Rough Justice (19 page)

‘How can you stay under the same roof as those two brutes? And if he can do this to you, what else is he capable of?’

‘Martin, don’t.’

‘Why do you stay with him, Nell? Why? He’s an old man, and he’s a bully just like his no-good son. The way they treat you, it’s not right. And as for him doing this to you . . . Any other man, any man with any brains, would treat you like you were a princess. Look at you, you’re lovely, beautiful, and this is what he does to you. I can’t believe you let this happen.’

‘It’s not my fault.’

‘I never said it was. But you can walk out of here now, Nell. Right this minute.’

‘Martin, don’t do this to me. Just go.’

‘How can you stand him going anywhere near you? It isn’t right.’ Martin tapped his knuckles on his teeth, the agitation boiling up in him. ‘I don’t know why you’ve put up with living with these monsters for so many years.’ He moved closer to her. ‘You’re young; you can make a new life. Take the children and find somewhere else to live, somewhere miles away from him and those other two idiots.’

‘Martin, you haven’t the first idea about what goes on in here.’

‘You’re wrong. Now I know exactly what’s going on here, and I’m going to take you away from it. I’m going to find somewhere for you to live. Somewhere you’ll be happy, you and Tommy and Dolly.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘And I’m going to go with you. I’ve got the money. And,’ he took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him, ‘I could love you, Nell, you and the kids. I’d treat you like you should be treated. We’d be like a proper family. It’d be perfect. Nothing like you’ve had to put up with here. I’d make you so happy.’

‘You’re mad.’

‘No, Nell, I’m not, but you are if you stay here with them.’

‘Just get out, Martin, and don’t let anyone see
you leaving. No one can know you’ve been here, please.’ She started crying again. ‘I’m begging you. Please.’

‘I’ll go for now if that’s what you really think you want, but you know what I’ve said makes sense, and you’re going to think about it, I know you are. And in the meantime I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Nell. I can’t stand seeing bullies getting away with hurting people. And I especially can’t stand seeing this happening to you. I said I could love you, Nell, but I was lying, because I already love you, I always have, ever since I first set eyes on you. You didn’t even notice me that first day when you turned up here in that beautiful dress, but I noticed you.’

Nell summoned all her strength and shoved him backwards along the passage towards the door. ‘Go. Now. And don’t ever speak to me again. Please, you mustn’t. If you meant any part of what you said to me, then do this. For me.’

Martin backed away from her.

He was still looking into her eyes when she closed the door on him.

As Nell cleaned and tidied the flat, she could only be grateful that it was Tuesday and not washing day. She’d never have been able to stand the pain of lifting and mangling piles of wet laundry.

Having at last finished her chores, she sat at the table to write the letter she had been dreading. What with having to do this and having to fend off Martin’s lunatic outburst, she could only wonder why everything seemed to conspire against her.

She closed her eyes and put her hand to her mouth, remembering the touch of Martin’s finger on her lips. But she mustn’t let herself even think about him, she had made her life with Stephen and that was that. She knew it was wrong that they weren’t married, but why did it have to be such a terrible life? And why on earth had she agreed to move in with him?

She’d said to Martin that it wasn’t her fault, but maybe it was. What sort of a family had she come from that she could have done such a thing? What sort of creature had she sprung from to deserve this? Who was she that she should be so cursed?

She felt very confused. Her only memory of where she came from was of the woman who
loved and wanted to protect her. And how could she even think that she was cursed when she had her two beautiful children? Her children whom she would do anything to protect – and that was why she was going to write the letter.

She smoothed out the paper on the kitchen table and stared at it, putting off the moment when she began to write. She knew she had to, but she knew it would break her heart.

She folded the paper, put it in the envelope, and then took it in to her and Stephen’s bedroom.

She knew the flat was empty, but she still looked over her shoulder as if someone might have followed her – no one, not even the children,
knew about what she had hidden away in her bedside cabinet. She opened the drawer and felt under the pile of ironed and lavender-sprinkled handkerchiefs that she kept in there, and took out the brown paper bag that had been tucked away underneath them. She sat on the bed to shake the contents onto her lap. Two things fell out – her precious brooch and a photograph. She picked up the photograph and studied it; it showed her and Sylvia standing on the pavement outside the Hope and Anchor, arm in arm. Nell was grinning like the untroubled girl she had been on the day of her and Stephen’s so-called engagement. Sylvia was smiling.

Nell touched the brooch to her lips and put it back in the bag, where it had been ever since the day of her ringless ‘engagement’, and hid it away back under the handkerchiefs. Next she kissed the photograph before slipping it into the envelope between the folds of the letter.

Something to remember me by.

What was it about those five little words – even more than the knowledge of what she was doing – that made her want to weep, that brought back those ghostly memories that she could never quite reach? The phrase brought back that image of the beautiful lady, like the angel from the Sunday school books, who meant her nothing but love and kindness.

Whatever the significance of the words, the letter was written. She had done it, and there would be no more Sylvia in her life, and she
would make sure that there would definitely be no more Martin. Everything was going to be all right, the way it should be.

Then she sat on the bed and sobbed as if her heart would break in two.

It was Monday morning; although Nell’s ribs, mouth and cheek were beginning to heal, the evidence of her being beaten was still all too obvious – Stephen had never hurt her so badly before. But she had to go down to the laundry to do the weekly wash, or what would people say? Tommy and Dolly were in the courtyard playing with the other children from the Buildings, enjoying the freedom of what was left of the summer holidays, while she stood alone in the empty flat with a pillowcase full of dirty washing, trying to find the courage to be seen by her neighbours. What would be worse – not appearing and starting more rumours, or being seen and having previous gossip confirmed all over again? She just thanked goodness that in their innocence her children, unlike Sylvia, continued to believe her story about her clumsiness and the cupboard door. She only hoped her neighbours would be as accepting of the story – gliding along on the surface of politeness, at least – regardless of what they thought was the truth.

As she moved hesitantly along the passageway towards the front door, Nell repeated in her head the exact words she would say if anyone asked
her outright about what had happened. But an unexpected knocking stopped her from moving a step further.

Her mouth went dry. She leaned close to the door. ‘Who is it?’ she managed to say, her imagination conjuring all sorts of possible demons.

‘It’s me, love. Mary. I wondered if you fancied a bit of company going down to the laundry.’

Nell edged towards the door, touching the handle as gingerly as if it were made from red-hot iron. She took a breath and opened it. ‘Hello, Mary.’

Mary did her best to hide her shock as she looked at Nell’s face; what a state. That was why she hadn’t seen the poor girl in the shop all week. ‘Had another accident have you, love? You’re a right clumsy one, you are.’

Nell nodded.

‘Here, wait a minute, I’ve got just the thing.’ Mary dumped her own pillowcase full of dirty washing on the landing and went back into her flat, reappearing with a compact in her hand.

‘You don’t usually wear face powder, do you?’

‘No.’ Nell looked suspiciously at the shiny metal container.

‘It can cover a multitude of sins, this stuff. You can take my word for it.’ She grinned. ‘Without this I’m as ugly as Ada Tanner. Let’s go through to the kitchen where it’s nice and bright and I’ll show you how to put it on.’

‘I don’t know, Mary.’

‘Look,’ Mary jerked her head towards the Tanners’ front door. ‘Do you want her in there seeing your face all sore like that? And I’m saying this as a friend, Nell, it looks bad. And you do know what she’ll say about you, don’t you? And she’ll say it to anyone and everyone she comes across.’ Then she tacked on with a flourish of improvisation, ‘Because she’s never been one to let the truth go spoiling a good story, that Ada Tanner.’

‘I don’t want to look flashy like Florrie Talbot, Mary. Although,’ Nell added hurriedly, ‘I’m not saying I don’t like her, because I do. She’s sort of, you know, understanding. I like that in a person.’

‘A lot of people like Florrie Talbot, for all sorts of reasons, especially the fellers. But I’ve got no intention of making you look like her. All right?’

‘There. You look a proper picture. You’re such a pretty girl, Nell. Know what, if I didn’t like you so much, I’d be jealous of you.’

Nell stared at her reflection in the little shaving mirror that hung on the hook over the sink – she usually avoided looking in any kind of mirror, let alone the one used by Stephen and George every morning – and turned her head from side to side. She looked almost like she used to, sort of fresh. She ran her fingers through her hair, letting the soft curls spring back into place. It was a long time since she’d done anything more than run a comb through it, or chop off the ends when it was getting too long. When she’d lived with Sylvia
she’d washed it twice a week, and had it cut at a hairdresser’s in Aldgate.

‘And if I had hair like yours I’d be beside myself. It’s like you’ve had a Marcel wave. Beautiful.’

‘That’s a very nice thing to say, Mary, thank you. You’re always so kind to me.’

Mary thought she had worries, but she could only guess what this girl’s life was like. She sounded like a machine that wanted winding the way she spoke – sort of lifeless – and she was always so grateful for the smallest scraps of kindness. It was as if she’d had all the stuffing dragged out of her since she’d lived with the Flanagans. Still, it was nothing to do with her; Mary could offer her friendship, but she wasn’t about to poke her nose in. What went on beyond people’s doorsteps was their business.

‘Tell you what,’ she said, slipping the compact into Nell’s apron pocket. ‘Now you know how to use it, you keep hold of it for a while.’ She winked. ‘I’ll let you know if I need it to go to any dances with the Lord Mayor.’

Mary walked out of the kitchen and along the passageway to the front door.

‘Come on Nell, this won’t buy the baby a new bonnet, now will it?’ she said, hefting the laundry up onto her hip. ‘Let’s be off downstairs and get this washing done.’

Ada Tanner, in her usual uniform of crossover apron, slippers and thick lisle stockings rolled
down below her knees, stood next to Nell in the basement laundry watching her mangle her freshly rinsed washing. ‘So what are you doing with all that muck on your face then? You trying to keep up with Stephen Flanagan’s other fancy pieces, are you?’

Nell felt her face redden beneath the powder.

‘As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ada.’

‘Well, you don’t think you’re the only one, do you, you silly mare?’ Ada turned to Myrtle, her recently acquired collaborator, who was standing alongside her. ‘Must have bashed her head as well as her face.’

Nell carried on feeding the wet towels through the rollers, turning the handle steadily, refusing to rise to Ada’s bait.

‘Everyone knows he’s always had a bloody harem round him, has that one. And it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t do business with that Florrie Talbot on the side, and all.’ Ada nudged Myrtle in the ribs. ‘That’s the tart who lives with the Jews in the corner shop. An English couple would never allow such a thing. Well, not decent ones like me and my Albert.’ She paused to heighten the effect. ‘Decent
married
couples.’

Mary opened her mouth to defend her friend, but the usually meek Nell surprised her.

‘We’d better get this lot upstairs and out on the line, Mary, and then you can get in to work. It wouldn’t be right to keep a lovely lady like Sarah waiting for you, now would it.’

‘You’re right, Nelly love, it wouldn’t. And I could do with getting out for a breath of fresh air, cos something stinks to high heaven in here.’

Mary heaved up the big metal basin of mangled washing and followed Nell up the steps to the courtyard, throwing a look of contempt over her shoulder at Ada and her sidekick that might as well have been directed at a brick wall for all the impact it had.

Stephen sat at the table eating his supper. He was using a hunk of bread to mop up the creamy milk, blistered with spots of golden butter, in which Nell had poached his smoked haddock. He was too interested in his food to look up from the plate when his two young children came rushing in.