Rough Justice (29 page)

‘Aw, didn’t you? That’s a shame. So where d’you usually go? Because people must be queuing up and it wouldn’t be right to disappoint them.’

‘You’ve got a gob on you, Mary Lovell. No better than Florrie Talbot.’

‘Right, that’s it. All over.’ Sarah stepped between them. ‘I am not having this in my shop.’ Despite not wanting to spoil the entertaining spectacle of Ada Tanner getting what she deserved, Sarah would not allow Ada to run down Florrie Talbot. Florrie might do some things that most people would shudder at the thought of, but she was a kind woman who had had tragedy in her life beyond those same people’s imagination.

Sarah put a hand on each of Mary’s shoulders and looked steadily into her eyes. ‘Why don’t we all calm down?’ she said. ‘None of us is living what you’d exactly call a normal life at the minute, but we mustn’t let it get to us, Mary. There are enough problems brewing up in the world for us to worry about without fighting amongst ourselves.’

‘I’m sorry, Sarah.’ Mary dropped down onto the customer’s chair. ‘It’s just that I’m so worried about my Martin, I’m beside myself.’

‘I know darling, I know.’

Ada was still standing there, lingering like a bad smell.

Sarah looked at her and jerked her thumb towards the door. ‘Think it’s time you were
leaving, Ada. I’ll get one of the children to drop your groceries round for you later on.’

With a loud sniff, Ada Tanner, followed by Myrtle, her scrawny shadow, left the shop.

‘Might as well get back to the Buildings,’ Ada couldn’t resist tossing back at them. ‘See if there’s any more coppers about wanting to ask me questions about that Nell and her shenanigans. I like to do me bit. See, some of us in that place are good law-abiding people.’

When Nell had jumped at the chance of doing the ironing job at the hospital she had had no idea what she was taking on. She found herself in a high, windowless room that could easily have swallowed up two of the flats in Turnbury Buildings and still have left space for a couple of spare bedrooms. There was a continuous waist-height shelf running around three of the walls. Under that shelf were huge wicker hampers on wheels that were full of folded but unironed linen. The wall with the door in it had a run of wooden shelves from ceiling to floor, on which ironed items were stacked according to the labels glued to the wood.

The irons themselves were modern – electric, and connected to sockets in the ceiling by long, flexible leads – but the temperature controls weren’t that reliable and Nell had to be careful that she didn’t scorch anything. The trouble was she hadn’t realised it would be piecework – her pay was dependent on the number of hampers
she emptied, with money being docked for burns. She’d really thought that the one pound ten shillings was the guaranteed weekly wage, but now she realised it was nothing more than an estimate, and an apparently unrealistic one at that.

How would she ever earn enough on these wages to get her and the children somewhere to live away from the twins? Her life was slipping more out of control than ever. The memory of the stench of George’s sour breath had her closing her eyes and the taste of bile rising in her throat. What if he did it again? What if that was the price she had to pay to keep a roof over their heads?

And then there were the debts.

She looked about her. Five other women were all working as hard as they could to earn what must surely be an unattainable wage for all of them – even the most experienced.

Even though Nell had learned in the home that there was no point feeling sorry for yourself, she still couldn’t help thinking that sometimes life just wasn’t fair. Not to her, but to her beloved little ones. They deserved more. Much more than she was able to give them.

She could only hope and pray that what George had done to her the other night didn’t mean that she would be bringing another innocent child into the horrible world in which she found herself.

‘You were lucky, son,’ said the stocky, gruff-looking Scot, as he stripped down to his string vest and greying underpants and climbed into the bunk below Martin’s. ‘One of the stokers jumped ship a few days ago when we docked here. Young Chinese lad, he was. Quiet type. Never really settled into ship’s life. I’d say he’s probably got pals or family down Limehouse way. There’s a lot of them Chinese fellers down there. And he’ll be better off with his own kind, didn’t have much English see, so it was hard for the lad, he didn’t know what was going on half the time. And if it wasn’t for him doing a midnight flit, then there’d be nothing here for you. But you, you’ll do well, you look a strong sort of a laddie, so you should fit right in here. It’s not easy work, but the pay’s fair. And you don’t have to go worrying yourself over what to do, I’ll show you which way the wind blows, explain it all to you fair and square.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You don’t have much to say for yourself, laddie, now do you? But then I’d guess you’ve probably got a tale to tell, like most of us on this ship. A man’s usually either running away from
something or someone. Me, I’ve got three wives – four, I suppose, if you include the first one back home in Glasgow. But I’ve not seen that wee hellcat for years. She had a temper on her that one, and after a dram or two she was wild. Fight a man twice her size without a second thought, would my Maggie.’

He chuckled happily to himself, remembering. ‘Then there are my – what shall we say – about a dozen or so kids dotted around this mad but beautiful world of ours. Who knows, I might try to track them all down one day. When I retire, maybe. But looking at you,’ the Scotsman thumped the underside of Martin’s mattress with the side of his fist, ‘I’d say you’re too young to have as complicated a reason as that.’

‘I just want to travel.’

‘You’ll be doing that sure enough, young man. In a few hours’ time we’ll be leaving port and heading for the Bay of Biscay. That’s travel all right. I’ll wager you’ll never have seen seas like those before.’

The man in the bunk below carried on talking about storms he had survived and sights he had seen, but Martin wasn’t listening. His thoughts were back in Turnbury Buildings.

He opened his fist and looked at the crumpled square of embroidered linen that Nell had given him. He held it to his cheek.

At least he’d saved her from Stephen Flanagan. She was rid of him for good and she had her job. Her life could only get better from now on. But he
would miss her so very much, her and her lovely face, and her clear grey eyes. If only he could kiss her just one more time.

He stared up at the ceiling.

He’d miss his mother too, and his dad. He just wished that Joe could see how wrong he was about the Blackshirts and their filthy ideas. Maybe then he’d stop feeling so bitter. It was eating away at him, and making both his parents so miserable.

Martin ran the back of his hand across his eyes. And now they didn’t even have his money coming in.

What had he done?

Sylvia stood in the street at the back of the hospital, waiting for Nell to come out after her first day at work. She watched as the great pans of dripping were wheeled out of the kitchens, and the women and children clutching their bowls jostled to get to the front of the queue ready to scoop out the fat that would provide their families with some sort of meal when it was scraped over toast. She knew Nell often made dripping on toast for breakfast, but at least she bought hers from the butcher. But even then it wasn’t a meal Sylvia fancied very much, although she knew that had she not fetched up with Bernie Woods it might well have been her standing there amongst the hungry throng.

‘Nell. Nelly. Over here, darling. It’s me, over here.’

Nell, her fair curls sticking to her face with sweat, put the side of her hand to her forehead and screwed up her eyes against the early evening sun, trying to make out who it was who would be calling to her as she came through the big double doors.

Sylvia, of course. ‘Sylv.’

‘Yes, sweetheart, it’s me. How did it go?’

‘It was a bit disappointing.’

‘No. Tell me. What went wrong?’

Nell told her about the temperature controls and the piecework.

‘Aw. That’s rotten, Nell. Still, it must be nice for you and the kids having the flat to yourself now the twins have gone. I’ll be able to come round like I used to.’

‘What?’

‘Now the twins have gone.’

‘They’ve not gone anywhere.’

Nell looked up at the clock on the church that stood in the shadows at the back of the hospital. ‘I’m sorry, Sylvia, I’ve got to go. Mary and Joe Lovell are keeping an eye on Tommy and Dolly for me and I don’t want to take advantage of them.’ She paused for a moment. ‘They’ve got enough problems of their own at the minute.’

‘Yeah, OK, Nell.’ Sylvia kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’ve got to go as well, darling. There’s someone I need to speak to.’

Sylvia came slamming through the doors of the Hope and Anchor – a woman with a mission. ‘Bernie, I want a word.’

Bernie saw her face. Bloody hell, not again. ‘Yes, Sylv?’

‘I’m going to ask you one more time, because, I mean it, if you won’t do this for me, then things’ll never be the same between us again.’

George and Lily turned up at the Hope puzzled, but confident that whatever reason there had been for Bernie Woods to have sent that kid round on his bike with a note telling them that he wanted to see them right away, there had to be at least a few free sherbets involved somewhere along the line.

And they were right. The moment they sat down at the bar, Sylvia gave George a pint of mild and bitter and Lily a large port and lemon.

‘If you’d like to sit yourself over in the corner, I’ll nip up and get Bernie.’

George and Lily nodded expectantly at each other and settled themselves at Bernie’s table.

‘Perhaps it’s something to do with money that Bernie owed to Dad,’ said Lily.

George grinned, a foamy beer moustache lining his top lip. ‘That’d be handy.’

‘The different strokes he pulls, he must be worth a bloody mint. Let’s hope he’s feeling generous.’

‘What do you mean, we’ve got to leave our flat?’

‘Don’t start leading off, George, I’ve got somewhere for you to go to. Nice and convenient it is. Much better for you than being stuck over in Wapping. A fair rent and hardly any journey to work in the mornings.’

Lily leaned across the table and pointed at Bernie. ‘Is this something to do with that cow and her pair of snivelling bastards? Because if it is, she
is going to be bloody sorry. Believe me. She won’t know what’s sodding hit her.’

Bernie didn’t enjoy being treated like that by anyone, especially a woman. ‘You’ve got no choice.’

‘Who says?’ demanded George, sounding but not feeling very brave. Bernie was involved with some very tough men – Jack Spot not the least of them.

‘I say so.’ Bernie stood up. ‘But I’m not going to fall out with you over this. I’ll send you over another drink and the address of where you’re going. No need to rush moving out, tomorrow after you’ve finished work’ll do.’

‘No, we’re not having this,’ said Lily. ‘Are we, George?’

‘Aw yes you are,’ said Bernie.

‘Bernie, I think I need to have a little word with my sister.’

Nell, tired out from her work in the laundry, had been sound asleep when the twins had come home from the pub, but she had woken up when she heard them shouting. Rather than getting involved in whatever their latest spat was about, she had stayed in bed. It would all be over soon enough – it always was.

But this time it wasn’t.

The next evening Nell stood in the kitchen not knowing what was happening. She’d just come home from her second day of work at the hospital and was planning to put the supper on before calling the children up from playing to get washed, but then she’d been confronted by Lily and George, who were both acting as if she’d done something really bad. But what? What was she supposed to have done? They hadn’t even spoken to her when she’d cooked their breakfast for them this morning, so it couldn’t have been something she’d said.

‘I hope you’re satisfied,’ spat Lily, rifling through the dresser and the kitchen cupboards, and piling everything she could find into any bags available.

‘First Dad, now us,’ said George. ‘I can only
hope you’re pleased with yourself, now you’ve got what you wanted all along.’ He was sitting at the table, swigging straight from the whisky bottle that hadn’t been touched since his father’s death. There was a cheap cardboard suitcase by his side that Stephen had used to store what he referred to as ‘his papers’, but which now held the whole of George’s not very extensive wardrobe. The papers, after a quick look from George to see if there was anything of any value – there wasn’t, just a few receipts for furniture and linen from when Stephen had married the twins’ mother – were now scattered over the table. ‘I just hope you can live with your conscience.’

‘What am I supposed to have done?’

Her pillaging of the cupboards at an end, Lily turned and hissed maliciously at Nell, bubbles of spit forming in the corners of her mouth. ‘Schtupping Bernie Woods as well, are you? Because that’s the only thing I can think of that’s made that man behave like this. I can only wonder what his old woman will have to say about it, when I tell her. Which I fully intend to, believe me.’

‘Tell her about what?’

‘As if you didn’t know.’ George stood up and barged past a totally bewildered Nell, with Lily close behind him. ‘You fucking gold-digger. You’re meant to be that woman’s friend. Well, people are beginning to find you out for what you really are, so I’d be careful if I was you, because you’re making more and more enemies every day.’

With that, George threw two sets of keys onto the kitchen floor and he and his sister departed, leaving the front door wide open behind them.

Nell picked up the keys and put them on the table. What was all that about? And what were they going to tell Sylvia about her and Bernie? It didn’t sound good whatever it was, or they wouldn’t be threatening her with it. The only thing she could think to do was to go and see Sylvia before they did, but the thought of going all the way back to where she’d just come from was almost more than she could bear. She didn’t know why she was so tired; she’d worked harder than this in her time, much harder. But who knew what the twins were capable of? She had to get this cleared up before they made things even worse. And she had to go out anyway, to pick up a few bits for the children’s tea. For reasons she couldn’t understand, Lily and George had cleared everything out of the flat, including all the food. Goodness only knew where they were taking it.