Joe and a motley group of men in various states of dress despite the now pouring rain, and with an assortment of improvised weapons, rounded the corner to see the Blackshirt mob taunting Sylvia and Florrie Talbot. The women were pressing their backs against the door of the shop. There was what looked like a body covered with a fur-trimmed coat lying in the gutter.
One of the Blackshirts broke from his catcalling to give Joe a friendly wave. ‘All right there, Joe? Come to help us have you, mate? We’d be in there if it wasn’t for these silly tarts. We don’t want to hurt them, but if we have to, well they’re asking for it.’
Joe walked up to him. ‘Let me mark your card for you, moosh, that’s my old woman in there. What was I ever thinking of, listening to you and your shit?’ With that, he bent low and charged full pelt at the man, winding him as his shoulder made contact with the man’s belly.
Joe straightened up and stared boldly about him. ‘To think I thought you yellow cowsons were ordinary, respectable people. Now let’s see how clever the rest of you are at fighting men instead of frightening the life out of women.’
It was as if a dam had been breached. The group from Turnbury Buildings surged forward, and despite the mob outnumbering Joe and his neighbours, they were no match for the infuriated men. They might themselves have been quite capable of bad behaviour, but there were standards, lines that weren’t crossed, and these strangers coming in and frightening their own was totally unacceptable.
The battle didn’t last long – fists flew, heads were butted and curses exchanged – then the remaining members of the mob who hadn’t been picked off with a few choice punches, and who didn’t fancy getting on the wrong end of a length of two-by-four, followed the example of Nell’s attacker and ran off into the night.
Joe rattled the door handle. ‘Mary, it’s me, Joe. Are you and Sarah all right in there?’
Sarah threw the door open and, without a word, she rushed over to where Florrie and Sylvia were crouching down by Nell, who was still lying in the gutter.
Mary hugged Joe and kissed him. ‘Thank you, Joe. Thank you. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.’
‘And I don’t know what I’d do without you, love. And I don’t know what to say about all this.’
She kissed him again. ‘You’re a good, kind man, Joe Lovell. One of the best. Always have been.’
‘Who got hurt?’ he asked, looking over her shoulder to where Florrie, Sylvia and Sarah were kneeling on the now soaking ground.
Mary looked round. ‘Nell!’ She ran over to the women.
‘Go into the shop,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘Dolly’s hiding under the counter.’
‘Nell?’
‘Get Dolly, Joe, I’ll explain later.’
When Joe came back out onto the street, with an ashen-faced Dolly wrapped in his jacket, all the men from the Buildings seemed to have forgotten their own cuts and bruises and were looking warily at the women.
‘Anything I can do?’ asked Joe, sheltering Dolly from the sight of her mother stretched out in a mixture of rain, blood and whitewash.
‘Sarah, can you get some towels?’ Sylvia said quietly. ‘And Joe, get that little one away from here, eh?’
Sarah went back into the shop, and one of the men, not wanting to hang around a moment longer while all this women’s stuff was going on, muttered about having to get back to his dinner. It was the signal for the rest of them to disperse.
‘Where’s Tommy’s tin of lead soldiers?’ Nell asked, her eyes flickering in and out of focus.
Florrie looked at Sylvia and Mary. Their hair was plastered down with rain, and their clothes were soaked through. Then she stroked Nell’s cheek. ‘I think you’ve got more to worry about than toy soldiers, my little love.’ She hooked her arms under Nell’s shoulders.
‘Come on you two, we’ll have to chance moving her inside the shop or she’ll wind up with pneumonia on top of everything else.’
Chapter 63
It was the following afternoon and George was counting out a handful of silver from the day’s takings onto the fake grass that covered the stall. ‘Your turn today, Lil,’ he said. ‘Fish and chips for me. No, wait, I’ll have savs, faggots and pease pudding.’
‘Make up your bleed’n’ mind will you,’ said Lily, snatching up the change. ‘This bloody rain’s getting me down.’
‘Saveloys,’ he said, nodding to himself as he walked off in the direction of their new home above a tailor’s shop in Brick Lane, leaving a fuming Lily to put away the stall.
George frowned. What was going on? The narrow side door that opened onto the stairs to his and Lily’s set of rooms was unlocked. They never left the place without deadbolting the door; there were too many thieving foreigners around for George and Lily to do that. Maybe Lil was home already. He had stopped off for a pint instead of banking the takings. But she’d had to take the stall back to the store, before she went for the savs, and why would she leave the door unlocked anyway?
‘Lil?’ he called as he pushed open the inner door that opened directly onto the living room, holding the bag of takings behind his back.
‘I don’t think so.’ It was an enormous man – even bigger than George – whom he had never seen before. ‘I don’t reckon I’m pretty enough for a name like that, do you? And you know all about pretty girls, don’t you?’
George caught the glint of the brass knuckles the man was wearing as he smacked one fist into the palm of his other hand. Shit, they were going to rob him. Why hadn’t he gone to the bank?
‘Is that him?’ called a voice from behind the floral curtain that separated the living room from a narrow little kitchen.
‘Fits the description.’
The curtain was pulled back by a huge tattooed hand, revealing a man who looked like the much bigger brother of the one with the knuckleduster.
‘Do you know what I hate?’ he said, poking a sausage-sized finger in George’s now sweating face. ‘A bloke who don’t respect the ladies. A bloke who takes liberties with them, in fact. No real man likes that. That’s just for cowards and pisspots.’
George tried a bit of bravado. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate.’
‘One, I am not your mate, and two, I do not like liars. You have not only been very unpleasant to a young lady, but the young lady concerned is now very poorly, and a friend of hers wants you to learn a lesson, young Georgie. And we are the men who are going to teach it to you. Now listen carefully, George Flanagan, you are never again going to go anywhere near a certain young lady without her specific permission. All right?’
‘On my mother’s life, I truthfully do not know what you mean.’
‘Sorry George, but for your own sake I think you should admit that you do.’ The man stared at him. ‘Because you know exactly what you did to her, you slimy little bastard. Now keep still.’
The man slipped off his brass knuckles, slipped them in his pocket and then took hold of George by the lapels to stop him from moving – not that George was brave enough to have tried. The man then threw back his head and cracked George’s nose open with a sharp smack from his forehead.
George touched his face and then looked at his blood-covered hand. ‘What the hell was that for?’
‘Do you really need to ask?’ sneered the man, looking to his companion for support.
‘Ask what?’ said Lily as she stepped into the room. She was carrying a greaseproof-wrapped parcel of saveloys, faggots and pease pudding.
‘Lil, help me,’ moaned George, as the blood streamed down his face.
‘What’s going on here?’ she asked.
‘Nothing to do with you,’ said the bigger of the two, ‘now piss off.’
The one who had split George’s nose open wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, remembering what Bernie had told him about this whoreson and his sister. ‘Right. This is what’s going to happen. You,’ he pointed at Lily, ‘are going to clear off for a couple of hours. Then you are going t
o come back here and clear up any mess. And first thing tomorrow, you will find somewhere new to stay and somewhere to pitch your stalls, because you are not – I repeat, not – going to live or work anywhere near here. And if there is ever so much as a whisper that you,’ he now jabbed his finger at George, ‘have come even close to upsetting a lady – any lady, ever again – then I will kill you. Got it?’
‘Why have I got to clear off?’ asked Lily.
‘Don’t act as stupid as him, love,’ said the man, shoving George so hard in the chest that he staggered backwards across the room until the wall stopped him.
‘Now clear off, you silly tart.’
‘But—’
‘Don’t let me lose my temper with you and all,’ said the man. ‘Now do as you’re told and get out.’ He snatched the parcel from her and threw it at George who was still cowering against the wall, covering him with food.
Chapter 64
‘Think you can you manage a little drop of this soup for me, Nell?’ Sylvia put the tray on the bedside cabinet in what was now Nell’s new bedroom, upstairs in the Hope and Anchor. ‘Before the doctor pops back to check on you.’
‘Pops back? He’s already been here then? When? What time is it?’
‘It’s Tuesday afternoon. Four o’clock. You’ve been out like a light since yesterday. Your body must have needed the rest.’
‘Where are Tommy and Dolly?’
‘They’re fine. Now shall I help you sit up so you can have your soup?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Try a few spoonfuls for me, eh? It’s right tasty. Ham and pea. And there’s some lovely crusty bread from the baker’s next door. You know how you love their stuff. Look at it, it’s all fluffy inside and spread with nice thick butter.’
‘I want to see Tommy and Dolly.’
‘Don’t worry about them. They’re in the kitchen busy gluing and drawing, making little Christmas cards and that. They know you’re not feeling well.’
‘They’ve been through too much, Sylv. It’s so unfair. They’re so young, and the things they’ve had to put up with.’
‘And that’s a good reason to have some of this soup; it’ll get your strength up so the little ones won’t be scared when they see you all weak and pale.’
‘I’ve lost the baby, haven’t I?’
Sylvia sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the fold of the already perfectly straight sheet down over the eiderdown. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but maybe it’s for the best, eh?’
‘But I didn’t want it to happen. I really didn’t. I wanted to have it.’
‘I know you did, sweetheart.’
‘I would have loved it and cared for it and protected it and have been a proper mum to it, no matter what.’
‘Please, don’t do this to yourself, Nell.’
A single tear ran down Nell’s cheek, and she closed her eyes. ‘I’m ever so sorry for all this trouble I’m causing you, Sylv.’
‘Don’t you dare even think about saying you’re sorry. After everything you’ve been through it’s everyone else who should be sorry – sorry for letting it all happen to you. I know I can hardly forgive myself for not stepping in sooner. But I promise you, you’re going to be all right from now on, Nell. You, Tommy and Dolly, the three of you, you’re all going to be safe here with me and Bernie. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again.’ Sylvia touched her lips to Nell’s forehead. ‘You’ve got my word on that.’
‘I wish I could believe you, but everything just keeps going wrong. Everything.’ Nell’s eyes suddenly flicked wide open. ‘Sylvia, that handbag you gave me? Where is it?’
‘Ssshh, Nell, don’t go getting yourself excited over a rotten old second-hand bag. It got a bit knocked about yesterday, but at least I know what to get you for Christmas.’
‘But it’s got things in it.’ Nell’s voice was urgent as she struggled to sit up. ‘Important things. What happened to it? Where’s it gone?’
‘Calm down, darling, or you’ll make yourself ill. Look, it’s in here.’ Sylvia opened the bedside cabinet and took out the now battered, scuffed and water-stained bag. ‘See?’
Nell clutched it to her. ‘Thank you. I thought I’d lost it.’
‘Florrie saw it lying in the road. She picked it up and gave it to me when she helped me bring you back here in the cab last night.’
‘I don’t remember any of that.’ Nell closed her eyes again.
‘No. You weren’t feeling very good.’ Sylvia didn’t understand what could be so important to Nell about the bag’s contents, but there was obviously something in there that mattered to her. Or maybe she was still in shock after what had happened. It amazed Sylvia just how much one person could take in her life. But even Nell would probably have given up years ago if it hadn’t been for the little ones.
‘Thank you, Sylv. Thank you so much. And I’ll have to thank Florrie as well.’
‘You don’t have to keep thanking everyone, sweetheart.’ Sylvia gently stroked the hair away from Nell’s face. ‘But I would like it if you’d do something for me.’
‘Anything.’
‘Have just a little drop of this soup, eh?’
Chapter 65
It was Christmas Eve, and Nell and the children were climbing the familiar stairway to the top floor of Turnbury Buildings, Nell moving slowly, still feeling fragile.
‘We haven’t got to see the twins have we, Mum?’
‘No, Tommy, I was talking to Uncle Bernie before we came out and, guess what? He told me that they’ve moved away, so don’t you go fretting. You’re never going to have to see them again.’ What Nell didn’t say was that Bernie had also told her that something had happened to drive them away, but that it would be best if she didn’t ask what.
‘Good,’ said Tommy firmly. ‘Cos I hate them twins.’
‘Mummy said we’ve got to be kind,’ said Dolly.
‘I can’t help it, I still hate them,’ said Tommy.
‘That’s because you’re naughty.’
‘Will we have to come back here to live then, Mum?’
‘The flat’s not ours, Tom.’
Dolly’s little face darkened. ‘That’s good, because they could come back in the night and get us if we had to live here.’
‘Come on, you two, don’t start saying nasty things. We’re meant to be happy, because we’re bringing the presents you made for Mr and Mrs Lovell.’
‘Will they like them?’
‘Course they will, Dolly. You both worked really hard on them, and everyone always needs pot holders.’ She bent down and gave her daughter a hug. ‘And you know how often Mr Lovell puts that kettle of theirs on and off the stove. He must wear them out in no time.’
‘Will you look at what the cat dragged in.’ It was Ada, hanging about the top landing like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. ‘What are you doing here then?’
Nell smiled pleasantly. ‘Hello Ada, we’ve come to see our friends. How are you?’
‘Friends my eye.’ Ada almost vomited the words.
‘My dad used to say you could haunt houses for a living,’ said Tommy.
Ada’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did he now?’
It took a moment for Nell to trust herself to speak without laughing. ‘Tommy, Dolly, come along, let’s take these in to Mr and Mrs Lovell.’
As Nell rapped on Mary and Joe’s door, Ada stepped forward until she was standing up close behind her.
‘I know what happened to Stephen Flanagan,’ she taunted.
Horrified, Nell twisted around to face her. She knew that Ada had her nose in everything and everywhere, but however did she find out? Nobody knew what had happened but her and Martin.
The door to number 57 opened and Mary stood there, beaming happily and leaning forward with her arms held wide to welcome the children. ‘What a lovely surprise.’
‘Hello, Mary,’ said Nell. ‘Good to see you. Would you do me a favour and take the children inside for me? I need to have a quic
k word with Ada.’
Mary looked at Ada suspiciously and then back at Nell. What was going on here? ‘Will you be all right, love?’
‘I’ll be fine. Go on you two, you go with Mrs Lovell, I won’t be long.’
Nell waited until Mary had closed the door – this definitely wasn’t a conversation for Martin’s mother’s ears.
‘You were saying, Ada?’
‘You’ve got bold.’
‘If you’ve got nothing to say . . .’ Nell turned away from her, wanting to hear more, but scared to be told the truth about what this woman knew.
Not willing to lose her audience, Ada quickly piped up. ‘Stephen must have thought that the law were onto him at last after all these years.’
That definitely wasn’t what Nell had been expecting to hear.
‘It’ll have been all the boozing he done that would’ve led to it. Made him lose his marbles at last. The amount he swallowed in his time was enough to have driven a full-sized horse round the bend, let alone a man. But he was wrong; the law didn’t have a single idea what he’d done.’
Nell turned back to face her. ‘No idea he’d done what? What are you talking about?’
‘Flanagan’s wife, of course. From when we all lived down in the old terrace, before they pulled it down and moved us all up here.’
‘Ada, I don’t know about the law, but not for the first time since I’ve known you, it’s me who has no idea what you’re talking about.’
Ada sneered nastily, showing her wonky, stained teeth. ‘Surely you don’t think Violet just run off, do you? She was too scared of him to do that, although she talked about it often enough, when you’d see her down the market with yet another black eye.’
Nell blinked slowly. Where was this going? ‘So what did happen to her?’
‘He done her in, didn’t he?’
‘Are you saying Stephen killed his wife?’
Rough Justice Page 27
