East End Trouble (20 page)

K
athleen got
off the bus on Burdett Road feeling even more depressed than she had been when she set off. She knew this was how her life would be from now on, full of people laughing and gossiping behind her back.

She looked down at the bag that held the new dress and her lip wobbled. She felt so sorry for herself. She’d really liked the dress and had been looking forward to wearing it, but thanks to those nasty cows, Carrie and Brenda, she wouldn’t be able to wear it without thinking of their spiteful words.

She pulled uncomfortably at her, too tight, red dress. It would be a relief to get home and change into something more comfortable. Although goodness knows what she was going to wear tonight for dinner with Martin. None of her nice clothes fitted anymore. Maybe she would have to wear this new dress, after all. She shouldn’t really let Carrie and Brenda spoil it for her. They were two boring girls, with boring lives, who would never amount to anything.

Compared to Kathleen, their lives were pathetic. They were just jealous because she was going places and they weren’t.

As she turned the corner, she saw a large, dark car parked up at the end of her road.

Kathleen looked at it curiously. No one in the street owned a car. So it had to be a visitor. As she drew closer, she saw there was somebody behind the wheel. The driver wound down the window, and Kathleen was expecting to be asked for directions. Probably some old toff had gotten himself lost.

To her surprise, when she peered in the window, she saw that it was Big Tim, one of Martin Morton’s men.

“All right, Kathleen.”

Kathleen blinked at him in surprise. “What are you doing around here?”

“Martin told me to give you a lift.”

“A lift? But I’m supposed to be meeting him for dinner, and it’s only five thirty.”

Big Tim shrugged, and Kathleen noticed his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

“I just do what I’m told. He asked me to pick you up. Maybe his plans have changed. Do you want a lift or not?”

Kathleen nodded, but she looked down the street. She could just make out her front door. “Can I just tell my mum I’m going out?”

“No, there’s no time. You don’t want to keep Martin waiting, Kathleen. He’s not the sort of man to wait around for a woman.”

Reluctantly, Kathleen walked around the car and opened the door to the passenger side. She would have preferred it if Tim had acted like a gentleman and opened it for her, but she got the feeling that Big Tim didn’t like her very much.

“No kid?” Tim asked her gruffly.

“I left him with my mum today.”

Tim nodded and then with his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the road, he drove away from the curb.

L
inda was walking
home from Bevels and saw Kathleen step into the large, black car. She frowned. It was quite unusual to see such a fancy car around these streets. She assumed it was Martin Morton’s. He was the type of man to have a car like that. Linda shivered when she thought about Martin Morton. She hoped Kathleen knew what she was doing, because despite the fact her friend could be a selfish cow at times, Linda really did worry about her.

As the car disappeared from view, Linda buttoned up her coat against the cold winter chill and quickened her steps. Her mum was cooking cottage pie this evening, and she didn’t want to be late for that.

K
athleen sat
in the front passenger seat, feeling very annoyed. She’d planned to take her time getting ready tonight and had wanted to dress up and fix her face before going out. But Tim hadn’t given her time for any of that.

She hadn’t even had a chance to change her outfit, so she was still wearing the uncomfortable red dress. It was so tight it felt like it was cutting her stomach in half right now.

Kathleen reached into her handbag and pulled out her powder compact. At least, she could fix her face before she got there.

As she applied the powder, she took a sideways glance at Tim, but he was staring straight ahead.

Kathleen powdered her nose and said, “So which restaurant are we going to?”

Tim shot her a look and then hesitated. “An Italian one,” he said. “I’ve forgotten what it’s called.”

Kathleen smiled to herself. Italian! That was very romantic. It seemed as if Martin was finally coming around to her way of thinking. She fished out a red lipstick from her bag and tried to apply it carefully, cursing the bumps in the road.

After Kathleen had snapped the lid back on the lipstick and closed her powder compact, she noticed that the roads they were travelling on were very quiet. Residential roads. “Where is this restaurant anyway?”

“Bethnal Green,” Tim said.

Kathleen had lived in the area all her life, and she knew all the little side roads like the back of her hand. She knew for sure that this little road was not the most direct route to Bethnal Green.

“You’re not going the right way,” Kathleen said. “You need to turn around and get back on St Paul’s Way.”

“A few roads have been closed. It’s due to a burst pipe or something, so I’m taking another route.”

Kathleen sunk back into the seat and licked her lips. She was suddenly feeling nervous.

She stared out at the dark road. As they drove on, the houses got fewer and fewer and gave way to old warehouses as they headed closer to the docks.

She suddenly wished more than anything she could be at home with little Jimmy in her arms.

She shot another anxious look at Tim. “We’re not going to the restaurant, are we?”

Tim refused to look at her, and that told her everything.

She reached out her hand for the door lever, wondering how badly hurt she would be if she jumped from a moving vehicle.

“Don’t even try it,” Tim snapped as he glanced down at her hand.

She put both hands back in her lap, and realised even if she did manage to get out of the car, there was nobody around here who would help her, and Tim would soon catch up with her. Her best chance was to try and talk her way out of it.

“Please, I want to go home,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

When Tim wouldn’t turn around or look at her, she put her hand on his arm. “Please,”

When Tim finally did turn around and looked her in the eye, she could see that he was struggling with the situation. He didn’t really want to do it.

What had Martin told him to do? Threaten to beat her up?

“Look, Tim. I understand how all this works. I know you’ve got a job to do. Martin’s told you to warn me off. But you don’t have to hurt me. I’ll leave. I’ll take little Jimmy and leave tonight. You’ll never see me again. How’s that?” Kathleen’s words left her mouth all in a rush. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest.

Her lower lip wobbled as she waited for Tim to respond.

He turned the car into a small side street and then parked up by the canal.

“It’s nothing personal,” he said.

Kathleen felt her throat tighten. “No, please. Please don’t hurt me.”

Big Tim’s huge frame was shaking as he got out of the car and walked around to Kathleen side.

She struggled for a moment, pulling the door closed, but her strength was no match for Tim’s, and he wrenched it open, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her out.

She stumbled on her heels and fell to her knees on the cobbles. From that position, she looked up at him beseechingly.

“Please, please, please.”

She was so scared. She couldn’t form a coherent sentence now. All she had was that single, solitary word. She pinned all her hopes onto it and repeated it over and over.

Tim took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, and his breath came out in streaming puffs of white.

Kathleen’s mind was whirring. She was sure he didn’t really want to do it… She had a chance.

But she couldn’t wait for him to change his mind. She quickly scrambled to her feet and lurched off, trying to get away from the docks and the canal. She kicked off her shoes and ran as fast as she’d ever run in her life.

But it was no good.

With a couple of huge strides, Tim was by her side, and then his hands closed around her throat.

Kathleen’s eyes bulged, and her legs kicked out as she desperately fought for life.

The last thing she saw were the tears pouring down Big Tim’s face as his hands tightened around her throat and he squeezed the life out of her.

A
fterwards
, when it was done, Big Tim fell on his hands and knees and retched. He didn’t stop for five long minutes. His whole body was desperate to rid itself of the evil act he just committed.

But it was no good. When he turned back, he could still see Kathleen’s lifeless figure splayed out on the edge of the canal.

His hands were trembling, as he reached out and stumbled towards her.

For a moment, he looked down at her large, empty eyes staring up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, and then he leaned down and pushed Kathleen’s body into the canal.

There was a splash, and for a few seconds, she floated on the surface, her eyes still open, staring accusingly at him before she drifted away.

A
t the very
moment Kathleen’s life drained away, Martin and Babs were hosting a party at their new house in Essex.

Martin had purchased a four-bedroom house in a cul-de-sac. It was tastefully decorated. The kitchen was the latest model, with gleaming, shiny surfaces, and it was fitted with all the latest equipment. The beautifully manicured garden was the icing on the cake. Despite the fact the whole place was a knock-out, Babs was moaning. She hated it out there.

“All the neighbours turn their noses up at me,” Babs said.

“That’s why we’re having the party, ain’t it? To get to know the neighbours, let them see we are decent people.”

Martin shuffled his pack of cigarettes and plucked one out. He handed one to Babs. Martin had hired a little firm to lay on a few fancy nibbles and staff to serve the cocktails. Babs hadn’t had to lift a finger, but there was no pleasing the woman.

Martin took a whisky sour from a tray carried by one of the waitresses he’d hired. He smiled at her. She was a tasty little number. He might follow up later if Babs ever let him out of her sight.

“This is supposed to be a party,” he hissed at Babs. “So for God’s sake, look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

B
abs scowled
as Martin turned away from her. It was no good. Martin might have his heart set on a place in the country, but it wasn’t him that had to bleeding live there!

It was Babs who had to suffer, and the kids who had to go to a swanky new school they hated.

Babs knew nobody in Essex, apart from her snobby neighbours who hadn’t been friendly or welcoming at all. The only reason they’d come tonight was to get an eyeful of the nouveau riche element that moved into their exclusive little cul-de-sac.

The bespectacled man from next door approached her. “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Morton.”

Babs knew from talking to him once before that he had some kind of job in advertising, in the city. The boring bastard hadn’t stopped going on about his job when he’d cornered Babs one day as she came back from the shops. Ten tedious minutes had passed before she thought up an excuse to run back to the house.

“Thanks,” Babs said. He had exactly the same layout in his gaffe. All the houses were the same on this estate.

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up, but I have noticed that the leaves hadn’t been swept up from under your sycamore tree. I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but we do like to keep the neighbourhood looking smart.”

Babs blinked at him. Was this really what she had to look forward to? Conversations about bloody leaves falling in the garden!

She couldn’t remember the man’s name — Morrissey… Morrison, or something like that.

Babs glared at him. “Well, that’s what trees do, isn’t it? They lose their leaves in the winter. It’s nature.”

The man chuckled as if Babs had made a particularly funny joke. “Yes, very good. But you still need to rake them up, dear. Or at least, employ someone to do it. I know your husband isn’t home much.”

Babs did not like this man’s tone one bit. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have a face full of her bloody cocktail in a minute.

“I can give you a number of a very good gardener if you’d like.” The man persisted.

Babs sneered. “Why don’t you give it to my husband? He deals with things like that, even though he is not here that much.”

Babs walked away from the man. She needed a break from these people. Martin had some stupid, social ambitions. When would the silly sod realise that these were not his people?

She escaped into the kitchen and leaned back against the wall, taking a sip of her drink. She only wished she could hide in the kitchen all night.

They’d had the telephone installed just after they moved in, but as no one else Babs knew had a phone, she didn’t see the point.

The kids were being teased at school about the way they pronounced certain words, and Babs felt guilty. It was all her fault. If she had stood up to Martin, then they would be back in the East End where they belonged.

Babs suddenly realised she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought. There were voices coming from the garden. It was a cold, frosty night. Why anyone would want to be out there, freezing their bits off, was beyond Babs.

She quietly lifted the latch on the kitchen window and opened it an inch so she could hear better.

She instantly recognised the voices. It was Martin and his brother, Tony.

“Carter is beside himself. You are missing out on a prime opportunity, bruv,” Tony said. “Carter is off his game. If you don’t do something now—”

When he replied, Martin’s voice was scornful. “I don’t give a monkey’s if he is off his game. Even when he’s on his game, I can beat him fair and square. I’m ten times the man Carter will ever be. Besides, I’ve got something else on my mind at the moment. I need to give that my full attention.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“None of your beeswax,” Martin said.

The shrill ring of the telephone made Babs jump, and she quickly stepped back from the window, afraid Martin would catch her eavesdropping. She put her drink down on the kitchen counter and hurried out to answer the telephone.

She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

At first, no one answered, but Babs could definitely hear the sound of someone breathing on the other end of the line. “Hello, I’m sorry…I can’t hear you. Is anyone there?”

Finally, the person on the other end of the line spoke, “Babs, it’s Tim. I… I need to speak to Martin, please.”

Tim didn’t sound right. If he hadn’t identified himself, Babs would never have recognised his voice. It was barely a whisper.

“All right, love. I’ll just go and get him for you.”

She headed back over to the sink and rapped on the kitchen window.

Martin’s face appeared at the window, and Babs moved to the kitchen door to let him in.

He stepped inside and looked at Babs suspiciously. She knew he suspected her of eavesdropping.

“Big Tim’s on the phone for you,” Babs said. “And what are you two doing out there on a freezing night like this? Up to no good, I bet.”

Martin moved past Babs quickly, eager to get to the phone. “Don’t talk daft, Babs.”

Tony stepped into the kitchen behind Martin and gave Babs a dazzling smile. “Hello, Babs, you’re looking gorgeous as usual.”

Babs smiled and preened under Tony’s attention. It was hard not to like Tony. He certainly knew how to lay on the charm. Babs wished Martin could be a little more like him, but the brothers were like chalk and cheese.

Babs knew that her hiding was over for the evening. She needed to go and play hostess, so with a sigh, she picked up her drink and headed back to the front room, where the guests were milling about, gossiping over the furniture choices, no doubt.

She walked past the telephone table and saw Martin with the phone clamped to his ear. His face was pale, but his eyes glittered with excitement, and Babs couldn’t help wondering what news Big Tim had been delivering.

As she walked past, Martin said, “Take it easy. You’ve not done anything wrong. We didn’t have any choice. Now get yourself home and get a couple of drinks inside you.”

They were clearly talking about another one of Martin’s shady exploits. He’d probably got his hands on some more of those knocked-off cigarettes, Babs thought as she headed into the living room and put it out of her mind.