Rough Justice (31 page)

Tommy laid his head against her shoulder, making her feel full of love, but so helpless. She could hardly feed herself after she’d fed the children, paid the rent, had put a bit by to pay off the debts, and then there were the few things she bought now and again to give to Mary. Kind woman that she was, Mary always refused them at first. But despite the extra hours and the generosity Sarah showed to her, the Lovells were only scraping along. Joe still hadn’t found anything, having received another humiliating knock-back when he’d made enquiries about labouring work on the new buildings they were putting up to replace more of the old terraces that they were knocking down. Mary couldn’t manage without Nell’s help, little as it might be, and both Mary and Nell knew it.

Nell cuddled Tommy even closer to her. It was all such a struggle. And the weariness was almost overwhelming her.

Despite her previous resolve, Nell knew she had to be practical – she would use some of the
money that Martin had left for her, and she would make sure that the children had a proper, memorable Christmas this year. After all, with the way things were going, it might be the last opportunity she had to do that for them for a very long while. She certainly had no idea what was going to happen to them this time next year. Not after what George had done to her.

She closed her eyes, banishing the vile thoughts from her mind.

In the meantime, she would just have to work even harder at the hospital so she could put some money back in the packet each week until she had replaced every penny she had spent, ready to give to Martin when he came back – if he ever did.

She kissed her son again. ‘Listen to me, Tommy. I can’t get you a dog. I’m sorry, it’s just not possible. I haven’t got the money.’

‘Mum.’ Tommy dragged out the word for three full, whining syllables.

‘Don’t get upset, because we are going to have the best time this Christmas that we’ve ever had, you just wait and see.’

‘Are we?’

‘I promise you we are.’

‘Honest?’

‘Honest. I’ve got it all planned. It’s going to be a day you’ll always remember.’

‘Are you pretending?’

‘No. I told you: I promise. Now I’ve got lots to do, so will you go downstairs for me and make sure Dolly’s all right?’

Tommy shrugged. ‘Suppose.’

‘You know I always keep my promises.’

He smiled, thinking about what such promises might mean in terms of toys and sweets and who knew what other undreamed-of delights.

Knowing she had made the right decision about the money, Nell ushered her little boy out of the kitchen and watched him as he skipped along the passageway to the front door. He started warbling the same reedy rendition of ‘We Three Kings’ that she had heard countless times over the past two weeks as she had helped him learn the words. He was happy. What more could she ask?

She knew exactly what – finding out what Martin had to say, finding out if he still felt the same way about her.

When she could no longer hear Tommy’s singing, she shut herself in the front room, sat on the bed and read the letter.

After reading it for a fourth time, Nell put the letter back in the envelope and tucked it away in her safe place – a handbag that Sylvia had given her – along with the packet holding the money, and her treasured brooch. She knelt on the floor and put the bag under the bed, pushing it close to the wall. She hauled herself up to her feet, hesitated for a few moments and then walked out of the flat and onto the landing.

There she stood, staring at the door of number 57, fist in the air, composing herself before she knocked. She knew she had to do this, she owed Mary so much – she wouldn’t even have been able to keep her job without her – but it wasn’t going to be easy.

‘Oh, Nell, I wish my Joe was here. He’s going to be so excited, so relieved to know that our Martin’s all right. He only went for his morning paper, and that must have been half an hour ago. I bet he’s flipping gabbing to someone.’

Mary could hardly contain herself, it had taken her three attempts to fill the kettle and still she hadn’t put it on the stove. She stood by the sink, staring unseeingly at the wall.

‘There’s one thing I don’t understand though, Nell. Why was it you he wrote to? Why didn’t he write to me and his dad?’

Nell licked her lips slowly and then said, ‘I wondered that myself at first, Mary, and then I thought about it and I realised. You know how him and Joe were before Martin went – it was even why Martin said he went – them arguing over their politics and that. He was probably scared about how Joe would take it.’

‘Take what?’

Nell found a thin smile. ‘He’s joined the International Brigade.’

‘What the flaming hell’s that when it’s at home?’

‘You know, that lot over in Spain.’

‘What lot?’

This was the bit that Nell had been dreading. ‘Look Mary, I’m not altogether sure what it’s about, but Joe’ll know. He’ll explain it to you, because it’s all to do with politics and that, and Germany.’ She couldn’t meet Mary’s puzzled gaze. ‘There’s some sort of fighting going on over there. In Spain. And he said that Hitler’s involved somehow. But I’m not sure how.’

Mary crashed the kettle down onto the draining board. ‘What do you mean, fighting? I think I’ve just found out that my boy’s safe and now you say there’s fighting. In Spain? I don’t even know where bloody Spain is.’ She started pacing around the kitchen. ‘I don’t know or understand anything any more. What sort of world is this?
Boys leaving home and going off to Spain. Fighting. I thought they said we’d had the war to end all wars.’ She put her hand to her forehead. ‘He could wind up like Sarah’s David.’

Nell stood up. ‘Mary, sit yourself down and I’ll make us some tea.’

Mary didn’t sit down. ‘I know he used to go on about politics – like you say, rowing with Joe, carrying on alarming the pair of them – and he hated his dad going to them Blackshirt meetings. Can you imagine if he’d been here when all that business happened over in Cable Street? He’d have been right up the front stopping that Mosley. Probably would have got himself arrested, knowing my Martin.’

She dropped down onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. ‘At least I’d have known where he was if he was inside. He’s gonna get himself killed, Nell, and I’m never going to see him again, am I?’

‘Course you are, he said he’s going to try and get home, soon as he can. Now let’s put this kettle on, shall we?’

‘Can I see the letter?’

Nell was glad she had her back to Mary as she spun her the story she had made up. ‘I’m sorry, Mary, I tore it up in little bits and put it down the chute with the rubbish. Martin asked me to. He was scared the twins would see it, cos he doesn’t know that they moved out, does he? Thinks they’re still living in over 55. And he didn’t want them knowing what he was up to. We all know
what he thought about George, and he thought them two might upset you. I know it seems silly, them not being there, but he was very firm about asking me to do it. It just seemed right. Sorry, I should have shown it to you, but I was so surprised to get it and everything, I just sort of did it.’

Nell lit the gas and then came out with the words she had rehearsed in her head, the bits of Martin’s long letter she could share with his mother. The bits that didn’t say how much he loved Nell and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her – her, the mother of the children of the man he’d killed.

‘He said that when he came home everything would be like it used to be and he’d be able to earn good money again. You see, Mary, on that day when he left he was clever, he telephoned the brewery, said that he had to go away on urgent family business, and asked if there was any chance that they’d hold his job open for him.’

‘Did he?’

Nell turned round so she was facing her friend. ‘They must really think a lot of your son in that place, because they said they’d been so pleased with his work that they were prepared to hold his job open for him for a whole six months, and they hoped his family trouble could be sorted out very soon. You should be so proud of him, Mary, you really should.’

When Joe returned with his paper, Nell went back to 55 and left Mary to tell her husband what Nell could only hope she had made sound like very good news.

Nell shut herself in the front room and reread the whole letter, this time not afraid that Martin’s mother would somehow to be able to hear all the words she shouldn’t. Words, just little marks made on paper – how could little marks cause such fear, and longing and heartache?

My Sweetest Nell
it began. She ran her index finger along those three words over and over again before skipping to the part with which she had tried so hard to sympathise, but had found so difficult to understand.

She turned to the final page.

Nell touched the paper to her lips, remembering the kiss, wishing he was there with her now. But how could she ever be with Martin again? How would she ever be able to explain to him what had happened? She had no future with Martin or with anyone else.

She put the letter back in the handbag. The suede lining smelt of Sylvia, of her scent, her powder and lipstick. If only she had listened to Sylvia when she had tried to warn her against Stephen. Why hadn’t she seen the Flanagans for what they were – cruel, heartless creatures who
used people as if they were things. If she had listened to Sylvia then she would probably still have been living at the Hope with her and Bernie, laughing and joking, and as happy as she had been on that first day when Sylvia had taken her in, and had fed her and dried her off by the fire. And Martin would still be living here safely in Turnbury Buildings, instead of risking his life in Spain. If anything happened to him, she would never, ever be able to forgive herself.

But then she would never have had Tommy and Dolly, her beautiful children.

Perhaps that would have been for the best. She had hardly given them much of a life. She put her hands on her stomach. And as to how she was supposed to care for them in the future, she had not a single idea.

Nell kneaded her fists into the small of her back and turned her head from side to side, easing the ache in her neck. Thank goodness it was the dinner break at last. When she’d dragged herself out of bed that morning, she’d barely been able to stand the thought of it being Monday again – two days since she’d received Martin’s letter – and that there was another week’s work stretching out ahead of her. But at least she could get out of the ironing room for a while.

Nell squeezed through the lunchtime throng standing up at the bar, making her way over to where Sylvia was pulling a row of pints.

‘Hello lovely,’ grinned Sylvia over the shoulder of a customer who was leaning on the counter, eagerly waiting for his mild and bitter.

‘Hope you don’t mind me coming in when you’re so busy, Sylv, but I had to get away from that place for half an hour.’

‘Course I don’t mind. You know you’re always welcome in here. Just hang on a sec while I finish this and then I’ll get Bernie to take over for a bit, so me and you can go up and have a chat.’

Bernie didn’t look that impressed at having to give up studying the
Daily Mirror
’s sports pages to stand behind the bar when it was so busy, but, grudgingly, he did as his wife asked him, while she and Nell went to sit upstairs.

‘There’s something I wanted to ask you, Sylvia. I’ve paid back all the funeral money now, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me waiting a few more weeks till I start paying you back the five pounds you lent me, because I want to try and give the kids a decent Christmas for once.’ Nell rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, avoiding looking at her friend as she lied. ‘I’ve managed to put a few bob by to make sure they enjoy themselves, and I’ll see if I can work a bit harder to earn some extra, and then I can start paying you back.’

Sylvia tutted impatiently. ‘As if I want paying back. That was never meant to be a loan, Nell, it was for you and the kids, from me. And as for you, I think you’re working hard enough as it is. Look at how tired and drawn you are. I know you’ve got to earn your living, but that laundry’s flipping doing you in.’

Nell bit her bottom lip, trying but failing to hold back the tears.

‘Sweetheart, whatever’s wrong? Is it that bad?’

‘Take no notice of me. Like you said, I’m tired, that’s all.’

‘You have got to give up that job.’

‘How can I? If I’m not working, how would I
pay the rent and feed the kids? It’s hard enough as it is.’

‘You’ll just have to come back here and work with us then, won’t you? You remember what a lark we used to have together.’

Nell lifted her head. ‘And I remember what Bernie said – he doesn’t want me working here.’

‘Rubbish.’ Now it was Sylvia who was lying. ‘That was when things were slow, but you saw how busy we were downstairs. He’d be glad of having an extra pair of hands, the lazy old sod. You’d be able to earn more than enough for the three of you.’ Sylvia winked. ‘And you know me, when I set my mind to it I can wind that man round my little finger, just like a chubby bit of string.’