Rough Justice (26 page)

‘How are you doing?’ Sylvia asked, taking Nell’s hand.

‘Not too bad, thank you,’ she said in a voice that told Sylvia exactly the opposite, ‘and I don’t want to be forward or anything, but I was wondering about those bits you said you’d got me down the market.’

‘By the look of you, Nell, I reckon you need them. You can’t go walking the streets like that. You look like someone who hangs around the park even when it’s raining. They see you like that, and they’ll put you away in a loony bin.’

Nell started sniffling, trying not to let the tears fall, and trying to stop her hands from shaking, desperate not to worry the children, but even more desperate for some money so she could get away from Turnbury Buildings. ‘And I was wondering, Sylv. Is there any chance of me having my old job back?’

Sylvia smiled broadly; she was just about to say yes, but Bernie got in first.

‘To be straight with you, Nell,’ he said, flipping over the eggs he was frying, ‘things are not so good at the moment. Some nights it’s hard to justify keeping the place open. Two old boys nursing half a pint of mild all night so they don’t use their own gas or electric indoors – it’s a struggle making ends meet.’

‘Bernie!’ Sylvia sounded as shocked as she looked.

‘How about laundry or cleaning work?’ he suggested, sliding the eggs onto a big blue and white striped platter. ‘You were good at that when you lived here.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ snapped Sylvia.

‘Well, she was. Tell you what, you should go over and see if they’ve got anything in the hospital, they say they’ve got a massive laundry over there. All them bedsheets and uniforms and that.’

‘Thanks, that’s a good idea, Bernie. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have had such a cheek asking.’

‘Bernie,’ Sylvia said again, her face growing redder.

Nell stood up. ‘We’d better be on our way.’

‘Wait, Nell.’ Sylvia pulled out a couple of chairs and lifted Dolly onto one. ‘The kids haven’t had their sandwiches yet, and you can’t go anywhere till you’ve got some clothes on. And they might be a bit of a squeeze but you’ll have to borrow a pair of my shoes. My oxblood ones are quite roomy.’

‘Yeah, she’s right, Nell, no good you going asking for a job looking like that.’

‘Thank you, Bernie, that’s all she needs on top of everything else – advice from you on what she should wear.’ Sylvia narrowed her eyes at him. ‘When you’ve got dressed you can leave the kids with me and jolly Uncle Bernie here, while you go across and see if they’ve got something for you in the hospital.’

Bernie arranged four slices of bread in the bacon fat in the big black frying pan, leaning back as they sizzled and crackled. ‘Here, you used to help us out with a bit of paperwork and all, didn’t you?’

‘Help out?’ sniped Sylvia. ‘She did the whole bloody lot of it.’

‘That’ll be a nice job for a girl like you. Office work. But you’ll need to look the part, so it’s good you’re not going over in your slippers, eh?’

Bernie’s encouraging smile was wiped clean away by the look shot at him by his wife.

When Nell returned, Sylvia, Bernie and the children were down in the bar. Dolly was happily helping Sylvia wipe the tables and Tommy was getting under Bernie’s feet as he bottled up, asking non-stop questions of this wonderful man who made him bacon sandwiches.

‘How did you do?’ asked Sylvia.

‘They’ve got a vacancy in the ironing room. I mentioned office work, and they said that if something comes up they might let me do a test to see if I’m good enough.’

‘That’ll be nice.’ Sylvia managed a smile. She’d heard about the ironing room from one of the customers whose wife worked there, and he reckoned it was more like being inside than in a hospital, more punishment than a job. No wonder they had vacancies. How long could someone put up with that drudgery? As long as they had to, if they were desperate, she supposed.

‘Are the twins helping you out with a few quid?’

Nell shook her head. ‘Not really. It’s like Bernie said, things are not easy for anyone nowadays. They’ve got themselves to think about.’ She stood
up. ‘Anyway, mustn’t complain. Bye, Sylv. Bern. Thank you both for everything. Come on, you two.’

‘Wait, Nell. Just a minute.’ Sylvia went to the till and counted out five pounds. ‘And don’t you dare say no, it’s just to see you and the kids over until you start your job.’

Nell couldn’t look her in the eye, but she couldn’t refuse the money either. ‘Thanks, Sylv, I appreciate it.’

‘You’re more than welcome, love.’

Nell looked over at Bernie, who was doing his best to avoid making eye contact with either of the women.

‘Thanks for the idea about the hospital, Bernie,’ she said politely. ‘And as soon as I can I’ll pay you back. I promise.’

‘No rush,’ he said.

‘No need,’ corrected Sylvia.

‘And I really don’t know what I’d have done without the clothes, Sylv. You were right, I must have looked a right fool in my night things.’

‘It’s my pleasure, darling.’

‘It’s just a shame they’ve got no live-in work over there. That would have been ideal. But what with having the children I don’t suppose anyone would offer me that.’

‘Don’t worry, sweetheart, things’ll work out for you. Not always in the way you might expect, but they will. Now you go and buy some grub for you and the kids and make yourself a nice bit of dinner.’

‘Thanks, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Sorry if I held you up. You must think I’m a right nuisance.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Sylvia kissed Tommy and Dolly and then hugged Nell. ‘You’ve never been a nuisance to anyone, Nell.’

Bernie stood at the sink shaving, with Sylvia on guard behind him, waiting for the right moment to pounce, like a pocket-sized ginger moggy sizing up a big fat rat.

She couldn’t stay quiet any longer, if Bernie cut himself then too bad.

‘Bernie, that girl is at her wits’ end. You must have been able to see that – her walking through the streets dressed like a tramp. So why were you so rotten to her? How could you have behaved that way? You’re a much better man than that. Kinder. Nicer. More generous. We could have found her plenty to do around here, and given her somewhere to stay. There’s rooms up here we never even use.’

Bernie took a long breath and let his razor drop into the bowl of soapy water. ‘Sylvia, think about it – Stephen Flanagan was found dead in the river, and everyone round here knows that he –’ He threw up his hands in exasperation. ‘Look, I just don’t want them geezers from the river police wondering why I’ve got his widow working here, got it? You saw the nosy bastards at the funeral yesterday. And they’re hardly the approachable types, now are they? If I offer them
a straightener there’s every chance I’ll land myself right in the shit.’

‘In that case we’ll take a different approach to the problem.’ Sylvia shoved her finger in his face. ‘You, Bernie, have got to help her by getting rid of them two idiots from out of that flat so that Nell and the kids have somewhere to live in a bit of peace and quiet. She’s been through enough, Bern, more than enough. In fact it’s a wonder she’d not gone round the bloody bend.’

‘You know how fond I am of that girl, Sylvia, but I am not getting involved in this. I can’t afford to. You don’t need to worry yourself about it, but it could mean trouble for both of us.’

‘I have never asked anything like this of you before. And I have never interfered with you running the card school up here either. And don’t bother looking at me like that, I’m not stupid, I know you’ve been running a spieler for bloody years. But I am asking you for this one favour. I want them two ponces kicked out on their – excuse my language – on their fucking arses.’

Bernie’s eyebrows couldn’t have lifted any higher. Sylvia never held back from cursing, but he had never, ever heard that word come out of his pretty little wife’s mouth before.

‘Sylvia.’

‘I mean it, Bern, either you do something about it or I’ll have to. That girl looks ill, and I am going to help her. No,
we
are going to help her. Because the only other way I reckon it can be sorted out is with the bloody poker. And you wouldn’t want
that, now would you, seeing your wife being put away for murder?’

Bernie took her face in his hands. ‘Sylvia, you have got to calm down here, girl. You’re all right shouting the odds, but you don’t know the half of it. I might not be in a position to tell them what to do. It might be a bit, sort of, awkward. See . . .’ He dropped his chins until they were nearly touching his chest. ‘Stephen Flanagan had been, er . . . working for me for a few years, and it was, let’s say a bit dodgy, what he was doing. And them twins of his must have known about it, because a lot of his work took him round by the markets. And if the twins do know about it, and I start getting tough on them, then they might just decide to make things awkward for me. You know what them two are like. They’d be more than capable of grassing me up. Then what’d happen?’

‘Well, since you’ve brought it up, Bern, I know all about Stephen Flanagan being your runner and all, cos I presume that’s what you’re mumbling on about.’

Bernie’s face creased into a disbelieving frown. ‘How? I never let on, not once.’

‘Do I look like I’m stupid?’

His answer was to rub his hands over his half-shaved chin.

Sylvia took his hands in hers, drew them away from his face and looked into his eyes. ‘And what if I said I might make things awkward for you? You know how hard they’ve been on spielers and bookies lately.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes you do, you know full bloody well. I’ve seen you reading about it in the
East London Advertiser
.’ She prodded him – not so gently. ‘And I used to watch Stephen Flanagan handing over the money to you every single night, Bernie. Think about it, when have you ever been able to keep a secret from me?’

‘I don’t know the answer to that one, girl. But would you really gamble losing everything we’ve struggled to make for ourselves? We’ve got a good life, Sylv. You can see for yourself how a lot of other people are living round here. So why would you risk losing it?’

‘If it means helping that girl then I might not mind taking a gamble on having to give up all this.’ Sylvia folded her arms. ‘I could handle it. I did before I met you.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Wouldn’t I? Here, you’re a bookie,’ she said. ‘So I’ve got a bet for you. I bet there were things went on in that flat that you and me wouldn’t want to even imagine. And most of them ain’t gonna stop.’

‘What sort of things? Blimey, Sylv, you don’t half exaggerate.’ Bernie didn’t know what had got into the woman. ‘And anyway, the local law already know all about me,’ he said, full of false bravado.

‘They should bloody do, the amount of dough you put their way.’

‘How do you—’

‘Never mind that, all I’ll say is: if someone went in the station and made a statement – and I’m talking about in full view of plenty of witnesses – what choice would they have then but to do something about it? Especially if that person threatened to go to the local papers with the whole flaming story.’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Wouldn’t I, Bern? Well you’ve got me wrong there, because what I really wouldn’t do is leave her and those kids in that place with those two no-goods still living there. Now that Stephen’s gone they’ve not even got that pig to keep them under control. You saw the state she was in, bloody terrified. So I’m telling you straight – you’ve got a choice, you can either get them two out of there or have Nell and the kids move in here with us. If not, you know the consequences.’

She studied her husband’s face. Of course she would never do anything to hurt him, but would he really believe that she would ever grass him up? She could only hope so.

While Nell and the children were travelling back to Wapping on the bus – with Tommy and Dolly chattering about whether they should pick butter or some more jam from Sarah’s shop now that their mum had said they could spend some of their half-crown, and with Nell staring unseeingly out of the bus window – George and Lily were sitting at the kitchen table in Turnbury Buildings. They were arguing over who should put the kettle on the stove.

‘Go on, Lil, I don’t feel too good.’

‘You, George, have got a hangover, just like I have, so why should I make a cup of tea for you? You stick the rotten thing on the gas.’

‘You Lil are a lazy, rotten cow.’

She ignored the insult. ‘Got any fags?’

George skidded his packet of Players across to her.

‘Matches?’

‘Bloody hell, Lil, what did your last servant die of, flipping overwork?’ He fished a box of matches out of his dressing-gown pocket and tossed it to her.

Lily lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, coughed for a bit, then said, ‘You do realise that by next week
both of her little bastards are going to be at school, don’t you? So are we really going to go out to work every single morning while she sits here doing nothing? She took Dad for a right mug if you ask me, and I don’t intend to be her next stooge. Just cos she had a couple of kids by him she thinks we owe her. Well she can think again.’

George took back the matches, dragged himself over to the stove and lit the gas under the kettle. ‘If they were Dad’s.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘What do you think? Do you trust him across the landing, sniffing round her like she’s a bitch on heat?’

Lily perked up. ‘You mean that them two have been having it away?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘If you’re right, George, then we don’t owe her anything.’

‘No, Lil, we don’t, and just because we haven’t found them yet, who knows whether there might be insurance policies knocking about. If there are, then the money should go to us, his proper family.

‘Do you know, I think we should get ourselves washed and dressed and go and see those two from the river police. They were ever so interested in what was going on. And surely it would only be right – for Dad’s sake if nothing else – to get this all sorted out. It’d be what he would have wanted.’

Lily dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief, eyes cast to one side like the grieving victim she wasn’t. ‘It broke mine and Georgie’s hearts, sir, when we realised that Nell had a fancy man.’