Eve of the Isle

by Carol Rivers

‘All I’m saying is beware of the wrong women.’

  ‘And look who’s talking, Casanova himself!’ exclaimed Charlie in a gasp.

  ‘Yeah, well take a tip from a bloke that’s not always been led by his brains,’ Robbie answered dryly. ‘I learned a valuable lesson last year. The little hiccup I had over Diana Thomas was too close for comfort even though she was a real stunner and absolutely up for anything. But she was also married – and to another copper. I was only bedding her for the hell of it anyway. If it wasn’t for my CO pulling a few strings, I’d have been out on my backside with a DD.’ Robbie grinned gently. ‘So concentrate on your job and grow a tough skin. And remember, you’re my pal, I’m looking out for you.’

  Charlie couldn’t believe he’d just received a lecture from someone whom he’d heard boast that he’d only joined the Force for the uniform and the power it gave a man over females. Not that Robbie wasn’t his best chum and a damn fine footballer, but Charlie had heard rumours that he was still playing the field, and again, with married women.

  Charlie knew that if he opened his mouth now, he’d end up saying something he’d regret. So he shut it firmly and without saying more, they walked on.

  By the end of their beat, they had returned to the subject of football and the match that night. But Charlie was still ruminating on what his friend had said about the Kumar case. He wondered now if Moody had mentioned something else – hinted in some way about Eve – that had Robbie pressing all the wrong buttons today. Well, he would take what his friend had said into account, but the truth was he didn’t regret the help he had given Eve and her boys. They’d had a rough time of it and he’d tried to do his best to help. But what irked Charlie the most was the casual dispatch of the circumstances surrounding Eve’s husband’s death. Both Moody and Robbie had been of the same mind; Raj Kumar warranted no interest.

  But why?

  Charlie felt the sting of the winter wind on his cheeks and pulled back his shoulders. Maybe he’d done all he could in this case and now should leave it alone. He certainly had no power to investigate a case that was closed.

  He tried to propel his mind forward to the match at Locke Lancaster’s ground. It would be exciting, challenging. He needed a shot of adrenaline that would put an end to the disturbed feeling inside him.

  A solid career was what he was after. It wasn’t the docks, it wasn’t in professional football; it was the Force. But with this admission came certain responsibilities. Should he stick to the letter of the law and put the unresolved death of a lascar behind him? Or should he follow his instincts and delve deeper?

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning Eve took breakfast to Joan as usual. But she was shooed away by a bad tempered grunt. Leaving the tray on the bedside table she paused at the door.

  ‘I’ll be home in time to cook Harold’s dinner and do the chores,’ she promised but received no response.

  All day at the cottage, she was thinking about money. Her patch of watercress had been destroyed. In winter there was practically no cress sold on the streets but each spring she would harvest from her crop and sell it to shops and factories. When she had none she would sell posies of flowers that she bought from Covent Garden, rising early to ride on the back of a coster’s cart. But now she had no basket or money for stock.

  As she worked, piling the mud and dirt in the wheelbarrow, she decided the boys must return to school. St Saviour’s was a highly respected Catholic school and Eve encouraged the twins to observe their religion. But the nuns insisted they learn their catechism and the Latin responses to Mass. Samuel and Albert were not star pupils, and frequently they missed confession on Saturday morning because Eve allowed them to sleep in after their late Friday nights.

  This sin, especially, went against being a good Catholic and Eve didn’t want the boys to be ridiculed or singled out at school. So on Monday she would hang her head and apologize to Sister Mary for their extended absence.

  As Eve watched them from the kitchen window, her eyes lingered on their two small figures. In their too-big boots, warm scarves and peaked caps, Samuel and Albert looked the picture of health. They gazed up admiringly at the Higgins’ sons as they flexed their muscles under their rolled-up shirt sleeves.

  Suddenly there was a loud yell, and Jimmy opened the closet door. Eve stepped back from the window. She didn’t want to see what horrible surprise was in there.

  The day wore on and Eve was with Peg in the kitchen. Although Jimmy had shovelled away the top layer in the wheelbarrow, the drying mud clung to every surface. Eve knew it was a health hazard. She found a large drowned rat in the larder and shrieked. The men came running in and disposed of it.

  A little later it was Peg’s turn. ‘Oh my Gawd!’ screamed Peg as she jumped back from the stove. An army of black shiny roaches poured out of the oven.

  ‘Oh, Peg, what next?’

  ‘They took refuge from the water I suppose. Bugs can’t swim.’

  Eric Higgins rushed in, a look of alarm on his face. ‘What’s up now?’

  Peg and Eve pointed to the oven. Eric aimed his broom at the interior, but it was useless. The roaches, beetles and insects flopped out onto the dirty floor and scuttled away. Even the heavy sole of Eric’s boot didn’t deter them.

  ‘Sorry girls, what you have here is an infestation. Rats, mice, bugs, you name it, they’re here.’

  Eve knew this warranted a visit from the council. It was the one thing they couldn’t remedy themselves. A fumigation had to take place. If the bugs weren’t killed by a naphtha disinfectant spray, they would multiply.

  ‘We’ll put in a request at the town hall,’ sighed Peg, wiping her thin face with the bottom of her apron. ‘Next week when I pay the rent.’

  Eve knew she hadn’t got the two shillings to give to Peg towards the rent. It had been spent on gin.

  Peg slammed the oven door shut. ‘Well, we ain’t gonna be cooking no dinners in that for a while.’

  Maude entered, slapping her hand over her mouth as she saw the trail of little black bodies. Some flopped on their backs in the still wet patches. Others sped up the walls.

  ‘Oh, you poor loves.’ Maude’s buxom breasts heaved under her brightly coloured jacket. Her black hair was scraped back from her rosy face in a bun and her gold hoop earrings dangled, banging against her face as she shook her head sadly.

  ‘And whilst you’re at it, you’ll need old Slippery and his dog,’ added Eric with a wink. ‘There’s rats all over the yard. The boys and me have hit a few on the head with the spade, but the khazi is alive with the buggers. They’re coming up the hole underneath.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Eve wanted to cry. ‘I didn’t think it would be so bad.’

  ‘We’ll come again tomorrow to help you,’ said Maude gently, patting her hand. ‘But the following day we’re off to our relatives in Kent.’

  Eve nodded gratefully. ‘You’ve done enough already.’

  ‘Will your friend help again?’

  Eve blushed. ‘No he’s—’ She was about to say on duty but stopped in time. ‘At work.’

  ‘Well, the wheelbarrow has been useful.’

  Eve stepped back to avoid something larger and hairier that sped across the tiles. Peg and Maude shrieked and hurried off. Eve was left with Eric. He put his arm round her. ‘Sorry, lovely, but you gotta accept this place ain’t gonna be ’abitable for some time.’

  Eve suppressed a sob and nodded.

  ‘At least you’ve got a roof over your heads for now.’

  Again Eve nodded. But for how long? What would happen tonight when she went back to face the Slygos?

  To Eve’s dismay, Harold had arrived home. He was sitting in the parlour reading a newspaper.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Harold,’ the boys chorused, hiding their dirty hands behind their backs.

  He gazed at the four of them standing in the hall. They were all in their smelly clothes and Peg and Eve still wore turbans.

  ‘What is that dreadful smell?’

&n
bsp; Eve glanced warningly at Peg who was about to respond, the look on her face telling Eve that Harold was about to receive sharp words.

  ‘We’re going to wash.’

  ‘You’d better all go to the communal wash house downstairs.’

  Eve had looked in on the tin-roofed hut that housed a water pump, two brown-rimmed china basins and a long trough. It didn’t smell as bad as the lavatories on each floor, but it was freezing cold and the water was liquid ice. She would prefer to boil up a saucepan or two and wash in the privacy of their room, but she didn’t want to upset Harold.

  ‘Then when you’re done, I should like my dinner. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday. Joan is still upset that you let us down so badly. My wife deserves more consideration after all she’s been through.’

  Eve was seething. After all Joan had been through! She had only tripped over because she was tipsy and her bad back was not so bad that she couldn’t get out of bed and search for her gin. If Joan was upset, it was because of Harold and the row they’d had last night. ‘You’ll have it on the table for six,’ Eve said coldly.

  In their room, Peg was red in the face with anger. ‘The bare-faced cheek of it! I could strangle the pair of them.’ She wagged a finger at the door. ‘No wonder I kept me distance from the pair of bloody hypocrites. C of E they call themselves. I’ll bet Lucifer himself would turn them away from his fire.’

  ‘Calm down, Peg. Let’s wash.’

  But Peg sat on the bed and folded her arms. ‘You won’t catch me down in that dump.’

  ‘It’s only to keep him happy.’

  ‘I’d like to land him one. And her too.’

  ‘Well, don’t just yet. We need this room.’

  But Peg threw back her head and snorted. ‘Tell you what, girl, I’ve just about had enough of this.’

  Eve sighed deeply. She had too, but there was nowhere else to go. ‘Come on, boys, we’ll brave the elements for a wash. Now bring that towel and bar of Sunlight.’

  The boys nodded obediently and followed her, shoulders sloping and heads bowed. Eve could see that even their young spirits were being crushed.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ complained Albert as they slowly filed down the cold and draughty stairs. A wind rattled through the open spaces and shadows were hiding in the corners.

  ‘I’ll cook dinner soon.’

  ‘Will Uncle Harold get his first?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Eve pushed Albert and Samuel through the creaking door of the hut.

  ‘It’s dark in here,’ Albert cried. ‘Can’t see nothing.’

  ‘And freezing,’ said Samuel, shivering.

  ‘We can see by the moonshine through the window. Strip to your waists, boys. The quicker you get your shirts and vests off the sooner they’ll be back on. I’ll test the water first.’

  Eve turned on the tap and put her hands and face under. She tried to stifle a gasp. Washing as best she could, anger and rebellion ignited inside her as her children were made to suffer the indignities of Bambury Buildings.

  She could never live in a place like this. No wonder all the residents quarrelled and looked depressed and unhappy. Isle Street might be classed as a slum, but it was heaven compared to this.

  The boys’ teeth rattled as they dressed again. Eve made a promise to herself; she would find the money from somewhere to rent lodgings. But first she had to go back to work.

  That night, when Harold had finished his dinner, Eve attempted to create a miracle from what was left in the larder. Dividing the two sausages and vegetables amongst the four of them it was a meagre offering. But she didn’t dare tell Joan the larder was empty.

  Approaching Harold was even worse. She didn’t want to speak to him. So far she had managed to keep one of the boys or Peg with her, so that she was never alone with him. Now she was quickly washing up, keeping alert for his footsteps yet again.

  She had just put away the final plate when he appeared. Her heart raced so fast, she felt dizzy. Trying to side-step him, she was stopped by his plump body as it moved faster than she expected across her path.

  ‘Eve, I’d like to speak to you.’

  Eve shrank back. Her eyes darted around the small space searching for escape. But Harold had positioned himself strategically, blocking the doorway. The smell of him drifted towards her, as he stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

  ‘I’d like you to come into the parlour.’

  Eve stiffened. ‘We can talk here.’

  ‘No, the parlour if you please.’

  She was frightened. Would he trap her in there, try something on? She tried to reassure herself that Peg and the boys were in calling distance. But how could she expose Harold without causing trouble?

  ‘I can’t be long.’

  ‘What is there to rush for?’

  ‘I say prayers with the boys before they go to sleep.’

  Harold smirked. ‘Oh, yes, you’re RC.’ He said it sarcastically, a nasty look in his watery eyes.

  He stood back and extended his arm for Eve to pass by. She almost ran into the parlour and searched quickly for an escape route, but there was only the door. Harold followed her and closed it.

  ‘Please sit down.’

  ‘No thanks, I’d rather stand.’

  Harold took the settee by the table on which the radio stood. He made himself comfortable, patting the seat beside him. ‘Sit down, Eve.’ He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. ‘Let’s try to be friends. You may need a shoulder to cry on from what I’ve heard.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Eve felt sick with apprehension.

  ‘Your cottage is ruined.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘I heard it from an official source.’

  Eve swallowed. ‘What source?’

  ‘The police. I went to the station at Stepney today and spoke to the desk sergeant.’

  Eve gasped. ‘But why?’

  ‘I wanted to find out the true position of your circumstances. After all, you’ve been with us a week and last night Joan was upset about your behaviour towards her.’

  ‘I only tried to help,’ Eve spluttered. She felt like she was on trial. And what right did he have to check on her?

  ‘You leave her alone too much. The point of you being here was to be with her, provide a bit of company and to help with the chores in return for our hospitality. I told you she gets lonely and needs cheering up. Last night she had sunk into one of her depressions. I couldn’t console her.’

  ‘Perhaps that was because you were shouting too loud,’ Eve said before she could stop herself.

  Harold’s smug smile disappeared. ‘I wasn’t shouting.’ For a portly man, he rose quickly. ‘How dare you speak to me like that? I’m your host.’

  Eve took a step back as he moved towards her.

  ‘When will you see reason?’ He stopped and put out his hand. ‘I only want to help you.’

  ‘Then leave me alone.’

  ‘But I want to comfort you.’

  ‘I don’t need comforting.’ Eve couldn’t move either way.

  ‘Of course you do. I could give you so much, my dear. Look, here, this is for your boys.’ He dug in his pocket and brought out a handful of silver coins. ‘You can buy them some new clothes and whatever you want for yourself. A nice dress instead of that dreadful shawl. Take it off, it spoils your lovely figure.’

  Eve was insulted. ‘This was my mother’s. I don’t want your money.’

  ‘Everyone has a price.’

  ‘Get away from me or I’ll scream.’

  ‘This is your home now and you’ll do as I say. Take this and enjoy it. All I ask is that you allow me to be your friend.’

  Eve pushed him away and the coins fell on the floor. She let out a scream as he fell on her, covering her mouth with his hand. She fought to push him off but he was strong. She tried to drag away his arm; he was suffocating her. His eyes were glazed and unfocused as he mumbled, the smell of him making her want to retch.

 
‘Just one kiss, Eve, just one and I’ll let you go . . .’ He moved his hand away from her mouth. She was about to scream when his lips closed over hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth. Eve closed her eyes in terror. She couldn’t move as he was leaning hard on her. It took all her willpower to go limp and quiet, as though she would allow him to do what he wanted. She kept her eyes closed, as he tore off her shawl and found her breast. His tongue drove into her mouth again. When he pulled up her skirt she offered no resistance. ‘Good girl,’ he whispered, ‘this won’t take long.’

  Eve opened her eyes slowly. She looked into his face contorted with lust. How could Joan ever let this man touch her?

  ‘You have a beautiful body. It should not go to waste.’

  As he fumbled to unzip his trousers, Eve brought up her knee. The last thing she saw before she fled the room was the strands of thin hair across his bald pate as he choked and fell to the floor.

  ‘You bitch! You cow!’ screamed Joan as she faced Eve in the hall. ‘Try it on with my husband would you? Then run away?’

  ‘It wasn’t me who tried it on.’

  ‘Liar!’

  Eve stared at the woman who half an hour ago had been suffering such a severe depression she was unable to get out of bed. She was now on her feet, yelling at the top of her voice as Eve gathered the boys together whilst Peg packed their bags. Thank goodness they didn’t have much, Eve thought as she pushed Samuel and Albert towards the front door and opened it. After Harold’s attack Eve knew they had come to the end of their time here. When she’d run back to their room, she had told the boys they were about to leave. Peg knew there was something wrong, but asked no questions, telling the boys to do as their mother asked.

  ‘You tart!’ exclaimed Joan, flying at Eve, her arms outstretched.

  But Peg caught hold of her sister. ‘Listen, you dozy mare, for once in your life open your eyes. Why would a good-looking girl like Eve want to be bothered with an old coot like Harold?’

  ‘Don’t you speak about my husband like that!’

  ‘I don’t know what went on,’ Peg answered as she stood with a bag under each arm, ‘but I know who I’d rather believe and it ain’t your old man.’