Backstreet Child (59 page)

‘Don’t do it, Joebo,’ he heard a voice say, and turned quickly to see Rachel standing in the doorway.

Joe spread his arms and immediately Rachel went to him, hugging him tightly.

‘I’ve bin worried sick in case I found the place gone when I got ’ome,’ she said shuddering.

Joe placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her away from him, and there was a serious look on his face. ‘Yer know yer just saved my life,’ he told her. ‘I came so close just then. Let me look at yer. Gawd, yer look beautiful. Young Tony’s a lucky lad.’

Rachel’s eyes searched his. ‘’As it bin bad lately, Joe?’ she asked. ‘The urge fer a drink, I mean?’

He shook his head vigorously. ‘No, it must ’ave bin the effects o’ last night. It was terrible,’ he said quietly.

Rachel sat down heavily in the chair and undid the buttons of her tunic. ‘I was lucky ter get ’ome,’ she said. ‘There’s no trains runnin’ from Kent, but I managed ter scrounge a lift from one o’ the drivers. I got ter Sidcup, then I got a bus as far as Black’eath. I walked from there. I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s ’ole streets all in ruins, an’ there’s fires still burnin’ out o’ control.’

He shook his head sadly and gave a deep sigh. ‘It was very bad,’ he replied.

Rachel looked around. ‘Where’s Mum? I was expectin’ ’er ter come boundin’ in. And Gran?’

‘Nellie’s upstairs, restin’. Yer mum’s gone ter see yer Uncle Danny. ’E’s in Guy’s. It was while ’e was workin’ last night, luv,’ he said calmly. ‘’E’s got a broken arm. They fished ’im from the river an’ they say it’s a miracle ’e’s still alive.’

Rachel stood up and started to button up her tunic. ‘I’ll go an’ see ’im right away,’ she said quickly.

Joe went to her and gripped her arms. ‘Now look, young lady, yer’ve jus’ got ’ome,’ he said firmly. ‘Besides, they won’t let too many round the bed at one time. Yer Uncle Danny’s gonna be all right. Now kick yer shoes off while I make some tea.’

Rachel watched while Joe spooned tea leaves into the large china teapot and after a moment or two he deliberately met her gaze.

‘There’s somefing else,’ he said quietly. ‘Young Tony’s muvver died last night.’

Rachel dropped her head. ‘I’m so sorry. Tony worshipped ’is mum. It’ll be a terrible loss. I must get round ter see ’im soon as I’ve ’ad me tea.’

‘There’s no need. ’E’s ’ere,’ Joe told her.

‘’Ere?’

‘Tony’s asleep in our room.’

Rachel was puzzled and Joe proceeded to tell her all he and Carrie had learned from Tony. By the time he had finished, Rachel was filled with an intense yearning for her young man. She wanted to go to him, hold him close and comfort him, but she knew that at the moment he needed sleep most of all. There would be time. Five days of being together. Five whole days in which she would comfort him, make him feel good and love him, and he would love her.

Chapter Thirty-Six

A bright sun shimmered over the still waters of the River Thames as the two old friends took their Saturday afternoon walk along its quiet industrial reaches. The tall cranes were still, arched down towards the patched-up wharves and the blackened gaps where the quayside had been blasted beyond renovation. Laden barges lay at anchor in midstream, and a little way upriver, Tower Bridge loomed, its twin towers guarding the inner pool of London like sentinels.

The two friends walked slowly, hands in pockets, their hair greying, their gait less confident now. Billy Sullivan’s shoulders still rolled, though not so noticeably, and Danny Tanner did not hold himself quite so upright any more.

‘That’s where I went in,’ Danny said, almost to himself.

Billy heard his friend say that every Saturday afternoon but he still nodded and followed the direction of Danny’s pointing finger, and he still made the same observation. ‘You was lucky that night, Danny boy.’

Danny nodded and almost without thinking rubbed at his slightly shortened arm which he had not been able to use properly ever since. ‘That finished me as a lighterman, but I’m not sorry,’ he went on. ‘A lighterman’s game is more suited ter the young man as long as ’e’s got the strength.’

Billy felt a sadness for his old friend. The river was Danny’s life, and he had never been more happy than when he was jumping between moving barges and fighting to get them in position, whether for the trip downstream or into their Bermondsey moorings. Now he was reduced to working as a checking clerk, still on the quayside, but he held a pencil and clipboard in his rough, weatherbeaten hands instead of a thick hawser.

They turned away from the river, still tasting the tangy air and the beer they had drunk that lunchtime at the Bargee. They passed by the boarded-up ruins of Bacon Buildings and Billy ran his fingers along the corrugated sheeting that was bowing out from the movement of the soil. ‘The ole place ’as changed over the past couple o’ years,’ he remarked.

Danny’s memories of the buildings were mixed. On the one hand he remembered his mother and father discussing Carrie’s new venture, his mother voicing her reservations and his father full of excitement at the prospect of working with his beloved horses once more, and on the other hand he recalled the hard times, the flickering gas jets casting gloomy shadows, the peeling paintwork, the ripe smell of the communal bins and the creaking, freshly scrubbed wooden stairways. He recalled the tragedy too: the sad woman who had walked from the buildings one night, out through the snow to end it all in the freezing river. She had almost cost him his own life when he went in the water to save her, and all it did in the end was put back the day when she finally killed herself.

Billy’s shoulder touched Danny’s as he moved to cross the street, and Danny grinned to himself. It was always the same. No words were exchanged, there was no need to discuss where the walk should take them. Going back home without first going to Wilson Street would be sacrilege as far as Billy Sullivan was concerned and Danny understood. They walked on silently, Billy humming to himself and Danny burping from the last pint which he had needed to gulp quickly before the pub closed.

Billy shook his head as they stood looking at the ruins of Murphy’s Gymnasium. ‘They said they was goin’ ter get that memorial stone out,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ll ’ave ter see the farvver again. It’s a bloody disgrace.’

Danny nodded as he looked over the low fencing at the one wall left standing. His own brother’s name was on that sandstone tablet, along with two of Billy’s brothers, and the other lads they had grown up with who had fallen in the first war. Their names were all there on that stone, battered by the elements and abandoned, it seemed, to crumble into dust. The gymnasium had stood its ground throughout the blitz, until the last night that bombs rained down on London. Then it had received a direct hit.

‘Yer know the score, Danny,’ his friend said with feeling. ‘Yer know ’ow much it meant ter me ter get that place built. Now they can’t even recover that memorial stone. Well, I tell yer now. If it’s not done soon I’m gonna take the law inter me own ’ands an’ get it meself. Strike me dead if I don’t.’

Danny put his arm round Billy’s shoulders and pulled him away from the ruined gym. They had both spent many happy hours inside the building coaching and working with the kids; it had been a fight against apathy and mistrust just to get the place built, let alone encourage people to come. They had won through though, until in the end it became the only place to send the sons to learn the noble art. There were so many stories attached to that place, Danny thought. One day he would tell his children, as no doubt would his old friend Billy.

‘Crikey, I feel tired,’ Billy said as they turned back into Page Street. ‘Mind you, it’s lovely ’avin’ my Annie and the kids ’ome. I’ll ’ave a nap I fink, an’ then Annie’ll wake us wiv a nice cuppa. I gotta be up sharp, I’m takin’ ’er ter the pictures ternight.’

Josiah Dawson had stood down from his post as street warden. Through the blitz he had gained the local folk’s respect and gratitude, as well as the special thanks of neighbours like the Tanners. Danny owed his life to the Dawsons, father and son, as well as to Tom Casey. The Gordons, too, had reason to thank Josiah. He had undoubtedly saved both their lives when they were threatened by the Scots villain from the Elephant and Castle, Dougal McKenzie.

Terry and Patricia Gordon often found time to remember the rough, no-nonsense character during their hectic days stewarding an exclusive golf club in Suffolk, and for the last couple of years Josiah and Dolly had received a Christmas card from them. Josiah now confined his labours to his daily job of renovating bombed houses for a local builder.

The tide of war had turned some time ago. It was not long after the terrible Saturday night air raid in May that it had begun to change, and Sadie was adamant that she had known all along.

‘Let’s face it,’ she said. ‘That air raid was the last one we got. All right, they bombed Birmingham the next night, but it was the beginnin’ o’ the end as far as the Jerries were concerned. When they invaded Russia they bit orf more than they could chew. Now we all know there’s gonna be an invasion soon, but it won’t be us what’s gotta worry this time.’

Sadie’s old and trusted friend Maisie nodded her head vigorously. ‘I make ’er right,’ she said to the assembled company in her parlour. ‘Look at all those Yanks walkin’ about over ’ere. My Fred said ’e ’eard that they’ve shut Brighton an’ Eastbourne right up. Full o’ troops, they are. Fred said ’e reckons there’ll be an invasion any day now.’

Maudie nodded too. ‘My Ernest said ’is mate told ’im that every night there’s troop trains an’ ammunition trains goin’ down ter the coast. They travel in the middle o’ the night fer secrecy.’

Dolly was eager to put her point of view to the others. ‘It’ll be sometime in June, mark my words,’ she said mysteriously.

‘’Ow come?’ Sadie asked.

Dolly looked over her shoulder as though some outside person might be listening through the wall. ‘Maurice Salter told me.’

The gathering tittered, but Dolly was unfazed. ‘Now listen a minute,’ she said. ‘Maurice’s daughters are all goin’ out wiv Yanks. They met ’em at the Palace Dance ’All up West. Anyway, Maurice told me that all their fellas are movin’ out next week. Nuffink definite’s bin said, mind you, but the Yanks are sure it won’t be long now. They reckon early June.’

Maisie was nodding her head again, as though she had suddenly been struck by a revelation, and everyone started to look at her.

‘So that’s it. I wondered ’ow come ’e could get such fings,’ she said.

‘What fings?’ Sadie asked.

‘Silk stockin’s an’ chewin’ gum,’ Maisie replied. ‘Maurice’as bin knockin’ stockin’s out at five shillin’s a pair. ’E’s bin givin’ all the kids chewin’ gum too.’

‘My Wallace came in the ovver night chewin’ ’is ’ead orf,’ Dolly piped in. ‘My Josiah didn’t ’alf ruck ’im, ’specially when Wallace stuck it in the saucer while ’e ate ’is tea.’

Sadie was curious. ‘What you doin’ wiv silk stockin’s, Mais?’ she asked. ‘I thought lisle was all yer’d wear.’

‘P’raps she’s got a man friend,’ Dolly said smiling.

Maisie was a little put out. ‘An’ what’s wrong wiv me tryin’ ter make meself look nice?’ she growled. ‘I ain’t got bad legs fer me age.’

Maudie showed a rare spark of daring, turning to Maisie and saying, ‘If yer get any spare ones, I’ll ’ave a pair. My Ernest said I ain’t got such bad legs fer me age eivver.’

‘Yer’ll all be wearin’ silk knickers next,’ Sadie said with sarcasm.

‘I never wear anyfing else,’ Dolly cut in, guffawing loudly as she nudged Maudie.

Carrie was enjoying a very busy time. Her business had been spared, and although she had lost most of her regular customers during the blitz, she had managed to keep all her drivers. She had recently secured a regular contract with the large food factory in Dockhead, which was worked by Paddy Byrne and Tubby Walsh. They were totally reliable, with regular bonus earnings giving them an added incentive. Ben Davidson and Tom Armfield worked the casual contracts and they too were included in the bonus arrangements.

Carrie had been making plans and she was looking towards moving to a larger yard locally, once she had obtained a Government permit to increase her fleet. She had found that heavy commercial vehicles were hard to come by unless they could be guaranteed to operate on regular food contracts. The deal she had just negotiated with the Dockhead factory, if renewed after six months, would allow her to apply for the necessary permit. There was another very important contract in the offing: the local brewers had put their hop supply out to tender and it would be a long-term arrangement. The contract was currently with the Galloway firm and for Carrie it was the perfect prize. Her tender had been submitted and she was waiting impatiently for news. Meanwhile there were other decisions to be taken. Joe had been pressing her to promote one of the drivers to transport foreman, which would allow her more time away from the office. Tom Armfield was their mutual choice. He was a quiet, intelligent man who knew the business and had been with her from the beginning. He was liked and respected by the other drivers and seemed to be the obvious choice.