by Carol Rivers
‘Flo, be reasonable,’ Lizzie pleaded. ‘The arrangement is only for a short while, just until he can go back to his rooms.’
‘He’s fooled you again,’ Flo accused. ‘Syd, tell her. She mustn’t do it.’
‘It ain’t the best idea you’ve ever had,’ Syd agreed.
Flo blew noisily through her lips. ‘You must guess what’s happened, Lizzie. Frank’s landed himself in trouble, that’s what.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘He doesn’t even know who did it.’
‘Of course he does,’ Flo argued. ‘The truth is that your nearest and dearest owes money to some bookie and this is pay-back time.’ Flo banged her hands on the wooden arms of her chair. ‘All I can say is, the blokes who duffed him up made their biggest mistake when they didn’t finish the job.’
‘Flo, love, don’t take on so,’ Syd interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘Remember the baby . . .’
‘How can I forget it?’ Flo burst out. ‘Just look at me. I’m the size of Blackwall Tunnel and expanding.’ She jerked her head towards Lizzie. ‘Just don’t expect me to come visiting you while that son of a bitch is living under your roof. I wish he’d never turned up that day at Mrs Davies’s. I hate to think he touched me. I would rather have had the baby there and then. Now, give us your arm, Syd, and help me up.’
Quickly Syd put down his beer. Sliding his hand around Flo’s waist, he helped her to her feet. Flo shook down her flowing dress. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, me and Syd still have a wedding to plan. I wouldn’t mind a bit of help if you can spare the time off from all your good works.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ll order the flowers from the market, if you like. Just tell me what you want.’
‘That’s very good of you, I’m sure.’ Flo scowled.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Syd will give you the list. Do you want some tea?’
‘Yes, please.’ Lizzie didn’t dare refuse, though if she’d had an appetite before it was now gone. She didn’t want Flo to get any more upset and risk the baby’s health. ‘Can I help you in the kitchen?’
‘No, thanks. And don’t scold me for being on my feet because I’ll scream if you do.’
After Flo had gone Lizzie looked up at Syd. ‘Can I have that list?’
He went to the mantel clock and slid out the paper.
‘Would you like red or white roses for the buttonholes?’ she asked as she read down the list.
‘White will do.’
‘Syd, I won’t mention Frank again—’
‘Good.’
‘But there’s just one more thing. Did you see anyone lurking at the hospital when you visited Flo?’
‘No, why should I have?’
‘It seems Frank lost his watch when he was attacked. It was Bill’s and not worth much. But it was of sentimental value.’
Syd stared at her, suddenly angry. ‘What do you expect me to do about it?’
‘Nothing. But if you did see anyone suspicious—’
‘Then good luck to them, that’s what I’d say,’ Syd interrupted her, taking another gulp of ale. ‘Frank ain’t nothing to me. He’s a parasite, a low-life, and you’re bonkers to take him back. Flo’s right, he’s got you where he wants you. In my opinion you should have given him short shrift the moment you saw him outside Mrs Davies’s.’
‘Flo could have lost the baby,’ Lizzie protested, surprised at Syd’s reaction. ‘She needed help and I didn’t care who gave it.’
‘You should have sent for an ambulance.’
‘That would have taken time.’
‘I offered you my help on the day Frank showed up,’ Syd said accusingly, swiping the froth from his lips with the back of his sleeve. ‘My brothers and me would have put an end to all his malarkey. Done everyone a favour. Just like we’d have dealt with that villain, Savage, if you’d asked, instead of running to Danny who would have done better to have stayed out of the picture seeing as you’re now back with your old man. But it seems to me the Millers just ain’t good enough for you.’
Lizzie’s mouth fell open. ‘That’s not true, Syd, and you know it.’
He snatched the list from her hands. ‘For Christ’s sake, Lizzie, me and Flo, we’re having a kid. Our wedding is on the horizon and Flo’s in a delicate state. She don’t need all this aggro with Frank.’
‘I don’t want to upset her.’
‘You might as well be kipping with him the way you’re acting.’
Lizzie sat there open-mouthed as he walked past her to the kitchen. She had never heard Syd talk like this before. A conversation she’d had with Flo came back to her mind. Did Syd really think of her as Lady Muck, as Flo had made out?
Was he turning against her too?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Danny took two steps down the rickety wooden staircase and stopped dead. From where he stood he could not only hear voices but if he craned his neck he could just see, over the top of the roof of the parked lorry downstairs, three figures standing at the entrance to the workshop.
Cal stood, blocking the way of three men. He’d shunted the wooden trolley used for horizontal repairs to one side. Now he stood with his shoulders tensed under his oily overalls. The man facing him was short and squat, not your normal type of punter, but easily recognizable as trouble. The two apes accompanying him were squaring up, flexing muscle and silently eyeballing the opposition.
Danny knew that, if push came to shove, neither would stand a flying fart’s chance. Cal had the instincts of a swamp croc: movement so fast and lethal they wouldn’t see the spanner appear from his pocket before it connected with skin and bone. Danny knew Cal of old. His friend could absorb provocation like a sponge. Insults rolled off him as easy as bush rain. Men down the mines had mistaken his silence for weakness. But there would be one word, one action, and the party would start.
The soft menace of the stranger’s voice droned in the warm afternoon air. Danny couldn’t hear what was being said. But at the bottom of the staircase, he paused, reached out to the nearby workbench and snatched the claw hammer. Sliding it through his belt, he strolled casually around the parked vehicle and stood at Cal’s side.
‘Ah, Mr Flowers! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’ The smallest of the three men held out his hand. ‘The name’s Leonard – Leonard Savage.’
This came as no surprise to Danny. From Lizzie’s description, they fitted. Three goons with cheap suits and hats and the stink of even cheaper brilliantine.
‘What took you so long?’ Danny said.
‘So Mrs Flowers passed on the message?’ Savage pushed aside the flap of his suit. Danny knew the action was meant to intimidate. Hinting at the weapon that may or may not have been waiting within easy reach.
‘I don’t take kindly to threats,’ Danny replied, nodding to the two men behind Savage. ‘If you want to talk, talk. But it’s just us. Tweedledum and Tweedledee aren’t invited.’
The smaller man laughed. ‘You have a sense of humour, Mr Flowers.’
‘I wasn’t joking. Get rid of them.’
‘They’re my insurance, naturally.’
‘Your choice,’ Danny said dismissively.
Savage jerked his head at Cal. ‘What about him?’
Turning to Cal, Danny gave a brief nod.
‘That’s better,’ Savage said as Cal drifted into the workshop and the two heavies shambled off towards the flash green-and-black Daimler parked nearby.
‘If you’re carrying hardware,’ Danny said shortly.
Savage opened his jacket. Sneering, he murmured, ‘Relax, Mr Flowers, I’ve no quarrel with you.’
‘Wrong,’ Danny replied coldly. ‘You upset a close friend of mine. When you did that, you upset me.’
Savage’s face darkened. ‘I simply put a proposition to Mrs Flowers—’
‘Forget it,’ Danny barked. ‘I’m not interested in your bent services. Neither is she.’
‘You’re a hard man to dea
l with.’
‘I don’t like racketeers.’
‘I come here as a potential buyer,’ Savage said, opening his arms innocently.
Danny laughed. ‘The motors here won’t interest you.’
Savage took a white handkerchief from his top pocket and patted his forehead. ‘I’m not after your stock. It’s your garage I like. Plenty of room and a nice, comfortable cellar for servicing my vehicles.’
‘How do you know there’s a cellar?’ Danny took in a sharp breath.
‘Just a guess, that’s all.’
Danny’s stomach dropped. Could this be the thief? Savage was staring at him as if he knew what he was thinking.
‘You’re the animal who did the job,’ Danny accused in a hoarse whisper.
‘Careful, now, Mr Flowers.’
Danny tried to keep calm. But his blood felt as though it was boiling. Savage was taunting him. And the more he taunted, the more Danny felt himself losing control. But even if he managed to get his hands around Savage’s throat, there would be no time to wring a confession out of him. How many more men were in that vehicle? Were they carrying weapons?
It was a trap and Danny knew he was about to walk right into it.
‘What are a few tools when the chips are down?’ Savage goaded. ‘To a businessman like me, they’re worth practically nothing.’
‘Then why nick them?’ Danny said bitterly.
‘Did I say I did?’ Savage looked around him innocently. ‘Look at the bigger picture. I’m offering you a generous wedge. Enough to buy yourself a smart little set-up in the city with spanking new motors. The most you’ll have to do all day long is polish them. Seems to make a lot more sense to me than roughing it out here.’
‘And why should you do that?’
‘I told you. I’m a businessman.’
‘So that’s what you call yourself.’
‘Don’t stand in the way of progress, Mr Flowers. It could be dangerous.’
‘Why do you really want my place?’
Savage smiled, his thick lips parting as he said softly, ‘I’m taking over this turf, son, whether you like the idea or not.’
Danny braced himself and took a step forward. ‘Get out and off my property.’
Savage stared at him, his face filling with anger. Suddenly he looked over his shoulder and signalled to his men.
‘Think twice before you bring them into this,’ Danny warned.
‘And what are you going to do?’ mocked Savage, laughing. ‘Stamp your feet in a puddle of oil?’
‘No, I’m going to have my mate drive that eight-ton Port of London Authority lorry behind me straight at you.’ Danny raised his hand and heard Cal start up the engine. ‘It can kick up quite a speed from the off and is as tough as a tank, and it will flatten anything in its path, including you, your boys and your motor.’
Savage took a step back as Danny heard Cal drive the lorry forward.
‘You’ll regret this,’ Savage shouted, stumbling in his effort to join his men. ‘I’m not finished with you or your poxy garage.’
‘I’ll be waiting,’ Danny replied, enjoying the powerful rumble of the engine as the lorry crept nearer. Savage glared as he gathered his men and hurried towards their waiting car.
‘Did we do the trick?’ Cal called from the cab high above Danny’s head.
‘Yeah, for now, anyway.’
Danny watched the limousine glide away, its tyres crunching on the gravel.
‘How much did he want?’ Cal asked as he dropped down from the lorry.
‘Not a penny.’ Danny dragged his gaze back to his friend. ‘He wants to buy us out.’
‘This place?’ Cal said in surprise. ‘The garage?’
‘We’ve got our thief,’ Danny nodded. ‘He more or less admitted to it.’
Cal gave a low oath. ‘Bastard.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘What are we going to do about it?’
‘Wait.’ Danny shrugged. ‘Not much else we can do.’
‘But why?’ Cal walked with Danny back to the garage. ‘What’s he want this place for?’
‘For servicing his vehicles, so he says.’
Cal laughed as they made their way around the lorry. ‘He ain’t a threat to you, mate. We’ve taken on bigger contenders in the mines.’
‘I don’t like being threatened, Cal.’ Danny replaced the hammer on the workbench. ‘He’ll be back, and we’ll be ready for him. I want to know where our tools are. And I want them back – with interest.’
Cal grinned and sliding his hand to Danny’s shoulder, said, ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bill Flowers winced at the strength of the pain. He knew it well, like a familiar tap at the front door. He sat perfectly still in his coms, allowing his legs to dangle over the side of the bed. He turned gingerly to glance at the empty space beside him left by Gertie and it was then the agony struck. He gasped, grabbing the glass of water balanced on the night table. It was spilled before he had time to suck it into his throat.
Bill felt the sweat break out like a rash all over him. He didn’t dare to move lest he make the pain intolerable. His eyes grew wide in fear. The sides of his mouth stuck together, as though he’d trudged a week in the desert.
How long would this spasm last? Always his silent question. He had spent all his life a coster, proud of his strength and agility. Now he was counting the seconds to when he might stumble across the bedroom floor to call for help.
Yet he couldn’t entertain putting on Gertie again; their night’s sleep had already been disrupted. Frank had screamed out, and they’d rushed into his room, only to find him half out of bed. Eventually they’d settled him with the laudanum. But sleep was impossible after that.
Had Gertie managed to drift off again? he wondered. She must be downstairs or in the yard khazi, her first port of call in the mornings. With a gasp, he buckled forward, the breath leaving his body.
How would they find him? More accurately, how would Gertie find him? Sprawled out on the floor in his coms, the indignity of death revealing the pee stains on his flies.
Bill shook his head sadly. He’d never have believed it of himself; from a healthy young man into a helpless old fool. Almost overnight, it seemed. Through his sweat-laden lids, he saw the small round bottle of Mackenzie’s. The smelling salts beckoned to him from the wash stand.
A yard’s distance only. Maybe not even that. But it might as well be a mile. He could smell himself, his fear: a fresh, fearful odour from his armpits. The vice tightened. He would be rendered unconscious soon.
But he welcomed the end now. He’d had enough. This was where he ducked out.
‘Take me, you hear! Get it over and done with!’
Then suddenly he could breathe again. His body fell limp, released from the tension. The attack ended so abruptly, he couldn’t believe it was gone. He sat, perched like a wounded bird, ready to fly or flop. He stared at the bare boards beneath his feet. His gaze was fixed on them, wide still, but in surprise this time, not fear. Had the enemy withdrawn, he wondered? As if watching from a distance, he saw himself, an old man, skin and bone, the brittle skeleton beneath the dirty underwear. Alive still, would you believe!
He made a noise, just to see if he was still in the land of the living. He coughed and, hearing the strength in his lungs, he coughed again, encouraged. A drop of sweat from his forehead trickled to the end of his nose. He cautiously wiped it away.
Inching himself upright, he took a breath. ‘The pain’s gone,’ he muttered in amazement as he gazed around the room. The furniture was in perspective; hard edges of the brown wood wardrobe, the eight-drawer tallboy, Daisy’s nursing chair in the corner, the one she’d used to feed Frank. The green leaves of the aspidistra re-homed here from Frank’s sick room. Life looked as clear as a bell again.
Closing his eyes, Bill nodded. The Grim Reaper would have to wait. And let’s hope he has the patience of a saint, Bill added to his
prayer.
Clutching hold of the bed end, he shuffled to the wash stand. Unscrewing the top of the sal volatile, he shoved the bottle under his nostrils. He gasped, as the reviver sped its way to his brain.
So far, so good, he thought, taking another shot for good measure. The light, the pale shimmer of dawn, flowed in through the windows.
Bill made his way to the chair. His trousers, shirt, collar and tie were folded over its back. He wouldn’t bother with a strip wash this morning. He’d make things easy on himself. Savouring his second wind, he pulled back his shoulders, slyly waiting to see if his heart remained in his chest.
It did. No pain, no disturbance. Only a draining weakness. He paused for another breath and decided to sit down for ten minutes more.
Returning to the bed, he lowered himself slowly, exhaustion in every limb. Placing his palms on his knees, he dropped his head, staring at the boards once again.
His thoughts returned to Frank in the next room. He’d be suffering the effects of the sedative, no doubt. But they’d had little choice in the early hours when in his distress he’d knocked over his pee bottle.
He heard a movement downstairs. Was it Gertie? No. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the rattle of the front-door key on its string.
Bill hoisted himself to his feet. He stood uncertainly, trying to decipher the noises. Someone was coming upstairs. Too heavy a tread for Gertie. Bill stared at the bedroom door. Softly it creaked open. A figure appeared. He blinked to clear his vision.
‘Danny?’
‘It’s me. Are you up yet?’
‘Do I look as if I’m kipping?’ Bill managed to chuckle.
Danny strode across the floor, surprising Bill as always as he stared at the reflection of himself as a young man. Frank was Daisy, had her nature too. But Danny was a Flowers all the way through. He seemed to have filled out, put muscle onto those fine broad shoulders. And the light in his eyes, as blue as his own once were, warmed Bill to his cockles.
‘Taken to sleeping in, Dad?’ Danny teased good-naturedly and Bill grinned.
‘None of that, you cheeky blighter.’
‘Where’s Gertie?’
