Rough Justice (28 page)

Stephen Flanagan.

If the man hadn’t been dead, Martin would have happily killed him all over again – and got rid of George for good measure. He could honestly say that he didn’t have any regrets other than having to leave Nell and his family behind.

With thoughts of Nell smiling shyly, of her sitting on the steps laughing with his mother, and of her beautiful, even though battered face as she had kissed him, Martin Lovell disappeared down the stairway and into his unknown future.

Nell had again been awake most of the night, occasionally drifting off into terrifying, fitful nightmares – visions of George and Stephen looming over her and of Martin being dragged away from her as she screamed out his name.

Martin.

She looked at her children curled up fast asleep in the double bed that took up most of the front room – the bed that she now shared with them. Tomorrow they would be back to school and she would be at work. She was grateful that her shift didn’t start until after their day began, but she had to organise something for after school. She didn’t want them hanging around with no one keeping an eye on them. Still, she had all day to think about that. For now she had the twins to worry about, and that was more than enough.

Nell stepped out into the passage. She looked towards the closed bedroom doors – Lily’s and what had once been her and Stephen’s room, but which had now been taken over by George – trying to decide which of them to wake first. Whichever one she chose, she couldn’t dither around for too long, it was already half past six and they had to get to Petticoat Lane to set up for
the Sunday market. She knew they intended to go because when they’d eventually come home last night she’d heard them arguing and shouting drunkenly about missing a whole day’s takings when they hadn’t got up for the market after the wake.

She was just glad the children had been asleep, she hated them to hear bad words and rowing – especially Tommy, who would pick up a bad word the very first time he heard it.

Nell leaned against the wall in the passageway. George or Lily? If she woke Lily she’d get a mouthful, demanding to know why she was dragging her out of bed first, but at least George might control himself if his sister was there. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the thought of him doing that to her after the funeral. It must have been because he was so drunk. Mustn’t it?

As Nell eased herself away from the wall, visions of George and his disgusting body were momentarily forgotten as her attention was caught by an odd-looking packet on the doormat. She picked it up and looked at the address, dreading that it was a demand for the rest of the money for the funeral. She had a few pounds left over from the money Sylvia had given her, but that wasn’t going to last long. The hospital had told her she had to work a week in hand, which as far as she could see meant that she worked the first week for nothing, as she’d been warned that when she left any damage she caused would be docked from that first week’s wages. They would
be bound to find a reason to do this – that was how things went. For the likes of her, anyway.

She frowned at the packet. It was actually a crudely fashioned envelope and all it said on the front was:
To Nell. Private. From a well-wisher
. There wasn’t even a stamp.

She was about to open it, but changed her mind and slipped it into her apron pocket instead, feeling wary about making it into a secret, knowing how she had suffered for keeping secrets in the past. But something told her that it was the right thing to do.

Distracted by the unexpected delivery, Nell rapped on Lily’s door without a second thought.

With the hollering still ringing in her ears, she woke George and then hurried into the kitchen to get breakfast ready for the twins.

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ said Nell, adding more slices of toast to the plate, and then topping up the twins’ teacups.

She went over to the sink and started filling the washing-up bowl from the kettle. ‘I’ve got a job. I’m starting tomorrow.’

Lily, her mouth stuffed full of food, spluttered all over the table. ‘You’ve got a job all right, you’re going to do the early mornings down the market. And we’re going to take turns doing the afternoons. We’ve got it all organised.’

Nell stiffened. If they got her on the stalls, she knew they wouldn’t pay her. So how would she get the rest of the money for the funeral? If
she stayed in debt to the Prices they might call the police. Say they sent her to jail? Who would care for the children?

‘You’re not listening,’ she said urgently, turning to face them. ‘I’ve already got a job. I was telling you because I was hoping you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Tommy and Dolly when they get in from school. They won’t be any trouble. Just about an hour it’ll be. I’ll hurry home as fast as I can, and I’ll get the tea ready before I leave in the morning. You won’t be put out, I promise.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said George, flicking toast crumbs from his big barrel chest. ‘Even if we let you get a job – which might not be such a bad idea,’ he said, looking pointedly at his sister. ‘Because then she could start paying her way around here for her and them two bastards of hers.’ He turned back to Nell. ‘But why would you think that we’d keep an eye on them?’

Nell was starting to panic. She wasn’t happy about her children being alone with the twins – of course she wasn’t – but at least it would be a temporary solution until she came up with something better. They’d be playing down in the courtyard anyway, well away from Lily and George. She just wanted to be sure that they could get in and out of the flat if they needed to, and that there would be someone in there if there was a problem. She hadn’t expected – or wanted – the twins to actually mind the children, just to be there in the flat. In fact, if she had any other choice . . .

‘Because they’re your half-brother and sister,’ she said quietly, not really believing she could ever have any influence on them.

‘They are, are they?’ said Lily, raising her eyebrows at George. ‘Some people might not agree.’

‘What are you talking about?’

George picked up another slice of toast. ‘Don’t play the innocent with us. We know all about you and him across the landing.’

Nell set the kettle back on the stove. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You spoke to the police?’

‘Now
we
don’t know what
you’re
talking about,’ chuckled George.

‘They came here yesterday and asked me all sorts of questions.’

‘Did they?’ said Lily. ‘Well they must have their doubts about you then, mustn’t they? Wonder why that is? Any idea, George?’

‘No Lil, none at all. But it must be serious.’

Nell ran out of the kitchen and locked herself away in the front room with her sleeping children until she heard the twins leave the flat.

Even then she waited for the count of a hundred before she dared to leave the room. She made a dash for the front door and clicked the latch shut, and then she went into her and Stephen’s old bedroom. She retrieved her brooch from its hiding place in the bedside cabinet, dropped it into her apron pocket with the mysterious envelope and then hurriedly made the bed, took her things out of the wardrobe and put George’s clothes away in it as quickly as
possible. The less time she had to spend in that room the better, but she had to clear it up as George had apparently decided it was his now – regardless of him having a perfectly good room of his own.

With the rest of her chores finished, the twins out, the children still sleeping and the front door firmly locked, Nell sat at the kitchen table and opened the packet.

She blinked as if someone had suddenly turned on a bright light. Seven pounds and ten shillings. She counted it out onto the table and then counted it again under her breath. That was what she’d earn from working five whole weeks at the hospital laundry. Where had it come from? She looked at the envelope again.
From a well-wisher
. That would make a real dent in the money she owed Mr Price. But it didn’t seem right to spend it if she didn’t know who had given it to her.

It might have come from Sylvia, but it wasn’t her writing; and she wouldn’t have done it like that anyway, and she’d already lent her that money yesterday. Nell gnawed on her thumbnail. Apart from the funeral money, that was another five pounds she owed already. How could she spend this as well? Her debts were getting out of hand.

The only other person she could think of with any money who would be that kind to her was Martin, but no, it couldn’t be him.

She’d done everything she could not to let him back into her head, but there he was again:
Martin, the man she had kissed so passionately, the man who had killed Stephen Flanagan. There was so much going on in her head, she honestly didn’t know how much more she could stand.

Nell went into Stephen’s bedroom and looked at the clock. Half past eight. Was it OK to go over to see Mary this early? What would she say if Martin was there?

Worse, what would she say if Martin
wasn’t
there?

‘Sorry to bother you so early on a Sunday, Mary.’ Nell was standing on the landing, hardly able to raise her head to meet her neighbour’s gaze. ‘But I’m going to ask you a really big favour.’

‘That’s all right, love. I was up anyway.’ Mary stepped back and jerked her head towards the passageway. ‘I’ve just put the kettle on; fancy a cup?’

‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’

‘You’re not a nuisance, and I could do with some company. I’m feeling a bit off this morning.’

‘Don’t worry about the kids, Nell.’ Mary poured two cups of tea. ‘Me or Joe’ll be here to see they’re all right till you get in. We both understand what it’s like to have to earn a few bob. And it might stop Joe feeling so sorry for himself if he’s got something to think about.’

‘It’s going to be hard, but I’m going to try my best to save some money so I can get somewhere for me and the kids to live. Somewhere of our
own. I’ll do anything to keep us together, but I don’t know how much longer I can stay in that flat with the twins. They say they want me to work on the stalls, but I know they won’t pay me. And then I’ll never get away. I’ll be stuck here with them for ever.’

About to hand Nell her tea, Mary suddenly burst into tears and the cup fell from her hand, smashing on the lino-covered floor.

‘Don’t mind me, Nell,’ she gulped. ‘It’s just that our Martin, he’s gone.’

‘Gone?’ Nell whispered. She didn’t know what to do for the best – should she clear up the broken cup or comfort Mary?

Mary made up her mind for her. She walked over to the dresser and took something out of the drawer.

Nell bent down and began collecting the broken bits of china in her apron.

Mary came over and stood beside her, and held out a folded paper packet. Nell jerked away from her, dropping the pieces of cup back on the floor – how had Mary got hold of it?

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s from our Martin. He left us a letter and some money and now he’s disappeared. Fed up arguing with his dad over things, he said. Didn’t want to fall out with him. We’ve all been at one another lately. It’s the worry. And now he just took off.’

Mary started sobbing. ‘Seven pound ten. Seven pound bloody rotten ten. Is that all his living here
with us was worth? I’d give anything, Nell, anything, to have him back here with us. Bugger the money. Bugger everything. I just want my boy back home.’

Nell started clearing up the broken china again.

Martin. The man who had said he loved her, who had freed her from Stephen Flanagan – she knew in her heart that he must have been telling the truth about it being an accident, he was too kind to hurt anyone deliberately. He had said he would take her away from the twins, and now she would never see him again, the man she now had to admit to herself that she loved.

Mary stood behind the counter, hollow-eyed and with her shoulders drooping.

Ada sat on the customer’s chair with Myrtle beside her like a skinny guard dog. ‘She can look like she’s just lost thruppence and found a ha’penny, but if I was her I wouldn’t even be showing my face. It’s all very well her worrying about that boy of hers going amongst the missing, but she’d have been better off worrying about him while he was still here. Hanging around that Nell – and her a widow and a mother of two. What a disgrace.’

‘Widow?’ said Myrtle. ‘I always thought you had to be married to be a widow.’

Mary stepped from behind the counter, pushing away Sarah Meckel’s hand as she tried to restrain her. ‘And you have to have a clear conscience before you start pointing your finger at other people.’

Ada rose to her feet and Mary looked her up and down. ‘If you don’t mind, Sarah, I’ll just take a little break.’

‘Course I don’t, Mary.’

Mary moved closer to Ada, pinning her to the counter. She stuck a finger in the woman’s
would-be defiant, yet clearly nervous face. ‘If I hear you’ve said a single word about my son, my family, or anyone else for that matter, you had better watch yourself Ada Tanner, because you’ll have me to reckon with. I am in no mood to put up with you or with your spiteful sewer of a mouth.’

As she stepped out onto the pavement, Mary heard Ada’s unmistakable whine. ‘Yeah, I’d better watch myself or I’ll end up in the flaming river.’

Ada should have kept quiet, or she should at least have spoken more softly, because before anyone realised what was going on Mary had burst back into the shop. She ripped Ada’s hat from her head, and stamped up and down on it.

‘Perhaps if you get some air to that thick brain of yours it’ll start working a bit better,’ she yelled into Ada’s ear.

Ada reeled backwards into the row of glass-lidded biscuit tins that lined the front of the counter. ‘And me with my health,’ she wailed.

‘Health? What are you talking about? All that’s wrong with you is the poison in your tongue and the bloody lard on your arse. If you did a hand’s turn once in a while, instead of having your kids running round after you like you’re some sort of invalid, maybe you wouldn’t look so much like a bloody beer barrel.’

Ada patted her hatless hair defensively. ‘I didn’t come here to be talked to like that.’