by Carol Rivers
'But I'm off the booze.'
'Use a tankard. They won't know what you're drinking.'
Frank opened his mouth and shut it again.
'Tell them you're all bitter and twisted and thinking of jacking the pub in. Vella will soon come sniffing around.'
'But they'll see the blokes on the door and Elmo and Fowler out the back,' Frank argued. 'They're loyal to Lizzie and them women know it.'
'You won't have them,' Danny answered steadily. 'You'll be on your tod.'
'I'll be left alone you mean?'
'This has got to look authentic, Frank.'
'So, it's me who's the patsy?'
'There's no other way.'
'I ain't even got Lenny. He did a bunk last week.'
'Just keep tipping the ginger beer down your throat and falling over. The women will believe you're kosher and Vella will show up. You doing the dirty on Lizzie is too good a chance to miss.'
'It's a risk, Danny,' warned Bill with a frown. 'Frank might put dynamite up Vella's arse instead of fooling the bleeder.'
'It's a risk I'm willing to take, Dad. The question is, are you Frank?'
'I dunno!' Frank protested in panic. 'What if he smells a rat?'
'He won't if you convince him you're eager to take revenge for the lousy way Lizzie has treated you. Your voices have come back. They're in your head, driving you mad.'
Frank gasped. 'Don't tempt bloody providence, Danny!'
'Syd will call by each evening. Vella knows me and Bert but he don't know Syd. He will buy a pint and suss out whether or not Vella has moved in. When we've got a result, we'll use Murphy and his crew.'
'I ain't having my Syd in no dust-ups,' cried Flo in alarm. 'I'm in the family way, don't forget.'
'I understand,' answered Danny quietly. 'Syd doesn't have to be part of this if you don't want.'
'We're family, Flo,' Syd said loyally. 'Remember what it was like when I first met you? We had our backs to the wall then and put up a bloody good fight against Ferreter.'
'Yes, but we wasn't married,' argued Flo tearfully. 'We didn't have a kid and one on the way to consider.'
Syd lifted the palms of his hands. 'It's for our kids and you I'm doing this, love.'
All was silent once more as Danny studied the faces of the assembled. 'Best everyone go home and think about what I've said.'
'No need, mate,' Bert cried. 'I'm in all the way.'
'Me too,' said Doug. 'Syd won't be on his own. I'll go with him.'
Lil sat up in her seat. 'You're too bloody old for this lark!'
Doug smiled at his wife. 'I ain't past having a pint with my mate, love.' He nodded at Syd and winked.
Bill croaked a laugh. 'Well, I know I'm past it, but if I was ten years younger I'd be alongside you and that's a fact.'
'Thanks, Dad.' Danny looked at Frank. 'A lot will depend on you, brother.'
Frank loosened his tie and pushed a hand over his sweating forehead. 'Count me in,' he muttered.
Danny smiled and thought of all he hadn't spoken about and of the luck they would need to put paid to Salvo Vella once and for all.
Chapter 53
After the Sharpes and Ethel had departed, Lizzie stood with Gertie as Polly and Tom played in the road close by.
'I gave Elsie a good dinner,' Gertie said as they watched Frank help the pathetic little figure into the back seat of his car for it had been decided in the absence of Lenny, that Elsie was available to be his replacement.
Lizzie was doubtful about the idea, but as Gertie observed, where else was Elsie to go that could offer her both job and accommodation?
'She'll have to spruce up,' Gertie remarked as Frank drove away. 'She can't pull pints with a scarf on her Uncle Ned.'
'She's a bag of nerves,' said Lizzie worriedly. 'But who wouldn't be, living with that monster?'
''We'll get Elsie to tell the cops,' Gertie assured Lizzie. 'Just as soon as she's on her feet.'
'I hope so.'
'Leave it to me, love. I've told Frank to bring her over for dinner. She ain't a bad kid, after all.'
'Thank you for everything.'
'You're me daughter-in-law. I don't need no thanks. It did me and Bill the world of good to see Frank and Danny shake hands. Do you think Danny's got the measure of this Vella?'
'I hope so, Gertie.'
'I don't want to see Frank give up the pub. Not now things are square between him and Polly.'
'It won't come to that.'
'You're right,' Gertie admitted reluctantly. 'But I thought our freedom was won in 1919. Didn't expect to have to fight for it again with roughnecks from our own turf.' Gertie clutched Lizzie's arm. 'Danny ain't mentioned this April. But Tom did. And I don't like what I heard.'
'What do you mean?'
'The cow has got Danny to send my grandson to one of them posh boarding schools.'
'Danny wouldn't do that,' Lizzie insisted. 'Tom must have got it wrong.'
'She's taken the kid to be measured for the uniform. Tom said there's this woman that April's pally with. All airs and graces. The son of this cow took Tom aside and told him he's in for a bashing when he goes to this school. And I tell you for nothing, love, it worries me stiff.'
'Has Tom told Danny?'
'No, the boy's kept schtum.'
Lizzie couldn't believe that Danny would give his consent to this. But why would Tom lie?
'If Danny loves April there's nothing I can do.'
'Yes yer can. Fight for him like you're fighting for the pub.'
'But how?'
'You'll find a way.'
Just then, Danny joined them. 'Thanks, Gertie, for the welcome.'
'You've always got that, son.'
'Can we go back to Auntie Lizzie's, Dad?' Tom asked. His collar was dirty and undone and his shirt tails flapped over his trousers. Lizzie smiled affectionately. It was the Tom she knew of old.
Danny shook his head. 'Aunt April will have cooked dinner.'
'I wanted Tom to come with us,' Polly protested as Danny and Tom walked across the street to the big car. 'Why can't he?'
'Enough of that, young lady,' Gertie intervened. 'Give us a kiss goodbye.'
But as Bert drove them home, Polly demanded, 'You ain't gonna send me to a boarding school, are you?'
Lizzie looked at her in alarm. 'Of course not.'
' 'Cos if you did, I'd run away to Australia.'
'How you gonna get there?' Bert boomed over his shoulder.
'On a ship of course, like Tom,' Polly huffed indignantly. 'There ain't no other way, Uncle Bert.'
'That'll teach me to ask daft questions,' Bert mumbled, but Lizzie said nothing.
Tom must be very unhappy to consider making such an escape, she thought.
Chapter 54
Danny poured himself a stiff whisky. He sat down with the newspaper and studied the front page but didn't see a word. He was listening for voices upstairs; April had gone to say goodnight to Tom, but the boy was unsettled after the freedom he'd enjoyed at Gertie's.
April had been against Danny going to the funeral from the off. But his conscience had pricked him. He hadn't seen his dad or Gertie since last October and he couldn't rest. Added to which, was the threat of Salvo Vella. And that was one threat he wasn't taking lightly.
April came lightly down the stairs to join him.
'He was asleep before I could say good night,' April said as she closed the door. Her brown hair was elegantly drawn back. She wore a cream dress with a white striped jacket that Danny noted was not dissimilar to the fashions worn by Edith Murdoch. Lately April's wardrobe had 'improved' or so he had been told, for April had dressed very simply once. Her natural appearance had been a quality he had admired. Now, her appearance had changed. April often asked him if this would do, or was the other better? He answered appropriately, fearing to say the wrong thing. April was sensitive on the subject of dress.
His thoughts, flew back to Lizzie standing in the church grounds. She was neither fussy about he
r looks, nor did she need to be complimented. Her choice was her own; always had been back in the days when she wore working clothes for the shop and a leather apron. Back even further to the markets where he first met her, she'd been fifteen then, and to him, a beauty. With her Raven black hair and green eyes, the look of her always left him speechless. Though, he supposed he'd done quite well with his cockney banter and coarse humour. He'd hardly been able to keep his mind on the barrow as she'd walked past, pushing Tom Allen in his bath chair. His heart had turned over at the sight of her, even muffled up with scarves and gloves on those foggy, freezing winter days. Ah yes, he remembered every one of them. And when he'd watched her today, so composed and sure of herself, he had to remind himself of the years that had intervened. Hard years. Long years. Wondering why he'd ever left for Aussie without her …
'Daniel?' April's voice broke into his thoughts.
'What is it?'
'I've asked you twice. Did you go to the funeral?'
Danny hesitated for this morning they'd had cross words on the subject. 'Not exactly,' he answered, folding the paper in two and placing it aside. 'We were too late.'
'Then what was the point in going at all? You didn't know the dead woman. If I didn't know better I would think you went only to see Lizzie Flowers,' April suggested as she took the seat beside his, sitting stiff-backed against the cushions.
'It was as good a place as any to – to warn her.'
'Daniel, you know I disapprove. I thought you'd left all that behind you. Why get involved again?'
'I had no choice, April.'
'Of course you did!' April's face tightened as she folded her hands in her lap. 'Since that dreadful man attacked you, you've changed.'
'Salvo Vella is not going to disappear, April.'
'He will if you go to the police.'
'We've talked that over endless times.'
'But not enough, it seems. Daniel, that man took you off against your will. He violated you and threatened you. Of course you must bring charges!'
'Against who, April? A criminal I couldn't even identify? A man and his gang who operate far beyond the reaches of the law? What evidence do I have? None – yet!'
'What do you mean – yet?'
'He means to take me over, April. The Mill Wall, too. I have to retaliate, to protect myself with any means I have.'
'Like every other common scoundrel,' April cried fiercely. 'Taking the law into your own hands and landing us in danger. What would our friends and acquaintances say if you were to be arrested?'
'I don't intend to be collared,' Danny said sharply. 'And to be honest, I don't care what your friends say, because in truth, April, they are not my friends. And once they weren't yours. When we first met, those circles were far above us. Folk like the Murdochs live in another world and I'm not about to try to fit into it when I'm quite happy in my own.'
April stared at him with disdain. 'Then you've learned nothing from the past. From the suffering you experienced at the hands of Leonard Savage. Indeed, for all the years you've been acquainted with Lizzie Flowers, you've known nothing but violence. And you've dragged Tom through the dangers with you. For the first time in his life that boy is being given the chances you never had. And it's thanks to me, Daniel, for the effort and time I've put in to achieve what you so readily dismiss.' She stood up and straightened her shoulders. 'I've given over my life for you and Tom. Made something of our future. And it has not been easy. Yes, I've changed. But for yours and Tom's sakes. For the sake of a family – our family. And I'm desperate to think why you would throw it all away when we have come so far.'
Danny reached out to grasp her hands. 'April, don't take on so,' he said, drawing her close. 'I'm grateful for all you've done for Tom and me. Really I am.'
'Then please listen. You must forget Lizzie Flowers. She must act as she sees fit.' She placed her lips on his and whispered, 'While we do what we know is right.'
Danny felt her eager body pressed against his. There was no better time than now to give her the box in his pocket.
Chapter 55
Frank made his way down from the upper rooms and peered into the noisy bar. Every night for the past two weeks as he had locked up, he'd imagined Salvo Vella jumping out from the dark and thrusting a knife into his belly. But so far, he was still breathing. However, he was likely to die of overwork at the rate he was pulling pints for the peasants.
He narrowed his eyes at the young girl behind the bar which had just opened. He had to admit, he'd been wrong about Elsie Booth. When Gertie had suggested she took Lenny's place, he suspected he'd been lumbered. But, with the help of Whippet, somehow the three of them had faced the scum of the earth who had fetched up here since word had got round that Lizzie Flowers's tavern had returned to a dosshouse.
The women were cats, bitching at each other in the snug, as lairy and foul-mouthed as any dock dolly. And he'd had to play his part, smile at their curses and laugh as they mocked him. But he'd managed to look pie-eyed and do his fair share of complaining about Lizzie. He'd stumble over his words while seemingly drunk drawing the beer. But as July had melted into August, he'd not had a glimpse of Vella. Syd and Doug had called in, but he'd not been able to give them the nod, as was the plan.
It was like waiting for bloody Doomsday!
Now it was a Saturday night and the men were traipsing over the sawdust spewing up their vomit and spittle. The tarts were happy to encourage and lighten their pockets at the same time. The regulars had enjoyed the colour at first. But the novelty had soon worn off. There wasn't a familiar face here now. The regulars were afraid to look the rabble in the eye for fear of being molested.
Frank moved cautiously behind the bar, wiping down the ale-soaked wood. His nerves were like pin pricks in his skin, infesting his gut and bringing him out in a fever. He swayed and snorted, coughed and heaved with no trouble at all. His mouth was dry with fear and not for the first time he deliberated on quenching his thirst.
The alcohol being swilled in front of his eyes was tantalising. The licking of lips. The boozy breath. And the stink of stout. He was often dizzy with desire. But to swallow one drop would be his undoing.
'We got the bully boy fixers in the snug tonight,' Whippet complained as he deposited an armful of dirties on the counter. 'They stand by and watch as them dirty whores gets on with it.'
'Stay clear,' Frank advised. 'Clear the muck after them as best you can. Keep behind the bar with Elsie.'
'The law would nab me if they came in. I'm fifteen going on fifty.'
'Never mind about that.'
Where you off to?'
'Down to the cellar to see if we've got a new barrel. The brewery left us short this week. Make do for now with bottles of mild.'
Frank left the bar and hurried along the passage. He took the wooden stairs carefully. A misplaced step would send him sprawling.
He paused at the bottom, took out his matches and lit the wick of the oil lamp. A flickering light filled the cellar. The musty odour of the casks and the mould on the walls made his eyes water. If he was on the razzle-dazzle, this would be his heaven. He'd be down here, relieving the barrels of their contents and going after a chaser as soon as he got to the bar. But those days were gone. At least he hoped so. The thirst was back, a monkey on his shoulder.
Rubbing his jaw which hadn't seen the razor in over a week, he moved to the curve of the arches. Bowing his head, he flicked away the sticky cobwebs. The first barrel was light and a scurry of mice darted out from their nest. These were followed by the swarms of flies that infested the corpses of rodents squashed or trodden on by the draymen. The brewery could at least, serve them a regular supply, without him having to check every five minutes. Muttering to himself, he bent towards the next barrel and froze.
A noise, too heavy for mice, too light for Whippet caused him to turn slowly. He stared wildly into the corners. There was no one there; just the darkness and the cold, clammy walls curving around themselves. The lamp still bur
ned by the flight of wooden steps.
He listened, watching the shadows dance and jump. Nothing, just a trick of his imagination. Returning his attention to the barrels, he at last found one that was full. There would be enough for the thirsty buggers upstairs until the draymen arrived on Monday.
Heaving a relieved sigh, he turned on his heel and stared straight into a pasty grey face. The eyes were lost in deep sockets behind a china doll skin. In the light of the lamp, the red painted blush of its cheeks were garish, as if coloured in paint. The lips were clown-like and crimson and moved only to say his name.
Frank felt his insides fall away.
His legs buckled at the knees.
His heart hammered as the blade's tip flashed in the light of the lamp as it pressed into his Adam's apple.
Chapter 56
'Them buggers in the snug are cutting up rough,' Elsie complained to Whippet as she scrubbed the dirty glasses. 'Go and find Frank.'
Whippet agreed, not liking the sound of the commotion himself.
'Don't 'ang about,' Elsie commanded. 'I ain't gonna hang around if that lot gets nasty.'
'Just pull the pints,' the boy advised. 'The blokes are only interested in their bitches.'
'Yeah, but I still don't like it.'
Whippet drew his filthy hands down the back of his baggy bottomed trousers and made off down the passage. At the end of it he could see a faint light. Frank must've lit the Tilley, he decided and was about to hurry down the cellar steps when he heard voices.
He'd always had keen hearing, and his instincts were second to none. A childhood of thieving and nicking and listening out for the rozzers had developed his sixth sense.
He flattened his back against the wall. The silence, eventually, was broken by a cry. Then a groan. Whippet eased himself closer to the cellar door. There was a lower tone. A sinister one, taunting, whispering.
The boy steadied himself, bent down, unlaced his heavy boots and removed them. Stuffing them under his arms, he tiptoed in his holed socks along the passage to the yard, quietly letting himself out. Moving into the dark alley, he stopped, taking a breath.
