Dangerous Lady

by Martina Cole

  The June sunshine gave their play an added vigour. All around them the world had come to life. The hum of the traffic was getting louder and every so often the rattling of a train set the dirt trembling. To the right of the mound of sand stood what remained of the houses in Testerton Street. The bomb had been a direct hit and only the last few dwellings had still been standing afterwards. These had no fronts left. Their rooms were great gaping caverns that miraculously still had wallpaper and broken furniture inside.

  The two boys knew every inch of these houses. From the roof rafter of the most stable hung their ‘bundle’ swing. Now summer was here the swing would become a focal point for the children around and about. Boys would come from as far away as Shepherd’s Bush and Bayswater to play on it between fighting rival gangs. Providing the work didn’t start too soon, it would be a good summer.

  Scrambling down from the mound of sand, Garry began walking towards the houses, his hands and knees stained orange. Seeing his brother walking away Benny followed hastily, rubbing off the damp sand from his hands on his shorts. He caught up with Garry, puffing for breath.

  ‘What we gonna do then?’ As always he waited for Garry to decide what games were to be played.

  Garry looked up at his brother, his thin face already grimy. ‘We’s gonna look for bombs and things. Lee’s hid some gunpowder he swiped from under the Arches and I’m gonna pinch it off him.’

  Benny looked worried for a second. Lee at thirteen was already as big as Roy, who was seventeen, nearly six feet tall, and was also bad-tempered.

  ‘Lee’ll smash us up!’

  Garry smiled and pushed his glasses higher up his nose. ‘He’s got to catch us first!’

  Benny laughed nervously. Lee would catch them, he always did, but he kept his own counsel because when Garry got mad he sent him home. Then he’d have to play with his sister! He followed Garry into the end house. The stairs were still sound and both boys made their way up to the top floor. Standing dangerously close to the crumbling edge, the two looked out across London. Over the last few years the landscape had changed. From their vantage point they could see the whole of their world. In the distance Garry saw that the fairground had arrived at Wormwood Scrubs Park. He poked Benny in the ribs and pointed to it, a thrill of expectation going through them both.

  ‘I’m gonna get Mickey to give us some money! We’ll go there later and see what rides they’ve got!’

  In his excitement Benny jumped backwards and tripped over a lump of wood. As he landed on the floor boards he gasped, ‘Here, Gal, look at this lot!’

  Garry was already staring at what lay beneath his brother’s large feet.

  ‘Where’d you reckon they come from?’

  Garry shook his head. Kneeling down on the floor, he picked up an empty cartridge case. There were over a dozen in all.

  ‘I reckon someone nicked them and then left them here!’

  Pushing his glasses up on to the bridge of his nose, Garry snapped: ‘Trust you to state the bloody obvious. These have been hidden here by a little firm, and I think I know whose it was!’

  Benny pulled himself up from the floor with difficulty. Both his hands were stinging where he’d skinned them.

  ‘Who d’you reckon hid them then?’

  ‘I bet it was that gang from Elgin Avenue.’ Garry’s voice was triumphant.

  ‘Come on, let’s nick them quick. Before anyone comes.’

  Both boys began stuffing the empty cases down their shirts. Then they ran down the stairs as fast as they could. As they ran out of the house into the sunshine they both skidded to a halt. Lee, Leslie and Roy were walking towards them. Garry looked at Benny, his face troubled.

  ‘Whatever you do, don’t tell them about this lot.’ He patted his shirt. Benny’s hands were smarting and he rubbed them gently on his shirt. Tears were already forming in his eyes.

  Roy noticed the boys and called to them. ‘What you two standing there for? What you done?’

  Garry as usual did the talking. ‘We ain’t done nothing. We thought you was looking for us, that’s all.’

  ‘What would we want with you two?’ Roy’s voice sounded incredulous. ‘We get enough of you at home. Now sod off, the pair of you.’

  Neither boy needed to be told twice. They ran off as fast as their legs would carry them. When they reached the safety of the pile of sand they sat on top of it and watched their brothers. The three older boys stood by the opening of the houses. They were all smoking.

  ‘Did you smell them? I reckons they’ve been to the baths in Silchester Road. They’ve all got that smelly stuff on their hair.’ Benny’s voice was disgusted. In his mind anyone who could have a bath without being told to needed treatment. He himself had a bath every fortnight, a sixpenny one with soap and towels supplied. He hated it. If his mother didn’t stand outside waiting for him he’d spend the money on something important, like caps for his gun and comics.

  A little while later three girls arrived on the scene, two blondes and a redhead. Garry laughed.

  ‘Dirty bleeders! That’s why they’ve been to the baths. They’re going snogging!’

  They watched the three girls pair off with their brothers and go off in different directions. Even more disgusted, Benny stood up.

  ‘Come on, let’s go home. I’m hungry.’

  Silently the two boys made their way home.

  It was three in the afternoon when Roy brought Janine into his house. It was the first time he had brought a girl home and both he and Janine were nervous. Grasping her hand in the hallway, he smiled at her.

  ‘Everything’s gonna be all right.’

  He looked down into her green eyes and as always had the urge to kiss her. She had milk-white skin and long thick red hair. To Roy’s mind Janine was class. She was also very tall - five feet eight inches. In a way he was glad that she was ‘in trouble’. It would give them the push they needed to come out into the open.

  He led her by the hand into his mother’s kitchen. As usual Sarah was cooking. Even on days like this with the sun cracking the pavements Sarah still cooked. With nine children to feed, preparing a meal was a major event. She looked at Roy and Janine, her surprise showing on her face. Roy stood awkwardly in the kitchen and, still grasping Janine’s hand, smiled at his mother.

  ‘Mum, I’d like you to meet Janine . . . Janine Grierson.’

  The girl stretched out her free hand and nodded her head. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.’

  Her voice was very low and refined. Wiping her hand on her apron, Sarah took the girl’s hand and shook it gently.

  ‘And you, love. Well, sit yourselves down. I’ve made some ginger beer. Would you like a glass?’

  Without waiting for an answer, she went to the scullery and took the large jug from the table out there. She needed time to think. Grierson? Grierson? Where did she know that name from? She carried the jug back into the kitchen. Roy had sat Janine at the kitchen table and was standing beside her. Then, like a bolt out of the blue, it came to Sarah. This was Janine Grierson. Her heart sank in her chest. Her father owned the butcher’s in the Portobello Road. He had also owned the house next door to Christie’s round in Rillington Place. What on earth was Janine doing with her Roy? Not that she didn’t think her son was good enough for her, oh no! But Eliza Grierson had great plans for her only daughter, Sarah knew that much.

  Forcing a smile on to her face she poured out two glasses of ginger beer. As she placed them on the table, Roy spoke up. ‘Janine’s pregnant, Mum. And I’m the father.’

  Outside in the garden, Maura was watching Garry and Benny working. Benny was holding the cartridges steady while Garry filled them with the gunpowder. After watching a particularly thrilling Lone Ranger at the Saturday morning minors, Garry had experienced a renewed interest in the making of bombs. He pushed the wadding carefully into the cartridge before taking it from Benny and placing it on the garden wall. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. That was the last one.

  M
aura sat on the wooden crate. Her long blonde hair seemed to come alive in the sunlight which gave it golden highlights. Her aquamarine eyes carefully watched every movement her brothers made. At five, Maura knew that if she wanted to be a part of their games she had to sit and watch quietly, otherwise they would sneak out of the garden leaving her alone.

  She saw Garry give Benny a large hammer. Then Garry carefully took one of the filled cartridges and placed it on the grass. He had to press it down a couple of times to stop it falling over. Then he nodded at Benny who took the hammer and brought it back over his head, ready to smash it down on to the cartridge at a sign from his brother. Garry pushed his glasses higher on his nose and raising his hand as if he was starting a race, brought it down heavily to his side . . .

  Inside the house Janine was crying quietly as Sarah spoke. ‘It’s nothing against you, lass, but think of your father. He’ll go stark staring mad when he hears. Baby or no baby, there’s no way he’ll allow you to marry Roy. I know it.’ Her voice had a finality about it that made Roy’s blood run cold in his veins. He opened his mouth to answer. Both women were looking at him expectantly. They saw his eyes open wide until they seemed about to start from his head.

  ‘Benny! Benny . . . don’t you bloody dare!’ His voice was so loud both women jumped in their seats. A split second later an almighty bang erupted from the garden, followed by Maura’s frenzied screaming. The three adults seemed to be catapulted from their seats as they ran out into the back yard.

  Maura had seen the hammer descend on to the cartridge just as she heard Roy’s voice from the house. The impact of the hammer hitting the brass casing of the cartridge had caused a flash of blue light followed by an enormous bang. As if in slow motion she had seen Benny travel backwards through the air, landing heavily on his back among the rubbish that littered the end of the garden. That’s when she started to scream. Through her tears she saw Garry scaling the wall as he made a run for it.

  Roy ran to where Benny was lying, his heart pounding in his ears. This time Garry had really done it. He had finally killed somebody. Picking Benny up gently he cradled his head in his lap, conscious of his mother standing in the garden, her hand over her mouth as if terrified of what she might find. Benny was soot-blackened all over. The smell of burnt powder seemed to hang around him in a cloud. Looking down into his brother’s face, Roy felt the tears come into his eyes.

  ‘Benny . . . Benny!’ Roy’s anguished voice carried up into the pale blue sky. Janine, stunned, had gone to the little girl sitting on the crate. Instinctively she pulled the child to her breast, stroking the long blonde hair.

  Roy clutched Benny to him, cuddling the dirty head to his breast. Opening his eyes Benny looked up into his brother’s tearstained face.

  ‘What happened?’ His childish voice broke into everyone’s shocked thoughts. ‘One minute I was hammerin’. The next I was blown up!’

  Benny looked around him, a bewildered expression on his face. ‘Where’s Garry gone?’

  Picking him up, Roy felt the terror slowly leave his own body. ‘When that little bastard gets home, I’m gonna murder him. If it’s the last thing I do in this life . . .’

  Maura clung to Janine, enjoying the flowery smell of her. Her cries had subsided to little hiccups. Sarah let Roy carry Benny into the house, and as she looked at Janine comforting her only daughter, the ice in her heart melted. Going to the girl, she put her arm around her shoulders.

  ‘That Garry will be the death of me. Well, if you think you could stand the strain of being part of this family, you’re welcome.’

  Janine’s white face made Sarah’s natural good nature come to the fore. Pushing the girl’s heavy red hair back from her face, she said, ‘I’m warning you, though . . . excitement like this is an everyday occurrence!’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Ryan, my father is going to go mad.’

  Sarah waved her hand at the girl, her voice sounding more confident than she actually felt.

  ‘He’ll get over it, love. He’ll get over it.’

  James Grierson was stalking around his house in a fit of temper so acute he could almost taste it. Unlike his wife, who had taken herself off to bed like one of the heroines in the penny dramas, he, James Grierson, was going to do something. What exactly he wasn’t sure, but he would think of something. Stamping up the stairs he went into the bedroom he shared with Eliza.

  ‘How could a daughter of mine take up with that bloody scum? A filthy, stinking Ryan!’ He clenched his fists and raised them to the ceiling. ‘I could throttle the bitch. My God, my mother used to say: “Show me the company you keep and I’ll tell you what you are.” Never was a truer word said!’

  Eliza closed her eyes and groaned. Since Janine had told them that morning that she was pregnant, her whole world had fallen apart. Only a week ago, she had stood in their butcher’s shop and completely demolished the reputation of young Carrie Davidson for the same thing: having to get married. She could hear herself talking to anyone who would listen about the shameless hussy. Now it had happened to her daughter and she didn’t like it, she didn’t like it one bit. Eliza Grierson was known as a gossip of Olympian standards. She prided herself on her ability to sift through the most innocent conversations and turn them into major scandals. She knew that this trouble with her daughter would be all the more enjoyed because it was a reflection on herself. She groaned again and pushed a pillow over her head. If it had been anyone but a Ryan . . . She felt tears of frustration stinging her eyes. She could cheerfully throttle Janine herself!

  A loud banging at the front door stopped both of them in their tracks. Pulling back the curtain, James Grierson looked down into his garden and groaned. It was not a very good day today, and he had a terrible feeling that it was going to get worse.

  Michael and Geoffrey stood in the Griersons’ front garden. Like everything of Eliza Grierson’s, the garden was what she described as ‘classy’. It was also immaculate, as were the curtains at the windows and the shiny brass knocker on the door. This was opened by a rather subdued James who said gruffly: ‘You’d better come in.’

  Michael and Geoffrey walked into the spacious hallway as if they owned the house. Opening the parlour door, James ushered them inside.

  Michael sat himself down in an armchair and looked around the room slowly. Geoffrey sat on the rather hard horsehair settee.

  Taking a packet of Strands from his pocket Michael gave one to Geoffrey and after offering the pack to James, who refused, laboriously set about lighting the cigarettes. He knew that his slowness was annoying James Grierson. It was a calculated move. Drawing the smoke into his lungs he put his head back against the chair and blew two large smoke rings. Then, looking at James, he smiled.

  ‘I understand, Mr Grierson, that my brother Roy has been shunting your daughter.’

  Geoffrey watched the red flush creep up James Grierson’s neck and continue until it reached his receding hairline. Stamping across the room, the man made as if to grab Michael’s shirt. Grabbing Grierson’s hand in a vice-like grip, Michael laughed.

  ‘Naughty, naughty.’

  Then pushing the older man from him, he sat forward in the chair. James was sent sprawling across his own parlour carpet, a blinding anger building inside him.

  Michael pointed at him, the cigarette smoke curling around his finger.

  ‘In three weeks’ time, Mr Grierson, my brother is gonna marry your daughter, with or without your permission. Personally I would advise you to give them your blessing, what with the baby and all. A new little Ryan . . . a Ryan that your daughter is carrying inside her.’

  Slowly James Grierson pulled himself up from the floor. Geoffrey put out his hand to help but was ignored. Waving his hand away, the older man slumped down on the chair opposite Michael.

  Staring at him, Michael underwent one of his lightning changes of mood. From anger and animosity he turned in a split second to a benevolent caring brother only here to see justice done. His rugged face softened. All irritation s
eemingly forgotten, he leant forward in his chair and smiled at James Grierson - one of his most stunning smiles that seemed to wipe the cruelty from his face at a stroke. He began to speak in a man to man voice.

  ‘Listen, James . . . may I call you James?’ The man nodded, not at all happy with this bewildering change in his antagonist.

  ‘The way I see it is this. Your daughter has been made pregnant by my brother.’ He opened his arms out wide in a gesture of helplessness. ‘They love one another, they want to marry. It’s not as if Roy’s had it on his toes, is it? He’s quite willing to do the right thing by the girl. I know you’ve had a shock. No man likes to think of his daughter . . . well, you know what I mean. But, the only thing left to do is to get them married. I hope you will change your attitude, soften towards them?’ His voice was now redolent with an underlying threat that was not wasted on James Grierson. Michael Ryan was offering him a face saver and he knew it. He was being told in no uncertain terms that he could come out of all this as the loving, caring father who would do anything to keep his daughter’s reputation; who welcomed her choice of husband with open arms; who would not bow down in the face of adversity, but would rise up and conquer it.

  For the first time in his life James Grierson felt a grudging respect for a Ryan. He knew he was being manipulated but, he asked himself, what was the alternative? He had heard stories about Michael Ryan. That he was as queer as a nine-bob note. That he had taken over Joe the Fish’s businesses and made a name for himself among the villains. At nineteen Michael Ryan was already becoming a neighbourhood legend. ‘Cruel but fair’ was the local opinion. Could he really let his only child become a part of this family? Even as the question formed in his mind he knew it was useless. If he went against this young man sitting opposite him, he would in effect dig his own grave. The course was already set. Janine was marrying Roy Ryan whether he liked it or not. What he had to do now was stretch out and take the hand of friendship being offered to him. He sighed heavily and his voice came out in a nervous croak.