The grateful twins gave their helpful lawyer Nemone Lethbridge tea, cake – and a bribe
My cuppa with the Krays I
n 1958, I had recently obtained my first tenancy at 3 Hare Court, a modest set of prosecution chambers at the top of Middle Temple Lane. The Crown Prosecution Service was still a twinkle in the eye of the legislature, and all London prosecutions were in the gift of the Scotland Yard solicitor. And he didn’t like women. This put me in a difficult position. Chambers relied heavily on prosecution work. I was barred from it – even from humble traffic offences. The only work open to me was the lowly ‘dock brief’. Here unemployed barristers would present themselves at the sessions to be inspected by the unrepresented prisoners who would select someone to represent them, purely on the basis of their looks. One Friday evening, my luck changed. Jean, who doubled up as a junior clerk and secretary, typed up my instructions. The case, in the Arbour Square Magistrates Court, east London, was against the defendants Mr R Kray and Mr R Kray. ‘But what are the clients charged with?’ I asked Jean. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about that,’ replied Charles, the senior clerk. ‘You’ll find out as soon as you arrive at court what it is they haven’t done.’ Saturday morning, half-past nine. Although the court would not sit for another hour, the court’s entrance hall was already heaving with activity. A little woman approached me. She was wearing a floral pinafore, headscarf and curlers and pulling a basket on wheels full of dirty laundry. 14 The Oldie October 2021
‘I’m their mum,’ said Violet Kray. ‘They’re innocent.’ ‘I’m brother Charles,’ said the young man escorting her. ‘Yeah. They’re definitely innocent.’ The jailer handed us the charge sheet as he ushered us into a cell. Paddy Pakenham, the solicitors’ managing clerk, shook his grizzled head as he read the document. ‘Sad, really – a bit unworthy. Being suspected persons loitering with intent. Some copper must be a bit desperate. Or ambitious.’ The jailer said, ‘Let me introduce your clients, Sir and Madam. You will treat them with the utmost respect – Mr Ronald and Mr Reggie Kray.’ The brothers sat, side by side, on the low, concrete shelf that served as a bed at the end of the cell. Identical twins, silent and solemn as owls. They did not look like men who had spent the night in custody. Their long, pale faces were freshly shaved, their thick black hair Brylcreemed to glossy perfection. Their dark suits were without a crease, their freshly laundered shirts white and dazzling. The cell was filled with the musky aroma of expensive aftershave. Paddy said, ‘Gentlemen, I’m sorry to see you in this situation.’ ‘It’s a fix-up,’ answered Ronnie. ‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’ answered Paddy. ‘Mr Lincoln [the senior lawyer] sends his salutations but, as you know, he can’t come to court on a Saturday. Has to do his religious duty [he was Jewish]. But he’s sent you this lovely young lady in whom he has the utmost confidence. [In
fact, I’d never met Mr Lincoln.] She’ll get you some bail today and then Mr Lincoln will come in person and do the trial for you on a day that suits.’ The brothers stood up, bowing stiffly. I sat down between them and took their instructions. It was alleged that, between the hours of 10 and 11 on Friday evening, they had been seen in Whitechapel High Street, trying the handles of parked cars with the intention of stealing. The twins were outraged. Such petty crime was way below them. ‘We happen to be very successful businessmen,’ said Ronnie. ‘We happen to own three clubs which make a fortune. We’re starring in a film of our life story directed by Joan Littlewood and co-starring Barbara Windsor.’ ‘That’s brilliant,’ I said. ‘I shall certainly go and see the film. But I still have to explain to the court what you were doing in Whitechapel High Street last night.’ ‘We were putting out flyers for our new enterprise, a nightclub,’ said one of them. ‘As businessmen, we can’t never have too much publicity.’ We went into court. The twins bowed stiffly to the stipendiary magistrate and wished him a good morning. ‘Good morning, boys,’ he replied with a smile.
