Lizzie of Langley Street

by Carol Rivers

  Lizzie shrugged, tying an apron round her navy blue coat. It was freezing in the shop, but as soon as she was on the move she’d warm up. She had curled her hair up in a thick, dark roll round her head, tucking a square of pale blue chiffon into the collar of her coat. ‘What could the police do? It would have been our word against Frank and Vinnie’s.’

  ‘But it’s bloody Frank who’s got a grudge against Danny!’ Lil spluttered. ‘And the way Danny was bashed up, he didn’t do that to ’imself, did he? And what about you, then?’ Lil added exasperatedly. ‘Vinnie wasn’t banging on that office door to give you a bunch of roses!’

  ‘There’s no proof against Frank. As Danny said, who are they going to believe?

  ‘Well, all I can say is they should be put away,’ Lil grumbled. She pulled back her shoulders, pausing for breath. ‘How long is Danny gonna stay here for?’

  Lizzie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Not long, I shouldn’t think.’

  Lil gave one of her quick laughs. ‘Bet the kids are loving it, ain’t they?’

  Lizzie nodded. She had left Tom and Polly playing happily down in the airey. They seemed to take everything in their stride.

  ‘By the way, Bert didn’t come home last night. Doug said he reckoned he kipped here.’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘He slept on the couch. Just in case.’

  ‘You don’t reckon Frank’d try anything here, under everyone’s noses?’ Lil’s pencilled eyebrows shot up.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Lizzie had asked herself that question so many times she was sick of it. But if he did appear, he would get more than he bargained for. She wasn’t going to be ruled by fear. If she was a man, she would probably have gone looking for him, just as Danny, Bert and Syd had. At least it was doing something – though she would never have admitted that last night. In the cool light of day, the beginnings of a deeper anger had taken the place of fear. Why should men like her husband and brother be allowed to ruin other people’s lives?

  Lil shook her head despondently. ‘Can me and Doug help at all?’

  ‘No, I just wanted to put you in the picture.’

  Lil sighed. ‘Yeah, ta. Well, I better be going, love. You got customers to serve.’

  All week they waited, and nothing happened. Lizzie felt close to snapping. She was no longer certain of her own reactions. The anger inside her was like a weapon and she wanted to use it, yet Frank and Vinnie weren’t there to use it on. No one had the right to hurt or terrify other people like they had.

  She also couldn’t help worrying about Danny when he was at the workshop. And she wasn’t alone. Sydney kept calling over there to ‘have a chat’ and Bert, saying he was practising his driving, made constant detours, often disappearing for an hour at a time, as he had now.

  On Wednesday, Danny and Bert had brought Benji back in the lorry. They made a ramp of wooden struts for the old horse to climb up on. The farrier provided new shoes, but couldn’t cure lameness. So Bert drove the van and made the deliveries, collecting stock from the market early in the mornings.

  A trickle of visitors started calling at the airey. The news had leaked out about Danny. With the scar on his forehead and his bruised face rumours flew everywhere. Boston Brown and Reg Barnes were the first to call, followed by Elfie Goldblum and Dickie. The story was repeated once again. As well intentioned as everyone was, Lizzie was pleased when they had all gone. Flo and Syd came back from the pub with a few drinks. When the children were in bed, they sat round the fire, going over all that had happened once more.

  On Sunday, Lizzie and Flo cooked dinner. Bill and Gertie stayed until four. At tea time, Flo and Syd took the children out for a walk. Danny was quiet, not like himself at all. Lizzie was washing up in the kitchen, trying to hide her concern.

  ‘You’ve been on your feet all day.’ Danny came up behind her at the sink. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll make you a cuppa.’

  It was the first time they had been alone. She took off her apron and sat down by the fire, listening to his movements in the kitchen. She sensed the anger in him. He wasn’t happy here. Were there too many memories from the past? This was the place he had left, at sixteen, to serve in the war. This is where he and Frank had lived together as they had grown into men.

  Danny returned with a cup of tea. He sat in the armchair. The world suddenly seemed to have slowed down around them. The fire crackled, the light of the late afternoon dimming as it filtered through the window. They sat, each with their own thoughts.

  The moments ticked by. Finally Danny sat forward, easing himself into a comfortable position. He smiled, a crooked grin, like the old Danny. ‘Nothing’s changed for me,’ he said heavily. ‘I want you with me more than ever, Lizzie. But I can’t stay here much longer.’

  ‘You’re welcome to stay—’

  ‘That’s the trouble,’ he interrupted her gently. ‘I’m getting used to it. I like seeing you at the end of the day, eating with you . . . talking.’ His blue eyes held hers. ‘And I want more.’

  ‘Danny—’

  He held up his hand. ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to say it. I know you won’t consider living with me whilst you’re married to Frank. But before I leave . . . there’s something I want to tell you.’

  She felt her heart flutter. What was he going to tell her? Had he decided it was better to go back to Australia? She couldn’t blame him. They couldn’t live their lives like this. She had that dreadful feeling inside, an ominous dread, and she sat back, closing her eyes for a moment to block out the pain. She didn’t want to hear what he said.

  ‘Lizzie, Elsa and I were never married.’

  It wasn’t what she had expected to hear. Her eyes flew open. She stared at him. ‘What? But you said your wife—’

  ‘I never said she was my wife. I told you Tom’s mother’s name was Elsa, that she was Swedish and she died of pneumonia. And that’s all true.’

  ‘But Tom said . . .’

  ‘Tom thinks we were married. I’ve never told him otherwise.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Lizzie said helplessly.

  Danny looked down at his hands, smoothing his thumb distractedly over the cuts and scrapes on his knuckles. ‘Tom isn’t my son. I’m not his father.’

  She held her breath, attempting to understand, to fit the pieces together.

  ‘There were emigrants on the boat going over,’ Danny continued. ‘Sven and Elsa were from Sweden; just married—’

  ‘You mean Elsa was married to someone else?’

  ‘Yes. Sven was a motor mechanic, hired by the gold-mining company I was going to work for. I met them on the boat going to Australia. Whilst at sea he showed me his books and diagrams. They were all about fuel pumps, carburettors, and other new parts for engines. Sven was going to fit them to the vehicles used for hauling the gravel. The old trucks had gravity feed mechanisms. The gold-mining companies wanted to find out if they could work with the new carburettors. On the journey to Australia I began to learn about my future trade – although at the time I didn’t realize it.’

  ‘What happened when you got to Australia?’

  ‘I went to Sydney, attempting to get the postal arrangements sorted out. Then I met Elsa and Sven at the gold-field town of Castlemaine. Sven was working on the big trucks. I had a job underground, in the mine. On my time off I helped Sven in his workshop. He said the motor engine was the gold I was looking for. He suggested I should change jobs. He put in a word in for me with the company.’ Danny looked into the fire, his eyes distant. ‘One day, I persuaded him to come down the mine, to see my world. I suppose it was a bit of bravado.’ Danny swallowed, lowering his head, his hands clenched together. ‘That day, the mine flooded. Eight of my mates got drowned. Sven and I were swept into a cavity, an air pocket. He was unconscious, but I managed to hold on to him. It took them two days to get us out. By the time they brought us to the surface it was too late.’

  The fire crackled. The room seemed very still. After a while he continued. ‘Elsa was pregnant with Tom
. I didn’t know how to face her. She didn’t like Australia or the climate. She was very homesick. And with the shock of Sven . . .’ It was another long moment before he looked up. ‘Elsa got sick. When the baby came, it was touch and go. For two years I looked after them. Tom became like my own son.’ He looked into Lizzie’s eyes. ‘I got an apprenticeship in the workshop with the company. I never went underground again. Elsa never blamed me. She didn’t need to. I blamed myself.’

  ‘No, Danny,’ Lizzie protested. ‘You couldn’t have known the mine would flood.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for me, Sven would be alive today. That’s why I’ve never been able to tell Tom.’

  Lizzie said gently, ‘You will one day.’

  ‘I don’t know. What will he think of me?’

  ‘He’ll understand. He’ll always love you.’ She asked softly, ‘Did you write all this, in your letters to me?’

  He nodded. ‘After Sven’s death, I had to stay. But I’d made my promise to you and I hoped you’d understand what was keeping me from returning. Later, when Elsa died, I sent a cable to Dad explaining I intended to come home but it would take me a while to save the money to get our passage back and have enough to set up my own business. I hoped that, even if you couldn’t forgive me for not returning, there still might be a chance . . .’

  ‘Bill never received a cable as far as I know. If he had, I’m sure he would have told me.’

  Once more they were silent, reflecting on the twists of fate that had kept them apart. Frank’s intervention had set the seal on her future. Sven’s death had determined the course of Danny’s life.

  The silence was suddenly broken as a clatter of feet down the airey steps told them the others were back. Flo, Syd and the children burst in through the front door. They were full of the games they had played at the park. As Polly sat on Lizzie’s lap, chattering away, Lizzie looked at Tom. Sitting by the fire, his fair hair gleaming, no one would have ever doubted that he was Danny’s blood.

  There were tears and tantrums the following week. On Tuesday, after school, Tom and Polly sat at the tea table with long faces. Tom and Danny were leaving that day. ‘I don’t want Tom to go.’ Big, wet drops rolled down Polly’s cheeks.

  Lizzie had grown very fond of Tom. Through him, she had come to know his parents. Tom’s blond hair and fair skin were not Danny’s, as everyone had assumed, they were from his Scandinavian parents.

  ‘Tom has to go,’ Lizzie told Polly.

  ‘When it was my birthday and I made a wish,’ wailed Polly, ‘it was for someone to play with. And it came true.’

  Lizzie sat beside Polly. What could she say to comfort her? ‘You can still play at school.’

  ‘It’s not the same. Why can’t he stay?’

  ‘Because he has to have a home too.’

  ‘He’s only got a landlady in Napier Road.’’

  Lizzie smiled. ‘Isn’t it much better that Tom only lives a few streets away, rather than in Australia?’

  ‘I s’pose so.’

  ‘When are we going, Auntie Lizzie?’ Tom, always hungry, bit into a slice of Lil’s sponge. His large blue eyes stared up at her.

  ‘After tea. Your dad took your things to Napier Street this morning. Uncle Bert’s driving you over to the workshop.’ Danny had packed their few belongings and come up to the shop to say goodbye. She had tried to pretend she was happy for them, that things were returning to normal. But inside she felt as unhappy as Polly.

  ‘I’m not going to wash tonight,’ Polly stated rebelliously.

  ‘You’ll stink if you don’t,’ Tom giggled. Suddenly there were smiles again. Tears and laughter mingled as the children finished their tea.

  They waved goodbye to Tom as he sat in the van beside Bert. Tom’s pale face peered out of the window. Polly ran to the bedroom in tears. Lizzie went after her, pausing at Danny and Tom’s bedroom as she passed. She could still smell them there. It hurt.

  The days passed and April arrived. Lizzie hadn’t seen Danny and she missed him. Polly brought home bits of news from school. According to Tom his dad was very busy at the workshop. He was getting lots of work from the factories. There was no mention of trouble and Lizzie wondered if they had all been wrong about Frank trying again.

  It was a bright spring Saturday when a big black car pulled up outside the shop. A man was driving it, a woman sitting beside him. Lizzie’s mouth fell open as Babs climbed out. She was dressed in a bright red coat with a black feather boa. Her high heels clattered as she entered the shop. All the customers turned to stare. A waft of cheap perfume floated in.

  Bert dropped a sack with a thump on the floor. Babs swaggered past the queue. A lady with a baby in her arms shouted, ‘’Ere, we was ’ere first. You wait yer turn.’

  ‘Keep yer hair on,’ laughed Babs. ‘I ain’t come here to stand in a bloody queue, missus. ’Ello, then, gel.’ Babs sounded as if she’d seen Lizzie only yesterday.

  Lizzie’s heart pounded under her coat. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Charming, I must say.’ Babs looked Lizzie up and down.

  ‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’

  ‘Why the bloody hell should I?’ Babs ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘Anyway, I didn’t know, did I? I got a friend to drive me over at the last moment.’

  The shop was all ears. All heads turned to look at the car.

  Lizzie didn’t want half of the island hearing. ‘You’d better come out the back.’

  Panic was welling up in her as she entered the storeroom. What did Babs want after all this time?

  ‘Christ, this gives me the creeps,’ Babs muttered as she walked in. ‘It’s so bloody cold in here. And that stink of veg! Knocks yer blooming socks off!’

  ‘What do you want?’ Lizzie demanded again. She looked at Babs with contempt. Why had Babs stolen those letters that Danny sent? Was it because Frank had persuaded her to do so? Babs had only been a girl then, not even sixteen. Still, she had been a worldly wise one. Frank must have bribed her to do it. What did he use? His charm? Money? Promises? Whatever it was, Babs had aided him in his plans to keep Danny away. Lizzie could never forgive her for that. Babs didn’t have the right to walk back into their lives whenever she felt like it. But, forcing down the urge to challenge her, Lizzie said nothing, for Polly’s sake.

  Babs walked around the room. ‘I’ve come to see me daughter.’

  That was the worst news Lizzie could have heard. ‘You haven’t shown any interest in years. You didn’t even come to her birthday party.’

  ‘I couldn’t. I was ill.’

  ‘Why didn’t you send her a present or a card?’

  ‘I was in hospital, that’s why. I got a touch of TB.’

  Lizzie was shocked. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘They put me in one of them places our Flo was in.’

  ‘Quarantine, you mean?’

  ‘Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m all right now. You won’t catch anything.’ Babs shrugged. ‘So, you see, I just want to say hello to me girl. Any objections?’

  ‘It depends.’ Lizzie didn’t trust Babs. She wasn’t just going to arrive out of the blue and see Polly, even if she was her mother. Did she know what Frank had done to Danny? Was she just keeping quiet in order to see Polly?

  ‘I don’t want Polly upset,’ Lizzie said firmly.

  Babs glared at her. ‘You don’t want her upset. She’s my bloody kid.’

  There was movement at the door and Polly stood there. Lizzie’s heart sank. If Polly hadn’t appeared there might have been a chance of getting rid of Babs.

  ‘Hello, Mummy.’ Polly was dressed warmly in a green jumper and tartan skirt, her long dark hair tied in two neat plaits. She held a pencil in one hand and a book in the other.

  Babs plastered on a smile. ‘’Ello, Pol, love. What you been doing, then?’

  ‘I’ve been drawing with Auntie Flo. She’s gone out with Uncle Syd.’

  ‘Uncle Syd, eh?’ Babs cast a smirk at Lizzie before bending down.
‘Come and give yer mother a kiss.’

  Polly walked slowly towards her. ‘Do you like my picture?’ Polly showed her the drawing book. Babs forgot about the kiss when she saw it and jabbed the paper with a red fingernail. ‘Who’s this supposed to be, then?’

  ‘My cousin, Tom. He’s riding a horse like he did in Australia. And there’s me sitting in a car. It’s my Uncle Danny’s car.’

  ‘Your Uncle Danny, eh? I remember him. Went all the way to Australia. Left yer Auntie Lizzie to go and look for gold.’ Babs pushed the book back into Polly’s small hand. ‘You gonna come out with Mummy?’

  ‘Where?’ Polly asked curiously. Lizzie’s heart sank even further. She wouldn’t have the heart to stop Polly if she wanted to go. When Polly asked about Babs, Lizzie’s stock reply was ‘She’ll call one day.’ Well, this appeared to be the day.

  ‘Up the park,’ Babs replied. ‘And maybe we’ll go for something to eat after. Make up for me missing yer birthday.’

  Polly smiled brightly. ‘All right, then.’

  ‘Hurry up, gel. We’ll have a nice day all to ourselves. That is, if yer Auntie Lizzie don’t put the mockers on it.’ She gave Lizzie a black look.

  Lizzie didn’t want to let Polly go. But how could she prevent it? Babs was Polly’s mother. How could she explain to Polly her distrust of Babs? She had always tried to hide what she truly felt for the child’s sake.

  ‘What time – exactly – will you bring her back?’

  Babs shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘You must have some idea.’

  ‘Oh, flaming heck!’ Babs burst out. ‘After tea. Does that satisfy you?’

  ‘Polly’s bedtime is eight o’clock.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that. It’s burned into me brain.’

  ‘Fetch your coat and gloves from downstairs,’ Lizzie told Polly. ‘If Auntie Flo has gone out, she’ll have left the door on the latch.’

  Whilst Polly was gone, Babs opened her bag, took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She lit one, inhaling deeply. She had a smile on her face, as though she was keeping a secret.