Eve of the Isle (45 page)

How fortunate they were to have Charlie for a friend. And not just a friend – Eve knew that Charlie meant more to them all than this. But even though the events of the last year had meant that now she could start a new life, still she was reluctant to commit herself.

The letter in Eve's hand fluttered gently. She gazed down at the single sheet that had never been very far from her person since that day in January. It was Joseph's own personal goodbye and she had never tired of reading it.

Eve, forgive this old man for leaving without a farewell. But I am ailing now and it will not be long before my time on this earth is complete. This country has a special place in my affections but now I return to join Gilda and those loved ones who sleep on Russian soil. I leave you a parting gift. The top of the samovar was given to me by my visitors and now I give it to you, my dear. Redeem its value and it will provide a generous sum for your future.
Shalom
!

Your grateful friend and neighbour,
Joseph

Just then Eve heard Joan and Peg's voices. As usual they were enjoying a disagreement, shouting above the clatter of pots and pans. Dinner was being prepared in the kitchen, ready for Charlie and the boys when they returned home. As Eve listened, her mind went back to the day that had changed her life. When Alfred Rattigan had followed her to Joseph's cottage and she had stared into the eyes of a killer. Her hand went up to her throat automatically and she felt a chill despite the warm sun. If the samovar hadn't been on the dresser, if she hadn't managed to defend herself...

Eve shuddered, trying to put the memory behind her. Rattigan was in custody awaiting trial for the heinous crimes he had committed against the unsuspecting lascars of London's docklands. Detective Inspector Fleet had assured them that Rattigan would never see the light of day again. But still Eve shivered at the memories.

Folding the letter, Eve tucked it into her pocket and turned her thoughts towards all the good that had come out of that day. She had discovered the note from Joseph, and though she missed him dearly, she understood his decision to return to Russia and die on his native soil. But her shock had been great at his parting gift. The heavy metal top of the samovar that looked like brass, was in fact, gold.

‘'Ere, gel, look at this!' Peg came running from the kitchen, followed closely by Joan. The two women were dressed in aprons and turbans and a lighted roll-up hung from the corner of Peg's mouth.

Eve sat up. ‘What is it?'

Peg pushed a newspaper into her hands. ‘It's Friday's rag. Old Reg Barnes at the market wrapped the beef up in it. Look!'

Eve frowned at the crumpled newspaper.

‘It's about Harold!' exclaimed Joan, jabbing it with her finger. ‘See, it's my old man!'

The three women stared at the bloodstained sheet that Eve held out. ‘Charged with lascivious behaviour—' Eve began, to be stopped mid-sentence by Joan.

‘What's las . . . las . . .'

‘It's being a dirty old man, that's what!' chuckled Peg, pulling the paper close. ‘He got caught with his trousers down, up Aldgate, in one of them dock dollies' gaffs. See? It says he was in . . . im . . . impor—'

‘Importuning,' read Eve. ‘That means it was more than once.'

‘The dirty old sod!'

‘I always knew it,' cackled Peg, sucking hard on her roll-up. ‘And to think me own sister believed I was lying when I tried to warn her!'

Joan put her hands on her hips. ‘Don't start all that again.'

‘It says here that Harold Slygo is of no fixed abode,' read Eve slowly. ‘So he ain't at Bambury Buildings any more!'

‘He must've been kicked out.' Joan gave a little sob. ‘All me lovely stuff was there an' all.'

‘It wasn't your lovely stuff,' pointed out Peg sharply. ‘It was your mother-in-law's.'

‘Same thing, as it was me that polished it.'

Peg almost choked on her cigarette. ‘You never done a day's polishing in yer life, you lazy cow!'

Eve put the paper down. ‘Shush, you two. Just think, Joan, Harold didn't get off scot free after all.'

Joan smiled, nodding in satisfaction as she tucked a wisp of grey hair into her turban.

Peg sat down on the wooden chair beside Eve. She took the newspaper and folded it in two. ‘Well, ladies, I reckon we'll keep this as a souvenir.'

‘Could frame it even.' Joan folded her arms over her chest and looked slyly at her sister. ‘It'd be nice to raise a glass to British justice.'

Peg and Eve looked up quickly. ‘British justice me foot,' muttered Peg. ‘You ain't going on the juice again, Joan. Not in this house you ain't.'

‘Didn't say I was, did I?'

‘Well, go and make a cuppa, then. And bring out me baccy when you come.'

‘The trouble with you, Peg,' muttered Joan as she turned and walked back to the kitchen, ‘is that you don't know 'ow to enjoy yerself.'

Eve and Peg laughed softly as they glanced at each other. Then Peg put her hand on Eve's wrist. ‘You all right, gel?'

‘Yes, thanks.'

‘Queer the way life turns out, ain't it? It was only fifteen months ago that this backyard was a lake.'

‘And all the lavs overflowed.' They laughed together.

Peg sighed. ‘Then this 'andsome young copper comes along and rescues us . . .'

Eve nodded slowly. ‘And who would have believed what happened after that?'

Peg glanced at Eve. ‘Has he popped the question yet?'

Eve laughed. ‘Peg, I ain't getting married.'

‘But you're selling yer flowers in his shop!'

‘That's a business arrangement between me and Mr Merritt. It ain't nothing to do with Charlie and me.'

Peg spluttered disbelievingly. ‘When you're rich you won't wanna live in Isle Street.'

Eve smiled affectionately. ‘I'll never be rich, Peg, but I'd like to think we'll be comfortable. Nothing changes the fact that you and Joan and Jimmy are the closest to family that me and the boys will ever have.'

‘Yeah, we'll always be that, Eve. But times change. You've got Samuel and Albert to think of. They need a bit of space like what the Merritts have got at the bakery.'

‘Don't forget I've changed the name now,' Eve gently reminded her friend, ‘to Eve's Flowers.'

‘I know, ducks. And I'm proud of you. As Sarah would be proud of her daughter – and yer dad too.'

‘I wish they were alive to see it. Never thought I'd own a shop, Peg. I always thought it was me destiny to
sell on the streets. But to tell you the truth I knew in my heart it wasn't enough for the boys. I couldn't admit that Sister Superior might be right, that my sons deserved something better.'

‘Don't you take no notice of her,' spluttered Peg, almost choking on her words. ‘You've done a fine job with your lads. They'll grow up to appreciate what you've taught them, more than all that chanting and praying will do. They've learned to stand on their own feet and use their brains. In a few years' time they'll be 'elping you or maybe they'll be pushing pens in an office, or even bashing a ball round on a football pitch. But I can tell you this, whatever they do, they'll be successful at it, just like their mum.'

Eve put her arms around Peg and hugged her. ‘I feel so lucky.'

‘Yer, we all need a bit of luck in life.'

‘If it hadn't been for that old oven packing up and Mr Merritt wanting to sell and me being able to buy the lease on the shop with Joseph's gift . . . then I s'pose I'd still be selling from me pitch.'

‘As I said, times change. And you come a long way gel, since Rattigan.'

Eve shivered at the mention of his name. ‘Peg?'

‘Yes, ducks?'

‘Charlie is a good man don't you think?'

‘He's a good'un all right.'

‘I never said, but I saw him once, in a kind of vision. Like I was standing outside of meself, just watching.
He saved me life, Peg, and it's something I'll never forget.'

‘A vision you say?' Peg coughed and slapped her chest with her hand. ‘You sure you're feeling all right?'

Eve laughed. ‘I know it sounds daft.'

‘So what's stopping you from getting hitched? You'd have a nice place to live above the bakery. It'd do fine for a family. Them nuns at St Saviour's would soon change their tune if they knew you was living in such a posh place.'

Eve smiled wistfully. ‘Nowhere could ever be like Isle Street. I can still see Raj walking down the hill, see his long legs in them cotton trousers, see the smile on his face when he saw us . . .'

‘Ducks, I don't like all this talk about visions and . . . and ghosts. It ain't healthy. You're young yet, you ain't supposed to cling to the past.'

‘Is that what I'm doing?'

The two women looked at each other. Peg gave a sigh and nodded. ‘You'll work it out, wait and see.'

Eve looked around her and all that comprised her life. Thanks to Joseph's gift, which she fully intended to redeem from ‘Uncle' when she made enough profit at the shop, her life had taken on a new meaning. She hoped that her sons could learn a decent trade and perhaps Peg was right when she said whatever they did they would be successful.

Eve thought with gratitude of Mr Merritt's shop that was now hers, where she had begun to build up a
thriving business. There was nothing she enjoyed more than opening the door in the morning and planning the array of flowers that would soon fill it. Her customers had followed her from the streets and brought new interest. The local traders elbowed each other for her stock. Queenie was sending down Archie each morning on a regular basis and sometimes even twice. When Eve turned the sign to ‘Closed', the shop still smelt sweetly of her distinctive blooms.

The arrangement had been satisfactory to everyone. Charlie and his brothers had been relieved to see their parents retire. George and Joe had even helped Charlie to redecorate the shop and Dulcie, Edwin, Pam and Eileen, with the children and baby Dulcie, had often come down from the upper rooms to admire the blaze of glorious colours that now replaced the floury shelves of the bakery.

Eve sighed softly, bringing her thoughts back to number three Isle Street. She owed Charlie so much. She was grateful to him. But was Peg right? Did a small corner inside her still belong to Raj? Was it fair to deny Charlie all of her heart?

‘Oh, Raj,' she sighed, ‘help me, tell me what to do!'

Eve breathed in the soft April sunshine as her eyes fell on the muddy brown soil at the end of the yard by the dock wall. It was all that remained of her patch of cress. It was cracked and parched from the winter's cold, but today there was something . . . a sparkle . . . a glint . . . a thread of moisture.

She stood up and went over. At her feet, a bubble of water escaped the ground. Eve bent down. Stroking her fingers in the cold, clear water, she saw a green shoot.

Her breath stopped. The stream had started again. And in its thrust one stout little emerald treasure grew.

A tear of joy slipped down her cheek. Was this her answer from Raj? Like the cress, her first love had slipped away but was not forgotten. Was a new love now free to grow?

Epilogue

Tuesday 9th July 1929

C
harlie gazed down on the narrow street below and his heart gave a small twist. This was it, then, the day when his parents would go to live with Joe and Pam in Blackheath. The plan had been mooted last year when the old man had looked so tired and caught that chill. But until the stroke two months ago, when he'd lost his speech and movement in one arm, Joe and Pam's suggestion hadn't really been taken seriously. But his brother had a big, rambling house and Pam was eager to have her in-laws safe with the family. And as in-laws went, Charlie reflected proudly, his mum and dad were just about the best. They adored their grandchildren especially the star of the show, little Dulcie.

He frowned as he saw the two strong figures of George and Joe lift the big couch into the removals van. This was the last real piece of furniture to be loaded before the journey to the auction house. There were just a few bits and pieces remaining, like his mother's
sewing box and his father's leather bag crammed with his books. Although Charlie had insisted they could leave all their furniture since it wouldn't be required by Pam and Joe who had a well-furnished home, they had refused, quietly maintaining that much of what they had kept over the years was purely sentimental value. The only things remaining were the beds and wardrobes, and the big kitchen table and chairs. The rooms now looked spacious, freed of their clutter, but he was missing the warmth and untidiness that had characterized his childhood.

With their sleeves rolled up and their arm muscles bulging, Joe and George made his watching parents look suddenly frail. This move certainly wasn't before time. With Joseph's gift, Eve had bought the lease of the shop. His parents had no money worries now, and there was no threat in a future living in comfort and security with their son and his wife.

A smile slowly formed on Charlie's lips as he watched a trim figure join his parents. To him, Eve was everything he admired in a woman and more. Her fierce independence was what had first attracted him, but now it also alarmed him. Would she ever consent to be his wife?

His eyes lingered on her figure: her straight back and the intimate tilt of her dark head that she always gave when close to his mother. They had become firm friends and Charlie knew that Dulcie's earnest wish was to have Eve for a daughter-in-law. But even as Charlie watched
Eve lay the bouquet of red roses in his mother's arms, he knew in his heart that the woman he loved was still out of reach.

Charlie dug his hands in his pockets and looked around him. He'd be rattling around in this place for months to come, no doubt. But he had several ideas; redecoration for a start, doing away with the old Victorian embellishments. He wanted to shed light into the rooms, to lift their spirits, but he was no interior decorator.