Lizzie of Langley Street

by Carol Rivers

  Polly’s eyes were bright with excitement when she came running back in.

  ‘Auntie Flo and Uncle Syd have gone out,’ she chattered breathlessly. ‘But I’ve got my things, even my gloves.’ All her clothes were bundled in her arms.

  Lizzie dressed her and gave her a big hug. ‘Be a good girl now.’

  Polly nodded and slipped her hand through her mother’s. It broke Lizzie’s heart to see the little girl walk out so trustingly. She prayed that Polly would remain safe.

  By nine o’clock that night, Lizzie was desperate. She was pacing the floor, berating herself for letting Polly go. Her heart was jumping around in her chest. Where were they? Why hadn’t they returned?

  Lizzie burst into tears when Flo came back from the pub.

  ‘What’s the matter, what’s happened?’ Flo asked.

  ‘She’s not back!’ Lizzie wailed. ‘I should never have agreed to her going out. Who was that man in the car? They could have gone anywhere. Polly could be miles away by now. I might never see her again!’

  ‘Don’t panic’ Flo tried to calm her. ‘Look, you know what Babs is like. She’s got no idea of time.’

  ‘I told her Polly goes to bed at eight.’

  ‘Yeah, well, Babs dunno eight from midnight, does she?’

  Lizzie put her hands over her face. ‘Something’s happened, Flo. I know it. Oh, Polly, why did I ever say yes?’ Lizzie sank down on the couch, the tears flowing.

  ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea.’ Flo turned to Syd, who was standing there with his coat on. ‘’Ere, Syd, make yerself useful and talk to her, will you.’

  The young man sat down. ‘She’ll be all right Mrs F. It’s her mum, after all.’

  ‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ Lizzie sobbed.

  ‘I’ll go and look for them if they’re not back soon.’

  ‘But you’ve only got your bike.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m fast on it.’

  She knew Syd meant well, but he didn’t understand. She wished Danny was sitting there instead. He would know what to do.

  Polly wasn’t back by ten o’clock. By eleven, Lizzie was frantic.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was the longest night of her life. She was inconsolable. She blamed herself. What had possessed her to let Polly go? Where was she? Why hadn’t they brought her back? The minutes dragged by.

  Lizzie went to the window. She could only see up the airey steps. She wanted to go out and search the streets, go anywhere and everywhere.

  Syd went out on his bike but found no sign of her. He left at one o’clock in the morning. It was four o’clock when Flo came out of the bedroom. She was in her nightdress, her hair was done up in curlers. ‘Blimey, gel, ain’t you gone to bed, yet?’ She screwed her eyes up in the light.

  ‘How can I?’ cried Lizzie, pacing the floor. ‘What have they done with her? Where have they taken her?’

  Flo shook her head tiredly. ‘Lizzie, she’s with her mother. She’s with Babs. Look, if she was out alone on the streets the whole of the island would be looking for her. There ain’t nothing you can do.’

  ‘But she hasn’t got her nightclothes or her toothbrush—’

  ‘Are you gonna stand there and torture youself all night?’

  Lizzie turned her back to Flo. She wrung her hands as the tears spilled over again. She felt utterly powerless.

  ‘Babs’ll bring her back in the morning, you wait and see.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because she’s too much of a selfish cow to want to keep her.’

  ‘She hates me, Flo. I saw it in her eyes.’

  Flo moved beside her. ‘Whether she does or not, our Babs ain’t going to want to sling a bloody great anchor round her neck.’

  Lizzie blew her nose. ‘It’s got something to do with Frank, I know it has.’

  ‘Yeah, well, p’raps you’re right. But you can’t do anything about it tonight.’

  ‘I’m going to that house in Poplar.’

  ‘What!’ Flo grabbed her arms and pulled her round sharply. ‘Now you listen to me, you’re not going anywhere at this time of night. You don’t even know where it is.’

  ‘No, but you do.’

  Flo’s expression was incredulous. ‘I ain’t going nowhere except back to bed.’

  Lizzie was desperate. She knew that was where Polly was. She had to be there. ‘What if Babs takes her away, leaves the island? How will I find her? Where will I start looking?’

  ‘That’s daft! Where are they gonna go?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know, but Babs knows that Polly means everything to me.’

  ‘Wait till the morning.’ Flo shook her head. ‘Come back to bed.’

  ‘No, you go. I’ll be all right.’ Lizzie twisted the handkerchief in her hands.

  ‘And leave you to hop it out that door? No, I ain’t going to bed till you do. And if you go on at this rate, you’ll be no good to anyone in the morning.’

  Flo pushed her gently down on the couch. Lizzie burst into tears. Flo sat beside her and took her in her arms. ‘Here, you silly moo, you’re letting your imagination run away with you. This ain’t like you. That bloody Babs, she certainly knows how to make your life a misery. But what satisfaction is she gonna get from taking Pol? What about school, feeding and clothing her? Polly couldn’t stay at that place.’

  Lizzie stared at Flo through red eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know what Babs does for a living.’

  ‘I know, all right.’

  ‘Well, exactly. She can’t keep Pol.’

  ‘Flo, I don’t understand. Why does she lead that kind of life?’

  ‘Search me. To be honest, it was a shock when I went over there as a kid. I saw all the business going on. I got a real eyeful, I can tell you. It was all tits and bums. I thought Vinnie had a really posh job and house till I realized what it was he did. He’s a glorified ponce, that’s all.’

  Lizzie felt her stomach turn over. ‘I don’t want to know!’ she almost shouted.

  There was shock on Flo’s face. ‘Don’t go bawling at me. It ain’t my fault, all this. You gotta ask youself a few questions here and come up with the right answers. Our Babs might be what she is, but it ain’t news to you, is it? You was the one who took Pol on, knowing full well Babs could change her mind any day. Well, I know you was only doing what you thought was right, but no one said it was gonna be easy. It ain’t no good having a go at me when things go wrong.’

  Flo’s words went home. Lizzie swallowed; she was taking out her anger on the wrong person. ‘I’m sorry, Flo. I know it ain’t your fault.’

  They hugged each other close. Flo sniffed loudly. ‘Crikey, now you got me at it!’

  ‘If it anyone’s fault it’s mine. I should have just said no.’

  ‘You didn’t, because of Pol and what she would think.’

  ‘She’s got to know sooner or later.’

  ‘Well, maybe it’s better that it’s sooner, eh?’

  Lizzie looked at Flo and nodded. She knew that Polly had to learn the truth about her mother, that she couldn’t keep it secret for ever. ‘You go to bed,’ she told Flo again. ‘I really am all right.’

  ‘We’ll do something in the morning.’

  Lizzie nodded. She didn’t tell Flo what she was planning. She had made up her mind. If Pol wasn’t back on that doorstep first thing in the morning, she was going up to Poplar to find the house. And no one was going to stop her.

  Lizzie woke with a crick in her neck. She had fallen asleep, fully dressed, on the armchair. She looked at the window. It was daylight. The clock said seven. Easing her head from side to side she sat forward, the events of yesterday coming back slowly.

  She jumped up, her heart beginning to race. ‘Polly, Polly . . .’ she whispered as she ran to the front door. She opened it, but only a cold wind blew down the airey steps. What did she expect to find – Polly standing there?

  She ran up the steps and looked both ways. A few people were
emerging from their houses, church bells chimed in the distance. Ebondale Street looked the way it always did on a Sunday morning. Deserted.

  She ran back into the airey. Her heart was pounding so heavily, she stopped still and made herself take deep breaths. She knew what she had to do. She would go to Poplar and find Polly.

  Putting on her navy blue coat and gloves, she looked at Polly’s empty bed and her teddy bear. A lump formed in her throat. Where had Polly slept last night? She didn’t have any of her things. She never slept without her teddy bear.

  Careful not to wake Flo, Lizzie tip-toed to the front door and slipped out quietly. The streets were empty, the docks silent. Idle cranes poked up into the sky, the short ones and the goosenecks alike towering above the roofs. A black and red funnel rose above a terraced line of cottages. She felt small in comparison, but was comforted by the sight. Her hair lifted in the wind and whipped around her face. The air smelled of hemp and tar, fried breakfasts and the beer from the night before. This was her London. She knew it well. She knew everything there was to know about the earth she was walking on. But she didn’t know where Polly was.

  At eight o’clock, Flo pulled out Sydney’s bicycle from beside the stable. Benji lifted his head, made a soft sound of recognition and returned to his leisurely doze. Flo was in a panic. She had woken with a start and discovered the airey empty. She wore no make-up and still had her curlers in, hidden by a scarf.

  The handlebars caught on the bracket securing Benji’s hayrack. ‘Bugger it,’ she swore loudly, giving them a yank. A moment or two later she was on the road, pedalling for all she was worth. Her coat flapped against her legs, her throat hurt with the cold air. Thank God Syd had walked home last night and left the bike. Would Danny be at the warehouse? She didn’t know what number he lived at in Napier Road.

  ‘Lizzie, you idiot!’ she puffed as she cycled. ‘Going off like that on your own.’ She was crackers to go to Poplar unaccompanied.

  Flo pedalled faster. She hadn’t ridden a bike in years. Her bum ached, her legs were like lead weights. Why didn’t Syd get the bloody chain oiled? He’d been going on about it for weeks. He was always too pissed to ride it when he came back from the pub. Said he preferred to whistle his way home on foot. Saving up for a car, he said. How did he think they were gonna afford a car and a house when they got married?

  Flo sailed round the corners. Her mind darted from one worry to another. Why hadn’t Lizzie woken her this morning? It was all Babs’ fault. Lizzie was only going to land herself in trouble. What would happen if she found the house and Vinnie or Frank was there? Or both?

  ‘You cow, Babs!’ Flo panted as she neared Langley Street. Should she stop at Lil’s? No, it would only waste time explaining.

  ‘Please be there, Danny, please.’ Her legs went faster and faster. Danny would know what to do. He was the only one who would.

  ‘Ain’t seen you on a bike for years!’ someone shouted as she flew by.

  No, and you’re not likely to again, thought Flo. After this, I won’t mind if Syd does fork out on a car. At the next crossroads she narrowly missed a baker’s van. Shaking and breathless, she skidded to a halt; her heart was doing a tattoo in her chest – she’d bloody nearly gone under those wheels!

  She climbed back on again. It was then she noticed that Syd’s rusty old bike was a woman’s one, and there was a small brass plate welded to the handlebars. ‘Queen Mary’s Home for Retired Gentlefolk’, it said.

  It was half past eight by the time Lizzie reached Poplar. In the old days, she pushed Pa up this way, but today only thoughts of Polly filled her mind. She peered along the road at the dirty houses and closed front doors. Everyone was asleep still.

  The Shipwright’s was down the bottom on the right. She hurried towards it. They wouldn’t be open, but she’d knock all the same and make someone hear. The landlord was bound to know where the bookie’s house was.

  As she had expected, the pub was closed. There were bottles outside in a wooden crate and the smell of stale beer filled the air. Hurrying past the tall glass windows with their frosted glass scrollwork, she arrived in the yard. It was empty, save for a cat sitting on a dustbin. Old sacks, bags, rotting food and boxes were piled up against a wall. The saloon bar door was closed. She banged on it. No one answered.

  Someone must be inside. She ran into the road and looked up. They probably thought she was a furious wife, searching for her drunk husband. She ran over to the houses on the other side of the road. The lace curtains twitched, but she knew, even before she knocked, that no one would answer. Who wanted to confront an angry wife on a Sunday morning?

  She knocked on another door. A window opened above her head. ‘Clear off, you noisy cow!’ a man roared, poking out his unshaven face. ‘I’m trying to get some kip.’

  ‘I only want to know where—’

  ‘I said clear off unless you want a jerry on yer head.’ The window came down with a crash.

  ‘Polly, Polly, where are you?’ Lizzie sighed on the verge of tears. The next street was the same as all the others; red-brick houses covered in grime and soot. The only people about were those going to church. She couldn’t bring herself to ask the way to a brothel. Coming towards her was a man, his wife and daughter, each carrying a bible in their hand. They crossed the road to avoid her.

  Out of desperation she followed them, not looking as she crossed the road. Suddenly there was a screech of brakes. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ cried a voice from the car that had almost knocked her down.

  Lizzie stared, unable to believe it was Babs who was yelling from the open window.

  ‘Auntie Lizzie, Auntie Lizzie!’ Polly’s voice echoed from inside the car.

  Lizzie ran forward, hurling herself at the door. When it came open, Babs sat there, a smile on her painted face. ‘Well, look who it ain’t!’ she laughed, and Lizzie smelled the drink on her breath.

  Polly was sitting in the back seat, her eyes full of tears.

  ‘Why didn’t you bring her back?’ Lizzie heard herself screaming. ‘Where has she been?’

  ‘Where d’you think, you dozy cow,’ Babs sneered. ‘She’s been with me, her mo—’

  Lizzie fell on Babs, grabbing the red coat and boa, the feathers flying everywhere as Babs fell from the car. The look on her face only made Lizzie more angry. She had to get to Polly, to feel her safely in her arms. Babs was struggling to stand upright as Lizzie fought to open the back door. She had the handle in her grasp when a pain shot through her arm. Someone had grabbed her and was thrusting her back.

  ‘What do you think yer doing?’ a voice demanded as she was pushed roughly against the car. She stared into her brother’s face. ‘Vinnie!’ He stood before her, his dark eyes narrowed.

  Babs stumbled towards them, pulling on the boa. She poked a finger hard in Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘Polly’s mine. She’s staying with me. You got a bloody cheek telling me what to do with my own kid.’

  ‘Auntie Lizzie, Auntie Lizzie!’ Polly was screaming in the car.

  Lizzie tried to reach her. They couldn’t take her away. Babs was laughing as Vinnie got hold of her again, squeezing her arms tightly so that she cried out in pain. ‘P . . . please let me have her, Vinnie. P . . . please,’ she begged.

  His eyes were cold and hard. She knew he had no intention of ever letting Polly go. ‘If you want her, you’d better get in.’ He pulled open the car door. ‘Someone you know would like a word with you.’

  Lizzie stared into Vinnie’s unsmiling face. She knew if she climbed into the car she might never see home again.

  ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ He gave her a hard push. She fell into the car beside Polly and the door banged. Lizzie clutched the little girl against her. Polly’s tears fell on to Lizzie’s coat as she hugged her close.

  ‘Auntie Lizzie, I want to go home.’ Polly clung to her.

  ‘I know, I know, my love.’ Lizzie was shaking, her body numbed, her brain whirling. Was it Frank who wanted to see her?
It must be. What would he do? She held Polly tightly, trying to stifle the sobs coming up inside her chest.

  The car started up and they began to move off. Suddenly there was a loud noise and the car shook. Vinnie cursed. Lizzie stared at the back of his head and at Babs, who was sitting beside him. She couldn’t see their expressions, but Babs started screaming. Vinnie was fighting with the steering wheel. It seemed to go out of control. The car was turning round and round, the houses moving past the windows like a merry-go-round. The car screeched loudly. Babs was still screaming. Lizzie closed her eyes and dragged Polly down on the seat. She knew they were going to crash.

  It seemed a long while before Lizzie dared to open her eyes. She had landed with Polly in her arms in the corner of the back seat. As they both sat up, Vinnie was slumped over the wheel. Babs was moaning softly.

  Someone opened the back door. Lizzie couldn’t see who it was through her tears. She pulled Polly closer. Was it Frank?

  ‘Uncle Danny!’ Polly screamed. She leaped into Danny’s outstretched arms.

  ‘Danny . . . ?’ Lizzie mumbled. She slid towards him across the seat. ‘What happened. Where . . .?’

  He was dressed in his overalls, his big hands reaching out to help them from the car. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked anxiously, hugging them to him.

  She managed to shake her head. ‘No, I don’t th . . . think so. I was—’

  ‘Don’t talk now. Hold on to Polly.’ He pushed them gently on to the pavement. The car had landed up against a wall and the front of a big brown van was up against the driver’s door. Vinnie was staring from the window, looking dazed. Danny climbed into the van, reversed it and got out again.

  The door of Vinnie’s car slowly opened. Vinnie stumbled out.

  Polly huddled into Lizzie’s arms. ‘They wouldn’t let me come back, Auntie Lizzie. Mummy said I had to live somewhere else. I told her I wanted to go home. She wouldn’t let me.’

  Lizzie hugged her closer. ‘It’s over now, darling. You’re safe.’

  Vinnie staggered towards Danny, cursing, his fists clenched. Danny ducked the blow, his fists raised as he circled slowly. His punch was swift and sharp and Vinnie’s head jerked sharply back. He looked surprised as his hand went up to the large red mark swelling his face. Before he moved again, there was another blow. He went reeling back against the car.