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Vixen - Sam Michaels


3rd September 1939. Battersea, London.
Victor hammered on the scruffy front door and Georgina Garrett stood closely behind him. She could tell by the state of the dilapidated, small terraced house that the family who lived here were poor. But that didn’t excuse Bobby’s behaviour. She’d already given him fair warning yet he’d chosen to defy her and had taken it upon himself to rob Ezzy Harel’s jewellery shop in Clapham Junction.
She heard Johnny Dymond’s car pull up and glanced over her shoulder to see him park behind her own black Rover.
‘Sorry I’m late, Miss Garrett,’ Johnny said as he swaggered towards her, his unbuttoned, fur-collared cashmere coat catching in the breeze and billowing out behind him to reveal a smart three-piece suit. ‘Ain’t Bobby home?’
‘Yes, he’s in there, probably hiding his slimy arse,’ Georgina answered, her lip curling in disgust at the thought of the man. She’d guessed that no-one would come to the door. The sight of her pulling up with her huge bodyguard and Jonny Dymond in tow would be enough to put the fear of God into anyone. ‘Kick the door down, Victor,’ she ordered, her patience wearing thin now.
With one hefty boot from Victor, the frame splintered and the door flew open. Georgina glanced inside. The bare floorboards and musty smell reminded her of Molly’s old house and the poverty her best friend had endured. Her heart went out to Bobby’s wife. She pitied the woman and her children but she couldn’t allow Bobby to take liberties. Not again.
Georgina marched in determinedly, her heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor. She pushed open the first door to see a sparsely furnished room, just two mattresses on the floor and a small table. There was nowhere to hide so she moved on to the rear of the house and here she found Bobby’s terrified-looking wife. The woman was huddled in the far corner with her arms around her three small children. The kids were barefoot and Bobby’s wife wore little more than rags.
‘Where is he?’ Georgina asked.
The woman shook her head.
‘I promise you, no harm will come to you or your children. Just tell me where he’s hiding.’
The woman’s eyes inched towards a ragged curtain that covered an alcove. She’d knowingly given away her husband’s whereabouts but she remained silent.
Georgina nodded. ‘Take your kids out. They won’t want to hear their father screaming.’
Bobby’s wife quickly ushered the children out of the grimy scullery and avoided any eye contact with Georgina as she passed.
‘Johnny, see that she’s looked after,’ Georgina said quietly, and added, ‘Twenty quid should do it.’


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