East End Trouble

by Dani Oakley

  Kathleen didn’t need anyone’s pity. She was Kathleen Diamond, and she would show all of them. No one treated Kathleen like that and got away with it.

  One way or another, she was going to make sure they’d all be sorry.

  Chapter 29

  Kathleen didn’t go straight home. She knew her mother would be there, and she was not up to answering any questions. She decided to walk home via the Whitechapel Road passing some of the stalls and the shops displaying pretty dresses and costume jewellery.

  One particular navy blue dress with a sweetheart neckline made Kathleen pause and stare into the shop window. It was gorgeous, and it would have suited Kathleen to a tee. She deserved it after such an awful day. The kind of life she’d always wanted included being able to walk in and buy a dress like that without worrying about the money, or thinking that it wasn’t suitable for work. Why shouldn’t she get what she wanted?

  But she didn’t have the money, and with a baby on the way, she wouldn’t have any money for some time to come. She walked on, clutching her coat to her chest, trying to keep warm.

  She stepped to the side of the pavement to allow a woman with a pram to pass.

  The woman was everything Kathleen wanted to be. She had her hair carefully done up in the latest style. She had a beautiful shade of lipstick on and wore an expensive coat with a mink collar. Kathleen couldn’t help noticing the gold ring on her finger, too.

  The woman obviously had a husband with a good job, who enjoyed treating his wife.

  Why couldn’t Kathleen have that? It wasn’t fair that she was going to have to live on the breadline with a baby stuck at her mother’s. After all, it wasn’t entirely her fault.

  Kathleen’s hand slid down to her stomach as she considered her options.

  She’d been looking about this all wrong. She was absolutely determined not to be a victim any longer. This baby didn’t have to be a burden. It could be her ticket out of here.

  Kathleen smiled. This baby just might be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  She whirled around, changing direction, and walked quickly towards Martin Morton’s club.

  * * *

  When Kathleen reached Martin Morton’s club, the door was open. Inside Frieda Longbottom was swirling her mob in a bucket of hot, soapy water.

  Kathleen strolled in as if she owned the place.

  “Is Martin here?” she asked Frieda, putting her hands on her hips and looking over Frieda’s shoulder.

  Frieda looked her up and down in a disapproving fashion.

  Kathleen felt her temper rise. Who on earth did old Frieda think she was? She couldn’t judge Kathleen. She certainly wasn’t any better than her.

  “Well, is he?” Kathleen demanded.

  Frieda narrowed her eyes and leaned her mop against the wall. “Yes,” she said slowly. “He’s upstairs, but he’s busy.”

  Kathleen ignored the warning and stepped around the old woman and the bucket, walking over the floor that Frieda had just mopped.

  “Oi, where do you think you’re going, missy? He’s busy; I told you. He’s doing paperwork, and he doesn’t like people going up there during the day.”

  Kathleen ignored her and strode on, walking towards the door behind the bar.

  Despite her outward display of confidence, Kathleen was starting to feel very nervous.

  She took a deep breath. There was no turning back now.

  She walked through the doorway behind the bar and started to climb the stairs to Martin’s flat.

  Before she reached the top of the stairs, the door to Martin’s flat flew open. He stood at the top of the stairs, glaring angrily down the stairwell. “Who’s there?”

  He growled the question, and Kathleen flushed in mortification. It hadn’t been that long ago. Surely he couldn’t have forgotten about her already. She swallowed nervously. The light was dim in the stairwell, so perhaps he just couldn’t see her properly.

  Kathleen had paused, but now she continued up the stairs on shaky legs. “It’s me, Martin. It’s Kathleen, Kathleen Diamond.”

  Martin stayed silent, his eyes watchful, as Kathleen climbed the rest of the stairs. When she finally reached the top, his eyes narrowed, and he said, “What are you doing here? Couldn’t stay away from me, eh?”

  “I need to talk to you, Martin.”

  “I’m quite busy at the moment.”

  “It won’t take long,” Kathleen persisted. “It’s important.”

  “I suppose you’d better come in then.” Martin stood aside and let Kathleen pass and into his flat.

  Kathleen looked around. It looked exactly the same. All modern furnishings. It must have cost a fortune. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge passing a few quid to a woman who was pregnant with his baby.

  “I thought you knew the score,” Martin said. “You’re a smart girl. It was nice while it lasted. But it was just a bit of fun, wasn’t it?”

  Kathleen swallowed hard and gritted her teeth. This was so humiliating, but she had to see it through. She really didn’t have a choice.

  “You see, Martin –“

  “I hope you’re not going to make a fuss, Kathleen. I can’t stand women who make a fuss.”

  Kathleen was starting to wonder why she’d ever found Martin Morton an exciting prospect. He was very handsome in a sleek, dangerous kind of way. His dark hair and tanned skin had set her heart fluttering the first time she’d met him, but standing here in the cold light of day, looking at the scowl on his face, she realised just how a person’s personality could change their looks. Deep down, despite the suave suits, and carefully styled hair, Martin Morton was ugly.

  “I’m pregnant, Martin.”

  There. She’d said it. That was the worst bit out of the way.

  The expression on Martin’s face cleared. It was eerily blank. Kathleen tried to reassure herself that she didn’t care how he reacted. She hadn’t really expected him to be happy about it. But she did expect him to take care of her and the baby. It was his responsibility, and she wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

  Despite the warmth of the small fire in Martin’s front room, Kathleen shivered.

  “All right,” Martin said. “It’s not a disaster. There are things we can do, people who can make this go away.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Kathleen snapped, finally coming to the end of her tether and finding her backbone. “I need to know you’re prepared to take responsibility. The baby will need a father to provide for it.”

  Kathleen’s tone was brisk and businesslike. As far as she was concerned that was just what it was now. A business transaction.

  A flash of dislike passed over Martin’s face, but it was only there for an instant before it disappeared. He smiled. “Yeah, of course, darling. I’m not going to let a kid of mine go without. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Kathleen was taken aback. She hadn’t expected it to be so easy. She thought Martin would take a little bit of convincing to cough up.

  She looked at him sceptically. “And what about Babs?”

  That same look of dislike passed over Martin’s face, but again it cleared before Kathleen could really know for sure whether she’d imagined it or not.

  “Don’t you worry about Babs. I said I’d deal with it, and I will.”

  Kathleen nodded. “Okay. Well, that’s good. I’m glad you’re taking your responsibility seriously.”

  A moment of awkward silence passed between them as Martin’s eyes bored into her.

  “I’ll be off then,” Kathleen said, thinking that was quite enough for one day. She was sure they could sort out the details at a later date after the news had sunk in.

  Martin called out to her just before she left. “Just one thing, Kathleen.”

  Kathleen turned around with a hand on the door handle. “What’s that?”

  “Keep it quiet. I don’t want everybody knowing about this. Understand?”

  Kathleen
thought for a moment. It didn’t really seem an unreasonable request. Kathleen didn’t particularly want everybody to know her situation either, but Martin was kidding himself if he thought no one would ever find out.

  Still, they wouldn’t hear it from her.

  “Whatever you think’s best, Martin.”

  * * *

  As soon as Kathleen had made her way downstairs, Martin Morton threw a punch at the wall, followed up with a couple of kicks for good measure. The little tramp!

  When she’d stood in front of him, his hands had been itching to wrap around her scrawny little neck and get rid of her once and for all. But that would have been rash, and Martin had learned over the years that rashness was quickly followed by repercussions.

  He clenched his fists, aimed for another hit on the wall, but then paused and studied his bloodied knuckles.

  He needed to think things through before acting. And as much as he hated the thought of it, he needed to keep the bitch sweet for now until he decided what to do.

  How she’d got up the nerve to come around here and confront him, he would never know. Did she really think he would just hand over a blank cheque? He wouldn’t have put it past the conniving slut to have planned this all along.

  And when Babs found out, which of course she would, she would scream bloody blue murder. Not that Martin was one of those men who gave a toss about what their wives thought, but Babs had it in her power to make his life bloody difficult, and Martin just didn’t need that hassle.

  And God forbid what would happen if his mother found out. If Violet Morton got wind of this little scandal, she would never let him hear the end of it. She’d have his guts for garters.

  Martin shook his head. Kathleen Diamond was going to pay for this. No one got one over on Martin Morton, especially not some little tart.

  * * *

  Downstairs, Frieda had finished her mopping. She watched Kathleen walk past her, keeping her snooty little nose in the air. She could look down her nose at Frieda all she liked. Frieda had overheard every single word of that conversation, and she knew one thing for sure, Kathleen Diamond had no right to look down her nose at anybody. The silly little cow should have kept her drawers on.

  Frieda flinched as she heard Martin knocking something over upstairs. Clearly he hadn’t taken the news well.

  Frieda definitely wasn’t one for gossip, particularly about Martin Morton. For one thing, he was a dangerous bastard, and for another, Frieda was loyal, and she knew where her bread was buttered.

  The trouble was this had put her in quite a dilemma because Babs Morton was the one who had gotten her the job here in the first place. Frieda had been ever so close to Babs’s mother Eileen. They’d gone back a long way. Frieda had seen Babs grow up, and she’d been very pleased to see her do so well for herself. She hated the thought of all this going on behind Babs’s back. But she knew at the same time that she could get into a great deal of trouble by telling Babs.

  Frieda leaned down to pick up the bucket of water. She had almost finished. She just needed to do the small section by the door.

  She winced again as a big bang sounded upstairs. Frieda gave a little huff. He was just like a little boy, throwing his toys around because he hadn’t gotten his own way. She raised her eyes to the ceiling. Yes, Martin paid her wages, but it was to Babs she owed her loyalty. As soon as she’d finished here, Frieda decided she’d pop round and break the news.

  Chapter 30

  As good as her word, Frieda went to see Babs Morton as soon as she’d finished cleaning Martin’s club.

  Babs opened the door with a broad smile. “Frieda, what a lovely surprise.”

  Babs welcomed her inside with a kiss on the cheek. There was a screech as Derek ran out of the front room being chased by Ruby, who was giggling incessantly.

  Babs put a hand to her forehead. “They are driving me to distraction today.”

  Frieda beamed at the little ones. “They are growing up ever so fast. Just you make the most of this time, Babs. After they grow up, they’re even more trouble.” Frieda chuckled.

  Babs smiled fondly down at the children, who were now throwing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle at each other. “They are naughty little tykes sometimes, but I wouldn’t be without them for the world.”

  “Come in and have a cup of tea, Frieda. You look like you could do with one. Have you finished at the club?”

  Frieda nodded. “Yes. I have to admit it seems to get harder day by day. Mopping that bleeding floor takes it out of me. I swear it gets bigger every time I do it.”

  Babs filled the kettle and turned to look over her shoulder at Frieda. “You work too hard, Frieda. Do you want me to have a word with Martin about getting someone to help you out a bit?”

  Frieda shook her head. To be honest, she liked the job, and she liked working on her own. It meant she could sneak off for a crafty fag whenever she wanted. Besides, she had always worked better alone.

  “Don’t worry yourself. I’m just grumbling. I’m still quite capable of handling the cleaning.”

  As Babs prepared the tea, Frieda sat down at the kitchen table and started to worry about how to bring up the subject of Martin’s little floozy.

  When Babs set the teapot on the table and sat down opposite Frieda, she studied her closely. “I can tell you want to tell me something, Frieda. You look ever so worried. What is it? If I can help in any way, you know I will, don’t you?”

  Frieda swallowed the lump in her throat. Babs clearly thought it was Frieda who had the problem, and the fact that she offered to help touched Frieda deeply.

  “You’re a good girl, Babs. Your mum would be ever so proud of how you turned out.”

  Babs smiled and put a hand on Frieda’s.

  “The thing is,” Frieda said, gathering courage. “There’s no way easy way to say this, sweetheart. It’s about Martin.”

  The pleasant smile left Babs’ face in an instant. “Go on.”

  “I was working this morning when Martin had a visitor. It was that trollop, Kathleen Diamond.”

  Babs inhaled sharply. “He promised me that was over. Are you telling me they’ve been carrying on again behind my back?”

  Worse than that, Frieda thought, and hated the fact that she had to be the one to break the news to Babs.

  “I’m afraid he’s got her in the family way, love. I overheard them talking about it this morning.”

  The colour drained out of Babs’ face, but other than that she made no reaction, apart from gripping her teacup a little tighter.

  “He’s a fool,” Frieda said. “Why on earth he would mess around with a little tart like that when he’s got a lovely girl like you at home is beyond me. He needs his head testing.”

  Babs gave Frieda a strained smile. “I appreciate you telling me, Frieda. God knows, I miss my mum, but I’m so lucky to have you in my corner.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Frieda said, deeply touched. “You deserve so much better. He’s an idiot.”

  “As most men are,” Babs said pointedly.

  “You got that right, sweetheart,” Frieda said and cackled. Glad that Babs had taken the news reasonably well so far.

  She’d expected to have to mop up some tears and produce lots of tea and sympathy. But Babs was now clearly a woman of the world. She had the full measure of her husband, and Frieda was willing to bet she was a formidable force to be reckoned with when it came to dealing with Martin Morton.

  * * *

  As Babs waved Frieda off, the bracelet on her wrist jingled. Babs glared at it. Sometimes the jewellery Martin bought her felt like shackles rather than the fancy gold it really was.

  Frieda was a good friend, and Babs did not appreciate the fact Martin had put the woman in such a difficult position.

  She was well aware that Frieda had been surprised she’d taken it so well. But in Babs’ opinion, there was no point getting hysterical over the matter. She wasn’t stupid. She had known Martin was a ladies’ man when she married him, but there
was a difference. He used to be discrete. Now he just liked to rub her nose in it, showing a complete lack of respect, which wasn’t acceptable.

  Martin thought he could do whatever he wanted these days. Well, he could think again. Babs had loved him once, but now she had grown to despise him.

  But the cool resentment she felt towards her husband actually played in her favour. There was no passion there, no fury. She was able to think calmly, and that was important. It meant she could take her time and hit Martin where it hurt, and she had a plan to do just that.

  * * *

  Frieda turned just before she reached the turning to Burdett Road, intending to turn around and give Babs one last wave, but Babs was no longer at the door. Someone else was.

  Frieda did a double take. Her eyes weren’t what they used to be, but she could have sworn that that was Dave Carter going into the Morton house.

  Frieda shook her head and chuckled to herself. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. There was no way Dave Carter would be going to Martin Morton’s house.

  Frieda hitched up the handbag on her shoulder and carried on walking home, dismissing the idea completely from her mind.

  Chapter 31

  Gary Carter approached the warehouse on Blocksy Road nervously. He hadn’t seen his brother since the day of The Three Grapes fiasco, and he wasn’t sure what kind of reception he would get. He’d heard that Dave was still furious, so he’d decided to give him some time to cool off. He’d gone and stayed with a mate out in Essex, waiting for the heat to die down. But now Gary’s money had run out, so he needed to talk to Dave and clear the air.

  Gary licked his lips as he approached the big, metal, rolling door. He tried to force himself to relax. He’d screwed up plenty of times in the past, and Dave always forgave him in the end. Family was important to him, and Gary was his brother after all.

  For a second or two, Gary looked about in confusion, expecting Charlie Williams to be in his normal spot, guarding the door, but there was no sign of him. Gary grimaced when he remembered that Charlie was still inside. Dave had a lot of influence with the police, and he paid a couple of inspectors to smooth his business dealings, so Gary was surprised that Charlie hadn’t yet managed to get out.