Lizzie of Langley Street

by Carol Rivers

  ‘What about Mik, if he finds out.’ Vinnie replied. ‘Nothin’ happens on his patch without his say so.’

  ‘Who’s gonna tell him?’ Frank demanded angrily.

  Vinnie moved restlessly in his seat, his close-set eyes staring at the warehouse.

  ‘Look, they’re going.’ Frank pointed to his wife and the two men accompanying her round the outside of the warehouse to the horse and cart at the front. He watched with baited breath as his wife climbed up on the cart. All his suspicions were confirmed; sooner or later he knew he’d catch them together. ‘Couldn’t be better,’ he murmured with a satisfied grin. ‘Just what I’ve been waiting for.’

  Frank glanced at Vinnie. He didn’t trust him further than he could throw him. They both knew what Ferreter was capable of if he discovered they had been conducting business of their own on the island. Vinnie had no choice, though. Frank knew too much about his brother-in-law for Vinnie to refuse to help him.

  The cart began to move off. The man Frank hated most in all the world stood alone by the warehouse. Danny had robbed him of a mother and his childhood, did he really think he could now take his wife? Frank’s fists tightened.

  ‘Coast’s clear,’ he growled at Vinnie. ‘Now we’ll go in.’

  Lizzie watched the familiar landmarks pass by as she sat up on the cart, huddled in her coat for warmth. The gas works and Deptford dry docks on the other side of the water, Greenwich hidden in cloud. Only the wind whipping the foam at the quay gave any indication the tide was turning.

  She inhaled deeply and the smells of the island filled her nose. Since Danny had come back into her life, colours were brighter, smells sharper; Danny’s eyes had seemed bluer, his hair more golden – the evidence of Australia, an English complexion coarsened by sun.

  The noise of the bridge traffic drifted over the clattering of the cart. In the distance she could hear the drone of sawmills. Tar and sea salt lay on her lips, a sprinkling of rain fell on her cheeks.

  ‘I’ll need a few more lessons,’ Bert was saying as he urged the horse along. ‘But it won’t be long before I get the hang.’

  She nodded absently. ‘We must pay Danny.’

  ‘He don’t want nothin’. Said he got it from up West, from one of them big posh stores that wanted to get rid of it ’cos it had been in an accident. Danny got it going and drove it back. Then he bashed out all the metal to make it look proper again, then mended the engine.’

  They talked about the motor van as Benji pulled them through the streets. The going was slow and suddenly Benji stopped.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Dunno. I’ll see.’

  Lizzie watched Bert jump down and examine each hoof, then pat the long grey neck as it drooped downward. Bert jumped back on the cart.

  ‘Benji ain’t going anywhere today – he’s lame. Lost a shoe somewhere.’

  ‘How are we going to get him home?’

  ‘He might make it without the weight of the cart.’

  ‘Might?’

  Bert shrugged gloomily. ‘Yeah, well, he ain’t no spring chicken anymore, is he?’

  ‘What are we going to do, then?’

  Bert looked over his shoulder. ‘Danny’s the closest. I’ll take off the harness. It’s only a short walk to the workshop.’

  Lizzie looked back over her shoulder. Bert was right; it wasn’t far back to the wharf. ‘I suppose we don’t have much choice,’ she sighed.

  Bert jumped down once more. His big hands uncoupled the horse from the cart, a process hampered by the rain that started to fall heavily. He stuffed the nosebag full of oats under his jacket, then looked up at her as rain streamed down his face. ‘Yer gonna get soaked if you stay there. You go on if you like.’

  She climbed down, the rain falling harder now. Bert lifted the big harness from the horse and the sweat rose up in the air like a cloud.

  ‘Are you sure, Bert?’

  ‘Course. No sense in us both drowning. I’ll get the poor old bugger to the workshop somehow.’

  Reluctantly she left them, pulling her coat up over her head, wondering if Benji would make the journey back to the warehouse.

  She was soaked by the time she reached the workshop. The sky was black and the rain falling straight and hard. The little door was slightly open. Lifting her wet coat and stepping in, she stared into the darkness, once again inhaling the petrol and oil fumes.

  Her eyes were unaccustomed to the shadows. The day had turned very dark and the workshop was unlit. Danny was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was out by the motor van at the other end of the warehouse? She began to walk towards it then stopped as she heard a movement.

  ‘Danny?’ she called softly, moving towards the big lorry.

  A figure stepped in front of her. She stopped, frowning uncertainly. ‘Who is it?’ she stammered, trying to see in the darkness.

  ‘Who do you think?’ Frank emerged from the gloom looking dirty and dishevelled. His eyes glittered as he came towards her, a strange expression in them that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The man following him was not as tall, dressed in a long overcoat and trilby. She recognized her brother at once.

  ‘Vinnie . . . Frank . . . what are you doing here?’ She stared at them, her eyes going from one to the other. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Well, now, that’s no way to greet your husband.’ Frank smiled menacingly. ‘I think it’s about time you and I had a little chat.’

  She tried to move back as he stepped towards her, but her body wouldn’t respond. Her throat tightened, her legs felt as though they had lead weights attached to them.

  Suddenly she heard footsteps. It was Danny, coming towards them from the other end of the warehouse. She wanted to warn him that Frank and Vinnie were there but it was too late. Frank had turned round and was staring at the approaching figure.

  ‘Ah . . . and here’s me long lost brother. Arriving just on time.’ Frank’s voice was filled with contempt. ‘Now, ain’t that cosy? Me wife and me brother – the two people who I been most wanting to see.’

  ‘What do you want, Frank?’ Danny looked at Lizzie, his eyes full of concern. She tried to tell him by her eyes that she was all right.

  ‘What do I want?’ Frank laughed loudly. ‘Did you hear that, Vin? He wants to know what I want.’ Frank moved towards Danny, stopping a few inches in front of him. ‘Did you think I didn’t know what was going on behind my back? I ain’t such a bloody fool as you think!’

  ‘I’ve never thought you were a fool,’ Danny replied evenly. ‘A liar and cheat yes, but not a fool.’

  Lizzie was terrified. She knew her husband was dangerous, sometimes a violent man. She didn’t want Danny to say anything to provoke him.

  ‘I only had to wait,’ Frank continued as though he hadn’t heard Danny, ‘and it was odds on she’d come running to you.’

  ‘Your wife has nothing to do with you and me,’ Danny replied calmly. ‘It was down to you, Frank, if you felt a grudge, to come and talk to me, man to man.’

  Lizzie stared at her husband and brother. What did they want? What were they going to do to Danny?

  Frank’s eyes slowly narrowed. ‘The time for talking’s over. I’m going to put an end to your games with my wife. I’m going to give you a little souvenir to remember me by.’

  ‘What happened to the letters I wrote, Frank? What did you do with them?’ Danny demanded, ignoring Frank’s threat. He pulled himself upright. Taller and leaner than Frank, he was still no match for two, Lizzie thought, terrified now.

  ‘I burned them,’ Frank growled bitterly. ‘Like the bloody rubbish they were.’ There was no remorse in his tone. Lizzie felt sick. Frank had destroyed those letters – letters that would have changed the course of her life.

  Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Was it Babs who gave them to you?’ she heard herself demanding as she stepped forward. ‘The only way you could have stolen them was through someone at home. It wasn’t Bert . . . and it wasn’t Flo
. . . and Pa would never have done such a thing . . .’ She broke off as Frank wheeled round to face her.

  He laughed again, shaking his head slowly. ‘Took you long enough to work that one out, didn’t it?’

  ‘But that was a terrible thing to do!’

  ‘Listen, you was ditched eleven years ago,’ Frank yelled, moving closer. ‘It was left to me to put a roof over yer head. Casanova here was off gallivanting, making his fortune. Picked up a woman the moment he set foot on land. Gave her a kid, too—’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ Danny shouted, stepping forward. ‘And you damn well know it.’

  Frank’s eyes were gleaming. A pulse throbbed at his temple. ‘You got what you wanted, lover boy. You always did. But not anymore. You should have stayed away. But you couldn’t, could you?’

  Lizzie shivered as the two men stared at one another. Their true feelings were clear; neither one had respect for the other and neither was prepared to back down. But it was still two against one, and Vinnie was standing by, watching, the atmosphere tense as no one moved. Lizzie knew that even if she screamed, no one outside would hear. ‘Frank, please . . . don’t do anything you’ll regret,’ she begged.

  ‘Shut up,’ he shouted, making her jump.

  ‘Your business is with me,’ Danny said then, his voice sharp as he moved beside Lizzie. ‘Leave her out of this.’

  Frank laughed coarsely, throwing back his head in derision. As he did so, Danny whispered to her. ‘Run up to the office. Lock yourself in. Draw all the bolts.’

  A look of surprise came over Frank’s face. He was frowning, suspicious of them. She wanted to run, but she didn’t want to leave Danny.

  ‘Now we’ll see what kind of man you are,’ Frank muttered grimly, gesturing to Vinnie. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

  Vinnie didn’t move. ‘We got a witness,’ he muttered, nodding at Lizzie.

  ‘She ain’t going to tell no one,’ Frank shrugged. ‘Not if she knows what’s good for her.

  ‘Still getting someone else to do your dirty work, Frank?’ Danny interrupted quickly. ‘That’s about the size of it, isn’t it? When we were kids and in trouble, I’d look around, but you’d be gone. You were a coward then and you’re a coward now.’

  Lizzie watched Frank’s face fill with hate. He threw himself at Danny. They fell backwards against the lorry and rolled along the length of it, their arms and legs entwined as they fought. When they fell to the floor, Frank’s hands were round Danny’s throat. Danny’s head was forced down on the boards of the pit. Lizzie cried out as Frank seemed to gather strength, banging Danny’s head time and again on the wood. But when Frank loosened his grip and Danny was free, it was Danny who rolled on top and gave a blow to Frank’s face that make her stomach turn. Frank managed to recover. He looked dazedly at Danny. Coupled once more, their fists and legs scattered the tools spread over the floor. Vinnie stood, watching and waiting. Then Frank grasped an iron bar. Danny got unsteadily to his feet. The two men faced each other, hate and enmity in their eyes. Danny ducked the first blow. The second caught him on the side of the head. She screamed as he staggered backwards.

  Frank moved towards him, the iron bar raised again. She started forward, not knowing what she would do, only that she had to help Danny. Before she went far, Vinnie grabbed her. Somehow she made her legs move and pulled away. She reached the staircase and stumbled up it. Below, she could still hear them fighting. Vinnie ascended the stairs after her. She fumbled her way backwards, her eyes locked with his. What was he going to do to her? Slowly he came up each stair. This was not her brother, she realized, but a man whose heart was cold and empty. He did not want a witness to what was happening. Could he kill her, his own sister?

  The office was her only escape. She ran into it, thrusting the door closed. But Vinnie was too quick. His hand went round the door, forcing it back. She pressed down on it with all her strength. He let out a surprised howl as she trapped his fingers. The moment they moved she closed it and slid the bolt. Then she slid the top one and the one on the bottom. She stared at the door, listening to the silence behind it. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was coming out of her chest.

  The impact made her scream. She fell back against the wall, her hand over her mouth. She sank down in the corner, watching as another blow came from outside, then another. But Danny was right. The bolts were strong and the door held.

  More blows came. Her sobs were deep as her arms went round her knees and she buried her head, trying to block out the sounds. What was happening to Danny? Would they kill him? Would they break down the door and kill her too?

  ‘Oh, God, please make them stop,’ she whispered as the tears trickled down her cheeks and on to her wet coat. ‘Make them stop . . .’

  Bert pulled Benji slowly along as the rain beat hard against them. The old horse could only just move one hoof in front of the other. Bert murmured consolingly, his hand going up to urge him on. They were both drenched. Bert looked helplessly up and down the street, shivering under his jacket. The sky was as dark as night, the rain relentless. He knew Benji wanted to stop. If only they could get to shelter. The warehouse would provide some warmth at least.

  When Bert saw the warehouse, he sighed with relief. The rain lashed his face as he led the horse towards it. Beyond the wasteland was a large black car, an unusual sight in this district. Inside the warehouse, Bert found a corner. Tying the rein loosely to a wooden strut and wiping off what wet he could with an old sack, he patted the horse’s head. ‘At least yer in the dry now, old son. Looks like yer travellin’ days are over for a bit.’ He took out the nosebag that he had stuffed under his coat and tied it round the horse’s head. Benji began to eat. Bert smiled. That was a good sign.

  Bert turned away. His mind was on the horse as he walked down to the workshop to find Danny. He tried to accustom his eyes to the gloom. Danny would have to fix himself up with better lights, Bert thought distractedly.

  Suddenly he stood still. The blood froze in his veins. Frank was standing by the lorry. What was he doing here? Then Bert saw Vinnie at the bottom of the staircase. Moving slowly towards them, Bert stared at the floor. There was something lying there. It looked like a body. He stopped, his mind confused. What had happened? Was it Lizzie? He moved forward again as a wave of disbelief went through him. It was Danny lying there, motionless.

  Then Bert heard a noise, a loud wail, a banshee cry; it was both roar and scream. He was surprised to find the noise pouring from his own mouth. The two figures in front of him were turning, attempting to run, but Bert ran after them; as big and clumsy as he was, he ran fast, the anger inside propelling him.

  He lunged at Frank and knew a moment’s deep hatred for the man squirming in his grasp. He jerked back his head and smashed it into Frank’s face. There was an explosion of blood. Frank fell to his knees, screaming loudly.

  Bert stared pitilessly down at his wretch of a brother-in-law. He had witnessed the degradation that Frank had brought to his family, the disregard shown for his own kith and kin. He was an evil man, a coward and a bully. Bert linked his big hands round Frank’s neck, increasing the pressure. Frank’s fists waved uselessly. Bert was in a kind of trance. At the back of his mind, he knew that he was killing Frank. Nothing could bring back the years that Frank had poisoned, but this felt right, as though there was some justice for animals like him. Not even a piece of wood that crashed against Bert’s head, sending his hair flying up in a spurt of red, made him stop. Bert merely turned, untroubled by the pain that only angered him more.

  Astonished that his action had no effect, Vinnie ran off.

  Bert looked back at Frank, oblivious to Vinnie’s departure. Frank’s life was draining away, his face turning blue, his lips quivering. Bert tightened his fingers, the ease with which he was snuffing out a life surprising him.

  ‘Bert . . . no . . . don’t!’ Lizzie stood at the top of the staircase, screaming, her trembling hands covering her mouth.

  Bert looked up. For
a moment he wondered where he was. Suddenly he realized what he was doing. He dropped Frank like a dead weight. Hurrying to the staircase, Lizzie ran into his arms. He hugged her tightly.

  ‘They . . . they tried to kill him . . . oh, Bert, what have they done?’ She swayed.

  Bert held her. ‘You all right?’ he muttered in a thick, shocked voice.

  She nodded. ‘Yes . . . yes.’ They both looked at the door as it swung on its hinges. Frank had run off.

  ‘I nearly did him in,’ Bert said as Lizzie gathered herself. ‘If you hadn’t screamed . . .’

  She took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I know, I know. But you didn’t.’ Together they went and kneeled beside Danny. Blood trickled from his head and ran down his cheek.

  ‘Danny, Danny?’ Lizzie whispered, her voice broken by sobs as she bent over him. Bert watched as she gently pushed back the blood-soaked hair. But nothing she did could wake him up.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Danny . . . Danny . . . ?’ Even his lashes had blood in them. She tried to wipe it away with her handkerchief. Her voice shook as she cradled his head in her arms.

  Suddenly he gave a little moan and came awake slowly. The skin around his eyes was bruised and swollen. Blood was still coming from his head. She wiped it gently away. He struggled to sit up, peering from swollen eyes. ‘Lizzie . . . what. . . what happened? Did they hurt you?’

  ‘No. I locked myself in the office.’

  ‘Why . . . why did you come back?’

  ‘Benji went lame. You’ve got a big wound on your head. It was that iron bar.’ Her fingers felt the stickiness.

  Bert handed her a rag. ‘’Ere, gel, mop him up with that.’

  She held the rag up and gently dabbed at the wound.

  ‘The ’orse is what done it, mate. We had to come back. I put him up the other end of the warehouse. Then I came down looking for you and I saw Frank and you on the floor—’

  ‘They tried to kill you,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘We should tell the police.’