East End Jubilee

by Carol Rivers

  He’d wanted to scream out loud that he hadn’t nicked a telly much less been part of a gang wielding hammers and a shotgun. Eddie shivered again. He hated firearms. He was a peaceful man and went out of his way to avoid confrontation. He deeply sympathized with the warehouseman who had been assaulted and bundled into a cupboard whilst the villains had driven off with thousands of pounds’ worth of valuable gear.

  Eddie believed in British justice, but today he had begun to wonder if anyone would ever believe him. Yesterday he had pleaded Not Guilty to the charges against him. But today had been a nightmare from which he seemed unable to wake. Rose had attended against his wishes. He knew his appearance in the dock would be distressing enough for her in her condition. But he hadn’t reckoned on his own feelings of humiliation, which had been the most painful he’d ever experienced. Every now and then she had met his eyes with a look of confused desperation. He’d felt powerless, ashamed. All he’d been able to do was try to convey an apology in his eyes.

  ‘The gang members wore balaclavas,’ continued Charles Herring in a flat, detached voice as Eddie returned to the moment. ‘Therefore identification of the thieves remains impossible. However, it has been suggested you could have been a lookout.’

  Eddie rolled his eyes despairingly. ‘All I was doing was walking home minding me own business. Honest.’

  ‘Walking from where?’

  ‘I’ve told you a thousand times. I’d been up West for the day – trading – and I was on me way home.’ By now Eddie had convinced himself this was the truth, for there was no way he could reveal that his trade was made up entirely of punters eager to place their next illegal bet on the street. Added to which, Rose hadn’t the least idea of what he had been doing for a living since their second daughter was born. Not that she had ever asked, Eddie thought a little self-righteously, even though at times he had wanted her to. His agreement to keep his business dealings as far away from their doorstep as possible had answered the problem of Rose’s concerns. But it had also provided him with carte blanche to do as he liked. If ever he had a twinge of conscience about using their pact for his own ends, he’d smothered it as quickly as it appeared.

  The truth was, he was a natural floater, a street runner employed by the bookmakers to extend their business. Eddie had enjoyed collecting bets from the punters using his street cred to build up a nice little business. It was a job he’d practically fallen into when he’d handled a transaction as a favour for a bookie. The temptation of repeating his success had been overwhelming and very soon he’d become hooked.

  ‘You won’t get caught,’ the other floaters assured him. ‘Lookouts are posted now and watch our backs, so there’s no risk. And you can have a nice little bet on the side if you fancy a flutter.’

  Because he’d wanted to believe them and because he yearned to give his wife and young family the security he never had as a child, he became putty in the bookies’ hands. Rose never questioned his movements and he was free to build up his career. Marlene was just a baby and Donnie only two years old. He promised himself he would give it a few years, just until he was rich.

  Eddie loved the thought of wealth. He’d buy a house and a car, move to a posh area of London. He made up little stories of walking in Oxford Street, going in to the stores and buying clothes and jewellery. He spun them in his mind as he began his floating just before eleven and completed by three in the afternoon. He was in the process of concocting a holiday abroad on an island filled with palm trees and surrounded by warm blue water that Wednesday in early May. As he waited to meet his punter in Whitechapel, he was picturing himself and Rose and the girls drinking from coconuts. He knew he shouldn’t have hung about when his man didn’t show, but he hung on hopefully, dreaming away. And then made the fatal mistake of buying a newspaper.

  Eddie intensely disliked the patronizing tone of Charles Herring. More important, though, was justifying his reasons for floating. The bottom line was he wanted a better standard of living for his family. He wanted a future. And he’d done everything in his power to achieve one.

  He wasn’t like the other men in prison. He wasn’t guilty of hurting anyone or stealing their property. He wouldn’t dream of nicking a pint of milk from a front doorstep; he had always been respectful of other people. He had convinced himself that what he did for a living wasn’t wrong. Where was the harm in laying a few quid on a nice little filly? You could bet quite legitimately at a racecourse, so why not in the streets? It was just a question of location. And since the streets of London were his backyard he saw no reason why he shouldn’t earn his living from ready money betting. He was good at it. Much better than he was at flogging junk.

  ‘So where are our witnesses, Mr Weaver?’ Charles Herring was staring into his eyes and Eddie jumped.

  ‘Witnesses?’

  ‘The defence currently boasts a grand total of two. Mr Edward Dunkley, landlord of the public house The Lock and Key, and this . . . er . . .’

  ‘Syd.’

  ‘Exactly. We know nothing of this man except his first name.’

  Eddie blinked. He was staring sightlessly at the face in front of him. There it was again, the royal ‘we’ which was beginning to irritate him even more than the mention of the mythical Syd. ‘Mr Herring, I’ve been stuck in jug for the past five months,’ Eddie said vehemently. ‘Me bail was turned down, remember? How am I supposed to turn him up?’

  ‘Your appeal was refused on fear of flight.’

  Eddie laughed. ‘Where would I have flown to? I’m a family man. I’ve got a wife and kids and a baby on the way. Can you see me doing a runner?’

  The young man folded the large brown file together, returning it to his briefcase. He removed his spectacles and slid them carefully into an expensive looking leather pouch, whereupon he stared Eddie straight in the eye. ‘Now, to the assault charge—’

  Eddie groaned aloud. ‘It’s all cobblers, ain’t it? Old Bill fitted me up on that one. You know it, I know it and they know it.’

  ‘But the jury doesn’t, alas.’

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Well then, let me explain. Put me in the box, Mr Herring. I need to defend meself. I know I can convince them. They’re ordinary Londoners just like me, most with families. I’ll wager they will understand when I describe how the coppers came marching in me house and steamrollered all over the place.’

  His visitor sighed resignedly, ‘I hope your faith in human nature is justified, Mr Weaver.’

  Eddie looked puzzled. ‘Well, this is England, ain’t it? We’ve got the best system of justice in the world. You told me yourself they have to prove you guilty beyond a shred of doubt.’

  Charles Herring said nothing.

  Eddie sighed. He didn’t care for this man, this trumped-up clerk who clearly didn’t believe a word he said. ‘I need to talk to the guv’nor,’ he decided, determined to corner the elusive QC who was fighting his case but rarely seemed to appear in the flesh.

  The young man effected a smile and stood up. He collected his papers and signalled to the officer on duty. ‘Mr Puckley-Smythe has a busy morning tomorrow, but I’ll see what I can do.’

  Eddie listened to the echoing sounds of metal doors swinging open and closing. In the claustrophobic confines of the small interview room he was alone but for the guard. His palms were running with sweat. What would happen tomorrow when he was in the box? His need to persuade the court of his innocence was so strong he could almost taste it. He refused to consider the possibility of going down for a stretch that would see his kids teenagers by the time he was free. The thought made his blood run cold. Instead he pictured Rose and the girls waiting for him as he was released, the jury having found him innocent. He couldn’t wait to hold his family in his arms.

  ‘Blimey Benny, mind them holes, she’ll be having it on the seat if you’re not careful!’ Anita clung on to Rose’s arm. The lorry hit yet another dip in the road and Benny swore under his breath.

  ‘Sorry, ladies.’

  Rose was
squashed in between Anita and Benny in the cab of the lorry. Surreptitiously, she tried to alter her position but her bump restricted movement. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ Rose shrugged, although with each sharp descent her back, under the baby’s weight, gave an unpleasant creak.

  ‘Are you still sure it’s a boy?’ Anita nodded to Rose’s cherry red coat, one she had borrowed from Jane Piper to wear for her trip to the Old Bailey. Having no coat large enough of her own, the bright red raglan sleeve had seen Jane through three pregnancies and would probably do for the fourth. Rose had felt a little conspicuous entering the court this morning in such a striking colour, especially as Anita had worn her best smart, dark suit. But tonight she didn’t care what she looked like. The proceedings of the day had left her utterly confused. Rose’s attention had been fixed on Eddie and sometimes she’d lost track entirely as she’d tried to look into his eyes. For a few precious moments they had seemed to join together in a world of their own until their attention had been wrenched back to the proceedings.

  ‘Yes, I’m certain,’ Rose replied as Benny swerved again and the big wheels of the lorry grazed the kerb. She gripped the seat as the jolt shook the cab.

  ‘Benny Mendoza, look where you’re going will you?’ Anita leaned forward, shouting across at her husband.

  ‘It’s these bloody roads,’ he muttered peering through the windscreen.

  ‘It’s your bloody driving.’

  At six-and-a-half months pregnant Rose hadn’t been able to attend the first day of the trial because of the long journey into the City, but Benny had offered to drive her on the second day, since he was delivering locally. Should he fail to show up at Ludgate Hill on his return from Essex, their contingency plan was to use the nearest tube at St Paul’s. But Benny had promised to collect them and was, in fact, early. He had managed to park his lorry close to the designated meeting place.

  ‘I’m really grateful for the lift,’ Rose told Benny, who looked a bit downcast as he struggled to negotiate both the busy traffic and the bumps.

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ Benny grinned, crunching the gear lever. ‘I’m doing a Blackheath run tomorrow, so I could do the same again if it would help.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Rose smiled. She was trying not to think about the next day but knew she had to face it. Today, Tuesday, the prosecution had called a witness, a newspaper seller, to testify that Eddie had been seen in the area of the robbery. It was a surprise for everyone, including Eddie it seemed who had gone chalk white when the witness took the stand.

  ‘You ain’t going back to work are you?’ Anita asked then.

  ‘No. Gwen said I was to take the week off. The woman I’ve stepped in for comes back next month. The leg she broke is better now.’ Rose added wistfully, ‘Anyway, I don’t think I could go on much longer. I’m showing a lot now and even though Gwen put me on sandwich and roll filling and all the sit down jobs, I’ve been feeling top heavy lately.’

  ‘Did you get any joy from the old Assistance?’ Anita asked, knowing Rose had visited the council offices last week.

  ‘There’s a lot of paperwork involved,’ Rose replied, shuddering at the memory of the harassed and patronizing young woman who interrogated her. ‘But yes, I qualify for help with the baby, I hope.’

  ‘It’s your right to claim whilst Eddie’s away,’ Anita shouted above the sudden grind of the engine as Benny slowed in traffic.

  ‘Did you speak to Eddie today?’ Benny interrupted as they came to a standstill.

  ‘No, there wasn’t time.’

  ‘Poor bugger,’ Anita said hoarsely. ‘He don’t deserve all this.’

  Rose swallowed hard. ‘No. And even though he was seen close to the warehouse on that day, the gang all wore balaclavas and can’t be identified.’

  ‘So no one can say it was Eddie then,’ Benny declared as they began to move forward once more.

  ‘It was just bad luck,’ Anita nodded, ‘Eddie being close to that Whitechapel warehouse.’

  ‘Yes, a coincidence,’ Rose agreed.

  After this there was silence until Anita said hesitantly, ‘Don’t Eddie ever say where he’s been, then?’

  Rose shrugged disinterestedly. ‘We don’t have much time to talk about anything except the kids. It’s only Friday nights he’s in early.’

  ‘But does he often trade up West?’ Anita persisted.

  ‘Sometimes,’ Rose nodded and looked away.

  The journey seemed to take an age as Benny drove towards Poplar. Rose didn’t want to be rude but she just couldn’t face one of Anita’s grillings, as well intentioned as they might be. Fortunately it was the weather that put an end to the subject of Eddie’s movements.

  ‘I don’t like the look of this,’ Benny grumbled as he crunched into gear. The evening was drawing in as were the veils of silvery white that threaded across the bonnet of the lorry.

  ‘Are we nearly home?’ Rose shivered.

  ‘Not too far.’ Benny peered through the windscreen and flashed the headlights. ‘It’s gonna be treacherous later.’

  ‘At least it’s slowed you down,’ Anita said grimly.

  ‘I ain’t a fast driver,’ her husband protested. ‘You should see how fast some of the blokes go. They sit right on your bumper if you don’t get a move on.’

  ‘I’d put two fingers up to them if it were me,’ Anita said bolshily.

  ‘You wouldn’t last two minutes on the road,’ her husband grinned. ‘You ain’t got the patience.’

  ‘Hark at it,’ Anita retorted sarcastically. ‘He can’t wait two minutes for his dinner without complaining it’s not ready, or five minutes for the khazi. The only place he waits in silence is at The Lock and Key and that’s because his tongue’s stuck to the roof of his mouth with thirst.’

  Rose smiled fondly as she listened to her friends’ familiar banter, a welcome diversion from the gruelling events of the day. The sight of the forbidding law courts had made her feel faint and to see Eddie in custody standing high in the box, had filled her with dismay. An ache had gripped her chest as she’d listened to the charges read aloud and Lord Justice Markbury, the officiating judge, possessed a deep, brusque bark that made her quake inside. The baby had moved restlessly all that morning as she’d listened to the details of the warehouse burglary, a property owned by a prestigious London store. The thieves had tied up one of the terrified employees and waved a shotgun. As it was a Wednesday half day the man had been alone and was easily overpowered. The valuable electrical goods, reproduction antique furniture and silverware due to be dispatched to the store had been loaded into a removals van and driven off by the thieves. The prosecution counsel suggested Eddie was a lookout, linking his movements on this day with the sale of the television a month later.

  Rose wondered what the jury were thinking. Would they believe Eddie was part of the gang? If only she had been able to find Syd and prove that Eddie had bought the television in all honesty.

  ‘Cheer up, it may never happen,’ Anita said softly beside her as Benny crunched a gear. ‘Tomorrow is a new day, love. Your old man will come out trumps, wait and see.’

  Rose nodded faintly. She missed Eddie so much and had been shocked to see his face so gaunt and his big eyes full of pain. She promised herself things would be different when he came home. She would take a real interest in what he did and where he went. Show him that she cared about his work and wanted to be part of it. She knew she had become involved with the girls to such a degree her home and family took pride of place, whilst Eddie came last. She loved him dearly but accepted she had taken him for granted. She wanted to be like Benny and Anita, flinging the insults back and forth and never taking offence, sitting down in the evening and discussing what had transpired in Benny’s day. Anita knew all Benny’s movements, the stops he made and the people he spoke to. She was always telling Rose of amusing little incidents, and she insisted the boys sit down to an evening meal whenever possible with their father. Their family holiday at Butlin’s this year
had been a resounding success, just as Anita had planned.

  Rose considered her own efforts to unite the family. Were they satisfactory or had she allowed bad habits to creep in? Perhaps she would allow the girls to stay up half an hour later in the evenings to see their dad before they went to bed. Rose sighed wistfully. And after they were asleep, no matter how tired she felt, she would sit down with Eddie and discuss all he had done instead of wasting time with trivialities.

  ‘Here we are,’ Benny said then as a familiar row of post-war council housing came into view. ‘Fifteen minutes and we’ll be home.’

  But the fifteen minutes weren’t up before Rose gave a gasp. She tried to muffle her indrawn breath. A pain shot across her tummy and held it in a vice-like grip.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ Anita frowned in concern.

  Rose bit her lip and nodded. Perhaps this was cramp. She couldn’t relax as she waited for the pain to disappear, but her brow was beaded with sweat and Anita noticed.

  ‘What is it, girl, tell me!’

  ‘I don’t know, Neet.’ She held the sides of her tummy as panic curled into her throat. ‘I can’t breathe . . . me stomach is like lead.’

  ‘Hold on, love, we’ll get you to the doctor,’ Anita yelled above the noise of the engine. ‘Benny, take the next left for Dr Cox’s.’

  A clammy wave of nausea engulfed her. The pain deepened and she clutched her tummy with trembling hands. As Benny changed direction through the fog, she felt a hot little trickle between her legs. All she remembered thinking was that her coat was red too and wouldn’t show the stain.

  Em, Anita and Benny were all staring down at her. ‘How are you feeling, love?’ Anita asked with unusual concern.

  ‘The doctor said you’ll be all right as long as you keep your feet up,’ Em interrupted before Rose could reply as her sister pulled the sheet tightly across her chest.