Still struggling to calm herself, Nell closed her eyes. If she tried really hard, then everything would be OK – her children would have a roof over their heads and they’d have food in their stomachs, and a mother to love them. There’d be no children’s home for them. Never. She would do anything to protect them. It was simple, she now had a plan, and that was what she’d do. Without any fuss or upsetting anyone, she’d just make them all realise they couldn’t cope without her.
Nell opened her eyes and stood up, her new resolve making her feel oddly peaceful.
Nell knocked gently on Lily’s door. ‘Breakfast in two minutes, Lil, and there’s a nice clean towel in the kitchen and a basin of hot water waiting for you ready for your wash.’
Lily opened her door, her fashionable bob not looking quite so sleek after the disturbed sleep she’d had as a result of all the port and lemons she’d sunk the night before.
She eyed Nell suspiciously. ‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Nelly girl, with all your sweet talk, but if you’re taking the piss out of me or something, you do know you’ll regret it, don’t you?’
Nell smiled. ‘Just glad to be up and about on a lovely morning like this, Lily, that’s all. I’ll go and wake up George now, shall I?’
Lily’s only reply was to slam the bedroom door in Nell’s face.
After the twins had moped about, moaning and complaining, and had then dragged themselves off to work – neither of them had thought to ask when or even if their father had come home – Nell left the children sleeping while she cleaned the rest of the flat with even more care than usual. Satisfied at last with her efforts, she then woke Tommy and Dolly, helped them wash and dress, and gave them thick slices of toast for their breakfast, just like Sylvia used to make for her, but with marge instead of butter – that was only for Stephen and the twins. She then ushered them down the stairs to play. When he eventually came home, Stephen was going to have no reason to find fault in anything she had done – no reason at all. It would all be perfect. The place would be spotless, the children would be out of his way playing down in the courtyard and she’d have made him something special for his tea – fat pork chops with mash and gravy, he loved that. She’d go round to the butcher in Wapping Lane, he did lovely pork down there. She could juggle the money to pay for a couple of really nice ones; she didn’t mind getting by on a few slices of bread.
But despite all her resolve, Nell still couldn’t help fretting about what was going to happen when Stephen did come home. She only hoped that, as sometimes happened, his temper had blown itself out like the wind when it came howling up the river threatening a gale but then coming to nothing, just as if it had changed its mind.
Chapter 38
Red-eyed from lack of sleep, Nell opened the front door. It had been five days now since Stephen had gone missing, so she wasn’t exactly surprised that it wasn’t him standing there as if nothing had happened, looking like a wreck and ravenous for a meal that she would be expected to rustle up from nowhere. In fact, she was so worn out, she wasn’t even surprised that it was Sylvia waiting to greet her as if nothing had happened between them.
‘Hello, Nell, sweetheart,’ she said, speaking as if she’d been set on double speed. ‘I know you sent me that letter, but I know you didn’t really mean it, and as it’s Bank Holiday Monday in a couple of days, I was wondering if you’d let me take the kids out for a few hours. We could have a laugh. Like me and you used to have. I could take them over to Blackheath to the fair. Or to the pictures. Or even over the lido if it’s a nice day. Southend on the train, or maybe the boat. How about it? You could come and all if you like. And don’t worry, it’ll be my treat.’
Sylvia reached out to take Nell’s hand, but Nell pulled away.
‘I don’t want to be rude, Sylvia, but you know you’re not welcome here. Thank you for coming round but it wouldn’t be right. Not after you upsetting Stephen like that.’ Nell couldn’t bear to look Sylvia in the eye. ‘And I meant every single word that I wrote in the letter.’
Nell tried to close the door, but Sylvia, little as she was, kept it open with her shoulder.
‘Nell, please don’t do this. I wasn’t going to mention it because I didn’t want to upset you, but Bernie told me about Stephen going missing, and I’ve been out of my mind worrying about you. Please let me do something – anything – to help you.’
Nell didn’t reply, which made Sylvia relax a little – at least she’d stopped trying to close the door on her. ‘Still no news from him?’
Nell shook her head.
‘So where’s Laurel and Hardy?’
No reply.
‘Sorry, that was unkind. I should have asked, where’s Lily and George?’
‘On the stall.’
‘They’re obviously worried sick about their father then.’
‘They’ve got to go to work, Sylvia.’
‘Yeah, sorry again. Me and my big mouth. That was below the belt. It’s them twins, they . . . Aw, you know.’
‘This is so hard for me, Sylv.’
The two young women stood there at the door with so much to say to one another, but with neither of them speaking and the silence beginning to build between them like a brick wall. Suddenly the silence was broken, but not by Sylvia or Nell.
‘Good afternoon, ladies.’
Sylvia turned round to see who had spoken. She took a step back when she saw two uniformed police officers standing there on the landing. Nell stared at them over Sylvia’s shoulder.
‘Would one of you be Mrs Flanagan?’ said the taller of the officers.
‘This is the lady you want,’ said Sylvia.
‘Are you a friend?’ asked the other.
Sylvia nodded. ‘I like to think so.’
‘Good, well then I think it would be very helpful if you came in with us while we have a word with Mrs Flanagan here, because we have some news for her.’
As Sylvia and the police officers followed a reluctant Nell along the passageway towards the kitchen, Ada Tanner opened the door of Number 56. She had seen the two men enter the courtyard through the arch when she had been nosing out of the window, and had then watched with mounting speculation as they made their way straight for her block. And now they were actually up on her landing. She was about to burst with curiosity. In Ada’s book coppers only ever meant one thing: bad news, and Ada was damned sure she would be amongst the first to hear what it was.
Chapter 39
Sylvia busied herself making a pot of tea, doing her best to look as if she wasn’t listening to the conversation that was going on across the kitchen table between Nell and the two policemen.
Nell, shoulders slumped and hands in her lap, asked softly, ‘But how do they know it was Stephen?’
‘When they finally managed to drag the body out from under the . . .’ The officer checked himself. ‘I apologise, Mrs Flanagan, excuse me, when they found your husband under the wharf in Limehouse, we had the details you supplied to the local constable about his gold teeth. They matched perfectly. And then there was the wallet inside his jacket pocket. Apart from all the money he had on him, there was what we soon realised was a stack of betting slips. We made some enquiries, talked to the lads from various stations and it wasn’t long before we put two and two together. Now we just need you to come over to the mortuary in Poplar to make a positive identification, but I have to warn you it won’t be pleasant.’
Nell frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
The policemen exchanged looks, eyebrows raised.
‘Mrs Flanagan, we think your husband had been in the water for some time, maybe up to as much as a week, and so the body’s going to be—’
‘No, I don’t mean that, I mean about the betting slips, and you said all the money. Stephen wasn’t as badly off as some round here, but he was far from what you’d call well off. So what money? How much are you talking about? And where did it come from?’
‘Mrs Flanagan,’ the other policeman said, his voice drip
ping with cynicism. ‘Your husband was a bookie’s runner, working near the markets. Are you telling us that you had no knowledge of what he was doing?’
Shit, thought Sylvia, this could lead to all sorts of trouble. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she interrupted. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding. You’ve got the situation here all wrong. Stephen Flanagan wasn’t this girl’s husband. His next of kin are his twins, Lily and George Flanagan, and they’ve got stalls in the markets. Down the Waste during the week, and on Sundays they’re down the Lane. They must make a nice living, the pair of them. I mean, who’s ever seen a poor stallholder? You want information about where Stephen Flanagan got all his dough from, or someone to identify him? They’re the ones who can help you.’ Sylvia paused for effect. ‘Lily and George Flanagan – anyone down the markets will point them out to you.’
The policemen exchanged another look. ‘Stalls on the Waste and down the Lane, but their name’s Flanagan and they live in Wapping? So they’re hardly going to be Jews, are they? Bit unusual that, don’t you think?’
‘Stephen Flanagan was a well-known man. He could pull strings, because he knew all sorts of people. And a lot of them were, how can I put it? Indebted to him.’
‘And you seem to know a lot about him, Mrs . . .’
‘Woods. He drinks . . .’ She paused again. ‘I suppose I should say he used to drink in my pub. The Hope and Anchor.’
‘We’re with the river police, Mrs Woods. You’re going to have to help me here.’
‘Whitechapel. Nearly opposite the hospital.’
‘There’s a lot of gambling over that way. Spielers, street betting, pitch and toss.’
‘I know.’ Sylvia answered the officer as she took away their not quite empty tea cups. ‘It’s shocking the way people carry on. I don’t know where they find the money to throw away like that. And that’s not the half of it. You might want to ask some of the local coppers over my way about the protection rackets they have to put up with down them markets. Jack Spot might make himself out to be a local flipping hero, but if the stallholders or the street gamblers don’t pay up then all hell breaks loose with him and his sidekicks wading in. Terrible violence you hear about. That’s what should be interesting the law. They’re right nasty men, you take my word for it. Some of the stories I hear in the pub, they’re awful. It’s frightening what they’re capable of.’
Sylvia knew what she was talking about; she’d seen Bernie paying out enough over the years.
She hadn’t even had time to dry the teacups before she’d fed the two officers with enough tasty tit-bits to have them straining to leave.
‘Thank you, Mrs Woods, you’ve been a lot of help.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, you stay there, Nell. I’ll see these gentlemen out.’
‘Wait, please. Will you be going down the market to speak to Lily and George?’ Nell asked the officers.
The two men looked at one another; one of them flicked a glance towards Sylvia.
‘As next of kin, we’ll be asking them to identify the body and then we’ll be making some general enquiries. But if you’d like to be the one to break the news to them, then that’s fine by us.’
When Sylvia came back into the kitchen, Nell was on her feet.
Sylvia held out her arms. ‘Come here, darling. I know it’s hard, but at least you’ve still got me.’
‘I’m sorry, Sylvia, nothing’s changed. You’ll have to leave. George and Lily wouldn’t like it if they came home and found you here.’
‘What’s it got to do with them?’
‘This is their home, that’s what. Like you said, Stephen wasn’t my husband, remember? If me and the kids are going to keep a roof over our heads, then it’ll be down to them whether we stay or not.’
‘Come on, Nell, you don’t have to be beholden to that pair. They treat you like you’re their bloody skivvy. It’s them who should be thanking you, not the other way round.’
Nell started putting the cups and saucers back in the cupboard. ‘I’ll say goodbye now, Sylvia, and on your way out, would you mind sending Tommy and Dolly back up here, please? I need to talk to them.’
Chapter 40
‘Mum. Mum,’ Tommy hollered as he raced along the passageway to the kitchen. ‘Look what Auntie Sylvia gave me.’ He held out his hand to show Nell a silver half-crown. ‘I’ve never even seen a bloody tosheroon before, never mind had one of my own.’
‘Mum,’ protested Dolly, ‘Auntie Sylvia gave it to both of us, she said so. Honest, Mum. It’s to share.’
‘That was very kind of her, give it to me and we can think about how you can spend it later.’
‘But Mum,’ protested Tommy.
‘Just do as you’re told. I want you both to sit down and have a glass of milk and a slice of bread, because we’ve not got time for dinner, we’ve got to go out.’
‘Why?’ asked Tommy, clambering up onto a chair.
‘Because I’ve got something to tell you, and then we’ve got to go and see George and Lily.’
‘Aw, Mum, I hate them two. They’re right rotten spiteful.’
‘Tommy, I know they’re difficult, but don’t you ever dare say anything like that again.’
Nell closed her eyes. This was all going to be so much harder than she had thought. ‘And wash your hands, the pair of you, goodness only knows what you’ve been touching while you’ve been down there.’
Tommy sloped over to the sink where Dolly was already working up a lather with a bar of Lifebuoy.
‘I can’t help it if I don’t flipping well like them,’ he muttered, taking the soap from his sister and shaping up to blow a few choice bubbles at her. ‘They’re like Dad, horrible. I hate them all.’
‘You know Auntie Sylvia said that money was for both of us,’ whispered Dolly, nudging him in the side.
‘Grass,’ hissed Tommy.
Nell smacked her hand down on the table, making them both jump. ‘Just be quiet, you two. I’ve got something important to tell you.’
As the three of them left the flat, Tommy and Dolly were pale-faced and silent, and they were holding their mother’s hands exactly as she had told them to. Their dad was dead, and their mum sounded scared.
Ada Tanner was standing out on the landing, her arms folded and a hairnet stretched over her metal curlers. ‘You’ve taken your time, I’ve been waiting out here for over half an hour.’
‘Ada, as usual, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but whatever it is I haven’t got time for it.’
‘I won’t beat about the bush then. So, cough it up, what did them coppers want? Came to tell you Stephen Flanagan’s been nicked, did they? Caught up with him at last?’
Nell tightened her grip on her children’s hands. ‘No, Ada, they came to tell me that he’s dead.’
As Nell spoke, Mary Lovell had just reached the top of the stairway. ‘Dead? Oh, Nell, I don’t know what to say.’
Ada did. ‘How about good riddance? That’d be a start.’
Mary shot an angry look at her neighbour. ‘Even you should know to keep your mouth shut in front of little children, Ada Tanner.’ She turned to Nell. ‘Anything I can do for you, love?’
‘I’m not really sure I know what to do myself, Mary. That’s why I thought I’d best go to see Lily and George, to see what they want to happen. There’s going to be a coroner’s hearing but then they’ll release – you know – and arrangements are going to have to be made.’
‘How about if I have the kids for you?’
Nell bent down. ‘What do you think? Do you want to stay with Mrs Lovell while I go down the market to see the twins?’
Tommy and Dolly were clasping Mary’s hands before anyone had a chance to change their minds.
Nell stood on the corner of Commercial Street and Wentworth Street, plucking up her courage. Whatever would they say when they heard that their father was dead?
‘I only hope you don’t think we’re paying for the funeral,’ said Lily, sliding a hand of bananas i
nto a brown paper bag.
‘So who will?’ asked Nell, watching Lily drop a handful of change into the already bulging money pouch that was tied around her waist. Just a little of that would have fed the children with better food than they had now.
‘It was you who lived with him and had his bastards.’
Nell flushed red, from both embarrassment and shock at Lily being so loud and so callous, especially in front of the queue waiting at the stall.
‘What did I say just this morning, Lil?’ said George, hefting a new box of apples onto the stall. ‘I said I thought it was funny him not coming home all week. That he’d probably got pissed and got himself rolled by thieves. Seems I was right. Funny they didn’t take his wallet, though.’
‘Is that it?’ asked Nell.
George shrugged. ‘I suppose so, but who knows how things might have to change. I’ll have to give it a bit of thought.’
‘But you will go and identify him, won’t you?’
‘How many more times?’
She could see that George was getting close to losing his temper.
‘We’ve said yes. When we’ve finished here.’
‘And we don’t want any pauper’s do for the funeral. So make sure you don’t go showing us up.’ Lily lifted her chin at the next customer in line. ‘Yeah?’
Considering herself dismissed, Nell walked away from the stall still not knowing what to think other than that she had – somehow – to pay for a funeral. How much would it cost? And where would the money come from? And what did George mean – things might have to change?
Nell sat at Mary Lovell’s kitchen table, something she had never done before, with the children sitting on either side of her. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
Joe, who was standing behind Mary’s chair with his arms folded across his chest, said quietly, ‘You have to go and see a funeral director, love. I remember when I lost my old mum and dad. They sorted it all out.’
Rough Justice Page 18
