Tanner Trilogy 01 - Gaslight in Page Street

by Harry Bowling

  George looked at the angry faces of the two men for a few seconds, then he slumped back in his chair with a mirthless smile on his face. ‘All right, Oxford stays,’ he sighed. Then he looked hard at Geoffrey. ‘As you feel so strongly about the rights an’ wrongs of it, I’ll let you sack Jackson - but Darbo stays, an’ that’s me final word. If yer don’t like it, then yer can both please yerselves what yer do about it.’

  The yard was in darkness with only the light from the street-corner gaslamp casting eerie shadows along the stable walls. In the solitude of the small stable Jack Oxford sat in the hay, sharing the last of his fish-and-chip supper with the mangy yard cat and her remaining kittens. His face hurt and the salty food stung his sore lips but the hot tea had made him feel a little better.

  Jack eased his position on the bed of hay and propped his back against the whitewashed wall of the stable. It all seemed unreal. One minute he was cleaning out the stall and the next he had been attacked and nearly killed by the two carmen. He shivered as he recalled the terrible ordeal. What was going to happen to him now? he fretted. Will Tanner had said he would be all right and Nellie had told him not to worry too much as she bathed his face with hot water. They had been good to him and it was nice of Nellie to send him that large can of tea. Will had told him he could stay in the yard that night but not to let on to anyone. It wouldn’t be hard, he thought. He could just slip out of the stable with his broom next morning and no one would know he had been there all night. It was better than going to the doss-house. He would only be the laughing stock of all the other men when they saw his face. Well, he would have to face them soon, he told himself. George Galloway would sack him in the morning, despite what Will Tanner had said. The boss had it in for him and was always moaning at him. Where could he go and what could he do? He couldn’t drive horses after his accident. He got giddy and sick when he climbed up into a cart. He had tried it often enough but it was always the same, and his head hurt a lot as well and he couldn’t concentrate. He wouldn’t be able to make deliveries and collections. It was unlikely he could get another job sweeping and doing odd-jobs.

  The two kittens were clambering over his legs and Jack clutched them to him, stroking their soft bodies. Maybe he should have told Galloway about the cat having kittens, he reflected. The boss would most probably have told him to drown them but it would have saved him getting into all that trouble. They wouldn’t have known anything. It would have been over in seconds. Maybe that was the answer to his problems, Jack thought suddenly. He could go along to the river on a dark night and let the water close over him. There would be no more worrying about where to sleep and earning enough money for food. There would be no more shouting and swearing at him for not cleaning the yard properly and no more headaches. Well, he would think about it, he told himself with a dignified nod of his head, and if he did get the sack next morning he just might well go down to the river.

  The pain of his bruised face had eased a little, and he sighed as he lay back down in the soft hay. The quietness of the stable was pleasant, he thought to himself, not like the loud snoring at the doss-house. He closed his eyes and with only the animals for company drifted off to sleep, aware of a gentle purring in his ear.

  Chapter Nine

  Carrie had settled down into factory life at Wilson’s and the work did not seem so hard now, especially since she was partnered with such a lively girl as Mary. Her friend had been on a suffragette march at the weekend and on Monday morning was eager to tell Carrie all about it. There was little time to talk as they hurried to hang up the ever-mounting pile of skins and hides, but when the factory whistle sounded for lunch and the two joined the rest of the girls in the large room on the ground floor, Mary could no longer contain her excitement. As the rain fell heavily and thunder rolled outside Carrie became aware of the occasional glances their way and the stifled giggles as Mary waved her arms enthusiastically.

  ‘Cor, yer should ’ave seen it, Carrie,’ she was saying. ‘There was fousands of us. The policemen was marchin’ along beside us an’ when we got ter Parliament Square there was a bit of a scuffle. These ’orrible men was laughin’ an’ jeerin’ and one o’ the ladies crowned one o’ the blokes wiv ’er banner, then this policeman grabbed the lady an’ marched ’er off. The men were still jeerin’ an’ singin’ dirty songs so we all rushed over an’ started ter clout ’em. I was carryin’ this banner on a long pole an’ I got trampled on. It was really frightenin’. Quite a lot o’ the ladies on the march got took away but I was lucky. It was really excitin’. There’s anuvver march planned next Saturday. Why don’t yer come? There’s lot’s o’ young gels go, it’s not only old women.’

  Carrie shook her head. ‘Me mum won’t ’ear of it. She said I’m too young ter worry about them sort o’ fings.’

  ‘That’s the trouble,’ Mary scoffed. ‘If more an’ more women took ter the streets an’ went on the marches, those stupid men would ’ave ter listen. They’re all the same. I can’t stand ’em!’

  ‘They’re not all the same,’ Carrie asserted, surprised by Mary’s outburst.

  Mary put her hand on Carrie’s arm. ‘I don’t go out wiv boys,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I know the ovver gels take it out o’ me an’ call me funny names, but I don’t care. I only go out wiv gel friends.’

  Carrie had been puzzling over the other girls’ attitude to Mary and thought it was due to her political views, but this awakened a new train of thought. She had heard of those women who dressed and acted like men and went out with pretty girls but had not likened Mary to that sort. Now, she felt confused and a little frightened. They had worked together for some time. Once or twice Mary had put her arm around Carrie’s shoulders, and had even kissed her on the cheek on one occasion, but she had not thought anything of it.

  She suddenly felt awkward and pulled her arm quickly away. ‘Well, I like boys,’ she said, easing her position on the wooden bench very slightly.

  Mary laughed and seemed not to have noticed her reaction. ‘Well, don’t let ’em take liberties, that’s all,’ she said firmly.

  In the Tanner household, Nellie was sitting at the fireside with a worried look on her face. ‘I know I should be pleased now there’s gonna be a few more coppers a week comin’ in, Will, but it still worries me,’ she said with a frown. ‘There’s Carrie working at that factory, an’ now Jimmy’s startin’ work termorrer in the sawmills, and they’re still only kids. Next year Charlie leaves school. What sort of a job is ’e likely ter get?’

  William sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘There’s not much choice fer the likes o’ the kids around ’ere, Nell,’ he said sadly. ‘There’s plenty o’ factory jobs but yer need a good education ter get a decent job wiv some future in it. All right, I s’pose we could ’ave insisted Jimmy got an apprenticeship but it costs money. He wouldn’t ’ear of it when I spoke ter ’im about it. It’s the same wiv Carrie. What’s the alternative fer ’er? A job in service at twelve quid a year. She’d ’ave ter live in too. Yer wouldn’t like that, would yer?’

  Nellie shook her head. ‘I s’pose I worry too much. If our kids are gonna get on in life they will, despite startin’ off in factories.’

  William nodded. ‘You take George Galloway. ’E didn’t get an education, well not the sort we’re talking about. ’E learned ’is trade runnin’ the streets an’ sleepin’ rough, the same as I did. Now look at ’im. ’E’s got a business, an’ ’e owns this row of ’ouses. I’ve ’eard talk about ’im buyin’ a few more in the turnin’. Gawd knows what else ’e’s involved in. If ’e fell in shit ’e’d get up smellin’ o’ lavender. Look at that time ’e lost the army contract fer the ’orses. A few weeks later ’e landed the brewery contract. I wouldn’t worry too much, Nell. If our kids are destined ter get on in life, they will.’

  She reached down and picked up the poker. The mention of George Galloway had made her feel bitter and she tried not to show it in front of her husband. ‘I wouldn’t like my kids ter turn out like Gallow
ay,’ she said quickly. ‘Look what ’e would’ve done ter poor ole Jack Oxford if it wasn’t fer you standin’ up to ’im.’

  ‘It was young Geoff what made ’im change ’is mind,’ William replied. ‘If it’d jus’ bin me, I’d ’ave bin out the gate. ’E’s a nice lad that Geoffrey. ’E’s a bit soft an’ ’e don’t like makin’ decisions but ’e’s a good lad fer all that. It’s a pity the ovver boy wasn’t made ter do ’is share. Come ter fink of it, p’raps it’s just as well. Two Galloways ter deal wiv is enough wivout anuvver one in the office!’

  Nellie laughed briefly and then prodded at the fire, a feeling of apprehension mounting inside her. She had been aware for some time now of the strain beginning to show in Will’s face. As she stole a glance across at him, she could see how the years and the toil were beginning to mark him. William was still robust and healthy, but there was a certain sad look in his pale blue eyes. His face had started to show lines too. His fair hair was thinner and he looked tired. She was beginning to feel the burden of the years herself. When she looked in the mirror that morning, Nellie had seen the signs around her eyes. Her figure was still slim and rounded, but she had gazed wistfully at her sagging breasts and the looseness of the skin on the backs of her hands.

  The passing of the years was apparent too in the way her children seemed to be hurrying towards adulthood. Carrie’s body was developing quickly, and she was growing up into a pretty young woman. James, too, had seemed to grow up suddenly. He was tall and gangling, and his abrupt manner and tendency to anger quickly reflected his passage into manhood, she thought. Then there was Charlie. He was fair-haired like the others, but his eyes were grey and he had a quiet manner.

  Nellie sighed deeply as she recalled the feelings she had kept from William and the secret agony she suffered during the time when she carried Charlie inside her. There had been no one she could turn to and the memory of those anxious days and nights of pregnancy had stayed fresh in her mind. She could see the narrow alley as though it were only yesterday, with the smell of rotting vegetables, and the black-painted door with the large iron knocker. She remembered looking at the address on the small piece of paper and then raising her hand to the knocker. It was the faint cry of a baby that had checked her. She had turned abruptly and hurried from the alley, suddenly determined to give her unborn child its chance in life, come what may.

  William’s repeated question interrupted Nellie’s troubled thoughts. ‘I said, young Danny looks like ’e’s picking up.’

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away right then.’ She smiled dismissively, loath to meet his eyes at that moment. ‘Yeah, ’e looks like ’e’s puttin’ on a bit o’ weight. I worry about Danny. There’s always one weak ’un in the family.’

  William smiled. ‘Danny’s gonna grow up the toughest o’ the bunch, mark my words.’

  Nellie leaned back in her chair and let her stockinged feet rest on the edge of the brass fender. ‘Our Carrie seems ter be gettin’ ’erself involved wiv those suffragettes,’ she said. ‘’Er mate at work ’as bin tellin’ ’er all about ’em. The gel goes on the marches, by all accounts.’

  William looked at Nellie with concern. ‘She’s a bit too young fer that sort o’ fing. The kid’s only jus’ turned fifteen. I wouldn’t wanna see our Carrie get involved wiv that lot. I was readin’ in the paper the ovver day ’ow they go on ’unger strikes in prison an’ ’ave ter be force-fed.’

  Nellie shrugged her shoulders. ‘Yer know ’ow ’eadstrong Carrie is, Will,’ she said. ‘Nuffink we can say will make any difference. Look ’ow she used ter get on ter yer about ’elpin’ out in the yard an’ goin’ on those journeys wiv yer.’

  ‘Well, I ’ope she don’t go gettin’ any fancy ideas,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m not against votes fer women but I fink they’re goin’ the wrong way about it. Chainin’ ’emselves ter railin’s ain’t gonna do any good.’

  Nellie got up and moved the iron kettle over the fire. ‘Well, sometimes yer gotta take drastic measures,’ she replied. ‘Look at that time the women blocked the turnin’. It worked, didn’t it?’

  William’s face relaxed into a smile. ‘I don’t fink it did. What stopped ole Galloway was a certain little troublemaker who marched out o’ the ’ouse wavin’ a chopper.’

  Nellie glared at him. ‘Well, it stopped the women gettin’ a soakin’, didn’t it? Now what about gettin’ up out o’ that chair an’ callin’ the kids in before it gets dark?’

  Nora Flynn had finished washing the dishes and scouring the pots and pans after the late tea, and was preparing to take an evening stroll. The two lads had been subdued at teatime, she thought; and Josephine seemed to lack her usual sparkle. There had been an atmosphere. At such times Nora wished she could eat alone, but it was her employer’s wish that she should join the family for meals. She had seen the fleeting glances which flashed between the boys and noticed George’s reluctance to make conversation. He had answered Josephine’s questions in monosyllables and had left the table as soon as he could. As Nora reached for her coat Josephine walked into the room, a sad look on her pretty young face.

  ‘Why does Father shut himself up in that miserable room, Nora?’ she asked, sitting down in a chair beside the large table.

  Nora gave the child a brief smile. ‘Yer farvver needs ter be alone, child,’ she replied. ‘’E’s got a lot on ’is mind.’

  Josephine ran her finger along the raised grain of the wood. ‘Geoffrey took me to the stable today to see the horses. They’re lovely, but Father said I shouldn’t go near there any more. He told Geoff so. Why, Nora?’

  ‘Yer farvver’s worried in case yer get knocked down by one o’ them carts, luv, or in case one o’ them ’orses kicks out at yer,’ Nora told her kindly. ‘A transport yard can be a dangerous place for a little gel.’

  Josephine clasped her hands on the table and looked wide-eyed at the housekeeper. ‘When I was at the stable I saw the children playing out in the street. Isn’t it dangerous for them?’ she asked.

  ‘They’ve got no choice, they live beside the stable,’ Nora said, smiling. ‘Yer lucky. Yer live in a nice ’ouse in a nice square, an’ there’s no ’orse-an’-carts ter worry about, ’cept the traders who call.’

  Josephine pouted. ‘I think it’s much nicer in Page Street, and the children there seem very nice too,’ she remarked. ‘Geoffrey told me that the boy who waved to me was Mr Tanner’s son, Charlie. I think he was very nice.’

  Nora glanced up at the large clock on the mantelshelf. ‘I’ve got ter go out, Josephine, an’ you’d better get off ter bed, it’s gettin’ late,’ she told the child.

  Josephine stood up obediently and presented her cheek to receive Nora’s goodnight kiss, then as she was going out she stopped suddenly and turned in the doorway. ‘You’d never leave us, would you, Nora?’ she asked, her violet eyes gazing appealingly at the housekeeper.

  Nora shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll always be ’ere, child, an’ yer can always come an’ talk ter me if yer need to. Now off ter bed wiv yer this minute.’

  Josephine was about to say something, but instead she just smiled quickly as she turned and hurried up to her room.

  Nora put on her coat and walked down the stairs, hoping to catch Geoffrey before he left. He had said he was going out to meet someone and Nora wanted to find out just what was wrong. Geoffrey was always ready to confide in her, although lately he appeared to have something on his mind and she felt he had become evasive.

  The house was quiet, however, and as Nora let herself out of the front door she heard George Galloway’s throaty cough coming from his room. It was cold and damp and not an evening for taking a stroll, but she wanted time to think. Things had changed in the house of late and she did not understand why George was so morose this evening. Recently he had become very talkative and often, after Josephine had gone to bed and the two young men had gone out, had called her into his room. They had chatted about the early days and of trivial things which Nora found amusing. George had laughed
with her, and on one or two occasions had tempted her with a glass of port. Nora had found herself becoming excited in his presence and her long suppressed physical feeling for him had been rekindled. George had not made any advances, other than to remark on what the lads might think should they return unexpectedly, and she had not felt able to give him any hint of her secret desire.

  At first she had felt pity for George, pity for a distraught man left alone to care for three young children, but her pity had soon changed to something deeper. She soon realised that he hardly ever noticed her. He was a hard man, with a streak of arrogance and meanness in his nature, but there was something difficult to define about him which she found very attractive. Maybe it was the single-mindedness that had brought him comparative wealth. Such strength of purpose might change to devotion and release the goodness in his character, Nora thought to herself, if he would only start to be aware of her as a woman. He had never seen her as anything other than hired help and she had suppressed her feelings for him and gone about her tasks, wishing secretly that one night he might visit her, if only out of loneliness. He never had, and the solitariness of her own existence weighed heavily on her.