Rough Justice

by Gilda O'Neill

  ‘Well, that’s what a lot of people round here reckoned at the time. And he must have thought that someone . . .’ She paused, considering her words, stretching out Nell’s agony. ‘That someone had gone to the law, cos they couldn’t stomach keeping it to themselves no longer. And that’ll be why he topped himself – rather than being caught and being hung. That man always was a coward as well as a bully. My Albert says he even saw him lifting Violet’s body onto a cart. Before it was proper daylight, it was. He had one of his gippy bellies again, see. Too many dumplings the night before. He’s a greedy pig of a man, my Albert; always has been.’

  ‘Ada, you were saying about Stephen.’

  ‘That’s right. The man used to beat that woman regular. Like a gong. You of all people should know what he was like.’

  ‘But if Albert saw that, why didn’t you do something?’

  ‘Well . . . my Albert’s not got the best of eyesight.’ Ada folded her arms. ‘Anyway, what goes on in someone’s home is their business. And me of all people, well, I’d never interfere in what goes on between a man and his wife.’

  She took her handkerchief out of her apron pocket and gave her nose a good blow, then inspected the results, making Nell shudder.

  She shoved it back in her pocket. ‘Mary Lovell, now she was a bit different about it, because she is an interfering cow. Reckoned we should go to the law there and then if what Albert thought he saw was true. At the time it was all you’d hear out of her mouth. Was Albert sure? Did he really see him do it? Her Joe, cheeky sod, stopped her because he reckoned my Albert was exaggerating, that he’d not seen anything of the sort. But then when Violet never came back, other people started saying that they’d seen him tip her in the Thames. Not that I ever believed any of them did, mind. You know what people are like, they just wanna be part of the poppy show. And then we were all moved up here, a lot of the men lost their jobs and Violet got forgotten.’ She looked Nell up and down. ‘It was then that Stephen Flanagan started moving all his fancy pieces in. Mind you, none of them lasted as long as you. None of them were silly enough.’

  Nell stood there, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Had Stephen Flanagan actually been a murderer? She had lived under the same roof as him with her children. If it was true, then he could have killed all three of them. Or was he simply a violent brute who terrified his wife so badly that she ran off and abandoned her own children? The thought made Nell want to weep.

  Ada snapped her fingers in Nell’s face. ‘Oi! Are you listening to me?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ada, go on, of course I am.’

  ‘So long as you are. Well, when the police kept coming round – after they’d dragged him out of the water – they realised from talking to me that I was the only one who could really help them.’ The little barrel of a woman puffed up proudly. ‘Only one with my eyes open, see.’

  ‘You must have been a real help to them,’ said Nell, nodding encouragingly, willing her to get on with it.

  ‘It was all right at first, but in the end they got me down. To tell you the truth, they got on me nerves, them and all their questions. It was all who did what, and when and who did they do it with.’

  Ada tutted loudly. ‘Bleed’n’ nuisances, they got. Like I had nothing better to do with my time. So I decided to get rid of them. I told them how he’d always been on the bottle, and that he’d probably just fallen in the river when he was pissed. I didn’t mention nothing about Violet cos that would have started them off all over again. They seemed a bit disappointed that it was probably an accident after all. Still, now the case is closed they won’t be bothering me no more.’

  ‘The case is closed?’

  ‘Yeah, they told me when they came round looking for the twins.’ Ada’s lips twisted into a nasty sneer, and again she looked Nell slowly up and down. ‘Wanted to trace his next of kin see, cos that’s who they tell about things like that. Not some bird he’d been living with over the brush.’

  Chapter 66

  ‘I think the tree looks so pretty, Auntie Sylvia.’ Dolly, wearing a miniature nurse’s uniform, was sitting on the floor by Sylvia’s chair. She was carefully buttoning the little knitted matinee jacket on the baby doll that Father Christmas had left in the pillowcase she had hung on the end of her bed the night before. ‘The candles are best. They’re lovely.’

  ‘I like the chocolate umbrellas best,’ said Tommy, eyeing the tree from where he was sitting at the table, finishing a second bowl of trifle. He straightened the paper hat that he had balanced on top of his cowboy hat. ‘And the chocolate money. And the sugar mice, they’re good. Can I have some more of them, Mum?’

  ‘After all that chicken and stuffing and Christmas pudding? And now the trifle? You’ll go off bang like one of Uncle Bernie’s crackers.’

  ‘Them crackers were good and all,’ he said, licking his spoon so as not to miss a single morsel.

  ‘Tell you what, Tom,’ said Sylvia, ‘if you help me and your mum clear the table later on, I’ll see what sweets are left on the tree and you and Dolly can share them out, how about that?’

  ‘Thanks!’

  There was a snorting snore from the armchair in the corner, where Bernie was sitting slumped, stuffed full of Christmas dinner.

  ‘Auntie Sylvia, will Uncle Bernie play snakes and ladders with me again when he wakes up?’ It hadn’t taken long for Tommy to figure out that Sylvia was a soft touch. ‘I won tuppence off him last time, and I bet I can beat him again.’

  ‘Maybe when he’s had a little rest, eh.’ Sylvia reached across the table and topped up Nell’s sherry glass.

  ‘You’ll have me singing,’ said Nell. ‘But go on then, it is a special occasion.’

  Sylvia poured herself another glassful. ‘This is what life’s all about, eh Nell?’

  ‘We are so blessed being here with you.’ Nell raised her glass, thinking about where Martin might be, praying silently that he was safe. ‘Thank you so much for everything, Sylv. And here’s to you.’

  ‘I’m the one who’s blessed. Now I’ve got my little family around me, it’s me who should be thanking you. When that grumpy old sod woke up this morning, even he said he couldn’t remember looking forward to Christmas Day so much in years.’

  Sylvia pushed back her chair, and stood up. ‘Do you reckon it’s time for us to take Tommy downstairs to the bar for him to see his Christmas present?’

  Nell grinned at her. ‘Why not?’

  Tommy’s eyes widened. ‘But I got my games compendium, and my pop gun and my cowboy outfit.’ He held out his arms, showing off his fringed waistcoat.

  ‘There was this other thing that I couldn’t fit in the pillowcase,’ said Nell, holding out her hand to him.

  ‘Gonna come down with us, Dolly?’ he said. ‘It must be really big. Is it, Mum? Is it ever so big?’

  ‘You wait and see.’

  Sylvia held Dolly’s hand while Nell led Tommy over to a basket in the corner of the bar.

  Tommy looked into it and his mouth fell open. Inside, curled in a sleeping ball, was a pot-bellied little brown and white Jack Russell puppy.

  ‘Whose is this?’

  ‘He’s yours, Tommy. All yours. Now what are you going to call him?’

  ‘Bradman,’ he said without a moment’s hesitation. ‘After that cricket bloke that Martin Lovell told me about.’

  Chapter 67

  Sitting on the stairs that led up to their new home above the Hope and Anchor, Tommy and Dolly were sipping lemonade through straws and nibbling on the dainty little quarter sandwiches from the plate that Nell had just put down between them. Bradman the puppy was asleep in his basket by the bottom step.

  Tommy brushed the crumbs off his jumper. ‘Can we really stay up until midnight, Mum, like Auntie Sylvia said we could?’

  ‘Midnight?’

  ‘Yeah, she said we could because it’s New Year’s Eve, and that’s what you do. And then it’s next year.’

  ‘Much as I love your Auntie Sylvia, I do wish sh
e’d ask me before she goes making promises to you two.’

  Tommy’s mouth turned down. ‘She was only being kind like you’re always telling us to be.’

  ‘I know, and she is kind. Very kind. I’ll tell you what, we’ll see shall we? If you two are good and go up after you’ve finished eating, have a wash and get yourselves into your pyjamas and put on your dressing gowns and slippers, you can come back down and sit on the stairs and listen to the music. Then if you get too tired I can carry you up. How about that?’

  ‘Yeah, but I bet we won’t get tired, will we Dolly?’

  Dolly, looking as if she was already fit for bed, shook her head solemnly. ‘No, because I want to do singing with Auntie Sylvia, when the year changes. She’s taught me the words to a special song and showed me how to cross your arms with the next person, and you all stand in a circle. It’s good.’

  ‘Like I said, we’ll see. Now I’m going back to help Auntie Sylvia and Uncle Bernie with all the customers out there.’ Nell kissed her children on the top of their heads. ‘I’ll prop the door open wide so you can see what’s going on. And make sure the puppy doesn’t go running in the bar if he wakes up.’

  Nell stood up, smoothed down the new red dress that Sylvia had given her for Christmas, and patted the N-shaped brooch that she had pinned to her chest.

  Weaving expertly through the customers as they sang and danced with the abandon of those whose only wish was for a better and brighter new year, and who wanted to forget, just for one night, the stories about what was happening abroad, Nell carried a half of stout and a pint of bitter over to Mary and Joe. They had just come into the pub and were standing by the fire brushing the snow from their shoulders.

  ‘Evening, you two.’ Nell put the drinks down in the hearth, picked up the poker, heated it in the fire and then plunged it into Mary’s stout, making the chocolate-brown liquid bubble and fizz.

  ‘No Sarah with you?’ she asked, handing Mary her glass.

  Mary took a sip of the warming drink. ‘No. You know what she’s like. She wouldn’t come out because she’s looking after her David. Joe tried to persuade her though, didn’t you Joe?’

  ‘I did, but she said it wasn’t like it was the Jewish new year or anything, and she’s got Florrie Talbot keeping her company.’

  Mary leaned closer to Joe and Nell. ‘No she’s not,’ she said, fiddling with her beads. ‘Sarah said Florrie should – you know, go out later.’ She lowered her voice. ‘To work, cos tonight of all nights it’ll be her harvest, won’t it?’

  ‘Sarah’s right there,’ said Joe, very matter-offact. ‘It’ll be a busy time for Florrie, what with all the drinking and celebrating and that. Especially down by the docks with all them jolly sailors that’ll be disembarking tonight with their pockets full of money, all looking for a bit of company.’

  ‘Joe Lovell!’ Mary squeaked.

  ‘I’m only speaking the truth, and I tell you what, I won’t hear a word against either of them girls – Sarah or Florrie – not with how good they’ve been to people. Florrie especially. She was right brave how she stood up to them thugs outside the shop.’

  Mary smiled proudly at her husband.

  ‘Tommy and Dolly are sitting on the stairs if you want to pop through to say hello to them later,’ said Nell, beginning to squeeze her way back towards the bar. ‘And those drinks are on Sylvie.’

  ‘We want to pay our way,’ said Joe, suddenly very serious.

  ‘First round’s on her, Joe, and you know Sylvia, she won’t take no for an answer.’

  As Nell slipped behind the counter alongside Bernie and Sylvia, she looked over at Joe. If only there was something that she could do to help him. He and Mary had been such good friends to her for so many years, it only seemed right that their luck should start changing as hers had done.

  The customers were now three and four deep at the bar, ordering drinks and helping themselves from the plates of sandwiches and cold, salty roast potatoes that Sylvia had set out for them.

  ‘Bugger,’ hissed Bernie, his face red from the exertion of serving so many people. ‘This mild barrel wants changing already.’

  ‘It is New Year’s Eve, Bernie darling,’ said Sylvia, nudging Nell and rolling her eyes. ‘What do you want them to be drinking – cups of bloody tea? And think of all that lovely money going through the till.’

  Bernie picked up a bar cloth and rubbed it over his sweaty brow and neck. ‘D’you know, I think I’m getting too old for this game, Sylv.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, you silly old sod, you just need to lose a couple or three stone, and you’ll be hopping around like a spring chicken.’

  ‘How do you reckon I’m going to manage that then? And how about in the meantime?’

  ‘Well, for a start, you’d better get a move on, there’s people whose bellies’ll start thinking their throats have been cut if they don’t get a drink down ’em soon.’

  ‘Can I suggest something?’ asked Nell, handing another tray of brown and light ales, port and lemons and stouts across the counter.

  ‘What, how to get a figure like yours? Don’t think it’d suit me, girl.’

  ‘Not quite,’ laughed Nell, hoping above hope that this was going to work. ‘Wait there, I won’t be two minutes.’

  She was back quicker than that, with Joe following closely behind.

  ‘Nelly here said you needed a hand with something, Bern. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Joe, you can save me from passing out, mate, that’s what you can do.’

  As Bernie tightened the fixings on the pipes that led from the barrels up to the bar above them, he chatted away to Joe. ‘Like I said, thanks for that, changing these things don’t get any easier.’ He stood up straight, groaning from the strain. ‘And my bones don’t get any younger.’

  ‘No trouble at all, Bern, my pleasure.’

  ‘You ever thought about doing a bit of cellar or bar work, Joe?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have, but I’d be more than happy to give it a go if there was ever any going.’

  ‘Well, how about giving me a hand again sometime?’

  ‘So long as you show me the ropes, Bern, I’ll turn my hand to anything you want doing around the place. Always glad to help someone out.’

  Bernie shook him by the hand. ‘Good man, Joe. I just don’t seem to find the time for everything that wants doing round here. I’ve got other business interests, see.’

  ‘Have you?’ said Joe non-committally, knowing full well what sort of business interests he meant.

  Bernie patted his belly. ‘And I’m hardly up to the heavy work like changing barrels these days. Then there’s the deliveries and the bottling up of a morning, and Sylvie’s started going on about how the flat upstairs needs a coat of paint now that Nell and the kids are living here with us. And there’s always something around the place that wants fixing or mending. But you seem a handy sort of a chap. Work like that would be ideal for you.’

  Joe laughed. ‘You’re right there, Bernie, I’ve even got my own tools.’

  ‘Well, the job’s here, when can you start then?’

  ‘What, you mean it’d be like a proper job? Not just helping you out now and again?’

  ‘If you’re interested, you can start tomorrow, mate.’

  Joe could hardly believe his luck: he was so used to disappointment, and now this had been put in his lap, right out of the blue. ‘Why me?’

  ‘Look, Joe, when there’s money around the place, you have to be able to trust someone. I’ve heard what good friends you and your missus have been to our young Nelly, so that’s why you, because you must be a good ’un to have done that. So if you want the job, it’s yours, mate.’

  Joe emerged from the cellar grinning like a love sick schoolboy after a first date.

  Mary was still standing by the fire.

  ‘Mary, excuse my language, but I’ve got some bloody good news to start the new year, love.’

  ‘And so have I, Joe.’
/>   The man standing next to her turned round to face him.

  ‘Hello, Dad, I had to get back to say happy new year to you and Mum, didn’t I?’

  ‘Martin?’ Joe felt his eyes begin to prickle.

  ‘Yeah, it’s me, Dad.’

  ‘But how did you know we’d be here?’

  ‘I didn’t. So I looked everywhere for you. Must have gone in and out of every pub in Wapping. Then as a last resort I went round to see Sarah. Lucky I did, eh? It was her who told me you’d come here.’

  ‘Son, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.’

  ‘Me too, Dad. And like I said to Mum, I’ve been thinking a lot while I’ve been away, and what with everything that’s going on over in Europe, I just wanted to be at home with my family. After what I’ve seen, I’ve realised what’s important in life, and who’s important to me. The world’s a dangerous place and it’s getting worse, and we’ve got to value what we’ve got. Treasure it. Even fight for it if necessary.’

  Joe swallowed hard as he took his son by the shoulders. ‘I’ve come to realise that too, boy. I’ve had my eyes opened to what’s what, and I can’t say I’m proud of some of the things I thought and said in the past. But I’ve come to my senses now.’

  ‘We’ve all said a lot of things, Dad.’ Now Martin’s eyes had misted over with tears, and he took his father in his arms and hugged him. ‘Let’s forget all that, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, let’s do that.’

  Joe held his son at arm’s length and looked at him.

  ‘Some of the things that were said in the past weren’t so bad,’ sniffed Mary. ‘Remember, Joe, how Martin always used to say: I’ll take you to the seaside one day, Mum?’

  Joe shook his head, remembering. ‘It was all we heard out of you when you were little, son.’

  ‘Well, I reckon it’s about time I kept that promise then, don’t you? So as soon as the weather looks up let’s go down the coast.’

  Joe took out his cigarettes, and made a fuss of fumbling with his matches, avoiding looking at his son or his wife. ‘Maybe we could all go.’ He spoke quietly, almost shyly.