Tuppence to Tooley Street (19 page)

Danny grinned and raised two fingers to his forehead. ‘Okay, ma’am. See yer then.’

 

The smell of roast lamb and baked potatoes drifted up the passage as Danny let himself in. In the front parlour he saw the prone forms of his father and Joe Copeland sprawled out in the easy chairs with Sunday papers lying opened on their laps. Both had their mouths gaping and Frank was snoring. Danny walked out into the scullery and found his mother and Maggie washing up the dinner plates. Alice gave her son a long hard look. ‘And where might you ’ave bin? I’ve ’ad yet dinner in the oven fer ages.’

Danny gave his mother a peck on the cheek. ‘Sorry, Ma. I met somebody.’

‘I guessed as much. You know I put the dinner up as soon as yer dad gets in from The Globe. ’Im an’ Joe ’ave ’ad theirs an’ fergot about it.’

Danny glanced at Maggie and pulled a face. ‘I was waitin’ fer a train at Waterloo. I was meetin’ this nurse an’ I walked her . . .’

Alice looked surprised. ‘A nurse yer say? Was that someone yer met when yer was wounded?’

‘’S’right, Ma. She’s a Welsh girl an’ she’s stayin’ in London till termorrer night, then she’s off ter Cardiff. I’m gonna show’er aroun’ town ternight.’

Maggie picked up a pile of plates and bent down to put them in the cupboard of the dresser. ‘Are yer gonna bring ’er ’ome, Danny?’ she said, winking at her mother.

‘I dunno. I might do. Yer’ll ’ave ter wait an’ see, won’t yer?’ Danny replied offhandedly.

Maggie grimaced. ‘Sorry fer breavin’.’

Alice handed her daughter the tea tray. ‘’Ere, take this in the front room an’ wake them two piss artists up. Wiv them two sprawled out there’s no room fer anybody else in there. ’Ere you are, son. Take yer dinner in, an’ don’t spill the gravy. When yer finished yer can tell me all about yer nurse.’

Joe and Frank were rousing when Danny walked into the parlour. Maggie gave her husband a cold stare and started to pour the tea. Frank sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. ‘Ello, son. I reckoned yer might ’ave come up The Globe. We’ad a good session, didn’t we, Joe?’

Maggie handed her father a cup of tea. ‘’E ’ad ter meet somebody, didn’t yer, Danny?’

The young man buried his head over the plate and sawed away at the meat, but Maggie’s remark was lost on the drowsy pair anyway. Frank yawned and stirred his tea with deliberation. ‘I was talkin’ ter Eddie Kirkland. ’E said Biff Bowden’s dog’s runnin’ at Catford next. ’E said ter ask yer if yer got any more o’ them pills. ’E said they made Bonky Williams run like nobody’s business. What’s that all about then? Eddie wouldn’t tell me, ’e said ter ask you.’

Danny told them the full story and the two older men burst into laughter. Alice had come into the room just in time to hear Maggie voice her disgust. ‘I reckon yer done a silly fing. Fancy givin’ ’im cascara. Yer could ’ave made poor ole Bonky really ill.’

Danny cut a potato in half and held one piece on the end of his fork, ‘’Ow the ’ell was I ter know the stupid idiot would take ’em. ’E could ’ave made out.’

‘What, wiv the copper breavin’ down ’is neck? Strikes me you men are all the same. You ain’t got no savvy.’

Joe Copeland laughed aloud. ‘C’mon, Maggie, what about the time you an’ Lil Franklin put gin in your forelady’s orangeade at the party?’

Maggie sniffed. ‘That was different, we all detested ’er. Bonky is s’posed ter be ’is pal,’ she said, jerking her thumb in Danny’s direction.

‘Well ’e is, sort of,’ Danny said, chewing on the potato. ‘Anyway, what’s a dose o’ the runs between friends. I mean, it could ’ave bin worse. That fat git of a tec looked like ’e was gonna give poor ole Bonky a right goin’ over when ’e got ’im ter the nick. If it wasn’t fer me Bonky could well be walkin’ around wiv a couple o’ cracked ribs–at least.’

Maggie was beginning to see the funny side of it but she kept a straight face and walked back out into the scullery.

Danny looked around. ‘Where’s the kids?’

Alice was folding the tablecloth. ‘Lucy an’ Ben ’ave took’em up Black’eath. Ben’s made ’em a kite,’ she said, brushing her hand over the table.

‘Connie wiv ’em, Ma?’ Danny asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach contentedly.

Alice Sutton became serious. ‘No, she’s gone round ter see Jimmy Ellis’s mum. Somebody told ’er they ’eard ole Lord’Aw–’Aw on the wireless last night. ’E was goin’ on about our ships gettin’ sunk, an’ ’e give out some ships’ names. People should ’ave more sense. I dunno what they mus’ be finkin’, worryin’ the poor little cow like that.’

‘Jimmy’s ship wasn’t mentioned, was it, Ma?’ Danny asked.

‘No, but she’s all worried. She’s gone round ter see if ’is mum’s ’eard from ’im.’

Frank Sutton was nodding off to sleep again and Joe was trying to fold the paper without much success. Danny got up and stretched. ‘I’m gonna go up an’ ’ave a read of the papers, Ma. When I get married can I still come round fer me Sunday dinner? That meal was ’andsome.’

Alice smiled. ‘’Fore yer go upstairs, I wanna ’ave a word wiv yer. In the scullery.’

Danny followed his mother out into the tiny backroom. Alice folded her arms and looked at him. ‘What’s she like?’

‘What’s who like?’ Danny smiled.

‘You know who I’m talkin’ about. The nurse. What’s she like?’

‘She’s pretty, Ma. She was the nurse who looked after me at Dover ’ospital.’

‘Why don’t yer bring the girl ’ome ter meet me an’ yer dad? We could fank ’er fer lookin’ after yer, couldn’t we?’

‘I dunno about this visit, she ain’t got much time, but I’ll try an arrange it fer next time she comes, okay?’

Alice Sutton looked into the faded mirror that was hung on the wall by the yard door. She pressed and patted her hair and her eyes caught Danny’s in the reflection. ‘You know you ought ter fink about settlin’ down wiv a nice girl, Danny. Me an’ yer farver don’t like the idea of you workin’ fer that bookie. You ought ter see about gettin’ yerself a decent job. That Tony Allen’s got a bad name, ’e gets in wiv a nasty crowd. I ’eard yer farver an’ Joe talkin’ last night. The police ’ave got their eye on’im, they fink ’e’s in on the black market game.’

Danny puffed. ‘Look, Ma, it’s only people talkin’. If the law knew or suspected anyfing they wouldn’t broadcast it, would they? Some people are jealous of what ’e’s got. ’E ain’t a bad bloke. ’E give me a job, didn’t ’e?’

‘I ain’t sayin’ ’e’s a bad bloke, Danny, but that Jack Mason is a rotter. I’ve ’eard a lot about ’im. Some of them uvver blokes ’e goes wiv ain’t very nice either. Jus’ you be careful, that’s all I’m sayin’. We don’t want ter come visitin’ yer in prison. The ’ospital was enough.’

Danny put his arm around his mother’s narrow shoulders. ‘I’ll be very careful, Ma, I know what I’m doin,’ he promised.

Up in his bedroom Danny kicked off his shoes and sprawled out on his bed. The room was cool and quiet. He lay with his hands clasped behind his head and stared at a crack in the ceiling, thinking about Alison, going over their meeting in his mind. He let his eyes follow the line in the ceiling and his thoughts drifted. He found himself comparing her with Kathy. They were both pretty and both nice to be with, but they were so different. With Kathy it was easy to read her thoughts, and he thought of that Saturday night. Then he remembered the night at the dog track when she had told him in no uncertain terms that they must not see each other again, yet he was sure she wanted him to. He was sure too that Kathy was desperately unhappy with Jack Mason. She had realised her mistake but she was stubborn and was determined to stay with him, especially now with a baby on its way. Alison on the other hand was mysterious, she had a way of switching the conversation away from herself and he wanted to know more about her.

He followed the line in the ceiling and noticed for the first time that it was starting down the wall. The gaff’s falling apart, he thought to himself as he twisted onto his side and bunched up the pillow. Through the bedroom window he could see chimney stacks and cracked chimney pots standing out stark against the sky. The view was too familiar and he rolled over again. Maybe he was being too impatient. No doubt Alison would relax a little more and talk about herself in her own good time. Perhaps he was comparing her too much with the girls he had known before–after the first five minutes most of them had given him a potted life history. Maybe Welsh girls were different. Alison had told him something of her life in the Valleys and about her father, but there seemed to be a curtain which she pulled down when he prompted her to talk about herself, and about her life at the hospital where she was working, and her social life. Maybe he was expecting too much of her, he thought. There would be time enough tonight to talk more.

He would take Alison up West, maybe they would stop off at The Globe on the way back and he could show her off to his pals. The only problem with that idea, he suddenly realised, was Bonky Williams. Bonky was still a little offhand with him over the cascara episode and it would be just like him to get up to one of his tricks. It might be a better idea to pop in at The Horseshoe in Bermondsey Lane. He could show Alison off to Tony Arpino, who was always to be found drinking there.

Danny drifted off to sleep, while down in the tiny parlour below things were rather subdued. Frank and his drinking partner Joe were also sleeping off the effects of their Sunday drinking session. Their snores had driven Alice to her friend Annie Barnes’s house while Maggie sat alone in the scullery. The
News of the World
lay open at her elbow as she fretted over her two children. Maggie had just read that Churchill was going on the air that night to deliver an important speech. She was convinced that she would be doing the right thing by the children in getting them out of London, but she and Joe had had words about it the previous evening. He thought she was being hysterical and he didn’t seem to realise that it wouldn’t be long before the whole war blew up around them. All the papers said that British cities could expect severe air attacks and there would almost certainly be heavy casualties. What if anything happened to her children? Joe had got angry with her and stormed off to the pub saying that if the kids were sent away from London they could get ill treated. What then? Maggie sighed and picked up the paper again. She started to read an article about a bishop and a chorus girl. It all seemed very familiar to her and she turned the page. Joe’s snoring carried out to the scullery and Maggie threw down the
News of the World
and walked out into the backyard.

On the stroke of eight Alison left the dairy and saw the figure of Danny Sutton sauntering along in her direction, looking very smart in a grey suit. Danny saw her walking towards him and he quickened his step. He kissed her on the cheek as they met and he could smell her freshness. Alison’s hair shone and her face looked rosy. She was wearing a printed dress that hugged her slim figure and accentuated her small rounded breasts. She carried a cardigan over her arm and a small handbag was slung over her shoulder. Danny smiled at her as they started towards London Bridge Station. ‘You look very nice,’ he remarked.

Alison was aware of his strong clasp and she felt strangely excited. ‘You look rather smart,’ she said softly as they strolled on, shoulders touching.

The electric train rumbled over the railway bridge that spanned the Thames and slid into Charing Cross Station. Danny and Alison alighted and walked out into the Strand. The evening was warm and pleasant, and a slight breeze was blowing. They skirted pigeon–infested Trafalgar Square and stood for a while hand–in–hand, gazing down on the fountains that spurted up from artesian wells, the couchant lions guarding the high column and the war–scarred admiral, Lord Nelson. And other young couples were sitting around the fountains or strolling among the strutting birds, servicemen and women and nurses still in uniform mingling in a colourful throng. Children chased the pigeons and dipped toffee–smeared hands in the cold water, while souvenir sellers plied their tin badges and tiny Union Jacks. The base of the column was boarded up; and at the north end of the square the imposing National Gallery was ready for war, a wall of sandbags reaching high up the stone pillars. Scurrying clouds seemed to brush the head of the august admiral and a pink evening light softened the fronts of the stone buildings. Starlings chattered noisily in the trees and flew away in wheeling formations as a taxi–cab backfired in the Mall.

For a time the young couple merely stood and took in the scene without saying a word. Danny felt at home here. He remembered his childhood, when for a penny ticket on a number 36 tram he would set off to see the sights of London. He was proud of his knowledge of the capital, and when Alison asked him about their famous surroundings he was able to elaborate on some of the finer points.

‘See those lions? They were designed by a bloke called Lan’seer. That column is 145 feet ’igh. See over there? That’s St Martin’s in the Fields. They ’ave lunchtime concerts there nearly every day.’

Alison leaned against his shoulder and watched his face as he talked. She noticed the occasional nervous twitch of his lip, and she liked the way he laughed aloud. Danny was beginning to intrigue her, and she wanted to savour the feeling. Her racing thoughts worried her and a spasm of excitement passed through her. ‘Let’s walk on, Danny,’ she said, squeezing his hand.

‘Okay, let’s go this way. We can go ter Piccadilly Circus. I used ter do this walk when I was a kid,’ he grinned.

In the Charing Cross Road they stopped to have a drink. The pub was full of weekend visitors and all the seats were taken. When Danny finally managed to get served he steered Alison into a corner and they stood very close while they sipped their drinks. The pub was noisy and bustling. An elbow caught Danny in the back and he gave the customer a long hard look. Alison giggled, finally drawing a reluctant grin from her escort.

‘Let’s get out of here. I want to see this famous Piccadilly Circus you’ve been telling me about,’ she said.