by Carol Rivers
Peg thought for a moment. ‘He’d better hear what I have to say first.’
A moment or two later, Jimmy returned with Charlie. ‘So you’ve had no success in finding Eve?’ Peg demanded scathingly.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Jimmy tells me you’re going up to the station.’
‘Yes, to report her missing.’
‘Will they send out a division to search for her?’
Charlie went red. ‘No, not exactly a division . . .’
‘How many then?’
He hesitated. ‘They might not get on it right away as she’s only been missing since yesterday.’
Peg huffed. ‘So the answer is that no one is going to Shadwell on her behalf. Not today, or tomorrow. Well, they wouldn’t, would they? She’s only a flower-seller.’
Charlie looked uncomfortable. ‘You don’t have much confidence in the law, Mrs – er – Peg—’
‘No I don’t,’ Peg agreed coldly. ‘But I know rules have to be followed and it might as well be you that does it as me and Jim would rather walk hot coals than consort with the law. However, I do have a bit of information of me own. You’d better sit down.’
When she had their full attention, Peg related word for word what Archie had told her. ‘So what do you think?’
‘Is this Archie to be relied upon?’ asked Charlie.
‘Eve thought a lot of him. Gave her the chance to get back in business.’
‘That’s good enough for me,’ Charlie nodded. ‘If you’ve no objection to me delaying that report, I’ll drive down to the park and retrace her footsteps. Perhaps someone saw her, or she spoke to someone – I’ll do it whilst the trail is hot.’
‘I’m coming too,’ said Jimmy.
Charlie shook his head. ‘No lad, you’ve done enough. Stay here with Peg and look after that eye.’
‘Sorry, mate. I want to find Eve.’
‘Go on, the pair of you,’ said Peg, waving them off. ‘Two is better than one.’
Peg watched them leave, then rested back, her brow drawn together into a frown. So Charlie Merritt was a bit of a dark horse, was he? But coppers were coppers the world over. Jimmy was young and impressionable. It would take more than a few lucky blows to a beer belly to impress Peg Riggs. Like finding Eve, for instance. And then she might take another view of the law altogether.
Charlie stood with Jimmy at the entrance to the park. He narrowed his eyes at the velvet green grass that flowed down to the walkway that provided a perfect panorama of the Thames. It was now midday and the children were playing on the green lawns, some of them sitting on the granite base which formed a garden seat and portrait of the late King Edward the Seventh. To them, it was just another king, a face that they would see in the pages of their history books. All they were interested in was playing their games, throwing their balls and enjoying the freedom that the park afforded. But to older East Enders who had never experienced the countryside, it was a little piece of heaven
A ball came bouncing towards them. Charlie couldn’t resist booting it back; he wasn’t too old to remember what it was like to be their age, to believe you were going to be the world’s best footballer. He’d had only one intention as an eight year old. He was going to play for Walthamstow Avenue, score goals and win medals. One day, the lord mayor of London would shake his hand and as captain, he would be the one to receive the cup, raise it above his head and bathe in the glory.
He’d believed in his dream right up till the moment he damaged his knee. Even then, he’d thought in time he’d get fit to play again. But it wasn’t to be.
‘Charlie?’ Jimmy nudged his arm. ‘I gotta thank you for what you did for me this morning.’
‘What was that?’
‘You clobbered that pudding on my behalf.’
‘He was a darn sight bigger than you. And anyway, it was me that told you to go knocking on doors.’
‘I did give him a bit of lip.’ He grinned. ‘I never seen a right hand land so quick as yours.’
‘I did a bit of boxing at school.’
‘Blimey, you done everything.’
Charlie smiled. ‘You like football Jimmy?’
‘Yeah, but I never played it. Didn’t have the time for the outdoor life.’
‘What, even as a kid?’
‘You don’t play games in an institution. You have to work for your supper. I was in the laundry, keeping the boilers going. Ran away when I was twelve. It was Peg that took me in and got me a job at the paint factory.’
‘You’ve had it rough, Jimmy.’ Charlie felt a sudden deep gratitude for his own privileged upbringing: a mother, father, twin brothers and a regular schooling.
‘There’s others ’as had it as rough.’
‘Like Eve you mean?’
Jimmy nodded. ‘It’s a hard life being a flower-seller. And though her bloke was a decent sort, he was at sea most of the time. It was Eve that got all the flak with two little kids that looked a bit different.’
Charlie glanced at the street. ‘So she walked along here, right? But didn’t go into the park.’
‘She went towards the river according to Archie. There’s a lot of pubs down there. Three in this street alone. Do you reckon she went into one of them?’
‘Fancy giving it a try?’
Jimmy nodded and pulled his cap down over his face. ‘But this time I’m gonna let you do all the talking.’
Jimmy and Charlie searched all afternoon. They went in the pubs that were open and knocked on the back doors if they were closed. No one had seen Eve or knew the name of Singh.
When they entered the Drunken Sailor, the landlord was just opening for the evening’s business. He gave them a furtive look.
Charlie leaned on the bar and looked around. There were two men drinking at the other end.
‘You new around here?’ the landlord asked.
Charlie nodded casually as Jimmy stood beside him.
‘What’s your poison, then?’
‘An ale apiece,’ said Charlie, digging into his pocket for the money.
‘You’re a young ’un ain’t you?’ He frowned at Jimmy.
Charlie laughed. ‘Don’t worry, he’s older than he looks.’
‘Ta very much,’ said Jimmy indignantly.
Their drinks were served and as Charlie began to drink he saw the two men leave quickly.
The landlord smiled. He wiped his jaw with dirty fingers. ‘I’m sorry to say that my customers don’t take fast to strangers.’
‘Why is that?’
‘You’re in Shadwell, chum, not Westminster.’
Charlie glanced at the floor, which was covered in filthy sawdust, then his gaze drifted around the room; the tables were sticky with spilled liquor, and although the mirror behind the bar proclaimed the finest ales, the cloudy glasses said otherwise. The opaque windows were streaked with smoke and the faded red wallpaper had long ago peeled from the grime-ridden walls.
‘I’m looking for a young woman,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘Dark hair and small in stature. She may have come in here yesterday looking for someone. Her name is Eve Kumar.’ Charlie looked into his eyes. This man knew something. ‘The lascar seaman she was searching for is called Singh,’ he persisted.
The landlord looked shifty. ‘We don’t get many women in here.’
‘Then you’d remember her if you saw her.’
‘Mebee.’
Charlie pushed his drink to one side. ‘Listen, my friend, this girl has been gone for over twenty-four hours. She is now a missing person and I intend to discover what happened to her. Now, you either talk to me or the authorities.’
The landlord looked over Charlie’s shoulder. ‘All right, so what if I saw her?’
‘So you did then?’
‘She came in here, bold as brass. I told her she shouldn’t have been doin’ that.’
‘What did she want?’
‘The bloke you said . . . Singh.’
‘So you know him?’ Charlie felt a moment’s elation.
They had finally struck lucky.
The landlord wiped his mouth. ‘I know of him and he ain’t the sort any decent woman should be mixing with. He’s a lascar and a right old handful to boot.’
The words fell on Charlie like a blow as the landlord continued.
‘No woman with any sense walks into a pub looking for someone like she did. But I couldn’t put her off. So I did her a favour and took her out back to where he was ’afore she was relieved of her money, or Gawd help her, somethin’ far worse.’
Charlie couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. ‘You took her to Singh?’
‘What else was I supposed to do? She was in me tavern, refusing to go away. Listen, what would you have done, chum? Let her go round askin’ others? So I took her aside and gave her a warnin’. It was all I could do.’
‘What happened then?’
‘It was like water off a duck’s back. That girl was stubborn as the proverbial mule. I showed her the two doors and she took the one to the back room.’
‘Did you accompany her?’
‘I got a business to run, mate.’
‘Did you see her again?’
‘No, supposed she must’ve left by the side door.’
‘And the lascars? What of them?’
The man shrugged. ‘S’pose they went too. The room was empty at chuckin’ out time. Stunk like a sewer an’ all. It’s them pipes they smoke, the dirty buggers.’
‘Then why do you allow them in here?’
The landlord laughed. ‘Would you turn away business just ’cos of the smell? Nah, not if you was me you wouldn’t, nor any other poor bugger who tries to earn a living in this part of the East End.’
Charlie knew they were a step closer to finding Eve. But what had happened in that room?
‘There is one thing,’ said the landlord slowly, creasing his sweaty brow. ‘It ain’t gonna be much ’elp. But this character, Singh, is reputed to do a bit of business down on the foreshore.’
‘Where exactly?’ asked Charlie, feeling a flicker of hope.
‘A place called Dead Man’s Reach. And I can tell you now that it ain’t a place to go to by day, let alone night.’
Charlie’s heart raced. What if Eve had gone there? He had to find out.
Eve could smell the river salt through the filthy cloth. She was near water, could hear its movement close by. They had argued, whoever it was that had brought her here. She didn’t understand the language they spoke and when they shook her in a demanding way, she knew that they were trying to question her.
If only they had taken off the sack to let her breathe. Now they had left her in some place that felt wet and smelt of decomposed fish. She had tried to move a few minutes ago when she realized she was alone, but her foot had gone through what felt like rotten floorboards. She had fallen on her back, terrified to move again as the sound of the water grew closer. All she could do was lie still while endless, futile questions circled round her mind.
What time was it?
Where was she?
Who had brought her here? Was it the man with brass buttons, the one the landlord of the Drunken Sailor had said was Singh?
She had yelled until her throat was sore. If only she could get the cloth off her head. But her hands were tied behind her back. Why had they done this to her?
She gathered her strength and called out. There was no response and she tried again. But she was alone, and without her hands or her sight she couldn’t escape.
Charlie and Jimmy climbed out of the van and took the Tilley from the back. A weak light flickered over the wood strewn path down to Dead Man’s Reach. Broken buildings littered the muddy foreshore. The stench of dead fish and rotting timber was everywhere.
As they picked their way down, Charlie’s thoughts went back to the history lessons he’d had at school. The river was a constant source of trade and all his life he had lived near it, watching the boats go up and down and helping his dad to load the flour from McDougall’s on to their cart and now into the van to transport to the bakery. The river was a lifeline, the longest road in the world it was called. But the foreshores were places that had a history all of their own. Long ago the men of war had anchored here to offload their contraband. Shadwell had been all marsh and waterways then, the perfect place for piracy and avoidance of the king’s men.
Was Eve here? He shuddered at the prospect. This stinking and treacherous eastern boundary was not used now by the commercial boats. Only the smaller ones, a few fishermen and watermen. And at dead of night, the place should be deserted.
‘It’s deserted,’ Jimmy said breathlessly, voicing his own thoughts. ‘Do you reckon he was lying?’
‘We couldn’t take the chance.’ Charlie stood still peering across the dark water, at the fleeting reflections of the south side of the river. ‘It’s the only link we have to Eve.’
‘Why would they bring her here?’ Jimmy asked. ‘And what for?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Charlie heavily as they stopped, peering into the darkness. ‘Eve must have struck on something. If only she’d come to me first.’
‘Yeah, well, if only I hadn’t told her about that beggar.’
‘We can’t put back time, but—’ Charlie froze. He turned to Jimmy. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Thought it was a gull.’
Charlie listened again. There wasn’t much breeze, so the noise was carrying from close by. ‘Raise the lamp, Jimmy, there’s something to our left.’
Jimmy held it high. ‘What’s that over there?’
Charlie moved forward. ‘It looks like an old fisherman’s hut.’ They began to climb over the debris. There were no steps up to the jetty, just a mossy boulder.
‘Give me your hand.’ The lamp rocked as Charlie grabbed Jimmy and helped him up. The wooden planks of the jetty creaked under their feet and water swirled beneath.
‘Stop!’ Jimmy pointed. ‘Look, the jetty’s smashed.’ He lowered the lamp. ‘See? A blooming great hole.’
Charlie bent down to examine it. ‘You’re right. And freshly done too.’
‘But why?’
‘To prevent anyone going further,’ replied Charlie as he removed his jacket and boots.
‘Christ, Charlie, what’re you doing?’
‘If I fall in, I don’t want my clobber on.’
‘You ain’t going to jump? This place ain’t called Dead Man’s Reach for nothing.’
‘Just hold the lamp high.’
‘But Charlie—’
He didn’t wait to hear the rest. He knew that at the end of the jetty he would find something – or someone. If it was Singh, then a collar wouldn’t be easy under these circumstances, but it wasn’t impossible either. If it was Eve – and he couldn’t bring himself to think of her as anything other than alive – then God willing, she was all right.
Chapter Fifteen
The wriggling she had done trying to loosen her bonds had caused the timbers to snap. Inch by loud inch the rotting wood broke under Eve’s weight. As she fell her head hit something and ripped away the cloth. She could see the mossy struts of the jetty as she tumbled down.
The water was freezing. It crept over her body sucking at her clothes and pulling her into the weeds. Her feet were caught in them. She kicked out, holding her chin up for a last gasp of air.
Her heart seemed to stop as she slipped below the surface. Eve knew she was about to die. She couldn’t swim without the use of her arms. Her last thoughts were of her sons; their faces, their smiles that seemed to be with her now in the eerie silence. There were regrets, all tumbling one after the other. She had wanted to see them grow up. She had so many hopes and dreams for them, had intended to make them all come true for her boys.
Why had she thrown her life away?
Her lungs felt as though they were going to burst. The taste of the filthy water filled her mouth. She struck out with her feet in a last effort to survive. But the water filled her boots, sucked her clothes and dragged her down. She remembe
red the stories of Old Father Thames. She would be lying alongside him soon.
The pain inside her chest increased. Her body arched, borne aloft in a strange lightness. And then Eve felt another presence. Was it the spirit of the river? Was this how it felt to drown?
It felt as if she was entering another world.
Charlie heard Eve’s scream. As he raced to the hut and flung open the door, he could hear the water below. Without pause he took a deep breath and jumped. As he sank beneath the dark surface he was enveloped in freezing cold blackness. The weeds were thick and tangling as he kicked out. It would be a small miracle if he found her.
The cold sapped all his strength. He was a good swimmer, had swum the breadth of the river from Island Gardens to Greenwich when he was young once as a dare and many times after for pleasure. Even before he entered the Force, he was an accomplished swimmer. A copper had to be able to rescue a drowning man. During their training they had been put to the test one freezing cold morning at the open air baths. One loud blow on the whistle had them stripping off and diving in, swimming hell for leather for a marker. Robbie had never liked the exercise and somehow managed to avoid it. He said it was better to let some fool jump in first. Wait for a hero to arrive on the scene. And Robbie maintained there was always one who did.
But Charlie had never experienced these kind of conditions. Black water, the freezing cold and the shock to the body. He felt the tight restriction on his lungs. His supply of air was diminishing and he’d have to go up for another refuel if he couldn’t find her. But that would mean he would almost surely have lost her.
Pulling hard with his arms he dived deeper. The water was even colder. He had about thirty seconds of air left he reckoned.
Maybe not even that.
Then his fingers touched something. It was floating, soft to the touch. He almost recoiled. He had found a body. It was clothed. Was it Eve? As his hands grasped the shoulders, he kicked out with his feet. His movement was impeded by the tangle of weeds. He tried not to think he was almost out of air.
If only he could reach the surface in time.
His lungs seemed to fill the entire space of his chest as he thrust both himself and the body upwards.
Somehow he broke the surface, rasping cold air down his throat. He pushed out, supporting the limp weight, but made a grim discovery, small hands that were bound at the base of the spine! Fortuitously the water had slackened the bonds. It was no great effort to slide them off and set the arms free. Then summoning the last of his strength, he struck out for shore. Was it Jimmy’s light he could see? Or a vision? Were they being washed downstream – out into the estuary and towards the sea? In that moment he glimpsed the pale face on his shoulder. Eve’s skin was washed to china whiteness in the light of the moon.
