The Cockney Angel

by Dilly Court

  Irene had seen her mother endure all this with a brave smile and not a word of reproach, and she had been powerless to do anything to prevent Pa from repeating his actions over and over again. She was angry and she was upset, but this latest example of his feckless behaviour had served to convince her that Inspector Kent had been right. The only way to prevent Pa from tumbling even further into the abyss of a gambling addiction was to shock him out of his complacency. If the Sykes brothers were caught, convicted and sent to prison, or transported for life, it might just bring Pa to his senses.

  She kept the shop open until seven o’clock, serving a few customers but not enough to make up the money that she needed to keep Obadiah Yapp sweet. The light was fading fast and she decided to lock up. There was still no news from Arthur, but she took this as a good sign. Perhaps his father had allowed him back to his bench in the workshop and Arthur was making up for lost time. She hoped so anyway. Artie might be irresponsible, but she loved him like a brother. She put on her shawl, let herself out of the shop and went up the street to fetch coal, candles and a box of vestas. She stopped on the way home to buy two steaming baked potatoes from the vendor on the corner of Cheapside, and she could not resist the tempting aroma of roasting chestnuts on a glowing brazier. She bought a poke and added it to the purchases in her wicker basket. Outside the door to the shop she was fumbling in her pocket for the key when she heard Arthur calling her name. She turned her head to see him limping towards her, and in the pale light of the street lamp she could see that his face was bruised and bloody.

  ‘Artie! What happened to you?’

  ‘The old man,’ he murmured through a split lip. ‘I told him the truth and he took it bad.’

  She managed to find the key and with trembling fingers she unlocked the door. She hid her distress beneath a brusque tone of voice. ‘Make yourself useful, Artie. Bring the coal in.’ When he was safely inside she locked the door and slipped the bolt across. She had left a candle burning on the counter and she picked it up, holding it close enough to his face to inspect his injuries. ‘Your dad did this to you?’

  ‘It looks worse than it is. I’m afraid I lost my temper, Renie. I hit him back. For the first time in my life I lashed out at the old devil, and d’you know what? I enjoyed it. I got my own back for all the years he’s beaten me and bullied me. I knocked him clean off his feet and bloodied his nose.’

  ‘Oh, Artie! You should have walked away.’

  ‘I know, but he caught me on the raw. He said things that I can’t forgive and he’s thrown me out of the house and my job. He said he wasn’t going to have a gambler and a waster in the family. I’m never going back there, not in a million years.’

  Irene picked up her basket and headed towards the stairs. ‘Come on up. I’ll clean your face and then we’ll have supper.’

  His footsteps echoed on the bare stair treads behind her. ‘Can I stay here tonight? I’ll look for something more permanent tomorrow.’

  The fire in the living room was almost out and the wind whistled through the cracked windowpanes. Irene put the candle on the table and set about emptying her shopping basket. ‘Of course you can. Pa’s gone off to Doncaster and won’t be back until late tomorrow night, if then. We have to have a serious talk, Artie. I mean really serious. I’ve had Inspector Kent here again today, laying down the law.’

  Arthur dumped the sack of coal in the grate with a thud. ‘If he’s been making threats to you I’ll go and sort him out right now.’

  ‘Yes, and get yourself arrested for disorderly conduct.’ In spite of everything Irene couldn’t suppress a chuckle. ‘Take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look like you’ve done ten rounds with a bare-knuckle fighter.’

  He went down on his knees in front of the fire and began riddling the ashes. ‘I’ve made a mess of things, Renie. I’ve nowhere to go and not a penny to my name. My mother will never forgive me for what I did to the old man, and I’ve lost whatever chance I had of becoming a silversmith.’

  Arms akimbo, Irene glared at his hunched back. ‘You won’t get any sympathy from me, Arthur Greenwood. You brought this all on yourself by getting involved with the Sykes gang in the first place. You’ve got to be a man now, and make things right again.’ A muffled sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob made her pause. She modified her tone. ‘Cheer up, cully. You’ll feel better when you’ve got some vittles inside you. It’s lucky I bought two taters. I must have known you’d turn up on my doorstep.’ When he did not answer she moved over to the fireplace and gently edged him out of the way. ‘Here, you’re useless, you are. Let me see to the fire while you clean yourself up. There’s water in the jug on the washstand and there might even be a scrap of soap if Pa hasn’t used it all up.’

  Arthur scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. ‘Ta. I won’t forget this.’

  ‘Don’t mention it, boy. We’ll see this thing through together, like we did when we was nippers and got ourselves into bother.’ Irene picked up the bellows and pumped them vigorously until tongues of flame licked around the fresh coals in the grate. ‘A nice hot cup of tea and something warm in your belly, and you’ll feel like a new man.’

  ‘You make me ashamed of myself,’ Arthur murmured, sniffing.

  Irene sat back on her haunches. ‘So you should be, you great booby. Now blow your nose, sit down, and have something to eat while I put the kettle on. You can stay here tonight, and who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, for I certainly don’t.’

  Next morning, soon after Irene had opened the shop, Yapp’s cart drew up outside, but instead of Danny it was Yapp himself who burst through the door. ‘Well, what is it to be, Miss Angel?’

  Irene took the order book from beneath the counter and handed it to him. ‘Next week’s order, Mr Yapp.’

  ‘You do understand that it’s strictly cash on delivery?’

  ‘I’ll be able to pay,’ Irene said, crossing her fingers behind her back. It had been a difficult choice to make, but she had used the little money she had to pay the rent and to buy food, coal and candles. She could only hope and pray that she would take sufficient money over the counter to pay for new stock.

  Yapp shook his head. ‘Not good enough. I want cash in advance this time.’

  ‘Cash on delivery. That’s the way it’s always been. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Your ma is a good businesswoman. I’ll waive the advance if she gives me the order in person.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. Ma is staying with my sister and I’m looking after the shop.’

  ‘And your dad is helping hisself from the till, no doubt,’ Yapp sneered. ‘A nice state of affairs, I must say, and not one that gives me much confidence in getting me money on time.’

  ‘You’ve no right to speak to me like that,’ Irene cried angrily. ‘We’ve been good customers to you all these years.’

  Yapp sidled round the counter and before Irene had a chance to escape he seized her round the waist. ‘Pay me in kind then, Miss Irene. I’m a reasonable sort of cove.’

  His breath stank of salt fish and stale beer. Irene pushed him away, feeling her gorge rise. ‘Get off me, you stinking old sod.’

  He staggered against the counter, his face turning the same shade of purple as the jar of pickled beetroot on the shelf behind his head. ‘You’ll suffer for that, my girl.’

  ‘Get out of my way.’ She attempted to get past him but he caught her by the hair and pulled her closer.

  ‘Not until I’ve had a kiss and a quick fumble. We’ll call it a bit on account.’

  ‘Leave her alone.’

  A voice rang out from the shop doorway, causing Yapp to freeze. He turned his head slowly. ‘Who says?’

  Constable Burton strode into the shop. ‘I say so. Now let her go.’

  Irene jerked free from Yapp’s clutching fingers and she moved swiftly out of his reach. ‘Blimey,’ she murmured. ‘This is the first time I’ve ever been pleased to see a copper.’

 
‘Well I ain’t,’ Yapp muttered beneath his breath.

  Constable Burton drew himself up to his full height. ‘That’s enough of that. Get out or I’ll arrest you for assault.’

  ‘I’m a reputable trader, guvner,’ Yapp whimpered, cringing visibly. ‘This young person has been trying to cheat me.’

  ‘Do you want to press charges, Miss Angel?’

  Irene would have liked to see Yapp flogged with his own horsewhip, but she couldn’t afford to offend him. She shook her head. ‘No, Constable.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man. I suggest you leave before the young lady changes her mind.’

  ‘Consider yourself struck off me list of customers, miss,’ Yapp snarled, backing towards the open door.

  ‘You can’t mean that. You’ll put me out of business.’

  ‘Consider it done. I don’t want nothing more to do with the likes of you and your father.’

  ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish then,’ Irene cried angrily. ‘You’re just a dirty old man.’

  Swearing horribly, Yapp stamped out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Were you in debt to him?’ Constable Burton asked anxiously. ‘I mean, I might be able to help you out if you’re desperate – just a temporary loan, of course.’

  Irene flashed him a grateful smile. ‘No, ta. It’s kind of you, but I can manage.’

  Burton’s face flushed scarlet above the collar of his tunic. ‘Miss Angel, I don’t know how to put this, but your father was seen boarding a train for Yorkshire last night. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that he was on his way to Doncaster for the races, and it seems that he’s left you short of money.’

  So they were spying on her father as well as the Sykes brothers. Irene hid her chagrin by searching under the counter for the pickles and sauce that the inspector had paid for so generously. ‘There’s no need to worry on that score, Constable,’ she said, putting them on the counter. ‘Perhaps you’d be kind enough to give these to your boss to save him the trouble of collecting them himself?’

  ‘If I spoke out of turn, I’m sorry,’ Burton said hastily. ‘The reason I came was to arrange a time and place for you to meet the inspector. I believe you were expecting to hear from him.’

  Irene nodded her head. ‘Yes, I was.’

  ‘I won’t let you do it, Renie.’

  She looked up and saw Arthur standing at the top of the stairs. ‘It’s all right, Artie. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘So you were here all the time, hiding upstairs while Miss Angel dealt with that ruffian,’ Burton said, eyeing Arthur with unconcealed contempt.

  ‘I know what you must think of me.’

  ‘Do you now?’

  ‘You think I am a coward for not coming to Irene’s aid.’

  ‘No, Artie,’ Irene said hastily. ‘I’m sure that the constable thinks nothing of the sort. You did well to keep out of Yapp’s way. I didn’t want you involved.’

  ‘No, Renie, he’s right. I should have been here to protect you instead of licking my wounds upstairs.’

  Burton eyed him curiously. ‘Did the Sykes gang inflict those injuries on you?’

  ‘No,’ Arthur said, staring down at his once shiny but now scuffed and dirty patent-leather shoes. ‘It was closer to home than that.’

  Irene sensed her old friend’s discomfort and she hurried round the counter to face Constable Burton. ‘Just tell us what the inspector wants us to do, Constable, and we’ll cooperate in any way we can.’

  ‘Very well then. From now on he wants you both to go about your daily lives as usual. Mr Greenwood will visit the gaming house in Blue Boar Court and he must do nothing to raise their suspicions. The inspector thinks that the Sykes brothers are planning to start a gang war and he needs to know where and when they intend to strike, and which of the other street gangs are involved. You will give any relevant information to Miss Angel, sir, and she will then pass it on to the inspector.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Arthur murmured sulkily.

  Constable Burton pursed his lips in silent disapproval. ‘I should hope so.’

  ‘You can trust Artie,’ Irene said firmly. ‘Just tell me what I have to do.’

  ‘The inspector will meet you in St Paul’s churchyard at nine o’clock on Tuesday evening. He says you must never underestimate Vic and Wally Sykes. They are dangerous men and if they so much as suspect that they’re being spied on they won’t show any mercy.’ Burton laid his hand tentatively on Irene’s sleeve. ‘You do understand that, don’t you, Miss Angel?’

  She could see genuine concern in his warm brown eyes, and she managed a tight little smile. ‘I do, thank you, Constable.’

  ‘I hope so, miss, I really do hope so.’

  With a smart bow from the waist, Constable Burton strode out of the shop, leaving Irene and Arthur staring after him in stunned silence.

  Chapter Six

  ‘HE FORGOT THE pickles!’ Irene said dazedly. Slowly she placed them back on the shelf. ‘I knew that blooming inspector didn’t really want them.’

  ‘That man has ruined my life,’ Arthur groaned. ‘I can’t do what he wants – it’s too dangerous.’

  ‘The only person who’s ruined your life is you, Artie,’ Irene said sadly. ‘No one forced you to gamble or to get involved with the Sykes brothers. You saw what it had done to my pa and yet it didn’t stop you. I’m afraid that you’ve got to take the consequences and so have I.’

  ‘Vic and Wally will kill me if they find out I’m a copper’s nark.’

  ‘Then they mustn’t find out. We’re in this together, like it or not.’

  ‘It’s not fair that you should have to put yourself in danger.’

  ‘There’s nothing fair in life as far as I can see, Artie. If all things were equal, I’d be riding round in a carriage like me sister, wearing a silk gown and waiting for some bloke to marry me and keep me like a queen. But all I’ve got is a shop full of pickles and a father who gambles every last penny, not to mention a friend who drives me mad.’

  This last remark made Arthur smile, but he winced with pain as his cut lip started to bleed. ‘All right, Renie. I know I’m behaving badly, but I’m just scared.’

  She moved swiftly to his side and gave him a hug. ‘So am I, but we’ll get through this together. You can stay here for as long as you like. I’m sure that Pa won’t mind if you sleep under the counter until you find a room somewhere.’

  ‘I can’t sponge off you and your family. It wouldn’t be right. I’ve just got to find work.’

  She eyed him thoughtfully. This was a side of Arthur she had not previously seen. His normally ebullient nature seemed to have undergone a sudden change, leaving him serious and penitent. She patted his hand. ‘Give your dad time to calm down, and maybe he’ll take you back. After all, you’ve almost finished your apprenticeship; he must see that it would be a crying shame to lose a good silversmith because of a family row.’

  ‘You don’t know the old man.’

  ‘Not very well, I must admit, but you won’t know until you try. If he’s unhelpful then you’ll have to look for work elsewhere.’

  ‘I’m not trained for anything else, Renie.’

  She angled her head as an idea struck her. ‘Go and see Vic or Wally. Tell them that you had a row with your dad and he threw you out. Ask them for work, anything at all, even if it’s running errands or washing glasses. If they take you on then you won’t have to play the tables; you’ll get information for Kent without even trying.’

  A glimmer of hope lit Arthur’s eyes, but then it faded into doubt. ‘They’re not stupid. They’ll see through me.’

  She snatched a jar of pickled cucumbers from the shelf. ‘And this glass jar is going to come into contact with your head, Arthur Greenwood, if you don’t stop feeling sorry for yourself and start acting like a man.’ She had no real intention of causing him bodily harm but her action seemed to have the desired effect.

  ‘All right, I’ll do it. I’ll go and see Wally right
away.’

  ‘Good for you, Artie.’

  He took his jacket from the peg and put it on, wincing with every painful movement. ‘Wish me luck,’ he said with a glimmer of his old smile.

  ‘Be careful. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.’ She watched him leave the shop with mixed feelings. It was a relief that he was doing something positive, but he would be playing a dangerous game with battle-hardened adversaries. The Sykes brothers had ruled their empire unchallenged for as long as she could remember. She cast a look of loathing at the neatly stacked shelves. ‘I hate you,’ she said with feeling. ‘I wouldn’t care if I never saw another blooming pickled onion or cucumber again in me whole life.’

  Trade picked up later that morning and continued to be brisk, giving her little time to worry about Arthur or to wonder how Pa’s horse would do in the St Leger. She could only hope that his luck would be in and that he would bring home enough of his winnings to enable her to set matters right with Yapp. She did not expect Pa to put in an appearance until late that evening, but every time the shop door opened she glanced up hoping that it was Arthur returning with good news.

  At closing time, having taken a few pennies from the till in order to buy supper, she put the rest of the takings into a leather pouch which she took upstairs and placed in the chest on top of Jim’s old clothes. She fingered the coarse material of his jacket as she attempted to visualise his face, but she had only a misty memory of the elder brother whom she had loved and looked up to all those years ago. Jim would be a man now, and she might not even recognise him if he were ever to come home. After ten years with no word from him this seemed unlikely, but she knew that Ma still cried herself to sleep when she had been thinking of her long lost son.

  Irene closed the chest and busied herself lighting the fire. She filled the kettle with water and hooked it over the flames to boil so that she could make a pot of tea. She was thirsty and her stomach rumbled suddenly, reminding her that she was extremely hungry. She decided to treat herself to a hot meat pie and some pease pudding from the shop further along Wood Street, and then she would sit and wait for Arthur and her father. She sighed. It felt as though she had spent her entire life doing just that – waiting passively for Pa, Jim and now Arthur to come home. Ma had been content to live this way, but Irene had always resented the restraints put on women by their men. Even if she was a wealthy heiress, a female was tied to her father until the time she married, and then she was similarly bound to her husband.