Cockney Orphan (32 page)

Ebbie sighed heavily. ‘You’re young yet and will raise a family of your own soon. You’ll get over Lucky in time.’

But Connie knew she wouldn’t. She ran out of the room and into the street. She could hear Olive calling after her but all she wanted was Lucky. Where was he now? Was he missing her? It was
time for his tea, the best time of all, when they had fun before he went to bed.

She stopped at the gate of number thirty-three. She couldn’t go in. Not without Lucky inside.

It was growing dark when Billy found her. She was leaning on the fence by the tunnel entrance in Island Gardens. She had walked for hours and though it was summer she felt
chilled to the bone. She knew it was an inner chill that would stay with her for a long time to come.

‘Connie?’ Billy said quietly, standing beside her. ‘Where’ve you been, gel?’

The view had been breathtaking as the sun had dipped over Greenwich. The sky was dusky now, almost dark. A few stars were out early and they twinkled between the clouds. ‘I watched the
sunset,’ she said in an empty voice.

Billy drew her closer. ‘I called in to see Mum and Dad. They’re worried about you.’

She turned to stare at her brother. He looked much older now, scarred and puffy around the eyes and ears, as though time had weighed heavily on him. She felt a moment’s sorrow, but her
heart was aching too much with her own loss to feel his.

Connie stared back at the river, now a dark, inky shape curling eastward. The vessels that slipped up and down in the day were now in their berths. The hustle and bustle was over until daybreak.
Somehow the night felt like a friend, disguising the hurt inside.

‘I’m really sorry about Lucky,’ Billy said softly.

‘He didn’t deserve what was done to him.’

‘Neither did you.’ He leaned close beside her. ‘But you couldn’t have done anything to stop it.’

She looked at him. ‘I used to pretend he was my little boy. Even if I had kids of my own, I couldn’t love him more.’

‘I know that, Con.’

Her voice shook. ‘I don’t even know where he is.’

Billy put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Maybe that’s for the best.’

Connie hung her head. ‘In my heart I knew Gilbert Tucker was his grandfather. Even Gran told me to be prepared, but I just wouldn’t listen.’

Billy squeezed her shoulder. ‘I’d give my right arm to bring him back for you.’

She smiled weakly. ‘You’d be no good at fighting if you did.’

Billy was silent as he stood there. ‘I never have been, to tell the truth.’

She turned slowly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m no fighter, sis.’

‘Billy, that’s not true.’

‘I’m quitting the fight game.’

‘But what about America?’

He laughed. ‘The only stars I’ll ever see is on the end of a fist.’

‘But boxing is your life, Billy.’

‘Not any more. I’m joining up.’

‘You can’t! You’re not eighteen.’

‘I am in December. ’Sides, they’re taking anyone they can get hold of. It’s not just Germany we’re up against. The army needs blokes to fight the Japs
now.’

‘Oh, Billy, please don’t do it. I beg you not to. Mum wants you back home—’

‘Me life’s changed, Con. I’ve got to move on, don’t you see?’

Connie felt she couldn’t take any more bad news tonight. She hugged him close.

‘Remember that night, Con?’ he whispered into her hair. ‘When we was down this way together, the first night of the Blitz? When you found Lucky?’

‘How could I ever forget?’

‘I didn’t even hang around to help you. Same as I never went back to see if that old bloke was all right. I left him there, like I left you. I’ve never been able to get it out
of my mind that I’m a coward, see?’

‘That’s daft, Billy.’ She held him away from her, her big grown-up kid brother who was now twice her size. ‘I’ve never stopped being proud of you, never.’

‘It don’t make any difference, Con, to the way I feel inside. You know what I think each time I get a wallop? I think, you deserve that, you gutless bugger. Taffy was right, I
ain’t got the balls for fighting, much less boxing. All I was cut out for was being a bit of a hellion and causing trouble.’

‘Billy, you were young. You just made some mistakes like all of us.’

‘I’ve got to do what my conscience tells me. You did a good thing that night and saved a life. As usual, I looked after number one.’

Connie held him tightly. ‘I love you, Billy.’

‘I know that.’ He prised her gently away. ‘You ready to go home now?’

She knew it wouldn’t be easy, not with all Lucky’s toys and clothes and his bed in her room. But she had to face them. Life had to go on.

Billy waited silently in the shadows of Narrow Street. It was a quarter to midnight and the moon was hidden in a cloudy sky. The streets of Limehouse were all blacked out. The
building he had been watching, a terraced flat, showed no sign of life. But, then, he hadn’t expected any. His knew his quarry would arrive any time now.

Sure enough, a car drew up. He recognized the shape of the two figures climbing out. Their voices travelled to him, though it was a windless night. Soon the man and woman entered a doorway. The
crack of light was soon extinguished.

Billy stepped out into the deserted street.

He was sweating and licked the salt from his lips. The adrenaline burst through his veins. He stepped lightly to the door and listened. The raised voices continued up the stairway. He’d
been up those stairs often enough himself and he’d never liked what he found at the top.

With his back against the wall he shifted noiselessly into the building. At the top of the staircase he paused, looking left then right along the landing.

The door to the front room was ajar. The argument was in full swing, the man’s voice raised, the woman’s scared and pleading.

Ada came into view. The blow across her face was hard. She stumbled back, her red hair flying as she buckled and fell.

Billy crept lightly along the landing. Then booted the door.

Freddie Smith looked surprised. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Call it a courtesy visit,’ Billy said as he helped Ada to her feet. ‘Courtesy to Ada.’

She recoiled from him. ‘Christ, Billy, you shouldn’t be here.’

‘Go and wait downstairs.’

‘But, Billy—’

‘Do as I say.’ He gave her a gentle push through the door.

‘What the—’ Freddie Smith began until he got a fist in his stomach and, choking, staggered backward.

‘You set me up from the start.’ Billy rubbed his knuckles happily. Why had he never felt like this in the ring? He’d have won every fight if he’d felt the hate he felt
now.

‘After this, you’re brown bread, Billy Marsh. I’ll be after your arse. There won’t be nowhere you can hide.’

‘I’m not even gonna try. It’s just you and me tonight, or haven’t you noticed?’

Freddie Smith laughed. ‘You couldn’t fight your way out of a brown paper bag.’

Billy nodded slowly. ‘I couldn’t agree more, pal. Wish I’d known that a year ago though, before you grabbed the chance to tuck me up. Still, now it’s my turn to have a
little fun. But before I do, I’ll tell you this. You bother Ada or set foot on the island and I’m blowing the whistle on all them dodgy deals you’ve got carved out for yourself
and your pals. Now, they ain’t gonna like the taste of their own shite, are they? Not them boys, Freddie. You’re gonna be carved into little slices and you know it.’

The big man standing in front of him froze. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

‘Try me.’ Billy gazed into the other man’s face, relishing his discomfort. Slowly he removed his jacket and the belt from his trousers. He didn’t want the bastard
complaining it was an unfair fight. No, Freddie Smith was going down tonight and this time the odds weren’t stacked in his favour.

Billy had always wondered what the killer instinct felt like. Now he knew. This was one reckoning he was going to look back on with pride.

One fight he was definitely going to win.

‘Billy, what have you done?’ Ada was breathing rapidly as he hurried her along the street. She had been sitting at the bottom of the stairs when he found her,
nursing her swollen cheek.

‘What I should have done a long time ago.’

‘He’ll come after us.’

‘No he won’t.’

‘Billy, I’m scared.’

‘Listen, Ada. Freddie Smith is yesterday’s news. Trust me.’

‘But all my things are in the flat.’

‘Have you got any money in your bag?’

‘A bit. My emergency fund.’

‘Well, this is an emergency. You can nip up the market and buy some other clothes tomorrow. Unless you want to go back there and mop him up off the floor.’

‘He’s not dead, is he?’

Billy pushed her into a doorway. ‘Do you care if he is?’ he demanded breathlessly.

‘Oh, Gawd, Billy, don’t frighten me any more than I am.’

‘He’s not dead, but he won’t be walking a straight line for a while.’

Ada gave a terrified sob. ‘I never meant for this to happen.’

‘Do you love him?’

Her lips trembled. ‘I thought I did once. But not any more.’

Billy felt a tightness relax in his chest. ‘Ada, this is your chance to be free. I’ve seen you bashed around like a football and treated like a tart. Is that the kind of life you
want for yourself?’

She began crying and Billy pulled her to him. He held her tight, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

‘Oh, Billy, you ain’t ’alf brave to do what you did.’

‘I should’ve done it a long time ago.’

‘Billy—’

‘Shh.’ He lifted her chin gently and kissed her. The tears ran in between their lips and into his mouth. He kissed her harder, the passion growing inside him.

‘Billy, oh Billy!’

He ran his fingers up into her hair and felt the warmth of her, smelled the scent on her skin that made his body shudder. He was a fully grown man now, nigh on eighteen, yet his knees still
trembled like they’d done at fourteen when he’d first ever fancied her. ‘Come on,’ he whispered, as he kissed her bruised cheek. ‘We’re going home.’

‘I‘ve not got a home to go to in case you’d forgotten.’

He slid his hand around her waist as he urged her forward. ‘Despite me daft looks, I’ve got a very good memory indeed.’

Connie was staring at Lucky’s little bed. In the darkness, she imagined him there, tucked under his eiderdown. She listened for the sounds of his breathing: the snuffles,
the soft moans, the small arm flung sideways. And his voice when he came awake.

‘Con-Con?’

‘I’m here, darling.’

She would leap out of bed and hold him in her arms. Then she’d tell him a story, stroke his soft blond hair and he’d drift off to sleep again. Many times she wondered if he’d
been dreaming of the night when she’d found him. What had happened in the hours before? Had Rita been frightened of the bombing? Had her intuition told her to hide her baby? Could Lucky, in
his baby mind, recall any of this?

He’d had a proper name once. What was it? Would she ever see him again? The questions went on endlessly. Each morning she got up and went to work. Each night she came home, sat in the
front room, sometimes with Mum and Dad, sometimes Kevin and Sylvie, occasionally Billy. The only change in routine was her fire-watching duties. Without Lucky to look after, she was now included in
the fire-watching rota at Dalton’s. London was by no means safe from attack. Everyone was still expected to do their duty.

Every night Connie climbed into bed and lay awake, no matter how tired she felt. The emptiness was growing inside her instead of disappearing. Lucky’s train and all his toys were tucked
under the bed. Nan said she had given the government official some of his clothes and his little blue elephant. But it was what Nan hadn’t commented on that distressed her the most. Had he
cried when he was taken away? He was a friendly child, but wary of strangers. In her mind, Connie imagined the worst. His eyes full of tears and his arms stretched out. She knew Nan didn’t
want to talk about it. Nor did her mum and dad. They said it was better to look forward rather than back. She knew they meant well, but she didn’t want Lucky’s memory to die. He had
been part of all their lives. And he was still part of hers.

Tonight was no exception. Connie was more restless than ever. In three days’ time, Lucky would have lived at number thirty-three Kettle Street for three years. He had grown into a
beautiful, affectionate, happy toddler. Now she would never take him to school and help him to read and write. Even her worries about Vic were eclipsed by her loss. She didn’t feel like
Connie Marsh any more. She felt like an empty shell. Each day she went through the motions, but it was hard to act as though her world was normal.

Connie turned over and faced the wall. She closed her eyes, praying for sleep. She had been trying hard to keep them closed when she heard the front door open. A few moments later she heard the
stairs creak. A light touch on her shoulder made her jump.

‘Who’s that?’

‘Me, Billy.’ He sat on her bed. In the darkness she couldn’t see his smile but she knew he had one on his face. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘At this hour?’ She sat up.

‘I’ve got a person downstairs who wants to see you. She won’t come up, ’cos she’s frightened you’ll tell her to sling her hook.’

Connie swallowed. ‘What are you talking about, Billy Marsh?’

He leaned forward and his face caught the light. ‘Put on your glad rags and follow me.’

Connie was out of bed in five seconds flat.

‘L
eave the light off, Con.’

Connie gasped. ‘Ada? Is that you?’

‘Who do you think it is, silly cow.’

‘Now I know it’s you.’ She stepped forward in the darkness and the breath was almost knocked out of her as they collided.

‘Oh, Connie!’ Ada hugged her tight. For a moment they stood there, crying and laughing together.

‘Keep it down, girls, if you don’t want to wake everyone up,’ Billy said behind them.

‘That’s the pot calling the kettle black,’ Connie replied, gulping. ‘You’d better close that door.’