East End Jubilee (47 page)

‘So why ain’t your mate here, then?’ she shouted above the racket. ‘You sent him an invite, didn’t you?’

‘What, Solly? Yeah, well he’s gonna meet us off the coach, ain’t he?’ Eddie could hardly believe that tomorrow they were all leaving for Bonnie Scotland and two weeks in
a genuine bricks and mortar castle. ‘I wish you and Benny was coming. You know you had the invite, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Anita nodded. ‘But we already booked Butlin’s. Brighton this time. All six of us. Me and Benny. Alan and Heather and David and Iris. Otherwise we’d
have jumped at the chance of a nice piece of haggis.’

‘I ain’t so keen on the haggis,’ Eddie admitted.

The boys started up again, another Presley number, ‘Blue Suede Shoes’. Everyone was going wild.

‘Who would ever have thought you’d have fallen on your feet like this?’ Anita yelled a little drunkenly. ‘What with Solly bunging you one of his posh shops an’ all.
Better than a bloody market stall, ain’t it, love?’

‘Yeah, I’m a lucky bastard, Neet.’ He didn’t mind admitting he’d had more than his fair share of luck since the nick. He surreptitiously glanced down at his fine
grey suit, at the hand-stitched silk lining of the jacket and the perfect fit of the trousers. No more market clobber now, no more pressing his suits under the mattress. This little whistle and
flute would go straight to the dry cleaners.

Eddie still had to pinch himself in the mornings when he found himself in the shop. In
his
office. With a chair and desk and even a typewriter. When Solly had given him a chance with one
of Alma’s babies, he’d jumped at it. The punters, both men and women, were upmarket and trendy. He could kit out a bloke in less than half an hour and turn him out on the town like a
prince – if the price was right. And up West, the price was always right. The shop was showing a good profit. And Solly, with his wife well satisfied, was chuffed.

‘Not that you don’t deserve your luck,’ Anita added quickly. ‘You always was a smart dresser. I don’t mind telling you, Eddie Weaver, a bit of good cloth is what
you were made for.’

Eddie laughed softly. ‘Ta, girl.’

‘You’ll do all right, you will.’

‘You’re not doing so bad yourself.’

‘Yeah, well, helping Benny with the business is a lot better than sticking me head down other people’s lavs.’

‘Come on, you’re a natural with them account books.’

Anita giggled. ‘Yeah, like a bloody magician.’ She pulled at the tinsel round her neck. ‘Funny how life works out, ain’t it?’

Eddie answered with feeling. ‘You know, as good as it all is now, I’d give me right arm to put back the clock. I wished I’d never set eyes on Payne. I put everyone through
grief, including Benny, and it’s hard to live with meself sometimes.’ He didn’t talk much about Payne now. Tried not to think of him. With Payne on a lifer for a south London
murder, there was no chance of their paths crossing. But he still caught himself looking over his shoulder sometimes.

‘My Benny’s big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself,’ Anita replied generously. ‘And all that matters for you now is Rose and the kids.’ Anita blinked
hard at him. ‘You and Rose – that’s what’s important.’

Her gaze was sober now. He looked into her shrewd blue eyes. What had been discussed between his wife and her best mate? Anita was a bright monkey, he had to acknowledge it, and she probably
knew more about Rose than he did. He himself could never tell what Rose was really thinking. If she still had respect for him as she used to . . . before – well, before that bloody telly.

He toyed with risking Anita a question or two. But then he realized it would be folly. Women were as thick as thieves and so they should be. Blokes didn’t want to know the gory details.
Not really. If Anita knew anything, she was keeping it to herself.

She smiled, as if approving his move. ‘We all change, love. People expect others to stay the same and that’s the mistake. The trick is, loving someone for the change, not knocking
them for it.’

Eddie had no answer to that. He was no philosopher, but he had learned lessons. He’d never sit in judgement on anyone. Because you never really knew the score. He himself was innocent of
the crime he’d gone down for but he’d flown close enough to the candle to burn his wings.

Yeah, it was funny the way things worked out.

A crescendo of guitar strumming brought the floor to a standstill. Everyone clapped and the group, sweating over their instruments, took a bow. The guitarist stepped forward.

‘By popular request we’ll play the last waltz. Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly’s recent hit, “True Love”.’

Rose, all breathless and glowing, gazed up at Bobby. Eddie watched them, the air suddenly trapped in his lungs. Every light dimmed except the revolving glass globe above. The stars flickered
over the figures like a twinkling universe. Arms crept round necks. Lovers entwined.

For a moment his wife was lost to him. Eddie peered through the smoke. He didn’t want to see what his eyes were searching for. A beautiful, brown-haired woman dressed in red, enfolded in
the arms of a tall, handsome man. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the crowded floor. He couldn’t stop looking for pain. Then, just as he thought his heart would stop, he saw
her. She was walking towards him, weaving her way through the empty tables and chairs.

Eddie swallowed hard. Did she still love him? Did she love him as much as he loved her? Perhaps he’d never know. Perhaps he’d live all his life and never know her true feelings.
Could he handle that? He looked into her eyes and searched for the answer.

It wasn’t long before he had it. The message was coming across loud and clear. He nodded, as if acknowledging the light that had suddenly come on in his brain. How could he ever have
doubted that Rose and he shared a deep and eternal, true love? He was going to believe those two words for the rest of his life.
Really
believe them.

Rose held out her hand. And he took it.