Nellie looked very serious as she listened to her battered husband reliving his terrifying experience. She leaned forward and gripped his hand in hers. ‘Now listen ter me, Will,’ she said firmly, ‘yer gotta tell Joe Maitland yer packin’ up. Tell ’im soon as yer see ’im. I always knew there was somefink a bit fishy about that bloke when ’e lodged wiv Florrie. She couldn’t get ter the bottom of ’im. Then there was that turn-out wiv the boxin’ shows. Yer told me yerself ’e put the finger on the goin’s on at the Crown. People like Joe Maitland make enemies an’ I don’t want you gettin’ involved wiv somefink what’s got nuffink ter do wiv yer, d’yer understand?’
William smiled at his wife and gave her a large wink. ‘Righto, Muvver. I’ll tell Joe soon as I see ’im,’ he replied.
Fred leaned forward in his chair. ‘’Ave the police talked ter yer yet, Will?’ he asked.
‘They come in ter see me earlier,’ William replied. ‘They left jus’ before Nellie got ’ere. There wasn’t much I could tell ’em except ter give ’em a description o’ the Italian-lookin’ bloke. I can’t remember what the ovver two looked like, it ’appened so quick.’
Carrie sat around the bed with her mother and Fred chatting for a while, and it was not too long before they saw Joe Maitland coming down the ward. He looked very worried and nodded respectfully to the three of them before leaning over the bed, concern evident on his face. ‘’Ow are yer, Will?’ he asked anxiously.
The ward sister came over before William could reply. ‘There’s only two allowed around the bed,’ she said stiffly.
Carrie got up and kissed her father before she left the ward, followed by her husband who was talking to Nellie.
‘Yer was sayin’ about Joe Maitland blowin’ the whistle on the fights at the Crown, Nell. What was that all about?’ Fred asked her.
Nellie was holding on to his arm as they walked out into the corridor and he felt her tense. ‘It was a couple o’ years ago,’ she said with a sigh. ‘It was just about the time yer was gettin’ married. The police raided the Crown in Dock’ead an’ stopped the boxin’ that was goin’ on there, an’ they nicked a lot o’ street bookies who was there at the time. The same night the lan’lord fell down a flight o’ stairs an’ broke ’is neck. Joe Maitland used ter go ter the fights, an’ apparently ’e was the one who tipped the police off.’
‘But why should Joe Maitland do that if ’e went ter the fights ’imself?’ Fred asked, a puzzled look on his face.
‘Well, accordin’ ter Will, Joe’s bruvver used ter fight in the pub tournaments over Stepney,’ Nellie went on. ‘One night ’e got set about over refusin’ ter chuck a fight. ’E died in ’ospital a few days later. Rumour ’as it that Maitland only went ter the fights ter get all the evidence ’e could. Mind yer, it’s only rumour really. I wouldn’t repeat what I said, not to anybody. The people round where we live never talk about it. Yer never know who’s listenin’. It was said that George Galloway was one o’ the blokes who ’ad Joe’s bruvver beaten up, but it was never proved.’
‘George Galloway?’ Fred queried. ‘But I thought yer was sayin’ that Joe’s bruvver got beaten up over Stepney. That’s a bit out the way fer Galloway, ain’t it?’
Nellie’s face took on a hard look as she walked beside him along the tiled corridor. ‘George Galloway is a swine, Fred, believe me,’ she said with passion. ‘Yer know the story about what ’appened ter my Will, but there’s a lot yer don’t know about the Galloways. That ole goat used ter travel all over London ter the fights. ’E’s a man wivout pity an’ ’e don’t care who ’e steps on ter get what ’e wants. Believe me, I know.’
Nellie’s last few words stayed in Fred’s mind and later, in the comfort of the cosy front room above the dining rooms, after Maisie had left, he was moved to speak to his young wife about what her mother had said to him.
Carrie leaned back in her chair and stretched out her stockinged feet. ‘George Galloway is detested by everybody around ’ere,’ she answered him. ‘I’ve told yer before, ’e pays less than any ovver firm in Bermondsey an’ ’e sacks ’is workers fer the least fing. ’E wouldn’t tolerate the union fer ages an’ as soon as any of ’is workers tried ter get the union in they were put off. What’s more ’e owns ’alf o’ the ’ouses in Page Street an’ they’re fallin’ ter pieces. ’E won’t spend a penny on ’em. I jus’ loathe and detest ’im. What ’e did ter my dad after ’im workin’ fer the man all those years was enough, apart from anyfing else.’
Fred could see her hatred for the man showing plainly on her face, and he thought of Nellie’s closing words which kept running around inside his head. Perhaps there was something else, something between the two families which had spawned such detestation. Both Nellie and her daughter wore that same look on their faces at the mention of the name Galloway. Maybe it was better not to dwell on it, he decided. Maybe some things were better left to the natural course of time.
Chapter Nine
Early on Friday morning a tearful Sadie Sullivan woke her son Billy and told him that the police had been. ‘Yer gotta go ter Dock’ead police station at ten o’clock an’ if yer don’t they’re comin’ for yer,’ she sobbed.
Billy climbed out of bed glumly and went down to the scullery where Sadie was stirring porridge over the gas stove. ‘Yer’ll be the death o’ me, ’ she groaned. ‘I bet the y’re gonna charge yer fer fightin’ wiv that guv’nor at the sawmills.’gonna ‘No, they’re not, Ma,’ Billy said irritably. ‘They’re jus’
‘No, they’re not, Ma,’ Billy said irritably. ‘They’re jus’ gonna ask me ter sign the statement.’
‘What statement?’ Sadie asked as she spooned out the porridge onto a plate.
‘You know, the one I made at the sawmills.’
‘Well, it seems strange ter me. Why didn’t they make yer sign it when they first spoke ter yer?’ Sadie asked suspiciously.
‘’Ow the bleedin’ ’ell do I know,’ Billy moaned, blowing on the steaming porridge.
‘It don’t seem right ter me,’ Sadie told him. ‘I knew the police would mark yer when yer started runnin’ around wiv that crowd o’ no-gooders. Yer should get yerself a nice Catholic gel an’ settle down.’
While his mother was in the back yard pegging out the washing Billy ate the porridge in silence, his thoughts racing. They were going to put him on an identification parade, he was certain. What if the old watchman picked him out? How could he prove he wasn’t involved in the robbery? The questions tumbled around in his head and he had no answers. Who would believe him? His mother wouldn’t. She was convinced already that he’d been getting into bad ways with the Tunnel Mob. She had told him often enough.
‘I’ll do yer some bread an’ jam. They might keep yer there a long while,’ Sadie told him, fighting back the tears.
Billy stood up and wiped the back of his hand across his lips. ‘Look, Ma, there’s nuffink ter worry about. They jus’ wanna get me ter sign that statement, that’s all,’ he tried to convince her.
‘Long as it ain’t got nuffink ter do wiv that ovver crowd,’ she said, her eyes questioning him.
‘Christ! I ain’t seen nuffink o’ that Tunnel Mob fer ages.’
Sadie’s eyes flared and she brought her hand up suddenly and slapped him hard across the face. ‘Don’t you dare blaspheme!’ she cried.
Billy’s hand went up to his face in surprise and then Sadie pulled him to her and hugged him tightly. ‘I believe yer, but yer shouldn’t take the name o’ the Lord in vain,’ she told him, her voice breaking as tears started.
Billy felt the pain in his chest and he gripped his mother by her shoulders. ‘Careful, Muvver. Yer know I’m a bit fragile,’ he grinned.
Sadie dried her eyes on her apron and gave him a smile. ‘I’ve boiled a kettle,’ she said. ‘Get yerself washed an’ I’ll cut yer some nice bread an’ jam. I’ll do it up in a bit o’ greaseproof so it won’t go an’ mess up yer pocket. Go on, orf yer go.’
An hour later Billy was presenting hims
elf at the counter inside Dockhead police station.
‘Yer’ll ’ave ter wait. The inspector ain’t arrived yet,’ the sergeant told him. ‘Take a seat an’ we’ll call yer.’
Billy sat down and looked around at the posters on the walls. One showed a villainous-looking character who was wanted for murder and another offered a reward of fifty pounds for information. Billy did not get a chance to read on for an elbow suddenly prodded him in the ribs.
‘’Ere, mate. Got a fag?’
Billy looked at the scruffy individual who had sat down next to him on the hard bench. ‘I don’t smoke,’ he replied.
‘’Ave yer got the price of a cup o’ tea?’ the old man asked him.
Billy shook his head. ‘Sorry, I’m skint,’ he said.
‘I ain’t ’ad a bite since yesterday mornin’ an’ I’m bloody starvin’,’ the man went on, scratching his ribs through a hole in his filthy shirt.
Billy suddenly remembered the jam sandwiches his mother had prepared for him. ‘’Ere, ’ave one o’ these,’ he said, feeling sorry for the old gent.
‘What are they?’
‘Jam sandwiches.’
‘Jam sandwiches!’ the man repeated, a look of disgust on his stubbled face. ‘If there’s one fing I can’t stand it’s jam sandwiches. Are yer sure yer ain’t got a fag?’
‘I’ve already told yer, I don’t smoke,’ Billy replied, his voice rising.
‘All right, keep yer shirt on. I fergot,’ the old man moaned.
Billy looked around at him, aware that he was constantly scratching himself. Suddenly the man stood up and walked over to the counter.
‘Oi, you. Ain’t I gonna get any attention ’ere?’ he shouted.
The desk sergeant looked up at him with a stern expression on his face. ‘Now listen ’ere, Winkle. If yer after gettin’ yerself locked up, yer barkin’ up the wrong tree,’ he chided him. ‘We’re fed up wiv de-lousin’ the likes o’ you. Now why don’t yer piss orf out of ’ere an’ go round the local baths. It’s only tuppence.’
‘I ain’t got tuppence,’ the man grumbled, reaching out for the sheaf of papers on the desk.
‘Now leave those alone or I’ll get angry,’ the sergeant told him.
Winkle sat down and grinned at Billy. ‘’E finks ’e’s so clever. Jus’ wait till that inspector feller walks in. I’m gonna give ’im one. They’ll ’ave ter lock me up then.’
Ten minutes later the door opened and a tall, heavily built police inspector entered the station. As he walked towards the counter he stumbled over Winkle’s outstretched foot, and before he could recover his balance the old tramp was on his feet dancing around with his fists moving in small circles. ‘C’mon, stick ’em up,’ he called out.
The inspector glared at him. ‘Now get off home or I’ll get the lads to dowse you, Winkle,’ he growled.
Winkle suddenly shot out a fist which caught the inspector weakly in the chest and then he danced back out of reach. ‘C’mon, stick ’em up,’ he goaded him.
‘Get me a pail of water,’ the annoyed policeman called out to his sergeant, whereupon Winkle shot forward and landed a light blow on the inspector’s nose.
‘All right, lock him up,’ the officer shouted, holding a hand up to his face. Winkle was marched smartly away grinning with satisfaction and the inspector disappeared behind the counter. Billy could barely hide his amusement at the tramp’s antics, but his face became serious as the sergeant emerged from a back office and called him over.
‘William Sullivan?’
Billy nodded and the police officer motioned to the bench. ‘Wait there till yer called. Yer bein’ taken down ter Rother’ithe nick. Yer goin’ on an I.D. parade,’ he announced.
Carrie had been hard pressed all morning but she was feeling happy with herself as she scooped fresh tea-leaves into the large enamel teapot and filled it with boiling water from the bubbling urn at the back of the counter. Albert Buller, the catering firm’s representative, had called the previous morning and taken a large order, and the discount which Carrie had insisted upon had been confirmed later that day. The weather was holding fine today too and Rachel looked very pretty as Annie McCafferty took her for a walk to the park. Fred was cheerful and humming to himself in the kitchen and Bessie was unusually quiet, which Carrie found out later was due to a toothache. Another reason for Carrie’s high spirits was the conversation she had had with Annie earlier that morning.
The young nurse had mentioned seeing Billy Sullivan on her way to the cafe and he had smiled at her and waved from the other side of the road. ‘He seems a very nice young man,’ she had remarked casually.
Carrie had caught a certain look in the young woman’s eye and she decided then to learn something of her feelings towards the young man. ‘Do yer like ’im?’ she asked outright.
Annie flushed. ‘He seems a very nice young man,’ she repeated quickly.
Carrie smiled. ‘Billy needs a young lady in ’is life,’ she remarked pointedly. ‘’E needs somebody like you ter keep ’im on the straight an’ narrow. ’Ave yer got a young man, Annie?’
Annie shook her head. ‘I’ve never considered it,’ she said, becoming more embarrassed.
Carrie felt suddenly sorry for the pretty young nurse. ‘Well, yer should do,’ she said in a firm tone. ‘Yer very pretty, yer know, an’ it’s obvious yer like children. Yer could do a lot worse than walk out wiv Billy Sullivan.’
Annie smiled and averted her eyes, trying to stifle her embarrassment by fiddling with the pram straps which were already fastened around the impatient child. ‘I wouldn’t dare give Billy the impression I’d like him to ask me to walk out with him,’ she replied. ‘I just couldn’t.’
‘Well, ’ow’s Billy gonna know yer like ’im unless yer try an’ give ’im some indication?’ Carrie said laughing.
Annie shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t be too forward. It wouldn’t be right,’ she said in a quiet voice.
Carrie decided there and then to take the initiative. ‘Look, why don’t I talk ter Billy? I could tell ’im yer like ’im an’ ’e should ask yer outright ter walk out wiv ’im. All yer ’ave ter do then is say yes. Yer can do that, can’t yer?’ she asked, smiling broadly.
Annie looked thoughtful. ‘If Billy had wanted to ask me, surely he would have done,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Billy Sullivan is a very nice young man, Annie, but yer gotta remember ’e’s bin out o’ work fer a long time, an’ gettin’ wounded ruined ’is future as ’e saw it,’ Carrie told her. ‘Yer gotta remember too that Billy sees somebody like you as bein’ above ’im. Oh ’e’ll talk ter yer easy enough, Billy can talk wiv anybody, but askin’ a refined young lady like you ter walk out wiv ’im is a different matter. Yer gotta overcome yer shyness. Let ’im know yer like ’im. I can’t tell yer ’ow ter do it but yer know what I mean.’
Annie had smiled through her embarrassment and looked Carrie square in the eye. ‘Would you ask him?’ she suggested in a quiet voice.
Carrie had touched Annie’s arm reassuringly. ‘Jus’ leave it ter me,’ she said boldly.
As Carrie coped with the comings and goings at the dining rooms that morning she was feeling pleased at the progress she had made with Annie McCafferty. This could be the making of Billy, she told herself. The young man needed a woman to steady him and encourage him to get a job. Annie would be just the person. She was a Catholic too, which would make it easy for her to be accepted by Sadie and Daniel Sullivan.
‘Am I gonna wait all day fer that two o’ toasted drippin’, Carrie?’ a deep voice shouted out.
Carrie was quickly brought back to matters in hand and she smiled sweetly at the neglected carman. ‘Comin’ up right away, Bill,’ she told him.
In the Rotherhithe police station a motley crowd stood around waiting, and it was not long before they were ushered out into the compound at the rear of the building.
‘Right, line up in a straight line if yer will, gentlemen,’ the police serge
ant requested politely.
There was a mumble of ill humour as the men did what they were told, slowly shuffling into position in the middle of the yard. Billy found himself standing at the end of the line. He stared up at the high barred window in the wall facing him. If this goes wrong that’s where I’ll end up, he told himself.
‘Right, gents, no talking,’ the sergeant said loudly.
Billy then saw a slightly built man come out from a far door with a policeman holding on to his arm. The man was led along the line. He stopped and turned to the first man. Slowly he looked him up and down and then moved to the next person. Billy could see the dark patches around his eyes as he drew nearer and he noticed that the man was visibly shaking at the ordeal. The policeman was still holding him by the arm and he seemed very frail and tottery.
Tanner Trilogy 02 - The Girl from Cotton Lane Page 12
