Lola looked a little chastened as she followed Gloria to the table. ‘Was it Frank?’ she asked with concern.
Gloria nodded. ‘I’ve finished wiv the whoreson,’ she said disgustedly. ‘I need ter talk ter yer.’
Once they were seated at a corner table with their gin and limes, Gloria’s face became serious. ‘Frank Galloway’s farvver’s bin killed in an air raid,’ she said quietly.
Lola pulled a face. ‘’Ow terrible.’
‘I’m worried, Lola,’ Gloria said, reaching into her handbag for a cigarette. ‘I was gettin’ inter this business over me’ead.’
‘What d’yer mean?’ Lola asked, a puzzled look on her painted face.
Gloria lit a match and puffed on her cigarette. ‘Yer remember when I asked yer ter find out about the O’Reilly woman? Well, as far as I knew, Frank wanted the information out o’ curiosity. ’E told me at the outset ’e was worried over ’is farvver bein’ took on by this woman, but it wasn’t true. It goes deeper.’
‘Well, I can see that,’ Lola answered. ‘The O’Reilly boy is Galloway kin, which means your fella’s quite likely to ’ave ’is nose put out o’ joint as far as the ole man’s money goes.’
Gloria nodded. ‘I didn’t dare tell ’im what yer told me, I was too scared of what ’e might do,’ she said.
‘Is that why ’e bashed yer, ’cos yer didn’t tell ’im anyfing?’ Lola asked.
Gloria shook her head. ‘Nah, it was over that prat of a wife of ’is. She’s comin’ back to ’im.’
‘Jus’ like men,’ Lola said, shaking her head slowly. ‘They ain’t werf a carrot, none of ’em.’
Gloria drew on her cigarette and stared down at her drink. ‘It was ’is eyes that frightened me,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve never seen that look before. I fink ’e could ’ave cheerfully killed me.’
Lola took a small sip of her drink. ‘Yer know somefink, Gloria. I’m glad yer didn’t say anyfink about the O’Reilly boy comin’ inter that money,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It’s bin worryin’ me. I’ve got ter like that old lady, an’ the boy too. ’E’s a smasher.’
Gloria picked up her glass and gazed at it. ‘That Frank’s capable of anyfing. I found that out soon enough,’ she sighed. ‘There’s somefink stewin’ inside ’im. ’E’s changed, Lola. ’E’s like a different person now, an’ when ’e ’eard about ’is farvver gettin’ killed in that air raid ’e went all quiet. I don’t like it.’
‘’E certainly took it out on you,’ Lola replied, glancing at the angry lump under her friend’s eye.
‘I’m scared o’ what ’e might do when ’e finds out about the boy bein’ a Galloway,’ Gloria said.
‘Yer mean ’e might try ter do the boy some ’arm?’ Lola asked incredulously. ‘Surely not? ’E’d get found out.’
Gloria shrugged her shoulders. ‘It depends ’ow desperate ’e was,’ she replied. ‘Accordin’ ter what Mary O’Reilly told yer, the boy was gonna be well set up when the old man died.’
‘I wouldn’t fink ’e’d go that far,’ Lola said, sipping her drink. ‘If Frank does away wiv the boy, ’e’s gonna be the prime suspect, it stands ter reason. The rozzers are gonna be on ’im straightaway.’
Gloria pulled a face. ‘After they read the will, ’e would be, but don’t ferget ’e’s not s’posed ter know anyfing about the boy bein’ a Galloway. If ’e done it before the will’s read, ’e wouldn’t be suspected, an’ yer gotta remember that people are gettin’ killed every night. Jus’ s’posin’ the O’Reilly boy was found dead in the gutter after an air raid wiv ’is ’ead caved in. It’d be put down ter the bombin’. Who’s ter say ovverwise?’
Lola was quiet for a few moments. ‘I see what yer mean,’ she replied. ‘Anyway, Galloway can’t do anyfing until the lad comes’ome on leave again.’
Gloria lit another cigarette and puffed at it nervously. ‘If Frank Galloway did do anyfink stupid, I’d be an accomplice,’ she whispered. ‘After all, it was me what got ’im the information.’
‘Yeah, frew me,’ Lola grated. ‘I don’t want ter be involved. I ain’t plannin’ ter swing fer no man, least of all that ponce Galloway.’
Gloria patted her friend’s hand. ‘No one’s gonna implicate you. Me an’ you ’ave gotta stick tergevver. Between us we can watch out fer the O’Reillys. Yer’ve wormed yer way inter the old lady’s good books. She trusts yer. Stay friendly wiv ’er, an’ make sure yer find out when ’er boy’s comin’ ’come on leave an’ let me know as soon as yer find out. One fing though. On no account let on to ’er that there’s any danger to ’er boy, ’cos if yer do yer gonna implicate yerself, an’ me. Understand?’
Lola toyed with her drink. ‘S’posin’ the boy don’t get any more leave till after the will’s read, it’ll be too late fer your bloke ter do anyfink then I should fink.’
‘We can’t bank on that,’ Gloria replied. ‘Mary O’Reilly could kick the bucket any time, the way she is, an’ anyway it might be a few weeks till they sort Galloway’s will out. We gotta be prepared fer the worst.’
‘Yeah, yer right,’ Lola said nodding. ‘Are yer back at yer own flat?’
Gloria shook her head. ‘I’m in the same block but a different flat,’ she told her. ‘If yer need ter get in touch wiv me, phone Sammy McCarthy same as usual. Now let’s ’ave anuvver drink.’
The funeral of George Galloway was a quiet affair. Only one carriage followed the hearse and it was occupied by Frank Galloway, George’s good friend John Hargreaves, and Mrs Duffin the housekeeper. The hearse was bedecked with wreaths, one of which bore no name of sender, merely the inscription, ‘With Gratitude’.
Frank sat with his chin resting on his hand, staring out through the purple blinds. Bella had cried off, saying she could not get away from her travelling troupe, and his daughter Caroline had sent her sympathies and asked him to buy a spray of flowers for her. It was typical of them, he thought disdainfully. Only John Hargreaves showed any real emotion. Mrs Duffin had made the journey out of a sense of duty and she sat upright in her seat facing him with a blank look on her thin face.
Frank considered his own feelings. He would miss the old boy, but he had been a very hard man who had shown little love to his family during his lifetime. Only Geoffrey had managed to elicit any sort of real feeling from him. His death in action had made the old man even more morose and bitter and he had never really recovered from the loss. The old man would have preferred Geoffrey to run the business, but the fact that Frank had stepped into the gap and been a dutiful son did not seem to have endeared him to his father in any way. Soon the will would be read and then he would finally learn just how much he had been valued, and loved.
Rachel had arrived home on a weekend pass and she sat talking to her mother in the cosy parlour. A fire was burning brightly and the curtains were drawn against the inclement weather. Carrie noticed how tired and jaded her daughter looked, and she waited until her mother had gone up to her room and Joe had gone off to bed before drawing her daughter into an intimate conversation.
‘It must be a very important job, an’ frightenin’ too,’ she remarked. ‘Especially when there’s a big raid comin’ up.’
Rachel nodded. ‘The worst time is when we can see the direction they’re ’eadin’,’ she replied. ‘Every time it’s London I get a tight feelin’ in me stomach. I fink about you an’ Joe, an’ Gran. When we get a break, I go outside and stand lookin’ towards London. I can see the flashes, an’ the glow in the skies. It’s terrible. I feel so sick inside.’
‘Never mind, luv. We’ve got yer fer two ’ole days,’ Carrie said smiling. ‘Yer can stretch out ternight in those nice clean sheets I’ve put on yer bed, an’ if we’re lucky we’ll get a quiet night.’
Rachel stretched her stockinged feet towards the fire and yawned. ‘I feel so exhausted,’ she sighed. ‘I fink I’d sleep right frew a raid.’
Carrie’s eyes were serious. ‘We’ll ’ave ter wake yer if the siren goes, luv,’ she told her. ‘It’s safer in t
he cellar.’
Rachel smiled. ‘If yer can,’ she joked.
Carrie sat staring into the fire for a few moments and then she looked up at Rachel. ‘Does Tony still write ter yer regularly?’ she asked.
Rachel nodded. ‘All the time. We’re very close, Mum,’ she replied.
‘Is it serious?’ Carrie asked.
‘I love ’im, Mum,’ she said quietly, without embarrassment.
‘I didn’t need to ask, really,’ Carrie replied. ‘It’s in yer eyes, in the way you act. I could tell right away. But is it the same fer Tony?’
Rachel nodded, staring at the flaring coals with a distant look in her pale blue eyes.
Carrie gazed at her daughter with concern. ‘I can imagine what it must be like, the way the war’s goin’,’ she said quietly. ‘The future’s so uncertain. Just be sensible, luv, an’ try not ter let yer ’eart rule yer ’ead. At least yer both young. One day yer’ll be tergevver fer always, please Gawd, if yer still keep yer love alive.’
Rachel met her mother’s eyes, feeling suddenly frightened inside. Now was the moment to tell her. There could be no wavering. It had to be now. She took a deep breath as she leaned forward in her chair.
‘Mum, there’s somefink yer gotta know,’ she began.
‘Yer not got yerself pregnant, ’ave yer?’ Carrie asked quickly.
Rachel shook her head with a brief smile. ‘No, it’s about me an’ Tony,’ she replied.
‘What is it?’ Carrie pressed her.
‘Well, yer see, Tony never knew who ’is farvver was, not until recently, that is,’ she said. ‘Then when ’is muvver got seriously ill an’ knew she could die, she told ’im. Yer gonna be shocked, Mum. Tony’s farvver was Geoffrey Galloway.’
Carrie stared at her daughter for a few moments, trying to take in what she had just heard. ‘Geoffrey Galloway?’ she repeated. ‘Your Tony, a Galloway?’
Rachel nodded, her heart sinking as she saw the horrified look on her mother’s face.
‘There’s no end to it,’ Carrie gasped. ‘That family seems to’aunt us. Of all the boys yer could ’ave fell in love wiv, it ’ad ter be a Galloway. Why, Rachel, why?’
Rachel shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t know about the workin’s o’ fate, Mum,’ she replied. ‘I don’t know why. All I know is that I love Tony, an’ ’e loves me. That’s enough fer us. We just met an’ fell in love. This fing between the families shouldn’t affect our love fer each ovver. I won’t let it.’
Carrie felt sick inside. It was as though the ghost of George Galloway had come to haunt the Tanners, and he was hardly cold. It was as though he was laughing at her from beyond the grave.
‘Did George Galloway know about Tony?’ she asked in a flat voice.
‘Tony’s muvver went ter see ’im some time ago,’ Rachel said, looking down at the flames among the coals. ‘It was when she realised ’ow ill she was. She wanted what was best fer ’er son.’
‘What was the ole man’s reaction?’ Carrie asked.
‘ ’E was angry at not bein’ told years ago, but ’e was very’appy ter know that ’e ’ad a gran’son, an’ ’e said ’e was gonna provide fer Tony in the will,’ Rachel told her.
‘When’s the will bein’ read?’ Carrie asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Rachel replied. ‘Pretty soon I should imagine.’
Carrie fell silent, trying to calm the anger growing inside her. The love she had for her daughter stayed her from speaking her mind. She could see nothing but heartbreak in store for Rachel in being involved with a Galloway. The whole family seemed fated. Geoffrey had been killed in the First World War, Josephine had taken her own life, and the patriarch of the family had died violently. Frank Galloway was very much alive, though, and he had been instrumental in perpetuating the bad blood between the families. What new devils would come of Rachel’s involvement with the Galloway grandson?
‘I ’ad ter tell yer, Mum,’ Rachel said quietly, breaking into her thoughts. ‘It’d come out soon enough anyway.’
Carrie nodded. ‘I’m glad yer told me,’ she replied, ‘but I can’t pretend ter feel ’appy for yer, because I don’t. The bad blood between the families runs too deep fer that.’
‘It can’t go on ferever, Mum,’ Rachel said. ‘Some day it’s gotta end.’
‘It might in your lifetime, but it certainly won’t in mine,’ Carrie retorted bitterly. ‘After all that’s ’appened, ter fink that a daughter o’ mine would fall in love wiv a Galloway.’
‘We can’t pick an’ choose the families o’ the fellas we fall in love wiv,’ Rachel said angrily. ‘Love’s not like that, you should know as well as anybody.’
‘What d’yer mean by that?’ Carrie asked sharply.
Rachel met her mother’s hard gaze. ‘Look at you an’ Joe. What ’appened to ’is family ’ad a bearin’ on what ’appened between you two. Joe went ter prison over a vendetta, and you’ad ter suffer because of it. I watched yer suffer, remember? I saw what prison did ter Joe, an’ ’ow it affected you. I suffered wiv yer, Mum. Don’t ferget I love Joe too. You stuck by ’im. Yer never stopped lovin’ ’im, even when ’e walked out on yer, an’ yer won in the end. That’s ’ow it’s gonna be wiv Tony an’ me. I won’t let the sins o’ the farvver make any difference ter the way I feel. I love Tony an’ I won’t give ’im up, no matter what.’
How alike they were, Carrie thought helplessly. Rachel had the same dogged determination, the same single-mindedness. She would not be moved, and suddenly Carrie was reminded of Josephine Galloway. What agonies the poor child must have suffered to make her take her own life. It must never happen to Rachel, she vowed. She must always feel the love and security of her family around her, and know that they cherished and accepted her, no matter what. Her arms went out to her daughter and she pulled her close, her tears falling as Rachel hugged her tight, gently patting her mother’s back.
‘It’ll work out, Mum, you’ll see,’ she said tenderly.
Chapter Thirty-One
Frank Galloway sat reading the Evening Standard and he glanced up as Bella flounced into the room. Only that morning she had told him that her touring days were over and she would be with him in his hour of need, as she put it. The thought filled him with loathing for her. It was more likely that her latest fancy man was away and she needed a place to stay for the time being. She would not miss being present at the reading of the will and would no doubt act the sorrowful daughter-in-law for the benefit of those present.
Frank eyed Bella over the top of the paper as she busied herself at the drinks cabinet and noticed that she had piled on quite a bit of weight round her hips and waist. Not so long ago she would have gone into hysterics over half an inch, but now she seemed to have mellowed. Not so their daughter Caroline. She had adopted most of her mother’s habits and mannerisms and, worse still, she had threatened to move back into the family house, now that she had broken with her current young beau.
Frank hid his anger and tried to smile as he took the glass of whisky from Bella. He would have to be very careful how he handled things, he realised. His mistress had been sent packing only the day before Bella arrived back, though not without him having to resort to a backhander or two. Now he had to settle down to being the dutiful husband if he was to keep Bella from slipping back into her usual detestable ways while he sorted himself out.
There had been an unfortunate delay in the reading of the will. John Hargreaves had been taken ill at the graveside of his old friend and had been rushed to hospital. His firm of solicitors had managed to obtain an agreement to delay the reading until the doctor’s report on Hargreaves’ medical condition had been received. The elderly solicitor had been diagnosed as suffering from exhaustion and after a short rest he returned to the office. Things were now beginning to move. A date had finally been set for the reading of the will. There was also the new Bristol contract to be discussed, and Allan Wichello the bookmaker was getting impatient for his account to be settled.
‘It’s b
een a pig of a day,’ he sighed as he sipped his watered-down Scotch with distaste.
‘Poor dear. Never mind, you just relax an’ I’ll get you something to eat. You must be starved,’ Bella replied, not bothering to get up from the divan.
Frank put down the paper and loosened his tie. As soon as the reading of the will was over, he would know for sure what to do. The properties alone would give him the collateral he needed to set up an accountancy business. It was what he was trained for and it was certainly a more civilised profession than the transport business, he told himself.
On a cold Monday morning the Galloway family’s solicitor walked into his office feeling rather tired. The air raid had not been too heavy but it had lasted for most of the night and he had had little sleep. John Hargreaves had always prided himself on his efficiency and professionalism, and as he waited for everyone to arrive he awarded himself a large Scotch. Getting permission for Trooper O’Reilly to attend the reading of the will had proved to be no problem. The lad’s commanding officer had been very accommodating, and he sounded very pleasant on the phone. His other task had been harder. It had been difficult to locate the old lady, and making arrangements with the church welfare people to get her to the reading had taken up a lot of his time. But all was now ready and Hargreaves poured himself another Scotch.
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