The Fight for Lizzie Flowers (19 page)

‘Ah, Mr Flowers! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’ The smallest of the three men held out his hand. ‘The name’s Leonard – Leonard Savage.’

This came as no surprise to Danny. From Lizzie’s description, they fitted. Three goons with cheap suits and hats and the stink of even cheaper brilliantine.

‘What took you so long?’ Danny said.

‘So Mrs Flowers passed on the message?’ Savage pushed aside the flap of his suit. Danny knew the action was meant to intimidate. Hinting at the weapon that may or may not have been
waiting within easy reach.

‘I don’t take kindly to threats,’ Danny replied, nodding to the two men behind Savage. ‘If you want to talk, talk. But it’s just us. Tweedledum and Tweedledee
aren’t invited.’

The smaller man laughed. ‘You have a sense of humour, Mr Flowers.’

‘I wasn’t joking. Get rid of them.’

‘They’re my insurance, naturally.’

‘Your choice,’ Danny said dismissively.

Savage jerked his head at Cal. ‘What about him?’

Turning to Cal, Danny gave a brief nod.

‘That’s better,’ Savage said as Cal drifted into the workshop and the two heavies shambled off towards the flash green-and-black Daimler parked nearby.

‘If you’re carrying hardware,’ Danny said shortly.

Savage opened his jacket. Sneering, he murmured, ‘Relax, Mr Flowers, I’ve no quarrel with you.’

‘Wrong,’ Danny replied coldly. ‘You upset a close friend of mine. When you did that, you upset me.’

Savage’s face darkened. ‘I simply put a proposition to Mrs Flowers—’

‘Forget it,’ Danny barked. ‘I’m not interested in your bent services. Neither is she.’

‘You’re a hard man to deal with.’

‘I don’t like racketeers.’

‘I come here as a potential buyer,’ Savage said, opening his arms innocently.

Danny laughed. ‘The motors here won’t interest you.’

Savage took a white handkerchief from his top pocket and patted his forehead. ‘I’m not after your stock. It’s your garage I like. Plenty of room and a nice, comfortable cellar
for servicing my vehicles.’

‘How do you know there’s a cellar?’ Danny took in a sharp breath.

‘Just a guess, that’s all.’

Danny’s stomach dropped. Could this be the thief? Savage was staring at him as if he knew what he was thinking.

‘You’re the animal who did the job,’ Danny accused in a hoarse whisper.

‘Careful, now, Mr Flowers.’

Danny tried to keep calm. But his blood felt as though it was boiling. Savage was taunting him. And the more he taunted, the more Danny felt himself losing control. But even if he managed to get
his hands around Savage’s throat, there would be no time to wring a confession out of him. How many more men were in that vehicle? Were they carrying weapons?

It was a trap and Danny knew he was about to walk right into it.

‘What are a few tools when the chips are down?’ Savage goaded. ‘To a businessman like me, they’re worth practically nothing.’

‘Then why nick them?’ Danny said bitterly.

‘Did I say I did?’ Savage looked around him innocently. ‘Look at the bigger picture. I’m offering you a generous wedge. Enough to buy yourself a smart little set-up in
the city with spanking new motors. The most you’ll have to do all day long is polish them. Seems to make a lot more sense to me than roughing it out here.’

‘And why should you do that?’

‘I told you. I’m a businessman.’

‘So that’s what you call yourself.’

‘Don’t stand in the way of progress, Mr Flowers. It could be dangerous.’

‘Why do you really want my place?’

Savage smiled, his thick lips parting as he said softly, ‘I’m taking over this turf, son, whether you like the idea or not.’

Danny braced himself and took a step forward. ‘Get out and off my property.’

Savage stared at him, his face filling with anger. Suddenly he looked over his shoulder and signalled to his men.

‘Think twice before you bring them into this,’ Danny warned.

‘And what are you going to do?’ mocked Savage, laughing. ‘Stamp your feet in a puddle of oil?’

‘No, I’m going to have my mate drive that eight-ton Port of London Authority lorry behind me straight at you.’ Danny raised his hand and heard Cal start up the engine.
‘It can kick up quite a speed from the off and is as tough as a tank, and it will flatten anything in its path, including you, your boys and your motor.’

Savage took a step back as Danny heard Cal drive the lorry forward.

‘You’ll regret this,’ Savage shouted, stumbling in his effort to join his men. ‘I’m not finished with you or your poxy garage.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ Danny replied, enjoying the powerful rumble of the engine as the lorry crept nearer. Savage glared as he gathered his men and hurried towards their waiting
car.

‘Did we do the trick?’ Cal called from the cab high above Danny’s head.

‘Yeah, for now, anyway.’

Danny watched the limousine glide away, its tyres crunching on the gravel.

‘How much did he want?’ Cal asked as he dropped down from the lorry.

‘Not a penny.’ Danny dragged his gaze back to his friend. ‘He wants to buy us out.’

‘This place?’ Cal said in surprise. ‘The
garage
?’

‘We’ve got our thief,’ Danny nodded. ‘He more or less admitted to it.’

Cal gave a low oath. ‘Bastard.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘What are we going to do about it?’

‘Wait.’ Danny shrugged. ‘Not much else we can do.’

‘But why?’ Cal walked with Danny back to the garage. ‘What’s he want this place for?’

‘For servicing his vehicles, so he says.’

Cal laughed as they made their way around the lorry. ‘He ain’t a threat to you, mate. We’ve taken on bigger contenders in the mines.’

‘I don’t like being threatened, Cal.’ Danny replaced the hammer on the workbench. ‘He’ll be back, and we’ll be ready for him. I want to know where our tools
are. And I want them back – with interest.’

Cal grinned and sliding his hand to Danny’s shoulder, said, ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’

Bill Flowers winced at the strength of the pain. He knew it well, like a familiar tap at the front door. He sat perfectly still in his coms, allowing his legs to dangle over
the side of the bed. He turned gingerly to glance at the empty space beside him left by Gertie and it was then the agony struck. He gasped, grabbing the glass of water balanced on the night table.
It was spilled before he had time to suck it into his throat.

Bill felt the sweat break out like a rash all over him. He didn’t dare to move lest he make the pain intolerable. His eyes grew wide in fear. The sides of his mouth stuck together, as
though he’d trudged a week in the desert.

How long would this spasm last? Always his silent question. He had spent all his life a coster, proud of his strength and agility. Now he was counting the seconds to when he might stumble across
the bedroom floor to call for help.

Yet he couldn’t entertain putting on Gertie again; their night’s sleep had already been disrupted. Frank had screamed out, and they’d rushed into his room, only to find him
half out of bed. Eventually they’d settled him with the laudanum. But sleep was impossible after that.

Had Gertie managed to drift off again? he wondered. She must be downstairs or in the yard khazi, her first port of call in the mornings. With a gasp, he buckled forward, the breath leaving his
body.

How would they find him? More accurately, how would Gertie find him? Sprawled out on the floor in his coms, the indignity of death revealing the pee stains on his flies.

Bill shook his head sadly. He’d never have believed it of himself; from a healthy young man into a helpless old fool. Almost overnight, it seemed. Through his sweat-laden lids, he saw the
small round bottle of Mackenzie’s. The smelling salts beckoned to him from the wash stand.

A yard’s distance only. Maybe not even that. But it might as well be a mile. He could smell himself, his fear: a fresh, fearful odour from his armpits. The vice tightened. He would be
rendered unconscious soon.

But he welcomed the end now. He’d had enough. This was where he ducked out.

‘Take me, you hear! Get it over and done with!’

Then suddenly he could breathe again. His body fell limp, released from the tension. The attack ended so abruptly, he couldn’t believe it was gone. He sat, perched like a wounded bird,
ready to fly or flop. He stared at the bare boards beneath his feet. His gaze was fixed on them, wide still, but in surprise this time, not fear. Had the enemy withdrawn, he wondered? As if
watching from a distance, he saw himself, an old man, skin and bone, the brittle skeleton beneath the dirty underwear. Alive still, would you believe!

He made a noise, just to see if he was still in the land of the living. He coughed and, hearing the strength in his lungs, he coughed again, encouraged. A drop of sweat from his forehead
trickled to the end of his nose. He cautiously wiped it away.

Inching himself upright, he took a breath. ‘The pain’s gone,’ he muttered in amazement as he gazed around the room. The furniture was in perspective; hard edges of the brown
wood wardrobe, the eight-drawer tallboy, Daisy’s nursing chair in the corner, the one she’d used to feed Frank. The green leaves of the aspidistra re-homed here from Frank’s sick
room. Life looked as clear as a bell again.

Closing his eyes, Bill nodded. The Grim Reaper would have to wait. And let’s hope he has the patience of a saint, Bill added to his prayer.

Clutching hold of the bed end, he shuffled to the wash stand. Unscrewing the top of the sal volatile, he shoved the bottle under his nostrils. He gasped, as the reviver sped its way to his
brain.

So far, so good, he thought, taking another shot for good measure. The light, the pale shimmer of dawn, flowed in through the windows.

Bill made his way to the chair. His trousers, shirt, collar and tie were folded over its back. He wouldn’t bother with a strip wash this morning. He’d make things easy on himself.
Savouring his second wind, he pulled back his shoulders, slyly waiting to see if his heart remained in his chest.

It did. No pain, no disturbance. Only a draining weakness. He paused for another breath and decided to sit down for ten minutes more.

Returning to the bed, he lowered himself slowly, exhaustion in every limb. Placing his palms on his knees, he dropped his head, staring at the boards once again.

His thoughts returned to Frank in the next room. He’d be suffering the effects of the sedative, no doubt. But they’d had little choice in the early hours when in his distress
he’d knocked over his pee bottle.

He heard a movement downstairs. Was it Gertie? No. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the rattle of the front-door key on its string.

Bill hoisted himself to his feet. He stood uncertainly, trying to decipher the noises. Someone was coming upstairs. Too heavy a tread for Gertie. Bill stared at the bedroom door. Softly it
creaked open. A figure appeared. He blinked to clear his vision.

‘Danny?’

‘It’s me. Are you up yet?’

‘Do I look as if I’m kipping?’ Bill managed to chuckle.

Danny strode across the floor, surprising Bill as always as he stared at the reflection of himself as a young man. Frank was Daisy, had her nature too. But Danny was a Flowers all the way
through. He seemed to have filled out, put muscle onto those fine broad shoulders. And the light in his eyes, as blue as his own once were, warmed Bill to his cockles.

‘Taken to sleeping in, Dad?’ Danny teased good-naturedly and Bill grinned.

‘None of that, you cheeky blighter.’

‘Where’s Gertie?’

‘Out in the lav, I expect.’ He nodded to the wash stand. ‘Pass me my choppers and you’ll see what a beauty I am.’

Danny took the enamel mug containing the set of brown dentures and gave it to Bill. ‘Give us your best smile, then.’

‘Patience, my boy. A good thing is worth waiting for.’ Bill smiled widely. ‘How’s this for good looks?’

‘Blinding,’ replied Danny, returning the mug, then sitting on the bed beside his father.

‘So to what do we owe the honour?’ Bill screwed up his eyes.

Danny chuckled. ‘So your memory is slipping too?’

Suddenly Bill remembered. ‘You’ve come for your brother.’

His son’s face clouded. ‘Aye. But this ain’t my best day, Dad.’

‘Then walk away now, son. I’m not asking for help.’

‘Always the proud gaffer, eh?’

Bill lifted his weak arms. ‘We’ll manage. We always have.’

Danny looked away. ‘Where is he?’

Reluctantly, Bill jerked his head. ‘Next door.’ Perhaps he should just refuse outright. Lizzie had meant well, the girl had good intentions. But the burden would be heavy. His two
sons and her in the middle. What trouble would brew in that mix?

Danny nodded slowly, as if reading his father’s thoughts. ‘Listen, Dad, it’s taken me a while to swallow on the wedding. I didn’t want to come round here with ill
feeling. It’s not easy, losing what you’ve wanted all your life. But it was my mistake, leaving Lizzie. I should have stayed in the shop, built up the business. Seen that you was all
right and put a ring on her finger.’

‘You’ve not lost your Lizzie.’ Bill cleared his dry throat. ‘She’s in your corner, son.’

‘Not mine,’ Danny said, stiffening his back.

‘Now then, that’s bitter talk.’

‘It ain’t settled with Frank,’ Danny continued and Bill’s heart squeezed to hear those words. ‘It was you who raised me to fight fair. I’ll admit
there’s been moments I’ve wanted to hurt Frank. But I’ll square up to him when the time’s right. And I know it ain’t now.’

Bill nodded slowly. ‘You’ll have a fair wait, considering the state of him.’

‘Frank’s fooled us all before.’

‘You think this is all to get your girl’s sympathy?’ Bill asked in surprise.

‘Why not? He’s tried every trick in the book so far.’

Bill was grateful that life had blessed him with two sons, but to see them at odds like this was a terrible thing.

After a while, Danny spoke again. ‘Bert’s bringing the van over. We’ll take him in that.’