by Sam Michaels
Norman knew full well that Hefty wouldn’t hit Joan, and he also knew the old tart would gob off at the big man, but it was down to them to sort it out. He almost smiled as he imagined the scene. Joan was a feisty woman, but she was getting on now, and wasn’t pulling in the punters like she once did. She was jealous of the other girls in the house and was always picking fights with them.
Norman was sick to the back teeth of the other girls moaning to him about it. They didn’t think Joan was pulling her weight, and truth be known, he knew it too. She’d worked for him for years though, so he’d given her a bit of leeway, but years of drinking heavily had ravaged her once firm body. She was nothing but a scrag of a woman now, and he wasn’t a bleedin’ charity. No, it was time for her to go, and what happened to her from here on wasn’t his problem. He was more concerned with discovering who had stolen his tobacco.
7
‘Please, stop whining, child! I ain’t got nothing for you!’ Fanny Mipple yelled impatiently at her daughter, Molly. The girl had been crying with hunger for hours, and her continual whinging was beginning to get Fanny down.
She’d gone without herself to provide a few crusts for her four older children, and now there was nothing left. Her lazy pig of a husband had made sure of that. He’d sooner see his kids starve than have an empty belly himself. She’d have been better off without him. At least she would get help from the government. The poor laws would see to it that she and her children were looked after, but she wasn’t entitled to any help because she was lumbered with an abled-bodied spouse.
Able-bodied my arse, she thought. Her husband rarely bothered to haul his idle, slovenly bones from his bed, preferring to wallow in what she could only describe as self-pity, though what he had to feel sorry for himself about was beyond her! After all, he’d moved quick enough when he’d taken her and put yet another baby in her stomach. She couldn’t believe it when she’d fallen pregnant with Molly. She could barely nourish her existing children, but after several failed attempts at a home abortion, the child had been born. She’s a fighter, thought Fanny, and felt guilty for being so abrupt with her daughter.
Mike, her husband, shouted out from behind the ragged curtain that divided the room. ‘Shut that fucking girl up!’
Fanny ran to her child and quickly gathered her up, though she knew no amount of love would quieten her. Molly screamed louder.
‘Shush, please, Molly, shush…’ Fanny whispered in her daughter’s ear. She was amazed that Molly even had the energy to cry, as she hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.
Molly wriggled, and continued to bawl, while Fanny paced back and forth in the small dark room. All five of her children slept on this side of the curtain. The four older kids in one bed, and Molly in a makeshift cot. A breeze wafted through the boarded-up window. There was no glass, only old pallet wood nailed to the frame. It wasn’t so bad in the summer, but it would be bitterly cold and draughty in the winter. Last year she’d tried hanging old potato sacks at the window, but it had done nothing to keep out the chill.
Once again, Fanny felt a surge of guilt. Not only did she struggle to feed her children but come winter she’d be barely able to keep them warm as well. Three of her kids had coats, which they’d have to sleep in, but it wouldn’t be long before they grew out of them.
Molly’s cries slowly faded to a whimper. At last, thought Fanny, now she could sit on the steps outside the railway station and hope for a few pennies. Best of all, her husband had no excuse to hit her again. At least he never laid a hand on the kids, but she bore the brunt of anything that upset him, and it didn’t take much to trigger him. Fanny had suffered several black eyes because of Molly’s crying, and a broken nose when her eldest had woken up screaming with a nightmare. The trouble was, if she was hurt, they’d all go hungry. People were reluctant to give anything to a beggar with prolific bruises.
Mostly, her children knew to be quiet at home, and they all tried their best to stay out of the house as much as they could. Fanny recalled the look of horror on their little, dirty faces when they’d witnessed their father punch her to the ground, all because the siblings had been arguing over something silly. Molly was yet to learn.
*
Dulcie had been deeply disturbed when she’d looked out of the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of two rats gnawing at the barrel. Acting quickly, she grabbed the mop, then rushed outside and began to frantically pound at the vermin. ‘Get out of ’ere,’ she yelled, as the rats scattered.
Ruby came running through the back door. ‘What’s going on, Dul?’
‘Rats, two of the little shits. I’ve got rid of them for now, but they’ll be back. I’m sure they can smell him.’
‘I’m not surprised – it is a bit whiffy. We’re going to have to do something,’ Ruby said, wrinkling her nose.
The women went inside and sat at the kitchen table. Dulcie wanted to heave at the thought of her husband’s corpse, slowly rotting, but covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t realise. I’m all bunged up with this bloody cold and can’t smell a thing.’
‘I noticed it the other day, but I wasn’t sure if it was the sewers. The stench is definitely coming from the barrel, and there’s a lot of flies buzzing round it too.’
‘We’ll have to dig a hole and bury it,’ Dulcie said, trying not to think of the barrel’s contents.
‘But what about the neighbours? You said they’d get suspicious. I bumped into Mary yesterday and she was asking after Percy.’
‘Well, we don’t have much choice, do we?’ Dulcie snapped, then added, ‘If we do it at silly o’clock in the morning, as long as we’re quiet, we’d probably get away with it.’
‘But what about Jack?’
‘He sleeps like a log so I’m sure he wouldn’t hear us. It’s been raining, so the ground is pretty soft. I think we should dig the hole next to the bunker, where that loose soil is. Is there a shovel in the lean-to?’
‘Yes, there is, so are we doing this tonight?’
‘The sooner the better, especially as it’s smelling,’ Dulcie answered.
‘I’ve got to be honest, the thought of him turning putrid in that barrel is really turning my stomach.’
‘Me too,’ Dulcie said, ‘but try and put it out of your mind. Just think about the barrel, not what’s inside it.’
Dulcie heard Georgina cry out from upstairs.
‘Georgina always wakes up at about three in the morning, but soon goes back down. We could do it then. Once she’s asleep again, I could come and get you?’ Ruby suggested.
‘Yes, good idea,’ Dulcie said, and then she was left with her tormented thoughts as Ruby left to see to Georgina. She wrung her hands, and closed her eyes, but then quickly opened them again. Every time her lids were shut, she saw Percy’s bloodshot eyes boring into her own. She’d hardly slept since the murder. Her dreams were filled with flashes of his face, dripping in blood, and she’d hear his voice, derisive and nasty, scathing in her ear.
Even in death, there was no escaping Percy, and now his decaying flesh was plaguing her too. It seemed dead or alive, her husband was her worst nightmare.
*
‘Jane, will you please stop giving the neighbour’s cat saucers of milk! The dirty, flea-bitten thing is on the sofa,’ Norman shouted to his wife as he glared menacingly at the ginger tom.
Jane came into the lounge, drying her hands on a tea towel. ‘Sorry, it’s Billy. He’s playing in the garden and left the back door open. Come on, Rusty, out you go,’ she said, gently swooshing the cat away.
‘I can’t believe it’s even got a bloody name now,’ Norman muttered under his breath.
Billy came charging into the room, and Norman noticed his son’s scuffed and dirty knees. A trickle of blood ran down his shin. That’s my boy, he thought, admiring the child’s strength. He liked it that Billy was tough, and rarely cried, unlike the other Nancy boys on the street who’d go running to Mummy whenever they fell over.
‘I’ll get rid of him, Dad,’ Billy offered, and ran towards the cat with his small fists clenched.
Rusty leapt from the sofa, and with his belly low to the ground, he scampered across the lounge, heading for the door. Billy swung his leg, and kicked the cat, catching him hard under his ribs. Rusty cried out, and Billy giggled.
‘Billy, you mustn’t do that!’ Jane chastised her son.
‘Leave the boy alone. You’re too soft with him. You don’t want him turning into a poofter.’
Billy puffed his chest out, clearly pleased with his father’s approval.
‘No, but I don’t want him being cruel either,’ Jane answered.
Norman recognised the look in his wife’s eyes. The expression on her face told him exactly what she was thinking. Like me, that’s what she means, he thought. She doesn’t want her son turning out like me.
Billy ran from the room, probably chasing the cat, and Jane lowered her voice as she said, ‘I saw Joan yesterday. She was a right old mess and slagging you off something rotten. I gave her a couple of bob – she looked like she needed it – but watch her, Norman, she’s trouble.’
‘I ain’t worried about Joan and you shouldn’t be giving her money! In fact, I don’t even want you talking to her. If you see her again, ignore her. Them tarts should know better than to address you. I’ll make sure Hefty has a word.’
‘Yes, well, Joan no longer works for you. Anyway, I’ve known the woman most of my life, long before she was at Livingstone Road. You can’t expect me to just cut her dead.’
‘I bloody can and that’s exactly what I expect you to do. I’m not having a wife of mine fraternising with old toms.’
Jane rolled her eyes and left the room, leaving Norman furious. If Joan dared to speak to his wife again, he’d have the whore killed. It wouldn’t be difficult, nobody would miss her, and it wouldn’t be the first time one of his ex-workers had been made to keep quiet… forever.
8
Ruby was on her way home from the chemist after buying medicine for Georgina’s phlegmy chest. It upset her to see the girl feeling poorly, but Dulcie had told her to stop being silly. She’d said coughs and colds were part of growing up, but it worried Ruby. She’d seen too many mothers mourning the loss of their infants and it’d always started with a germ. Dulcie had moaned, saying they could ill afford the medicine until Jack had sold the stolen tobacco, but the woman had softened after witnessing Georgina having a coughing fit.
Ruby thought about the tins of Cope’s under the stairs. She’d been happy to use Georgina’s pram to help Jack retrieve his haul. It had somehow made her feel more part of the family. They all shared secrets now, though Jack could never discover the truth about Percy.
As she turned a corner, she recognised a familiar face. It was Oppo, a young lad whose mother used to work the streets with her. She couldn’t help but grin broadly at the cheeky little street urchin as he hobbled towards her. He’d had a limp since he’d broken his leg and it’d never healed properly.
‘Hello, Ruby, I ain’t seen you in yonks!’
‘Hi ya, Oppo. I know, it’s been a long time.’
‘Where ya going? What ya got in that bag?’
Ruby tried not to laugh. Oppo hadn’t changed a bit – he was always full of questions. ‘This is some medicine for a friend’s baby that I look after now. I’m on my way home. I live with the baby and her grandma. How are you?’
Oppo shoved his hands in his ripped shorts and stepped from side to side. She noticed the fronts of his shoes had been cut and his toes were peeping through. ‘I’m all right. Where do you live then?’
‘Just a few streets away from here,’ Ruby answered. The boy’s blond hair was dirty, making it look more like brown. He had a runny nose and was so malnourished that his cheekbones poked out.
‘Oh, right. I’ll walk wiv ya,’ Oppo said, beaming. ‘I’m good at being a gentleman.’
‘You are indeed. How’s your mum?’ Ruby asked.
Oppo pulled silly faces at a little boy in a pram passing them.
‘’Ere, look, did you see that baby laughing at me. Me mum says I’ve got a way of making people laugh. She said girls like that. I ain’t sure how she is ’cos I ain’t seen her for a few days.’
Ruby had always liked Oppo but had never had a lot of time for his mother. The woman hadn’t seemed to care much about her son, and it wasn’t unusual for her to go missing for days or even weeks at a time. ‘Well, your mum is right, us girls do like a man who makes us laugh.’
‘Watch this,’ Oppo said, and did a silly walk imitating a chicken, which was all the funnier with his limp.
Ruby chuckled, but they were soon outside Dulcie’s house.
‘Can I come in and see the baby? I bet I can make her laugh too like the one we saw earlier. Oh, go on, Rube, say yes.’
‘All right, yes, but don’t be a nuisance to Dulcie.’
‘Thanks, Rube, I won’t,’ Oppo answered, clearly excited.
Ruby showed him through to the front room and introduced him to Dulcie. She left them chatting whilst she fetched him a drink and a biscuit. When she returned, she thought Dulcie looked to be enjoying his company.
‘Oppo, what sort of name is that?’ Dulcie asked.
‘Me name’s Thomas really, but everyone calls me Hoppo on account of me gammy leg. No-one round ’ere says their aitches so now I’m called Oppo. I don’t mind, ’cos Tom is a bit boring.’
‘What happened to your leg, son?’
‘I can’t really remember ’cos I was only young when it happened, but me mum says I fell down some stairs and it broke.’
‘If you were young when it happened, how old are you now?’
‘I’m ten. I fink I was three when me leg broke. Can I use your khazi, missus?’
‘Yes, it’s through the kitchen – you’ll see the door.’
‘Cor, you’ve got an indoor privy! I ain’t never been a toilet indoors before!’
Oppo charged out of the room and Ruby quietly called after him, ‘Keep the noise down. You’ll wake Georgina.’
‘He’s a nice lad,’ Dulcie said.
‘He is. I’ve always had a soft spot for him. That story about his leg, it ain’t entirely true, though he doesn’t know the truth.’
‘Oh, what really happened then?’
‘His mother worked the top end of the street. I don’t think you knew her? Kath? Anyway, she was off her face once and told me that when she was drunk, she’d fallen down the stairs with Oppo in her arms. He’d only been a toddler and his leg hadn’t been the same since.’
‘Ah, the poor boy,’ Dulcie said. ‘Go and make him a sandwich. He doesn’t look like he’s eaten a good meal in weeks.’
Ruby was pleased to see Oppo scoff the food she’d prepared and as he swallowed the last mouthful, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
‘That was bootiful. Thanks, missus,’ he chirped to Dulcie.
‘You’re welcome, lad. Where do you live?’
‘Me and me mum are in one of the dosshouses off Green Lane, but we’ll probably be doing a midnight flit soon. She always has us moving around staying one step ahead of the rent collector. I’d better go now, but can I come back again and see Georgina when she’s awake?’
Dulcie looked at the boy affectionately. ‘Come back tomorrow and I’ll have a nice pie made for you,’ she offered.
‘Cor, thanks,’ Oppo replied with eyes like saucers.
Ruby saw him out, then walked back into the front room with a smirk on her face.
‘And what are you grinning at?’ Dulcie asked.
‘You! You’re a big softie really.’
‘Well, he’s a sweet boy and quite the little charmer. He reminds me of my Jack when he was a little ’un.’
‘He is a good kid,’ Ruby said, then added, ‘Shame the same can’t be said about his mother.’
*
After being relentlessly nagged about the rent money, Jack had at last come up with an idea of how to offl
oad the contraband in his mother’s cupboard. Alfred Linehan lived in the flat above the one he used to share with Sissy. He knew the man ran errands on the street, so assumed he must know just about everyone and have plenty of contacts. Alfred wasn’t well off, far from it, and he felt sure he could tempt the man into selling the tobacco.
It didn’t take Jack long to find Alfred. He soon spotted his tall, wiry frame hanging about outside the candle factory, and made straight for him.
‘Hello, Alfred, how are you?’
Alfred looked surprised, but then Jack noticed the man seemed awkward.
‘Oh, hello, mate. Yeah, I’m good. How about yourself?’
‘I’m not too bad and my daughter, Georgina, is doing well. We’re living at my mum’s place. How’s your nipper?’ Jack asked, trying to sound casual. He wished he could remember the boy’s name.
‘Stanley, he’s four now and shooting up. I can just about keep up with him growing out of his shoes. Listen, I’m really sorry about… you know…’
‘Yeah, thanks. I can’t say it’s been easy. Sissy was the love of my life, but we’re doing all right. Anyway, I take it you’re still running?’
‘Bloody mug’s game this. A grown man being an errand boy. Still, it pays the rent. The army won’t have me ’cos of my spastic arm, not that I’m bothered. The family who moved in after you have just been thrown out ’cos the army said the old man was a deserter. The poor sod was shot for being scared shitless. The bleedin’ government then went and stopped his missus claiming a pension so now she’s a widow, homeless and penniless. Seems to me our own forces are worse than the fucking Germans!’
‘That’s tough, mate. I’m glad they don’t want me neither, seeing the state of some of the blokes who’ve come home… legs, arms, eyes missing, fuck that. Talking of which, I bumped into your brother-in-law the other day. He didn’t know who I was or nothing.’
‘I know, it’s a shame. Edwin was a good bloke but whatever happened to him in them trenches has turned his brain to mush. Me sister had to chuck him out – she couldn’t handle him. I try and help her when I can but it’s hard.’
