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Hello and welcome back to Vahinavad Podcast with Mephos and Victoria. Today we are carrying on reading Paul Bailey and English Madam The Life and Work of Cynthia Payne. We're on to chapter 5. An old boy in a Bentley. On her 21st birthday, Melanie confidently told her father she would soon be marrying the man who had been courting her without Hamilton's knowledge for the last three years. Her fiance, she revealed, was a police inspector named Kevin. Hamilton did everything he could to dissuade his Hiffato sensible daughter from making what he considered an impossible match. He knew Kevin well and admired him, but the fact that Kevin was almost fifty surely militated against his being the right husband for a woman on the very threshold of life. So Hamilton reasoned to absolutely no effect. There's nothing you can do about it, Melanie said. She reminded him that she had attained her maturity and was free to do as she chose. She had chosen Kevin. Hamilton regarded Melanie's choosing Kevin as a deliberate act of rebellion. If it was, it was both perfectly timed and reasonably defended, as befitted the character of the rebel. There was nothing in it of Cynthia's impulsiveness. Melanie could counter his every protest with overriding logic. Kevin's qualities as a human being, she asserted, more than compensated for the relatively slight problem of the difference in age. He was offering her emotional as well as financial security. Hamilton did not say as much, but he was clearly perturbed that Melanie had followed her sister's example, I'll bet in a more responsible manner, since she at least was intent legalizing her relationship. He took the girl's evident need for older men as a personal affront, an indication that they found him lacking. In Cynthia's words, we were looking for the father we didn't have. Melanie was never forgiven in spite of the obvious success of her marriage. Hamilton continued to think of her as unnatural, even after he had come to terms, in more senses than one, with the fact that his daughter was blissfully happy running a brothel. Melanie's single act of defiance rankled. He had grown accustomed to disobedience from Cynthia. He came to see that he had mistaken Melanie's compliance for respect, her solicitousness for affection. None of Cynthia's many and varied misdemeanours ever caused him such anguish. Four years earlier on november twelfth, nineteen fifty one, shortly before she discovered that she had clicked with Terence, Cynthia had written Hamilton an admonitory letter. So you think Melanie is getting house proud, do you? Well I'll tell you different. Melanie is thinking of leaving you at the end of the month. You expect that girl to do too much for the money you give her. You wouldn't find anyone living who would do her job for that money. I don't blame her either. She's getting nothing out of it, and you're not exactly a pleasant person to work for. Just because you worked hard for your money, you expect everyone to do the same. You'll be in your glory if you fought I'd be sweating at work. That's one thing I shan't do. It's about time you see a bit more reason and stop thinking and moping over yourself, else you'll find yourself lonelier still if she goes away. There is plenty of people worse than yourself, and they can make a little happiness for themselves. You have such a lot to be thankful for, really, haven't you? Just think. You've got two lovely daughters. I'm not kidding for the both of us either. You're still in good health, and you're not hard up. Hurry up and get married again in spite of Melanie. She'll get used to it after a while. She'll play you up all the more if Melanie knew she was the reason. Melanie's longed for departure from Hamilton was expected at a time when Cynthia was enduring her worst humiliations. In that same letter to her father, Cynthia made casual reference to the fact that Ernie had recently proposed marriage. The boy I told you about, Keith's pal, in case you forgot the one who did dredges the dockside. He's second laundryman now. Well, he's home. I went up to his place for the weekend as soon as he docked, and he doesn't know yet whether he's home for Christmas or not, as he's trying to get on another boat. Last Sunday night he asked me to marry him, as it doesn't look if I'm going to be left on the shelf after all, does it? I didn't give him an answer. I don't think it would work out anyway. He lets me have my own way too much. You ought to see the presents he gave me. Chinese pajamas, sets, and nylons, it wouldn't be worth it to me to upset him. I'm not in love with him, for one thing anyway. Keith's not married yet, so I've still got a chance. I can't imagine you, Melanie, ever getting married, can you? The little devil did marry, of course, happily lasting, as did Keith, as did Ernie. Yet Cynthia cannot recall that she ever regretted declining Ernie's proposal, not even when Sam's thoughtfulness was causing her scarcely bearable physical and mental pain. Life with Ernie might well have been stable, but it would never have been exciting. There was nothing of the carnival in Ernie's personality. The man who could have inspired her to dwindle into a wife entered into a disastrous marriage soon after his separation from Cymphia. He was a bloody fool, and his own mother told him so. Old Sophie came to me when I had my first house in Streatham. She didn't know she was drinking tea with a future madam. She might have choked otherwise, and she said Cynthia, I'll always remember you telling my Sammy to save his money and buy a house. That was the best advice anyone ever gave him, she said. Sammy used to say that Cynthia was a nutcase, but nutcase or not, the girl had her head screwed on where money was concerned. Sophie said she would have accepted me as a daughter-in-law, even though I wasn't Jewish. She saw that I had a place of my own with nice furniture, and she said that Sam and his wife, and that their two kids had been living in a terrible dump in the East End. She was very upset because she knew that I have been better for him. Sam was like Terry. He was a Jew, too. When he took me for granted, if I'd made him respect me more, he would have come round to marrying me in the long run. Old Sophie understood that as well as anybody. If my Sammy had done as you told him, she said, he would be worth a lot of money now. But he didn't because he never thought there was going to be a tomorrow, like most of the men have fallen for. Sam met Hamilton and Melanie once, on a brief visit to Cynthia, who was conveying after the second and most grisly of her abortions. He didn't tell me his his opinion of Melanie though. I seem to remember he couldn't believe we were sisters, on account of her being so posh. My father came home from the pub at ten o'clock. He wasn't drunk, he was tipsy, squiffy-eyed. And I introduced Sam to him. I was always proud of introducing Sam to people. I liked them to know he was my bloke. Anyway, I'll never forget. My father said, Hello. That was it. Hello. Perhaps Dad had cottoned on that Sam had got me in the family way and was just being offhand. There was a ghastly silence, and then my father said, Well, I'm going to bed. I'll leave you two down here. And upstairs he bloody went. I remember Sam saying, I never understood, doll. Why you left home. Now that I've met your father, I understand only too well. I told my father what Sam had said that night, when I was opening my heart to him towards the end of his life. Cynthia was in regular employment at the Elm Tree Calf in Victoria when Sam invited her to join him in Margate for a fifth summer in succession. He said You're coming with me, Dull, aren't you? And the answer I gave him he didn't expect. I've got a bloody good job, Sam, and I'd be a fool to leave it. Looking back, I think I would have been more tempted to go to Margate if it hadn't been for this old man I'd met, a very rich old man. Jocelyn, his name was. Who'd come into the elm tree all unexpected early one evening? He was in the demolition business. Was Jos. That's what I called him instead of Jocelyn. He was my first real sugar daddy. He came into the calf, which was a cheap place, although the food was good, and he was togged up something wonderful. He was a kind of man who even wore a tie pin. What's he doing in a place like this? I asked myself as I went to wait on him. I mean he was really distinguished. A proper toff. Apparently the elm tree was the only restaurant that was open, and he hadn't had a bite to eat for hours. I always had a smile on my face for customers, so I gave him a warm smile and said, Yes, dear. All nice and friendly. I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he liked what he was seeing. He wasn't oggling me or anything. It was clear to me that he didn't have a bunk up in mind. And that made me feel disposed towards him because I was sick of sex. I wanted a good last I wanted a good long rest from being screwed. What would you recommend? he asked, and his voice was pure bloody cut glass. I said that the roast beef was very good. You couldn't have better for two shillings and eight pence. I'll take your word for it, he said, and I brought him a big portion of roast beef. Very nice, he said. And he left me a five bob tip, which was a lot of money in those days. I was lucky if I got a shilling from some of them. He thanked me ever so politely when he left. Jocelyn began to visit the Elm Tree calf every day for a late lunch. He would come in when things were getting quieter, when the rush was over. Signora Polga. She was Italian. She owned the place and had her two sons working there, one cooking, one waiting. She said to me, He's after you, Cynthia. I didn't need her telling me because it was plain that he liked the look of me. He didn't fancy me. He wasn't clocking me the way blokes clock you when they want to get in your knickers off. Then all of a sudden he flucked up the courage and asked me if he could take me out to dinner that night. I was still living with Sam at the time, so I hes so I hesitated before I said yes. He took me to the Cafe Royale. It was bloody lovely. Wine with the food, coffee and liquors to follow. He drove me there and the old boy did, in his Bentley. I couldn't believe it. He treated me as if I was a lady. He told me that his wife had died six months ago and he was very lonely as a result, and that the only thing that gave him happiness was to entertain a pretty young woman. He drove me home, I'll never forget, and we made a date to have dinner again. Sam went off to Margate in the full expectation that Cynthia would change her mind and join him there. He was bloody mad with me. He was the type who had to have his own way in everything. He was a right mother's boy in that respect. He was thunderstruck when I said I was going to stick in London for the summer. Alright, doll, it's up to you, he said. But I bet you'll be in Margate before the month's over. He was bloody wrong. After a month on his own he came chasing up to London, pleading with me to go to Margate. If it had worked that way from the start, if he'd shown me earlier how much he missed me, I would have gone with him. I'd been too easy with him. It was in my nature to be too easy with men. He waited until I lost interest in him before he showed any interest in me. It was too late by then. Previous to that, I'd told old Joss about Sam and he said I should leave him. I've shown you a different side of life, Cynthia. Which do you prefer? Life in one room with that unreliable man or life with someone who pays you the attention you deserve? I didn't know what to say, except that I thought Sam was my ideal man. I thought he was the cat's whiskers. But after a while I began to see the sense in the old boy's words. Sam will always be Sam, he said. What's more? Joss wasn't bothering me for sex. All he wanted was a good night kiss. It was bloody wonderful, not being fucked as soon as you got home from work. So I told Sam straight that Margate wasn't on the cards. I was happy at the elm tree, and it was staying put. Cynthia was not an anonymous waitress. I had some laughs at the elm tree. I used to have the customers in fits at times. I was so bloody cheeky. I pressed my tits against the blokes' arms as I served them, their meat and two veg. Lovely grub, they said. And they didn't just mean the food. Mrs. Polger would give me a good talking to when she caught me at it, but I couldn't stop myself. What I enjoyed most was teasing her sons, Franco and Lauro. I was convinced that they were virgins. If you can call blokes virgins. Those Italian families can be very strict. When I went into the kitchen, I would shove my tits at Lauro and whisper, How'd you like these, eh? I loved it when he blushed. Franco was the more outgoing of the two, but he couldn't lay a finger on me without his mother noticing. Her eyes were elsewhere. The Signora would get bloody furious with me sometimes. You stop interfering with those boys, she said. Oh, we had a lot of bloody wonderful laughs. Cynthia grew accustomed to having dinner in an expensive restaurant after a long day waiting at table in the elm tree calf. My sugar daddy pampered me, he really did. He wasn't the kind of man who wines and dines you for a fuck at the end of it. He wasn't that kind at all. He was very honest with me. He told me he occasionally picked up a girl in the Bayswater Road. They was walking the streets in those days, and paid her ten pounds for a quickie, but he said he would rather spend the money giving his cymphia a good time. It gave him much more pleasure. I was with him two years. My old boy in the Bentley started to feel guilty. I remember about not going to bed with him, so one night I did. It was a bloody disaster. He was almost frightened to touch me. He only had a little cock. Not that that matters. My lovely squadron leader didn't have a big prick either. Mitch offered quality rather than quantity. Anyway, I'll never forget. Joss had no idea what to do with it. He tried fingering my pussy, very gentle like, thinking it would excite me. But he'd been out of practice for so long that he didn't know what he was doing. He really didn't have a fucking clue. They paid frequent visits to a smart night spot in Maidenhead. Skindles was Skindles in those days. I mean, it was the elite place to go. I had the life of a 14-year-old when I was out with Ju. He taught me how to behave in polite company, and which bits of cutlery to use with which course. In the elm tree, you were just given a knife and fork and a spoon. No fancy silver at all. I became like a swangali. I really did. I even began to talk better and my family noticed it. He talked nicely, and I learned of him, and I loved being in his company. What happened was he really wanted to get married again, and I didn't particularly want to marry him. He was very much a snob. He wanted me to go to elocution lessons. He wanted to be proud of me. He used to dress me up, and he was proud of me that way. I was still a pretty little thing for all I'd gone through, so long as I didn't open my mouth. I didn't look out of place and in Joss's Bentley. I never let my fingernails grow in those days, which was a mistake on my part, I realise now. Joss used to say he loved fingernails on women. That was his fetish looking back on it. Sam reappeared after a long absence. He suggested to Cynthia that they should go on holiday together to some romantic spot abroad, and tried to patch things up between them. We went off to the south of France. We'd never been out of England in our lives, Sam and I, so off we went. We always promised ourselves this holiday doll. Those were his words. He didn't take me, mind you. I paid my share and he paid his. I thought to myself, I'm going to have a bloody wonderful time for once in my life. I'd kidded Jos, my sugar daddy, that I'd gone off on holiday on my own, but unbeknown to me, he'd found out which hotel I was staying in, and that I was there with a bloke. He didn't realise it was Sam. If I'd been honest with him and told him it was Sam he probably would have understood. I kept it back though. I must have been bloody mad at not telling him the truth. I know now that the older a man is, the more jealous he can be. He feels insecure because of his age. Anyway, I'll never forget. That first night in the south of France with Sam. There we were in bed in the hotel and of course he wanted the other. I probably gave it to him. Get it over with, I thought. He'll be alright as soon as he's despunked. I was wrong. I'd forgotten what a sexy sod he was. He'd hardly smoked a cigarette before. He was hot for it again. I told him straight that I didn't want it, and I'll never forget. He had to pass a remark on it. He said I don't know, doll. We're in the south of France. We're in all this luxury. I'm in a hotel room with you, and you don't want to have sex with me, he said. All right then girl. There's a lot of French tarts and niece. He got up and put his suit on.

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There's no argument, he said. I'll go out and get a girl. That suited me fine.

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He came back after an hour, took his clothes off and went to sleep. I'd given him enough sex. What I thought was enough. But it wasn't enough for him, I suppose. I was dead sexually when I went away with him. I was uninterested. So a holiday passed with Sam spending most of his money on prostitutes in Nice. The rest he spent in the casino. Somehow I wasn't happy with him. Something had gone. We've drifted apart as soon as we were home again. Because of that bloody holiday I lost my sugar daddy. Joss didn't believe I'd gone on my own, and when I finally let out that it was with Sam, I'd been with, he still thought I was having him on. He was very possessive, as only an older man can be. I called him my sugar daddy, but he never gave me a lot of money. He used to pay the rent on the place I was living in near Victoria. He was generous that way. I really loved that old boy. I rang up the day I got back to England and I said, Aren't you going to come see me? And he said, No, I'm married now, Cynthia. I couldn't bloody believe it. I'd been abroad less than a fortnight, and here he was with a wife. I said what? He said, I've married a French woman. I yelled down that phone. She's only after you for your money, Jos. She's only after your money, he said. Don't you dare talk about my wife like that on the telephone, I said. Your wife I've been with you for two years, and you haven't done her five minutes. I said, Your wife I've been with you two years, and you haven't known her for five minutes. God I did yell at him. Don't you realise, I said, that it's because I love you that I'm not your wife. I knew I could never be posh enough to make him a proper wife. I'm not caught out to be a duchess type of person, I said. I'm the one that loves you, not her. You can't have known her for very long. She's only marrying you for your money. It's because I love you that I'm not your wife, can't you see that? He went very quiet on the other end. Then we just said goodbye. When that happened I was so shocked 'cause I felt he'd deceived me, though I suppose I'd deceived him myself by going off on holiday with Sam. I tried all the ways to see that old boy again. I couldn't. He was a very faithful sort, and now that he was spliced, he wouldn't agree to meet me. He wanted a woman to help him with his business, and I suppose he knew that I would have been a dead loss at playing the posh hostess. Besides, he liked to go to bed at ten o'clock most nights, and I was still a youngster. After Jos deserted me, I seriously thought about going on the game. I just had to find the nerve to get started.

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I thought fuck it. I'm not bothering no more about love.

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It's for the money now. I've lost my chance with Jos. And I couldn't expect another old boy in a Bentley to turn up out of the blue and invite me to dinner at the Cafe Royale. Miracles don't happen that often. Not in my experience anyway. Okay, so that is chapter five. I hope everybody has enjoyed reading this little segment. This little chapter. It's very interesting to read that Symphia says prostitutes instead of sex workers. Because I see in chapter six she says it again. And I don't know, it's one of those ones where it's like, I wish that I could go back in time and ask her what her thoughts were about legitimizing sex work as labor. Um And if she did any of the actual advocating for sex work being work. Yeah, this has been Behind the Panel Podcast with me, Pulse and Victoria. If you enjoyed this episode, then please leave a like. Please leave a review. And yeah. Bye.