The Paw in the Bottle

Julie made a dash for the telephone, but before she could reach it, Theo had left his chair, grabbed hold of her and swung her round. As she opened her mouth to scream, he smacked her face. She staggered back with a thin wail of pain and fear, over-balanced and fell on her hands and knees.

‘Next time you’ll get my fist,’ Theo said. He caught hold of her arm, dragged her up and shoved her roughly into a chair. ‘What’s the matter with you? Want to get hurt?’ Julie began to cry weakly. Satisfied she’d give no more trouble, Theo went back to his arm-chair.

‘You’re going through with this job or there’ll be a load of grief coming your way,’ he told her. ‘I don’t want any arguments. If you won’t play with Harry, you’ll play with me.’

‘I won’t!’ Julie sobbed. ‘I’ll tell the police! I won’t do it!’

Theo laughed.

‘That’s what you think,’ he said, and took out a limp wallet from his pocket and produced three grimy photographs. ‘Ere, take a look at these. I pinched them from a police photographer. Real life pitchers. They’ll interest you.’

Julie flinched away.

‘I’m not going to look at anything,’ she said wildly. ‘If you don’t go.’

‘Do you want me to hit you again, you silly mare?’ Theo asked, leaning forward. ‘Look at ’em or I’ll bash you.’

He threw the photographs into Julie’s lap. She caught a glimpse of disfigured faces and she swept the photographs to the floor with a shudder.

‘Pick ’em up and look at them,’ Theo said, getting to his feet. ‘I’m not going to tell you again.’

Slowly Julie bent down and her fingers touched the photo-graphs, lifted them. She looked at them, her face twisted into a horrible grimace.

‘That’s vitriol,’ Theo said. ‘Smashing pitchers. Proper life-like they are. I knew that bride. Her name’s Emmy Parsons. She’s a tart. A nigger did that to her. She wasn’t a bad-looking bride before she got splashed. ’Ere, keep looking at ’em. I haven’t finished yet. That other bride’s Edith Lawson. Fooled around with another bride’s man, so she got splashed. See that? And this other one. Got a proper basin, didn’t she? Slap in the puss. She was a real smasher. Used to work in a café in Leicester Square, but she talked too much. A bloke came in one night, ordered a cuppa coffee, and as she ’anded it to him he splashed ’er. I was there at the time.’ Theo grinned. ‘She made a noise like a train going through a tunnel. And listen, Jane. The cops never found out who done it. They wouldn’t find out if it happened to you. And it’s going to happen if you don’t play ball with us.’

Julie shivered, dropped the photographs. The sight of the women’s disfigured faces filled her with cold dread. No other threat could have been more effective.

Theo tapped her shoulder.

‘Look, this is the stuff.’ He held between finger and thumb a little green bottle. ‘I carry it around, see? And don’t think you can run away and hide. I’m good at finding people. From now on I’m going to watch you. One move out of turn and you’ll get it. Keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told and you’ll be all right. But start something we don’t like and you’ll kiss your looks good-bye. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Julie said.

‘Right. Well, that’s all for this time, Jane. No more nonsense. We want to know how the safe opens by Wednesday. No excuses. Wednesday, or I’ll be along and I’ll shake you up again. Meet us at the Mayfair Street office at eight o’clock, Wednesday. If you’re not there, you’ll be sorry. Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Julie said.

‘Okay. Now where’s the bathroom?’

She didn’t know why he should want the bathroom, but she was too dazed and frightened to think clearly. She pointed.

‘Through there.’

‘Come on, that’s where we’re going.’

‘I don’t want to...’

‘You’re going to start a lot of trouble for yourself if you don’t get out of that habit, Jane,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

She stumbled down the passage to the bathroom with him at her heels. She had a presentiment that something horrible was going to happen to her, but there was nothing she could do about it.

‘Nice joint,’ Theo said, closing the bathroom door. ‘Everything laid on. Almost a pleasure to keep clean. Okay, Jane, just stand by the bath, will you?’

She cringed away from him.

‘Please leave me alone,’ she implored him. ‘I’ll do anything: don’t touch me.’

‘Don’t be a silly mare,’ he said, grinning. ‘You got me outa bed three hours before my time. You’ve mucked up my morning. Brides don’t do that to me.’

‘Please...’

‘And you don’t either, you—’

The obscenity petrified her.

‘See how you like this.’ He aimed a light blow at her face so she brought up her hands. Then he hit her viciously in the pit of her stomach.