. It sounded