by Mary Gibson
He tried to keep his voice even. ‘I think it’s worth having a search round the lane…’
‘Just in case,’ Conny said, and he nodded.
They hurried downstairs, and on the way Johnny checked with Mrs Wilson.
‘I been out all day, Rasher, but the kids have been here.’ She invited him into her kitchen, where her husband and small brood were seated around the table.
‘Have any of you seen Kate today?’ she asked. They looked up from their plates, shaking their heads. ‘Only the front door was on the latch when I come in… I’m wondering if she left it open?’
‘No, that was me…’ the eldest Wilson child admitted. ‘I left it on the latch when we went to play marbles in the kerb.’
It wasn’t unusual to leave doors unlocked in East Lane – there was so little for strangers to steal and neighbours wouldn’t dare.
‘How long did you stay out playing?’ Johnny asked.
‘Not sure, it was just getting dark.’
‘And you didn’t see Kate coming out at all?’
‘Sorry.’ The little boy shook his head and Mr Wilson got up.
‘I’ll help you look for her,’ he said, passing his plate to the children, who fell upon his unfinished potatoes.
Johnny sent Conny to the top of the lane, to Aunt Sarah’s, while Mr Wilson went off to check the opposite side of the street and the surrounding warehouses. Without much hope, he knocked on Sylvie’s door. Stan answered.
‘Why would she come ’ere?’ Stan asked, picking his teeth. The family were obviously eating tea.
‘She might be hurt, and your mum’s the nearest family…’
Stan was suddenly alert. ‘Hurt? Who by?’
‘It could have been an accident. She was doing metalwork, a tool might have slipped. What makes you think someone did it?’
Stan shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
Johnny leaned into the doorway and grabbed Stan’s shirt. ‘What do you know?’
‘Nothing! I just heard something about her old man…’
‘What about him?’
Johnny let him go, and Stan looked back into the passage and lowered his voice. ‘I heard his business is in right trouble and it’s all Kate’s fault. Seems she’s been opening her trap about him and he’s lost his investors.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Let’s just say I heard it at work. Anyway, Archie’s not the sort you want to cross.’
‘What’s that you’re saying about my brother? Get in here!’ Aunt Sylvie stood behind Stan and dragged him by the collar as if he were a little boy.
‘Rasher, you can sod off. Don’t come around here asking questions about my family business.’
‘He wasn’t!’ Stan ducked out of his mother’s grasp.
‘It looks like Kate’s been hurt,’ Johnny explained. ‘There’s blood in the garret and she’s gone missing. I just thought she might have come here.’
Now Sylvie’s face hardened. ‘Are you trying to say my brother’s hurt her?’
Johnny’s heart was racing and he’d had enough. They were all obsessed with Kate’s father. ‘Why the bloody hell would I think that?’ He looked from one to the other and a cold chill seized him. ‘But you two obviously do.’
Stan was sloping off back to his tea, but Sylvie turned and, yanking him back, ordered, ‘Get out there and help Rasher look for her.’
Just then Aunt Sarah came hurrying along the lane with Conny. ‘Have you found her?’ she asked Johnny, who noticed a glance pass between her and Sylvie.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps you could check if she went to the late clinic at the doctor’s, Sarah?’
‘She’ll take till tomorrow morning on her legs,’ Sylvie said. ‘I’ll get me coat and be there and back in no time.’
Stan went off to help Mr Wilson look around the warehouses and wharves. Johnny went to the last house in the lane with Conny in tow.
‘Did you know that mad old Longbonnet turned out to be Kate’s great-aunt?’ Conny asked as they hurried along the dank street, their breaths trailing white vapour.
‘I did. But I can’t think why she’d go to her and not me.’
Conny gave him a questioning look. ‘Only reason I can think of is because you’re her ex?’
‘Well, she’s moved on,’ Johnny said as they arrived at the end house.
And Conny sighed, ‘Blokes are so stupid.’
Longbonnet came to the door in her coat. ‘I was just going out with me supper delicacies, can it wait?’
‘It’s Kate,’ Johnny said. ‘She’s missing.’
Longbonnet’s kitchen was dark, except for a pool of light cast by the gas lamp on her table. The old woman’s baskets were packed and covered in white cloths. But she took off her coat. ‘Sit down there, and tell me exactly what you seen in that garret.’
As they were speaking, her ridged brown fingernails drummed a slow tattoo on the table. They told her about the upturned chair and the pool of blood and the soldering iron under the bed.
She plucked at her lip for a moment. ‘And the door was left ajar?’
Johnny nodded. This was a waste of time Kate wasn’t here. ‘I just thought there was a chance she’d be here… but we’d better get going.’ He stood up.
‘Hold yer horses, I’m thinking!’ The cracked voice had in that moment a surprising power. He sat down again, on the edge of the chair. ‘She wouldn’t have gone out and left her door ajar. But I remember there was a time, years ago – when she first started work – Janey locked her in, and Kate found a way out.’
Johnny nodded – he had heard the story from Kate before and always marvelled at her determination not to be imprisoned by anyone. ‘But why would she not just come out the front door?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘Because she couldn’t.’ Longbonnet looked up at the ceiling. ‘She’s in my garret!’ Longbonnet said it with such certainty that Johnny leaped for the stairs. But Longbonnet got there first and mounted them two at a time with surprising swiftness. She fumbled by the door for a candle and led the way into her garret. The small flame did little to illuminate the long, dark space and they stumbled about, searching with their hands rather than their eyes.
It was Longbonnet who reached her first, slumped by the door in the back wall. ‘I’ve got her!’ she called to the others, then put her face close to Kate’s. She kept it there for what seemed like an agonizingly long time.
‘Is she breathing?’ Johnny whispered, a catch in his voice.
‘There’s breath, but it’s weak. We need to get her warm, she’s like ice.’
He put his arms under Kate and lifted her gently. Her head was against his cheek, and he felt her blood, wet and sticky. Longbonnet held the candle high for Johnny as he negotiated the ladder-like stairs to her bedroom. They laid Kate on Longbonnet’s bed.
‘Oh, look at her poor head!’ Conny wailed. ‘What could have happened? There’s so much blood!’
Johnny looked up, his face ashen. ‘She could have just fallen and hit her head.’ But even as he said it, he remembered how Kate’s mum had died in just such a tragedy in the very same place.
Conny was shaking her head. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about that soldering iron, Rasher. She taught me how to use it – to keep me stepbrother out of me bed. Much good it did me. Much good it did her, by the looks of it, the poor darlin’.’
Conny was overtaken by sobs and Longbonnet sent her to the kitchen for water. ‘Get some of me clean basket cloths while you’re at it!’ she shouted after her.
Johnny had never felt so helpless. He looked to Longbonnet. ‘Has someone attacked her, do you think?’
‘We can’t know for sure till she can tell us. But if it’s anyone, it’ll be Archie Goss’s handiwork. He did it to her poor mother, so why not to her? I wouldn’t put it past him.’
‘You think her dad did this?’ Johnny leaped up. ‘I’ll murder the bastard!’
‘No! I’m not saying he did, I’m saying we need to wait and se
e. Don’t go off half-cocked. She needs you. Go to the phone box at Dockhead and ring for an ambulance. Well, get a move on!’
He didn’t argue. She was right – there was nothing they could know for certain until Kate woke. If she ever did… But as he dashed along Bermondsey Wall to the phone box, he found himself reciting aloud the litany I’ll murder him! I’ll murder him! to the black night and the empty streets until by the time he got to the glowing phone box it had become his faith. He trotted back to East Lane, his chest still heaving, and when he saw Martin leaning against the red Austin outside Kate’s, he embraced his rival. After telling him what had happened and what they suspected, Johnny repeated the murderous litany and Martin became his first convert.
‘I need to see my darling girl,’ Martin said as they entered Longbonnet’s. He looked out of place here. But his eyes locked onto Johnny’s, and in that instant they were not rivals but allies. After all, they both loved her. Longbonnet showed Martin upstairs and when he came down from seeing Kate, his eyes were red. He made no effort to disguise that he’d been crying and Johnny envied him. They heard the urgent clanging of the ambulance’s bell as it turned into East Lane. Johnny opened the door, letting in the dank night air.
The ambulance’s arrival had created a stir in East Lane and neighbours stood at their doors, talking to each other, speculating about who the unfortunate was and what had befallen them. It wouldn’t be long before the story of yet another Goss woman’s tragedy made its way into every house. But for now, they stood at a respectful distance, keeping their voices low.
Johnny was about to jump up into the ambulance when he hesitated, standing aside.
‘You should be the one to go, Martin.’
Martin stepped in and then offered Johnny a hand. ‘Come on. We’ll both go.’
*
In the green-walled hospital corridor, the two men stood awkwardly side by side. Kate had been whisked away to a ward and now the doctor wanted to know who was next of kin. Martin stepped forward. ‘I’m Kate’s fiancé.’
Johnny felt a jolt. He hadn’t realized it had gone this far and yet part of him didn’t mind. It was her life he cared about, her life and her happiness, even if it was with another man.
‘She seems to have suffered a head trauma. Here—’ the doctor pointed to his temple—‘and here.’ He pointed to the back of his head. ‘Possibly sustained in a fall?’
Johnny stepped forward. ‘It’s possible. She was making a tin bath – soldering.’ The doctor showed surprise. ‘She’s a tinsmith, but she was working at home and we thought she might have had an accident with a tool?’
The doctor gave a dismissive gesture. ‘Not unless she deliberately hit her head with one. But presumably there would have been an oven, heat, solder? She could have been overcome by fumes.’
Johnny shrugged. ‘Maybe. She’d been soldering for a few hours, in an attic, but there was a small window open…’
The doctor tutted. ‘Still, very dangerous. The fumes are noxious.’
Johnny didn’t want to say that Kate’s lungs had suffered much worse in her working life. But neither could he disagree. ‘And you are?’ the doctor asked.
‘Just a friend.’
‘Will you let us know when I can see her?’ Martin asked.
‘Yes. You can wait here.’ The doctor indicated some chairs ranged against the corridor wall.
‘Do you think it was the fumes?’ Martin asked when they were alone. His face was gaunt, pale and tight as one of his blank canvases, and Johnny’s heart went out to him.
‘It might have been. She knew the risks, but it’s like her to push herself. The bath was for Conny’s baby – she wanted to finish it before Conny got home, I expect.’
Martin nodded. ‘I hope to God it was the fumes…’
‘Me too.’
*
She was in a bed at the far end of the ward. They’d been warned by the sister to expect no response. The blood had been cleaned from her dark curls, which now spread in tendrils over the hospital pillowcase. Strange to see her face so pale. Her cheeks, normally pink from running or working or rage, were now white as the starched linen. She looked as if she had on one of her beloved bandanas, but this one was white instead of her customary red, and it hid her wounds. Johnny held back, letting Martin go to her first. He took hold of Kate’s hand and let out a low sob.
‘My darling, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. Can you hear me, dearest girl?’
Johnny stood rigid behind him, choking back his own grief and regret. He should have fought harder to keep her.
‘Would you like to speak to her?’ Martin asked, turning to Johnny. ‘Another familiar voice… it might help.’
But what part of his heart could he bare in front of Martin? He moved closer and leaned over her, wanting to brush a stray curl from her cheek, but not daring.
‘Kate, it’s Johnny. I’m here too, it’s both of us, me and Martin.’
And as he spoke, she stirred. Her lips parted and both men leaned in closer.
‘Dad,’ she said, her voice lower than a whisper.
*
It was an unlikely war council. Back in Longbonnet’s kitchen, Johnny, Martin and Kate’s aunts gathered. Conny had been sent back to her garret to rest. The news they had brought from the hospital sent the three warring women into an unlikely embrace. But their relief soon exploded into anger.
‘I knew it was him!’ Longbonnet said, pointing a finger at Aunt Sylvie.
Johnny needed to know how the old woman could have been so sure that Kate’s attacker was Archie. ‘What did you mean when you said he did it to Kate’s mother? What did he do?’
Sylvie and Sarah exchanged a look, almost like children caught in an act of mischief.
‘I can answer that,’ Martin said, and he explained Kate’s recovered memory and what she’d done about it. There was silence in the little room as Johnny tried to take in the import of what he’d just heard.
It was Sylvie who spoke first. ‘I’ll give her that. Kate’s the only one I ever knew who stood up to my brother. She won’t be beat by nothing and no one.’
And Johnny muttered, ‘Well, you should know.’ At which the room again erupted into accusations and blame until Johnny, who had naturally taken the lead, hushed them. ‘We can’t do much to help Kate, but we can try to make sure Archie pays.’
‘He’s got to be held accountable, obviously, but he needs to be stopped, now!’ Martin added. ‘We need to act quickly. We should go straight to the police.’
‘What can the coppers do?’ Johnny replied. ‘No one saw Archie go in or out of Kate’s garret – it’s only her word against his.’ He rubbed a hand across his tired eyes, hoping Martin hadn’t seen the tears that threatened.
‘But we need to get him locked away! It was Kate tonight, but he’ll be looking for Nora now.’
Johnny couldn’t help agree with him in that. ‘He’s a bloody raving madman, he could do anything… It’s a pity we didn’t know what he was really like earlier.’ Johnny shot an accusing look at the aunts. ‘I’d never have let her go and live with him if I’d known what he was capable of.’
Longbonnet shook her head in frustration, so that her long earrings jingled. ‘We can all blame ourselves till we’re blue in the face. Fact is, Kate wouldn’t be standing here talking, she’d be up and doing!’
‘You’re right. Martin, you know where Nora is and you’ve got the motor. Why don’t you go to Sussex, make sure she’s all right – and you’d better stay with her till I find Archie,’ Johnny said, taking charge.
Martin agreed and, putting on his cap and driving gloves, shook Johnny’s hand. He held on to it for a second and said, ‘Take care of her for me.’
Johnny gripped his hand and, looking into Martin’s eyes, promised, ‘I will.’
When Martin had gone, Kate’s aunts went home too and Johnny was left alone with Longbonnet. Snatching up his coat, he made for the door – he was bursting with an almost
painful energy. He needed to be doing something.
But Longbonnet held him back. ‘Take someone with you. Don’t be fooled. Archie’s got a posh voice and a posh suit these days but he’s as strong as a docker.’ She eyed Johnny’s slim figure doubtfully.
‘Well, what do you think I do all day – I am a bloody docker!’
‘Yes, but you ain’t no killer. Take Stan.’
‘Take him? You must be joking! He’s never been a friend to Kate. I’ll find me own muscle.’
*
The upstairs sash window squeaked and stuck. Ginger Bosher gave it a shove then poked his head out. He didn’t look pleased. ‘Rasher, is that you?’
‘I need a favour!’ He tried to keep his voice low.
‘At this time of night? We’re all abed!’
‘It’s important, it’s my Kate…’
Something about his voice must have convinced Ginger, and within seconds he appeared in his pyjamas at the front door. ‘Fran’s got the right ’ump with you! You woke the kids up.’
Ginger padded on bare feet into his kitchen and lit the gas mantle. As it flared and hissed, Johnny paced up and down, explaining what had happened and the nature of the favour he’d come to ask. Ginger made him sit down.
‘You’ve got to go about this systematically, Rasher. You know what happens when you get yourself all stirred up and just rush in. You sit and have a think about all the places he could be, while I get dressed and smooth it over with Fran.’
As Ginger’s heavy footsteps receded up the stairs, Johnny took a deep breath. His friend was right. Ginger could always manage to calm him down. There wasn’t much Ginger didn’t know about dealing with hotheads; his brother, Ted, had been a Bolshie who’d got himself put away for trying to bomb the Woolwich Arsenal during the war. Perhaps that’s why Ginger had taken Johnny under his wing.
By the time Ginger came downstairs again, Johnny had a list of all Archie’s possible locations. He’d got most of the addresses from Martin before he’d left. ‘We should start with his office, it’s the nearest, just over the water in Lower Thames Street. He might have bolted there first – to get cleaned up.’
