and faced her.
A queasy feeling settled in her stomach. Suddenly, it seemed like a terrible idea to tell him, but she knew she couldn’t keep her secret any longer.
‘What is it?’ Bobbin asked. ‘Something awful?’ He laughed and leaned forward. ‘Don’t be afraid. I don’t scare easily.’
It suddenly felt very warm and Constance peeled her cardigan off.
‘A long time ago,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘there were three of us friends.’
The memory was crisp and clean. It seemed as if the older she got the easier her youth was to recall.
‘Glory and I had another best mate when we was – were – growin’ up. Her name was Frances. She became famous, but not like Glory and me. She became famous because she was married to Reggie Kray.’
‘One of the Kray brothers?’ A shocked and slightly thrilled expression bloomed on his face. ‘The gangsters who ran the East End? Those Krays?’
Constance nodded. ‘What most people don’t know is that his brother, Ronnie, was an ace. He was also barking mad, and that made him having such a power worse. There’s not much to be done about an ace who is insane. Or even one a bit touched. And Ronnie wasn’t just a little touched.’
Constance rolled up her left sleeve. It had been almost fifty years, but the scars still hadn’t disappeared. They’d turned a silvery white, as if spider webs had been carved in her flesh, but they were still deep, the skin puckering around them. She held her arm out where he could see it. He let out a low whistle and reached to touch her, but she shrank away. The memory of what had created those scars, a terrible phantom pain, flared.
‘See, Ronnie’s ace was in his touch,’ she continued, rolling her sleeve back down quickly, fastening the button at the cuff. ‘If he thought about it, he could slice someone open all razor-like.’ It made her stomach flip again just to talk about it. She tried to make it sound matter-of-fact, but her voice betrayed her.
‘You might have told me that Ronnie Kray had taken it upon himself to carve you up,’ Bobbin said, reaching out to take her hand. She pulled it away. ‘There was no reason not to tell me. You can tell me anything.’
She cocked her head to one side, considering him. She knew him so well, yet she couldn’t be certain how he would react. There was only one thing to do and it was to get across this heavy ground as lightly as possible.
‘Bobbin, I killed Ronnie Kray. Well, Glory and I did.’
He stared at her, shocked. Well, what did you expect? she thought. Silence stretched out between them. It felt as if she was looking at him from the wrong end of a telescope.
‘But … Reggie Kray went to prison for killing Ronnie,’ he said at last. She stopped feeling as if he was moving away from her. At least he was still talking.
‘I know,’ she replied with a sigh of relief. ‘It wasn’t an easy thing to sort out.’
His face scrunched up. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘How did it happen?’
‘I was trying to get away from them and Glory was trying to help me.’ The memories of killing Ronnie rose up with terrible freshness.
‘Ronnie found us. He tried to kill us. Sliced Glory’s flowers clean off. Tried to cut me up again.’ She remembered Glory’s slippery blood on the floor smelling like copper mixed with the scent of her shorn flowers.
Constance pulled her shears out of her pocket. They were her special ones. ‘I used these,’ she said, holding them out flat on her palm.
He gazed at them as if they were going to bite, then he looked back up at her. ‘Why do ya still have those?’
The shears teetered and she closed her hand around them and then slid them back into her pocket. ‘Because … because I didn’t want to forget. Didn’t want to take anything for granted.’
‘You were just about a girl, how could you cover up something like that?’ he asked, frowning. ‘How did it get pinned on Reggie?’
This was where it was going to get tricky. She knew she had to tell him, but she was loath to. Maybe if he just had part of it now – the worst part – maybe the other … that could be put off.
‘It was Mick who helped us,’ she replied smoothly. ‘See, he and Glory, well, they’d always been sweet on one another …’
Bobbin waved his hand. ‘Yes, yes, everyone knew about that.’
She laughed. Bobbin had never been one for scandals.
‘Mick knew a lot of people. A lot of people who were interested in him … like MI7.’
Bobbin burst out laughing. ‘Mick Jagger? In MI7? Were they completely daft?’
‘It was a different time, Bobbin. They were trying to recruit people. Mick was famous. They wanted a sort of counter-culture face while they were recruiting.’
‘Seriously?’ Wonder bloomed on his face. ‘Mick Jagger.’ He shook his head. ‘Well, we all know he isn’t part of MI7 … unless … Is he? No, and how would you know anyway?’ He chuckled.
‘I called Mick after Glory and I, well, after. Glory was hurt badly. I thought he could get us out of the country. The Stones were going on tour … He called MI7 to make a deal with them. They would help cover up the murder, help us get out of the country and he would join them.’
‘Well, obviously, that didn’t happen.’ Bobbin looked perplexed. He rubbed his palms on his trousers and left little rips from his needle protrusions.
‘We worked things out with them and I got to stay here and Glory went on to the States with Mick.’
‘And you got to stay …’ His tone was thoughtful.
She smiled. He was taking it remarkably well.
‘And then you started making clothes for Her Majesty. Do I have the right of it?’
‘Yes!’
‘And you were working for MI7 then, weren’t you?’ he asked. ‘Making clothes … For MI7.’
‘Yes.’ She wasn’t sure what he was getting at.
‘MI7 is for aces. They let Mick get away because they had you. That was the deal you made.’ She recoiled from the expression on his face.
‘I … I … It was the only thing to do! Glory got to be safe. She had Mick to take care of her. Reg went to jail. And all because I went to work for them.’
‘So, you’re an ace, then.’ He said it with a flat voice.
‘Yes,’ she replied shakily. ‘My clothes …’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I should have known. Should’ve realized. You making her clothes all the time. Henry wanting you to make his clothes. Being so
