by Carol Rivers
Lizzie saw the understanding slowly settle on Frank’s face. His eyes were moist and suddenly devoid of expression. He swallowed, his breath flowing out of him as he pleadingly searched the faces turned towards him. No one spoke; Lizzie knew they were all in shock and Frank’s shoulders slumped in resignation. Finally he turned, making his way slowly to the back of the room.
The door ground noisily on its hinges. Lizzie found herself staring at the empty space where a few seconds ago her dead husband had stood, alive and breathing and telling her he wanted her back. ‘The law is very strict about remarriage.’ The registrar’s voice broke into her tangled thoughts. ‘The law also frowns on threats and violence of any sort. This is a most reprehensible state of affairs.’
Danny ignored him and pulled Lizzie gently into his arms. ‘Looks like we have to think again,’ he said in a choked whisper. ‘I don’t know what to say to you, except, I’m sorry. Heart sorry he’s back in our lives again.’
‘Can you believe it?’ Lil demanded, finding her voice. ‘It’s the Franks of this world that get away with murder,’ she told the registrar angrily. ‘Including his own. These two were marrying in good faith today. That toerag was supposed to be dead and none of us gives a rat’s arse about what the law thinks. It’s these two people standing here that matter. So you can stop looking so po-faced and get on with the service.’
The registrar pulled himself up and tugged at his waistcoat. ‘I’m sorry, madam, there is nothing further I can do. The office is now closed.’
‘He’s right, this changes everything,’ Doug said, taking hold of his wife’s arm. ‘Nothing for it, but to get back to the house and try to sort something out.’
‘But it just ain’t fair,’ Lil objected again, her eyes filled with angry tears. ‘That cow son is like bloody Lazarus!’
Lizzie felt Danny slip his hand around her waist. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, acknowledging Doug. As if in a dream, Lizzie found herself walking out of the room and into the cheerless winter’s day.
Chapter Three
‘You’re kidding me,’ Ethel protested, after she had listened to what Lil and Lizzie had had to say. ‘Frank is alive?’
‘And twice as ugly,’ said Lil.
Lizzie leaned against the sink in Lil’s kitchen and stared at all the food that Lil had prepared. What would the guests think when they arrived and were told there was no wedding? Would it all be wasted? But it was Danny who was really worrying her. He’d not said more than a couple of words on their drive from the registry office.
‘Danny’s taking it badly,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘He was so sure it was Frank in the morgue.’
‘Danny did his best,’ Ethel replied. ‘That body had been in the river a long time and must have looked like Frank.’
‘I should have made the identification,’ Lizzie said wearily. ‘But at the time I couldn’t face it.’
‘No wonder, after what you went through,’ Lil replied as she lit up a cigarette.
‘So what else did Frank say?’ Ethel enquired as she poured herself and Lizzie a sherry.
‘He wants me to take him back.’
‘No wonder Danny is gutted.’ Lil jerked her head angrily towards the front room where Danny, Bert and Doug were commiserating over a glass or six of beer. ‘Danny was a breath away from slipping the ring on your finger. Another ten minutes and Frank couldn’t have done nothing.’
Ethel sipped from her glass thoughtfully. ‘I can’t believe Frank would have the nerve to come to the registry office.’
‘Exactly!’ exclaimed Lil as she threw a gin and lime down her throat. Licking her lips she banged the empty glass down on the draining board. ‘How come he walks in on your wedding at the very moment you’re to be wed? I mean, that’s one heck of a coincidence, by anyone’s standards. And then all that rubbish he spouted about being in hospital. He’s lying, of course he is. Porky pies is what your old man does best. You of all people, Lizzie, should know that by now.’
‘Yes, I do. But why make up such an unbelievable story?’
‘I reckon he’s done six months in the nick.’
Ethel removed her apron and pressed her hands over her slim-fitting blue dress. ‘So why not admit it?’ she asked as she slipped a loose strand of honey-coloured hair back into place. ‘You’re not going to take Frank’s nonsense seriously are you, Lizzie?’
‘No, but what does it matter what’s true or not? The fact is, I can’t marry Danny. We’ll have to drop all our plans.’
‘It’s just not fair,’ Lil grumbled. ‘Polly ain’t stopped talking about Christmas and how you was all going to be together.’
Lizzie glanced out of the window to where Polly, her niece, and young Tom, Danny’s adopted son, were mucking around with a ball. Timothy and Rosie, Ethel’s teenage children, were sitting on the wall, watching them. They all had big smiles on their faces. Those smiles would soon disappear when she broke the news to Tom and Polly.
‘Here, watch out!’ Lil rushed to the window as the ball banged against the glass. She yanked open the kitchen door. ‘Keep that ball away from me window, if you don’t want your ears boxed. Timmy, you’re the oldest. Give an eye to the youngsters, won’t you?’
All four heads nodded. ‘Sorry, Gran,’ Timothy shouted.
‘That’s all right, love. But breakages don’t come cheap.’
Lizzie smiled as Lil closed the door, a grin on her face. ‘Your Timmy is a card, ain’t he?’ Lil chuckled.
‘Remember, Mum, it’s Timothy now,’ Ethel corrected. ‘Timmy’s a thing of the past.’
‘It’s bit of a mouthful when you’ve known him as Timmy since the day he was born.’ Lil rolled her eyes.
‘Yes, but he’s fifteen now. And just started work.’
Lil scoffed loudly. ‘I’ll bet it was his other gran who made him change his moniker.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ Ethel said quietly.
Lizzie knew Ethel had a hard time with her mother-in-law. After Mr Ryde had died a few years back, Richard Ryde began to divide his life between his mother’s house in Lewisham and his own at Blackheath. It was a sore point for Ethel and Lizzie knew that Lil was only too eager to prove it.
‘He’s a looker, your lad,’ Lil said with an affectionate smile as she studied her grandson through the window.
Lizzie nodded. Timothy was tall and lanky like his father, but he had Ethel’s fair skin and blue eyes.
‘Your Rosie will turn out a cracker, too.’ Lil took a sly glance at Ethel. ‘You’ll have to watch out for the boys.’
‘Give us a break, Mum, she’s only just turned fourteen.’
‘Wait till she starts stopping out late, like you used to. Then we’ll see sparks fly.’
Ethel laughed. ‘I liked to enjoy myself when you weren’t watching.’ She paused, frowning at Lizzie. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? They grow up so quickly. Only a year or two ago, she was playing with dolls like Polly.’
Lizzie smiled, staring wistfully at her six-year-old niece as she followed Tom around the yard. At nine years old Danny’s adopted son was the spit of Danny. All blond hair and big blue eyes. While Polly was auburn with pretty blue eyes just like her mother, Babs.
At the thought of her absent sister, Lizzie felt a pang of sadness. Babs, a year younger than herself, had left the East End over a year ago, preferring a life on the streets to caring for Polly. Would she ever come back to the East End, she wondered sadly?
‘Your ex is a cunning sod,’ Lil warned, taking a long puff. ‘He knows how much you think of Pol. He also knows he stands a good chance of being her father.’
‘Not that it’s ever been proved,’ Ethel said quickly. ‘Babs kept tight-lipped about that one.’
‘We all took it for granted when Babs was up the spout that Frank was responsible,’ Lil said with a shrug. ‘They was going at it like rabbits behind Lizzie’s back all the time she was married.’
‘Mum!’
‘Well, it’s true, Ethel.’
‘Ye
s, but Lizzie doesn’t need to hear it again, does she?’
‘Doesn’t bother me,’ Lizzie said, although this wasn’t strictly true. It still hurt somewhere deep down when she let herself think about Frank cheating on her. ‘Babs wasn’t the only one, anyway. Frank had plenty of affairs. But if Polly is his, one day she’ll have to know it. I don’t want her to think the worst of her father.’
‘So what you going to tell her?’ Lil said archly.
‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
‘And if Frank comes to the shop?’ Lil asked. ‘Chucks his weight around like he used to? The kid ain’t daft. She’ll see him in his true light then.’
‘Let him try,’ Lizzie said firmly. ‘Bert wouldn’t have that.’
‘True, Mum. It’d be a brave man who’d argue with Bert,’ Ethel agreed and all three nodded.
Lil sniffed and cuffed her long nose with the back of her wrist. ‘Poor Pol. She don’t deserve a father like him, a two-bit crook with a knack for bashing women. Or a mother like Babs on the game.’
‘I don’t want to think about all that, Lil.’
‘I only speak the truth, love. When Frank appears again, as he will, he’ll come out with all the soft soap. You’ll have to remember that he got Babs in the family way. And Polly was just a couple of weeks old when she decided she’d had enough of motherhood. The silly cow couldn’t wait to go back to her life as one of Ferreter’s trollops. Aided and abetted by Frank, needless to say. Christ, Lizzie, you’ve been to hell and back with that scoundrel!’
All three women were silent for a moment. Lizzie knew deep in her heart that Lil was right on all scores. But Polly meant more to Lizzie than the sins of the past. And even though Frank had been and done all Lil said he had, and worse, it was Polly who counted now.
‘Look on the bright side,’ Lil continued, gulping down smoke, ‘at least Babs ain’t shacked up with Frank still. She don’t give a damn about Pol. Where is a mother’s love in all that?’
Ethel crossed her legs, glancing at Lizzie. ‘Have you ever thought of adopting Polly?’
‘Yeah,’ interrupted Lil eagerly, unable to stay quiet. ‘Good idea. Tell them how your husband knocked off your sister, and how when Polly was born they abandoned her, leaving you to do the honours. And how, six years on, you’re the closest to a mother that Polly has ever had.’ Lil pointed the cigarette and the ash spilled on the table. ‘Oh, yes, and there’s the small matter of your old man trying to blow up your shop and you and your family with it. They’ll put up no argument then!’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘The welfare won’t help the likes of me. I’m married to Polly’s father, they’d say, and tell me to get on with it. And without Babs’s consent there’s nothing more I can do.’
‘Your Babs was always flighty,’ Lil said bitterly as she ground her dog-end into the metal ashtray. ‘What with her and your brother Vinnie, who was always a sod, your mum had a tough job on her hands. If she couldn’t keep them on the straight and narrow, what hope is there for you?’
But no matter what anyone said, Lizzie still felt she had failed to keep her older brother Vinnie out of prison and Babs from the streets. And though she looked on Polly as her own, Babs was Polly’s birth-mother.
‘You look all in, gel.’ Lil placed a hand on Lizzie’s arm. ‘Why don’t you go next door? Have a chat with your sister. She’s got her drawers in a twist about not being able to get the morning off work for your wedding. As it stands, she didn’t miss nothing.’
Lizzie had put off going in to see Flo, her younger sister. She knew she would be very upset. Flo hated Frank with a vengeance and had cause to.
‘Better get it over with,’ Lil urged. ‘Remember, your little sister has stuck by you through thick and thin, whereas Babs and Vinnie buggered off. Flo had Frank taped right from when she was a kid and had the scarlet fever. He took you to visit her at the sanatorium and turned on the charm. But Flo wouldn’t have none of it.’
Lizzie recognized the truth, even though it was painful to hear. What a fool she had been to fall for that charm. And it had been Flo who had tried to warn her.
Ethel touched Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘Chin up, love. Flo’s bark is worse than her bite.’
Lizzie looked fondly at her good friend. They had grown close over the years; close enough to know what each other was thinking. And now the glance that passed between them spoke volumes.
Polly ran into Lizzie’s arms as she walked into the yard. The little girl was a picture of Babs at her age. All coppery hair and big smiles. Lizzie felt the familiar pang of guilt that somehow along the way she had failed Babs. How could she not want to share in her daughter’s life? Was it something that Lizzie had done?
‘Did you marry Uncle Danny?’ Polly asked breathlessly. ‘Did they throw the confetti?’
‘Uncle Danny and me decided to wait a while.’
‘Are we still having a party?’
‘Course we are.’
‘What about Christmas? I thought we was all going to live over the shop and get a big Christmas tree and stay up late.’
‘We’ll still have a party.’ Lizzie touched Polly’s beautiful hair. ‘And lots of nice things to eat.’
Polly giggled. ‘That’s all right then. Can I tell Tom and Rosie and Timothy?’
‘Yes, but mind that ball on Auntie Lil’s window.’
Polly scampered off. Relieved that Polly didn’t seem too disappointed, Lizzie made her way over the broken fence to her sister’s house. Somehow she had to deliver the news to Flo without more eruptions, then try to get through the rest of the day.
Chapter Four
Danny Flowers sat in the decked-out front room of No. 84 Langley Street, his beer untouched beside him. The clock on the mantelpiece showed almost an hour to go before the guests arrived. An hour in which to steady his nerves. He had a suspicion the news of Frank’s return would already have circulated. The sympathy, the handshakes, the winks and nods were all coming his way. And he had no choice but to take them on the chin.
Danny lifted his glass and, for the first time that day, enjoyed the bite of the alcohol. Not that it would douse the fire in his chest that still raged. Anger and bitter disappointment fanned the flames of his resentment towards Frank. Yet, he asked himself, where was his compassion for the brother who’d cheated death and returned to life? Even if Frank was the devil incarnate, he hadn’t deserved to die by Ferreter’s hand. Frank was his brother, his only kith and kin other than Dad. They were family and blood-linked. But he didn’t trust Frank further than he could throw him. And now, it seemed, history was about to repeat itself.
‘Cheer up, lad. It might never happen.’ Doug Sharpe, nursing his ale, glanced at Danny with a frown of concern.
‘I’m angry at myself, Doug. How could I have been so mistaken about Frank? I saw him on that marble slab – or what was left of him.’
‘Not your fault,’ his old friend insisted. ‘You were ninety-nine per cent certain it was Frank the coppers dragged out of the water.’
‘And the one per cent manages to turn up on our wedding day.’ Danny sat forward, gazing into Doug’s fatherly face with its calm expression. At sixty-seven, Doug had been a white-collar worker at the docks, and had always provided for his family. But after the loss of his two sons in the war, he’d aged dramatically. Danny admired him for the way he’d pulled through the nightmare and somehow got on with his life. He was wise and steady and had been in all their lives since forever, standing by Lizzie through the mess of her marriage to Frank. For that, Danny would be eternally grateful. They were good people and Danny loved them for it.
Doug’s smooth forehead wrinkled under his thinning grey hair. ‘Stop beating yourself up, cocker. We all know you did your best.’
‘I saw a body wearing Frank’s clothes and shoes, and half a face. I didn’t hang around to find out I was wrong.’
‘Any one of us would have given the nod,’ Bert agreed in his deep, lumbering voice. A voice, Danny
reflected, that could only have come from a man who weighed over nineteen stone and stood almost with his head in the clouds. Bert sat squashed in an armchair, his tie removed and the buttons of his shirt undone. ‘You wasn’t going to get any help from Old Bill.’
‘I’ve got a nasty feeling it don’t end here.’ Danny stretched his broad shoulders, uncomfortable under the restrictive tailoring of his wedding suit. He was more accustomed to his overalls, the ones he wore at the garage. He wore them with pride, knowing the business was his own little kingdom. He’d thought he was on the way to a happy life now, with the garage on its feet and Lizzie as his wife. How wrong could a man be?
He stared desolately at Doug. ‘The point being, who did I identify as Frank?’
A knock at the front door prevented anyone from venturing an opinion. Danny stood up. ‘That’ll be Cal. I asked him to go by the pub and see if there was word on the grapevine. If there is, the landlord will know.’
‘Y’all right, Danny?’ Cal Bronga, Danny’s mechanic, best friend and only employee, stepped in. Black-bearded, with ebony shoulder-length hair, Cal was the agile bushman Danny had first met in the gold mines of Australia. No one had been more pleased than Danny when Cal had eventually followed him to England last summer.
‘Find out anything?’ Danny kept his voice low.
‘No, boss. Not a breath.’ Cal shook his dark head. ‘Like you told me, I checked at the Quarry and the Ship, then drove past your old man’s drum. Quiet as a dingo’s fart.’
‘I can’t see Frank visiting Dad.’ Danny felt the swell of anger again in his chest. Their father was entitled to some peace in his twilight years. Frank had never given Bill Flowers the respect he was due. Despite all the effort Bill had put in to compensate for the early death of their mother, Frank had still turned out the bad apple.
Cal followed Danny in, grinning broadly at the two men seated in the chairs. Bert stood, dwarfing Cal momentarily as he clasped his hand.
Doug said after a while, ‘Frank don’t have any friends on the island. Without Ferreter’s muscle behind him, I can’t see him making waves.’
