I was fourteen when father died and fifteen when I first fell madly in love. This juxtaposition is not as arbitrary as it may seem. My brother Bennie (two years my junior) and I had both been lucky enough to win scholarship to the local grammar school and mother was determined that we would complete our schooling. This was London in the early 1930's and a widow's pension did not go very far. Faced with the need to care for two school age children mother decided to start a card club.
We had always been a gregarious family, our living room usually crowded with acquaintances discussing dog racing and playing solo whist or tummy. Lonely characters with picturesque nicknames like Black Betty, Five Ace and Joe the Joker.
Mother enjoyed a game of cards but she always was a realist. "If they are going to play here," she remarked to us, "we might as well make it pay." So saying she soon had a formal gambling school organized. Our basement was furnished with a couple of card tables which were soon occupied most afternoons and evenings. A percentage of each kitty went to the "house" in return for which mother provided unlimited quantities of tea and her delicious apple strudel and cheesecake.
The "casino" (as we called it) was bringing in a useful income and mother also decided to let our spare room. Our first lodger, Mannie, soon became regular player in the casino. He claimed to be a writer but he spent more time at the card tables than at the second desk we obtained for him. Mannie was cheerful, generous and likeable. If Bennie and I mistrusted him this was probably because we suspected that he had designs on mother who certainly had a spot for him.
It was on a Friday night that I fell madly in love. To earn a little extra pocket money I had persuaded the manager of the Repertory theatre in the next suburb to give me apart time job. I worked Friday nights and Saturdays, selling programmes, sweeping, doing any odd jobs. That week a visiting company was performing and the usher told me that I was wanted in number three dressing room. Rosalyn Manners, one of the actresses (as they were still called in those pre-feminist days), had left her lucky mascot in her lodging and wanted somebody to collect it.
Only the male and female leads had their own dressing rooms in the tiny theatre. Number three I knew was shared by ladies in the cast. I knocked on the door and someone called "Come in!"
Hesitantly I opened the door to be confronted with three young ladies in various stages of undress. Before I could recover sufficiently to run away one of the girls took hold of my hand and almost dragged me into the room.
"You must be David," she said but I hardly heard what she said. I was looking at the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She had red hair and green eyes; her perfume and the touch of her hand awoke sensations in me that I had never before experienced. I was utterly lost.
I carried out her errand in a daze, rushing back to catch her as she was going on stage. I gave her the charm locket which she slipped round her neck. Then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and I knew that from that moment I could never love anybody else. I rushed round to the auditorium to watch her act. It was a small part but in my eyes it was the greatest performance I had ever seen.
A few months later I left school and started work in the local library as a junior librarian. The "Casino" was providing a reasonable income and to mark the occasion Mother had Bennie and me measured for our first bespoke suits at Burtons "The Fifty Shilling Tailors."
Mannie, a frequent dog racing tracks, was employed occasionally by a bookmaker and implied that he had considerable knowledge of that trade. He was convinced that if he could once get started as a bookmaker he would be made for life.
"You need about a pony to start with," he said using the slang for twenty five pounds to show that he knew the jargon. "The rest is really quite straightforward. You just keep an eye on the odds," here he waved his hands in a passable imitation of a bookmaker's tick-tack man, "and lay your bets off to ensure that you show a profit whichever dog wins. I tell you it can't lose."
Bennie and I poured contempt on the scheme. I remarked that far from not being able to lose, Mannie was a born loser while Bennie said that straightforward was about the last word he would use to describe him. Mother in many ways a shrewd woman also had a soft streak which sometimes made her gullible and tended to override her better judgement.
"I think it's worth of try," she said, "after all he had had plenty of experience with bookies."
"Mostly from the wrong side," I reminded her but the combination of her crusading zeal and the prospect of some easy money had decided her.
"If it comes off we'll make a nice profit," she reminded us, already thinking how to spend the money, "and don't think that I am going to trust him with twenty five pounds. We'll make a syndicate." Saying which she collected money from her card playing circle for Mannie's entry into the easy money world of bookmaking.
For the next week or so cards took a back seat as the investors pored over the 'Greyhound Gazette' to decide the beat track and night for Mannie to take the first step to fortune. Eventually Joe the Joker was deputed to accompany Mannie to one of the smaller suburban tracks not controlled by the Greyhound Racing Association while the shareholders waited eagerly in our basement for the result.
There was some concern when midnight struck and the two men had not returned. By one o'clock even the most dedicated card players were doing more shuffling than dealing and there was and audible sigh of relief when at about half past, two weary, despondent figures eventually appeared.
Obviously the scheme had gone wrong. It was Joe who first recovered enough to tell the story.
"We started off alright," said Joe, very little of the joker about him." After the first races we reckoned we were well in hand," he paused.
"And than?" prompted mother, "what went wrong?"
"Everything!" Mannie took up the sorry story. "The next three races, would you believe it, the favourite won. I had taken some money I couldn't lay off and thinking I was going to be short of cash decided not to take any more bets. Some of the punters seemed to think I was welshing and called the police."
Mannie and Joe were almost lynched before the police arrived and rescued them. They were taken before stewards who barred Mannie from the track pending an investigation. It seems they were fortunate not to finish at the police station although they were warned that further action might be taken.
Although hopes of easy money had been shattered, thanks to mother's caution none of the punters had lost very much and there was only sympathy for the two men and somewhat illogical denunciation of the police.
We worked a shift system in the library and a couple of days later I arrived home at about four o'clock in the afternoon. Bennie home from school was in the kitchen arguing with mother.
"What's the matter?" I asked, "you both seem pretty het up. Is it about Mannie?"
"It's our suits. They've gone. Stolen, pinched, pilfered and purloined." This from Bennie who liked a bit of rhetoric, "and I think Mannie must have taken them."
"Not necessarily, anybody could have gone to your room," said mother.
It took a while for the news to sink in. I had just arranged to meet a girl from the library, my first real date and had planned to wear my smart new fifty shilling Prince of Wales check suit.
"But only Mannie goes upstairs," I said, "if he's in I think we've got to go up and tackle him."
While we were still arguing there was a somewhat peremptory knock at the front door. Bennie went to open it.
He came back, "it's a policeman asking for Mr. Krevitz, that's Mannie, isn't it?"
"I suppose it's about the bookmaking," said mother. Take him into the front room. And one of you had better go and tell Mannie.
The suit problem postponed I went up to Mannie and we entered the front room together.
"I am Mister Krevitz," said Mannie, "you've been quick. I suppose that it's about the affair the other night."
The policeman looked a little surprised. "I don't know about that sir, I have here a summons for non payment of a court order for maintenance amounting to one hundred and seventy three pounds to Rose Mary Krevitz."
He went on but none of us listened. We were shocked. Mannie the wise cracking effervescent bachelor was a married man. More, he had deserted his wife and seemed likely to go to prison.
We were still assimilating this piece of news when there was another knock. This time I went to the door, to find another policeman. He looked at me.
"Does Mister E. Krevitz live here?" he asked.
"You had better come in," I told him. "If it's about the maintenance one of your colleagues has beaten you to it."
It was not about the maintenance. "Mister Krevitz," said the second policeman, I have summonses here for you to appear in court on charges that you at Northminster Greyhound Racing Track did..."
I lost the rest of it as there was yet another loud knock on the door. With a sense of foreboding I went to open it. There was a young woman on the step. It was months since that brief moment when she had held my hand and kissed me but the red hair, the green eyes and the persuasive perfume were unmistakeable and just as irresistible.
To my pleasure she recognised me. "It's Davey, isn't it," she smiled, "I suppose you live here."
It was too much to expert that she had come to see me. With an effort I pulled myself together sufficiently to speak, "Miss Manners, wh-what can I do for you?"
"I am not really Miss Manners, that's my stage name." She hesitated, "do you know Mannie Krevitz?" And when I nodded, "he lives here, doesn't he? Well I am Mrs. Rose Krevitz."
It took a moment or two for this to sink in. I had grown up a bit since that rapturous moment when she kissed me but it seemed hardly possible that Mannie could be married to this gorgeous creature.
I said, "you might as well come in and join the party. But first you had better know what is going on in there."
In the narrow hallway, although still somewhat bemused by her closeness I managed to give her a quick description of the events of the past half hour; then I pushed open the door of the now crowded front room and announced dramatically, "Mrs. Rose Krevitz."
If I had stage managed the scene Rose Krevitz played up like a star. Even mother was speechless but Rose thrust into the thunder struck room and took command.
Mannie looked incredulous, "Rosie," he uttered, "what the - " but she waved him down.
"What's this nonsense about maintenance," she said, "he's never got any money. I've kept the bastard for years and he walks out on me. On me! Without a word! Just like that."
The first policeman tried to say something but she interrupted him.
"Of course you've got a summons. I took it out. It was the only way I could find out where he was living." She turned to the other constable.
"I suppose you're here about the betting. How much does he owe for that? Thirty pounds." She opened her hand bag and produced a roll of money. "What do you mean you can't take it" And you say there's something else? Crating a disturbance! Well I can't say I'm surprised. Perhaps we can sort it out tomorrow."
Casually she slipped a pound note to each of the officers. "Come on Mannie. I don't suppose you have much to pack. Get your things and let us go home."
Mannie began to speak but mother interrupted, "Go on! While you get packed Mrs. Krevitz and I will have a cup of tea in the kitchen."
When Mannie came down I went to the door with them. Rose gave me a hug and a kiss, whispered, "You are a darling," and off they went in the waiting taxi.
Later mother told us a little of the conversation she had with Rose. It seemed that Mannie was indeed a writer and Rose believed a great one. Although they quarrelled often over his gambling habits they were really very much in love. Rose was confident that now he had had his fling, she could get him to finish the book he had been writing.
A few days later a thick envelope arrived. It enclosed a thank you note, pawn tickets for two men's suits and a five pound note. It also contained complimentary tickets for a West End play. The notepaper held some of her scent and romantically, I kept it for some time. But I did not take my girl friend to see her play. Anyway I doubted she would ever put on a better performance than she had in our living room.
The suits had been pawned for a pound each; so Bennie and I at least, did make a little perhaps not so easy money.