Lizzie Flowers and the Family Firm: The long-awaited third book in the gritty Lizzie Flowers East End saga series.

by Carol Rivers

  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.

  The summer's evening was filled with familiar noises. A horse-drawn wagon. Women caterwauling in the distance. Dogs barking. Nothing closer stirred.

  He replaced his boots and listened. Five minutes later he was pedalling furiously along the East India Dock Road towards Ebondale Street.

  Chapter 57

  'It's six o'clock. I'll cash up the till while you bring in the veg,' Lizzie told her brother.

  Bert nodded. 'Do you want me to drive over to Lil's first and fetch Polly?'

  'No. Ethel's taken her down the park with the boys. I'll go when we've packed up and stop at the pie and mash shop on the way back to buy supper.'

  'Don't get none for me,' Bert replied. 'I'm off to see Jenny. The doctors said it's likely she'll be transferred to the burns unit.'

  'I thought she was coming home.'

  'There's this operation they did on the blokes who came home from war to cover their scars. I told her she don't need it. But she's gonna ask if they can do it on her scalp and hair.'

  'Does she feel up to it?'

  'She don't say much. That's why I want her home. I don't want her to get her hopes up if they can't help her.'

  'Yes, but a woman's hair is … '

  'I know, I know,' interrupted Bert impatiently. 'If I had a bob for every time I'd heard that I'd be a rich man.' Bert trudged out to the pavement where he hoisted a sack of potatoes onto his shoulders as though they were a bag of feathers.

  Lizzie knew he missed Jenny. The hospital routine was very strict. They insisted that he left after an hour. It was still frowned on to have more than one visitor. The ward was small and became congested if everyone's relations and friends turned up.

  Just as Lizzie was wondering if it was really possible that Jenny could be helped, a small figure on a bicycle came racing up. Whippet leaped off the saddle, let the bike fall and sprinted towards Bert.

  Bert dropped the sack as Whippet spoke rapidly. They came hurrying into the shop.

  'Lizzie, gel, leave the cashing up. It's Frank.'

  'What's happened?' Lizzie asked closing the till.

  Whippet gulped breathlessly. 'You gotta come. We had all these geezers pour in as soon as the doors opened. They got to it with the women like rabbits and just about drank us dry.'

  'What did Frank do?'

  'He went down to find another barrel. The brewery left us short last week.'

  'Is that all?' demanded Bert.

  ' 'Ang on a minute,' Whippet retorted, catching his breath. 'I ain't finished.' He looked at Lizzie and lowered his voice as though someone was listening. 'When he didn't come back from the cellar, I thought to meself, that's odd. So, I left Elsie in the bar and went to look for him. Thought he'd need me to help him lug up a keg. But it was then I heard voices. Frank was one of 'em but he weren't having a laugh. No, he was like – well, gaspin'.'

  'Gasping?' Lizzie said. 'Did you go down there?'

  'No, 'cos it was then I heard this 'orrible whisper. I tell you, it made me blood run cold.'

  'Was it Salvo Vella?'

  'Could be.'

  'What did you do?'

  'I took off me boots and crept out. There wasn't no one in the yard, thank Gawd. I come over to you as quick as I could.'

  Bert grabbed him by the shoulder. 'You wasn't spotted was you?'

  'Course not. I reckon I've done me lungs in, pedalling so fast.'

  'What're we going to do?' Bert asked Lizzie. His face was white as he added, 'We've got no back-up. I knew we should have kept Ron and Maurice, not sent them back to Murphy.'

  'It had to look genuine, as though we'd given up the fight,' replied Lizzie. She felt a moment's panic but then her mind cleared. 'Whippet, if your lungs will let you, go and alert Murphy. Tell him what you know and that I'll meet him outside the pub.'

  'Got yer,' agreed Whippet, 'but I'll have to use the tunnel to cross the river. Then it's a stiff ride to Deptford.'

  Lizzie opened the till and took out a ten-shilling note. 'Here, this will help your lungs, I'm sure.'

  Whippet grabbed the money and jumped on his bicycle.

  'Bert, take the van and pick up Syd and Doug,' Lizzie said hurriedly. 'Ask Ethel to keep Polly a bit longer. I'll drive to Danny's and we'll meet you at the Mill Wall. Don't do anything till we get there.'

  Bert went to the storeroom. 'I ain't being caught short-handed this time,' he vowed as he reappeared with Fowler's wooden club.

  But as big and strong as her brother was, Lizzie wished, like Bert, that she had kept on Ron and Maurice, and Elmo and Fowler at the pub. Their absence could prove a costly mistake.

  Chapter 58

  The echo of Lizzie's rap on the knocker echoed in the quiet Poplar street. Lizzie thought how April's house stood out from the rest. Fitted blinds were lowered at each window and the window ledges were painted white. Lizzie had been here once before but it had been dark then. Now it was daylight, and every pane of glass seemed to sparkle in the late sunshine.

  It was April Williams who opened the door. Lizzie stared at this fashionable woman. Gone was the homely, retiring widow. Instead a smart and elegant woman stood before her. April wore a fashionable evening gown and a stole around her shoulders. Her brown hair was set in a bobbed style and pearls adorned her neck.

  'I'm Lizzie … Lizzie Flowers,' Lizzie said hesitantly. 'We've only met in passing but -'

  'I know who you are,' April interrupted. 'What do you want?'

  'Is Danny here?' Lizzie asked. 'It's important I speak to him.'

  'We're just going out,' April replied coldly, about to close the door when Tom appeared.

  'Auntie Lizzie, Auntie Lizzie!' he cried excitedly. But April caught hold of him.

  'Tom, go upstairs and put on your uniform. We'll be late if you dawdle.'

  'I don't want to go,' Tom answered, shrugging himself free.

  'Do as you're told,' April retorted, her pale cheeks flushing angrily. She turned to Lizzie. 'Why can't you leave us alone?'

  Danny, dressed in a smart grey suit, white shirt and dark silk tie came running down the stairs.

  'Dad, I don't want to go to the school tonight,' Tom cried.

  'Now then, Tom,' Danny murmured and looking at Lizzie he smiled.

  'It's Frank,' Lizzie said. 'He's in trouble.'

  'Just as I thought!' April exclaimed. 'Daniel, are we to be hounded by your family for the rest of our days?' She glared at Lizzie then went into the house.

  Danny placed a hand on Tom's shoulder. 'Tom, I'm going with Lizzie. I'd like you to stay here and keep your Aunt April company.'

  'But I want to go with you, Dad.'

  'Do this for me son.'

  A few minutes later, Danny was sitting beside Lizzie in the Wolseley. He made no mention of April, or the outing to the school, but instead asked briskly, 'Tell me what's happened at the pub.'

  She repeated everything that Whippet had said.

  Danny nodded thoughtfully. 'Have you alerted Murphy?'

  'Whippet will tell him to meet us at the Mill Wall. Bert's gone for Doug and Syd.'

  'Vella must have decided to make his move tonight. But when Murphy arrives, we'll have enough men to confront him.'

  Lizzie hoped that was so. But she couldn't imagine the man who called himself The Prince giving up his kingdom quite so easily.

  Chapter 59

  Frank pursed his lips together as tight as he could. After being dragged up from the cellar at knife-point, he'd been thrown to the wolves. They were baying around him as he sat, forced into the snug chair, with a filthy whore on his lap.

  This was the first time in his life that he had ever dreaded a sniff of the booze. An hour ago, he had been yearning for it, his throat as dry as a desert. Now he was in a state of acute fear that the f
rothy ale poised in the glass she held would be forced down his throat.

  'Come on ducks, drink up,' she roared to a gale of laughter from Vella's men. 'What's wrong with you?' screeched the blowsy woman who wriggled on his knee. She placed the glass to her own lips and swallowed.

  Frank could smell her sweat and cheap perfume. She laughed, swaying backwards and forwards. She bent her head and placed her lips on his. The sickly, sweet taste of the stout rolled onto his tongue and he twisted his head away. But she pinched his ear and dragged his head round again. 'What, I ain't good enough for you, is that it?' cried the tart angrily. 'I suppose you're bedding that stuck up bitch over there.' She drunkenly pointed to Elsie who Frank saw was cowering behind the bar. That bloody, good-for-nothing Whippet had done a bunk by the looks of it and left Elsie to her fate.

  Frank tried to move, but he was pushed down by the many onlookers. 'Make him drink wiv' yer, Queenie,' one bellowed, 'then get your drawers down and give us all a laugh.'

  'They want a to see a bit of how's-yer-farver,' spluttered Queenie as she leaned the glass against his cheek. Let's give 'em a show, shall we?'

  'Get off me!' Frank protested and tried to stand, but she had her hand inside his trousers. He closed his eyes in distress as the alcohol spilt over his face, into his mouth and down his clothes. The taunts were so loud he thought he'd be deafened.

  'Drink up, you bugger,' said a voice suddenly. And before he knew it, what seemed like a gallon of ale was forced down his throat. He choked and spat. He tried to vomit. But as much as he brought up, they thrust more into his mouth. His head began to throb. Since he had not eaten, the alcohol soon took effect. After being dry for so long, he felt his insides resemble a sponge.

  The bitch grabbed his hair. His mouth gaped open. The jeers grew louder as he gulped, unable to defend himself.

  As the first wave of drunkenness came over him, he saw the painted face. The cruel eyes, the ash grey skin and a clown's leering mouth.

  'You're a fool,' hissed Vella, the man in the mask. 'My women laugh at you. The man under Lizzie Flowers's thumb. A beaten dog.'

  'Bollocks,' slurred Frank. 'Get your bitch off me.'

  'With pleasure. Enjoy the favours of one of your own kind.'

  Suddenly Queenie was gone and Elsie was sitting on his lap. She stared at him from under her long, straggly hair with terrified dark eyes. Hands were going over her, pulling at her blouse as she tried to resist.

  'Help!' she cried.

  Frank thought he must be in a nightmare. He tried to beat off her attackers, but his attempts were ridiculed.

  Elsie's screams drove into his brain. He wanted to protect her. But they made him drink again. This time the ale was chased down with whisky.

  'Take your time, Frankie,' urged Queenie. 'See what a nice girl you've got there. Go on, feel her tits.' She pushed his head towards Elsie, who shrieked so loud, he felt his blood turn to water.

  The sting of spirit was on his lips. His stomach churned in protest. He choked as the tumbler was forced against his mouth.

  'Drink,' whispered Vella, 'drink heartily. We are all friends here. Your complaints against Lizzie Flowers have been heard. Now it is time for you to talk.'

  Frank stared into the abominable face. And he knew in that moment that Vella hadn't been fooled. This man knew everything.

  Everything there was to know about the Mill Wall – and Lizzie.

  Chapter 60

  The three men looked down at the cellar doors. They were impenetrable. 'Frank fitted new locks after the last schemozzle,' said Syd, scratching his head.

  'They didn't get in this way,' agreed Doug.

  'Let's go round to the front,' Syd suggested.

  'Lizzie said to wait,' Bert reminded his brother-in-law.

  'We won't go in,' Syd assured him. 'We'll just open the front doors a crack. See what's going down in the snug.'

  They all prowled round to the pub's entrance where Syd gave the doors a push. 'They're locked too,' he said in surprise.

  'Why would Frank do that?'

  'Dunno. Perhaps it wasn't him who locked them.' Doug looked up and down the deserted street.

  Syd pointed to the high window above their heads. 'Bert, put your hands together and give me a lift.'

  Bert did what was asked of him and soon Syd was in position.

  'This stained glass is like a bloody kaleidoscope' he complained as Bert supported his weight. 'Just a minute, I can see something.'

  'What?' Bert and Doug cried together.

  'Dunno,' muttered Syd, flattening his nose against the window. 'Could be Vella and his tarts in the snug. They're making a hell of a to-do.' Syd wiped the glass with his cuff, but years of neglect had made it opaque.

  'Any sign of Frank or Elsie?' called Doug.

  'No one's serving behind the bar.'

  'Better leave it at that,' decided Doug. 'Let's wait for Lizzie.'

  Back in the van, Syd sat in the windowless rear trying to see over Bert's shoulder. Suddenly his foot collided with a hard object.

  'What's this?' Syd demanded. 'Christ, it's a bloody club!'

  'A little insurance,' muttered Bert.

  'Did you bring one for me?' Syd was alarmed that in the rush to get here he had neglected to bring something with which to defend himself.

  'No,' Bert admitted, 'but there's tools for changing a tyre, back there.'

  Syd searched around and found a lumpy coarse cloth amongst a pile of cabbage leaves. He unwrapped it carefully. 'What's your poison, Doug?' he called. 'A wrench, a crowbar or a hammer?'

  'Blimey, do I have to choose? I don't know how handy I'll be at my age,' Doug spluttered.

  'You ain't expected to get physical,' Bert insisted. 'Like I said, though, no harm in a little insurance.'

  'All right, the wrench will do.'

  After passing the heavy tool to Doug, Syd pushed the hammer in the belt of his trousers. 'That feels better.' Removing his jacket, he rolled up his shirt sleeves and undid his collar ready for the fray.

  They all sat very still watching and listening. 'Look, who's that?' Doug asked after a while and pointed to a figure creeping along the pavement.

  'Don't look like a regular,' Syd observed. 'He's gone round the back to the cellar.'

  'Well, he won't have no joy round there,' huffed Bert.

  'Reckon it's Vella's man,' Syd agreed.

  'Yeah, he's a lookout, I'll bet,' nodded Doug.

  When the Wolseley drew up. Lizzie and Danny climbed out. They all stood together on the quiet street.

  'There's trouble brewing,' Bert warned after Syd had described what he'd seen through the window. 'Wish we knew what the score is.'

  Just then there was an almighty crash from inside. A window splintered. 'I'm sure I heard a woman's scream,' Lizzie cried.

  'Where the bloody hell are Murphy's men?' demanded Syd beginning to panic. 'What the hell's going on?'

  'There's only one way to find out,' Danny decided. 'We'll go in.'

  'I'm with you there,' Bert snarled, flexing his biceps.

  'Me too,' Syd said fiercely. 'Those buggers mean business. But so do I.'

  Danny looked at Lizzie. 'Wait in the car. If it's not us you see coming out, drive straight to the cops.'

  'Murphy might be here soon,' Lizzie protested.

  'Or not at all,' replied Danny. 'Whippet may never have got to Deptford. Or, Murphy might have his own troubles.' He put his hand on her shoulder. 'It's our fight, Lizzie. This time, it's a win for the firm.'

  Syd felt the adrenaline rush through his body. It was the old firm facing up to the villains again. Back to the bad old days, he reflected proudly, when Mik Ferreter and his cronies had ruled the roost. It had been Danny and Lizzie and Flo and him who had faced the bastards. There had been no bloody help from the coppers then and if he had a say in it tonight, there would be no blue uniforms today. It was a long time since his last bundle. But he had grown up with scrappers and kickers – he could thank his brothers for that.
/>   'On a count of three, right?' said Danny as the trio crossed the road.

  Bert nodded, his huge hands brandishing the club.

  Syd pulled the hammer from his trousers.

  'One,' Danny shouted as they stood at the pub doors. 'Two …' He gave the nod. 'Three!'

  Chapter 61

  Frank knew he was three sheets to the wind, but the sight of Bert's towering figure bursting through the pub doors, shook even him from his lethargy. Bert swatted his opponents like flies, roaring so loud that Vella's men fell over themselves in an effort to beat a retreat. Frank narrowed his blurred eyes as Syd manhandled a brute twice his own size; the hammer he held soon settled the argument. His brother was throwing punches and the ugly mug who had tipped half of the brewery's beer down Frank's throat, went sprawling.

  Frank found himself smiling. When Elsie screamed again, he put his arms around her, holding on as tight as he could. But the hand on her wrist was pulling her. She looked pleadingly into Frank's eyes as she was torn away.

  He tried to follow but found himself on his knees instead. His head swam violently, his stomach revolted. Somehow, he managed to stagger to his feet. Elsie was within reach, but he misjudged his direction. Tumbling onto a table, once again he tried to steady himself.

  It was then an uncanny silence descended in the room.

  He looked drunkenly around. A slight figure stood at the pub's broken doors. A stranger with a curled lip and eyes that blazed wildly stood with a pistol in his hand.

  'No!' Elsie screamed. 'Please, don't do it!'

  Frank was confused. Who was this man who nobody seemed to know? The first bullet ricocheted into the pub's mirror. The second splintered the oak beam above it. The whores ran out from the snug and fled into the street. When the man took aim again, Vella's men followed.

  Frank stared at the wavering pistol now trained on him. He found the irony amusing. Just when he was getting his life together, this bastard, who he didn't know from Adam, was about to bring down the curtain.