‘Sorry,’ John muttered.
‘Leave him alone,’ Ian ordered through gritted teeth. ‘John’s not had it easy – none of us has. Do you want him going worse with his talking?’
Phil hung his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘It’s all r-right I’m used to it.’
They settled down to sleep on sacks and folded tents.
‘Stam?’ Phil whispered.
‘What?’
‘You know I never meant no harm, though, eh?’
‘You’re OK, Phil. We’re all in the sh-shit together.’
Babs and Sally lay together in Babs’s double bed. Like a couple of five-year-olds, they giggled and whispered instead of obeying parents’ rules and going to sleep. ‘I still can’t get over it,’ Sally mumbled. ‘How did you do it?’
‘I’m special.’
‘I know that.’
Babs chuckled. ‘It’s the force of my magnetic personality. Don likes you, and he likes the idea of sleeping between two pretty girls. He paid more for you than he did for me.’
‘Never.’
‘He did. Eve’s lost both her Baby Girls and wanted compensation.’
The younger girl giggled. ‘My mam used to get that on her glasses when it was hot. She always said they were covered in compensation.’ She paused. ‘Mam knew it was the wrong word, but she did it deliberately. We used to have fun till she married him.’
Babs stopped laughing and held her companion close. ‘Did he hurt you?’
After a short pause, the answer arrived. ‘Yes. Said he’d kill me and Mam if I told anybody.’
‘I know, Sal. I’ve been there. Do you ever wonder if that’s why we’re on the game?’
‘I’m sure it is. It’s like I’m making him pay.’
‘Don’t cry, love.’ The older girl held the younger in a gentle embrace. ‘We’ve got each other now. And if the RSPCA will take Don’s offer and get permission, we’ll have a home in an animal sanctuary when Don dies. You didn’t see the will, but I did.’
‘He’s a nice man, Babs. And you don’t need to marry him.’
‘The property goes to animals, and the bank account comes to me with his half of Mad Murdoch. We’re made. We can have rooms in the house for life, and Dove Cottage will be mine outright. No need to marry him, babe. Belle rang, by the way, wanted a tenner to buy something for the kiddy. We can do some good at last. And I will look after you, I promise.’
‘And I’ll look after you, too.’
They lay for a while thinking about the great luck they appeared to be having, and the loving seemed to begin of its own accord. Neither girl would ever be able to say how it started, though both were grateful for it. After being handled and used by men, they were happy to discover a softer, gentler way, something meaningful, pleasurable and non-invasive. After sweaty feet, sharp elbows and tobacco-tainted breath, this was heaven.
Babs grinned in the half-light from a small lamp on the bedside table. ‘Are we terrible?’ she asked.
Sally returned the smile. ‘I’ve loved you for a while,’ she said shyly. ‘All I want is to be wherever you are.’
‘Then you shall go to the ball, Cinderella. I’ll lend you my glass slippers, but don’t break ’em, or I’ll wring your neck.’ The promise was sealed with a kiss.
It was the middle of the night when the door opened, and all three boys sat up, alarm causing hearts to jump about and sweat to form on foreheads. Light from a torch travelled over John, then Ian, then Phil. ‘Who the bloody hell are you?’ asked the bearer of the torch.
No one answered.
‘You’d better say something.’ The tone was threatening.
‘Are you the police?’ Ian finally managed to say.
The man laughed. ‘Not likely.’
‘You won’t g-grass?’ John the Stam asked.
The door closed. ‘Your photos have been in the paper, but not your names – not yet, anyway,’ the intruder said. ‘I know who you are, but I’ll say nothing. We thought this shed was empty.’
He sat on a wooden crate. ‘If you’ll mind some packages for me, I’ll pay you.’ The new crop grown by Roy Foley and Bill Tyler was now stashed and ready for harvest in Hunt’s Cross, but there was too much stuff stored in Liverpool South, so hundreds of pounds’ worth of hash and resin needed shifting to a new location. ‘I will pay, I promise. Me or one of my lads will bring you food, drink and cash every Thursday. What do you say to that?’
Phil was uneasy. ‘Is it drugs?’ he asked.
‘You don’t need to know what it is,’ was the ready answer, ‘because if you grass us up, we’ll get you and anybody close to you. If you’re found, you say the stuff was here before you came. OK?’
‘Yes,’ Ian answered for all three.
The large man stood, lit a cigar, then opened the door. ‘Right, lads,’ he said.
The boss’s minions, including Roy and Bill, filed in carrying sacks.
‘Hide them behind the scouts’ stuff,’ Ian suggested. ‘Let’s hope they don’t come back for their tents and sleeping bags.’
The leader laughed mirthlessly. ‘I’ll leave you my phone number. Any worries at all, get to a phone box and call me. Here.’ He placed a card and a five pound note in Ian’s hand. ‘You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, so learn this number and burn the card. OK?’
‘Thanks.’
‘And watch out for your neighbours.’
‘There isn’t none,’ John announced.
‘Meadowbank Farm, a few hundred yards behind the trees,’ the boss told them. ‘Mind, they’ve got plenty to hide as well, but be careful.’
‘We will,’ Ian promised.
Alone once more, the three boys tried to settle. Phil spoke first. ‘I wonder what they’ve got to hide at the farm?’
‘Never mind them,’ Ian said. ‘We’re the ones sitting on drugs.’
‘How d-do you know?’
‘I just do. Go to sleep.’
No one slept well that night.
Four
Nellie Carrington pushed all her worldly goods along Rice Lane. She’d had a minor surgical adjustment done to her vehicle in the pram shop, and life was suddenly a little smoother on uneven pavements and kerbs. Passers-by greeted her as she sallied forth; even in her smelly clothes, she was appreciated, because she had a heart of gold and was notorious for saving people, with alcoholics as her speciality. She also held secrets, and she guarded them well.
A familiar figure walked towards her. ‘Well,’ Nellie exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. ‘Well, I never did – if it isn’t our Belle. Isabella Horrocks. I haven’t seen you in years. How are you? Still with Eve Mellor and the rest of her gang miles away from civilization? You’re looking very well, I must say.’
Belle forced a smile. The one thing she dreaded was her parents finding out about her true area of work. The idea of auditing had been stolen from a client who had given her the details of his job. ‘Hi, Nellie. Keep your voice down, please, because Mam, Dad and Lisa still have no idea about what I get up to.’ Nellie’s voice, though seldom raised, travelled well. ‘How are you doing?’ And yes, I’m still at the farm.’
‘Good, because at least you’re safe, pet, and you know me – I say little or nothing about private business. I still keep an eye on the other Lime Street ladies, but it’s not easy. Jean Davenport was killed, you know. Terrible business – the work of a madman, or so it would appear. She’ll be missed by her family.’
‘Yes, we all heard about it. She had children, didn’t she?’
‘She did, bless them. Her parents have taken them since she died. But now we’ve lost a woman who dressed like an older working girl but wasn’t. There’s a very sick person out there looking to clear the streets of prostitutes. Stay safe; stay where you are. Eve’s a tough old boot, and she’ll look after you. How’s young Babs, by the way? I miss that cheeky young madam – she led many people a merry dance. I suppose she’s still as cheeky and bossy as ever?’
; Belle relaxed. Perhaps the inquisition was almost over. ‘She’s fine, Nellie. Going to live in Southport quite soon, I think.’
‘Why?’ Nellie asked.
‘Not sure of the details, sorry. But she’s turned out decent. Still feisty, but good-hearted.’
‘Pleased to hear it. And where are you going on this fine day?’
‘Pram shop. Do they sell second-hand doll’s prams? It’s for Lisa.’
Nellie put the brake on her own vehicle. ‘Yes, he does have doll’s prams. I’ve just been in there, and I saw a beauty with a new doll and all the linen and covers for a penny short of twelve pounds, but I reckon he’d bite your hand off for ten. Stay here and look after my old wreck while I go and negotiate for Lisa. Trust me – I have a way with men.’ She winked and grinned before retracing her steps. ‘I’ll think of something,’ she mumbled under her breath.
Belle rested against a wall. Encounters with Nellie were often rather harrowing, because she had a tendency to fire questions, as if filling in a form or something official from the government, like a survey or a population census. She was a good woman who tried to save runaways, alcoholics and the homeless, but oh, she did go on. And on, and on. The man in the shop would probably agree to almost anything just to be rid of Smelly Nellie’s aroma and her chat. ‘There’s method in her madness,’ Belle muttered under her breath. But she knew, as did most folk, that Nellie Carrington was a saint right through to the marrow.
After about ten minutes, Nellie returned with the doll’s pram. ‘Here you go, Belle. I told him a tragic story that was almost true, and Lisa got a free pram with doll and covers. I’ll need to make an Act of Contrition, but it was all in a good cause, so I’m calling it a venial sin. So here’s your problem solved.’
Belle swallowed. ‘Free? But it’s beautiful, Nellie. It looks brand new, not a mark on it.’
‘Lisa deserves the best, as do you.’
Belle gulped again. People were suddenly so kind. ‘Babs is giving me ten quid, Nellie.’ She opened her bag and recovered her purse. ‘Here. I got it out of the bank. Spend it on food for the alkies and runaways. I’ll tell Babs when I see her. She won’t mind you having the money instead.’
Nellie shook her head. ‘It won’t always be summer or autumn. Use it for a winter hat, a coat and strong shoes or boots for Lisa. Babs wanted you to have it. Good luck, pet.’
There came the accent again, just a slight echo from the north-east, Belle mused inwardly. ‘Were you born up Newcastle way, Nellie?’
‘I was.’ Nothing further was offered.
‘And you went to a good school?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Thought so,’ Belle said. Although this little woman knew almost everything about folk she met, she seldom breathed a word concerning herself.
‘Quick Mick died,’ Nellie said now. ‘His liver gave up the ghost and took him with it. He died on Lime Street Station, poor soul.’
‘Oh, no. I liked him,’ Belle said. ‘He had a wicked sense of humour.’
‘Not towards the end. He was making very poor sense and shaking like a leaf. Yet I have noticed with most alcoholics that they’re interesting people. But we’ve another mess starting up. Some bad creature is selling cannabis with hallucinatory agents added. There’s always something new to worry about.’
Belle nodded, though she failed to understand the terminology. That was another thing about Nellie Carrington; she was knowledgeable. ‘What does that mean?’ she asked.
‘LSD. It’s poison. People on that can have weird flashbacks. They see blue snow, or red rain, or ghosts. Some believe they’re being followed or picked on, so paranoia’s a danger, while others get the idea that they can fly. They can’t, of course, so they end up like pancakes all over the place. Alcohol’s bad enough, but drugs?’ The little woman shivered.
‘You can’t save everybody, Nellie.’
‘No, but I can die trying. Be as good as you can manage. See you soon, I hope. And enjoy your time with Lisa. She’s precious.’ Nellie turned, had second thoughts, and came back. ‘If you ever want a change of career, I’ll see what I can do. All the best to you and your family, especially the little one.’
Belle watched the old woman walking away. Where was she from? Why did she live such a strange life when she was so clever and astute? She carried all kinds of stuff in the Silver Cross, a clean plastic box of pasties and sandwiches for the hungry, holy water from Lourdes for the sinners and the sick, biscuits, a New Testament, her own lunch, St Christopher medals for travellers, bandages, foot salve for those who walked miles, and God alone knew what else. Like a missionary, she went forth to help; she was a mystery.
Belle began to examine Lisa’s pram. It looked factory new, its body cream, hood and waterproof apron navy blue. The doll was dressed in a christening gown, and the top sheet had broderie anglaise trimming. Over the sheet lay a pink, padded eiderdown, while the pillow matched the sheet. Belle suddenly couldn’t wait to see her daughter’s reaction to this gift. Thanks to Nellie and Babs, she could now have the pleasure of handing the pram over to her child. Lisa was going to love it, she told herself as she travelled homeward. It was a bit of a walk, especially while pushing a pram that was too low, but she progressed as fast as she could.
She entered her parents’ property via the rear gate, parking the pram in a small building that used to house an outside lavatory. As she stepped back into the rear alleyway to walk round to the front, Belle froze. Oh, no. No, no, no! The man was walking away from her, but she recognized him even from the rear as Tom Duffield, a client of hers. With his upper body covered only by a short-sleeved shirt, the abbreviated arm was clearly visible.
He was a good, likeable soul who had lost a hand in a factory accident, yet this was a moment she had dreaded for years. She was fond of him. But her two lives were colliding, and panic took firm root in her chest. Although she’d always known that it was bound to happen one day, she felt weak with shock.
She re-entered the back yard and stood staring at the house with her arms spread across the gate as if trying to block out the person she had just seen. Why had Mam and Dad moved? The other house had been adequate, since Lisa had always been happy to share a room on the few occasions when Belle had spared the cash to go home.
Where did he live? Was he a close neighbour, had he been visiting a friend, had he seen his masseuse and sex partner? After doing her best to reclaim a level of calm, she entered the house by the scullery door. ‘That you, Belle?’ her mother called.
‘Yes, Mam.’ After setting the kettle to boil on a gas ring, the terrified woman found her mother in the room commonly known as the kitchen. ‘I just saw a man with one hand,’ she said as casually as she could.
‘Did you?’
‘Who is he?’
‘Oh, it’ll be Duffy,’ Frankie said. ‘Tom Duffield. Lost a hand, then his wife and children. She couldn’t bear the sight of his stump, or so I’ve been told, so she upped and offed back to her mam, took the little lads with her.’
Belle gripped the door handle. ‘Does he live near you?’
‘Number forty-two,’ Frankie replied, ‘just three doors down that way. He’s a . . . oh, what is it? A voluntary social welfare worker for a few hours once a week, helps people who’ve had bits amputated.’ She stopped dusting and looked at her daughter. ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, babe.’
Belle mouthed her next words quietly. ‘I’ve got a pram for Lisa. I think I’ve walked too far, Mam.’
Frankie grinned broadly. ‘Where is it?’
‘In the old lav shed down the yard. Where is she?’
‘She’s in Amelia’s house, so you don’t need to whisper. It’s opposite us, blue door, blue and white flowers in tubs under the bay window. Go and get her.’
‘Will you do it, Mam? I’m exhausted after steering that pram from the bottom end of Rice Lane, and my back aches.’
While Frankie went to fetch her granddaughter, Belle sat and pondered. Was
this the time for truth? Should she tell her parents about what she really did for a living? She shook her head. They’d already accepted their daughter’s illegitimate child. The rest of the facts might kill them, and even if they survived, the truth would reside thereafter in this house with Lisa, who must never find out. But the situation was already on top of Lisa, because Tom Duffield was living within spitting distance. ‘I’ll visit him,’ she muttered. ‘If I plead with him, he’ll keep my secret, because he’s suffered himself and he’s not unkind.’
Frankie entered with Lisa. ‘Ask your mam,’ Frankie said. ‘She’s the one with the surprise.’
Belle gazed fondly at the love of her life, such a pretty little thing, blonde curls, a sweet face currently wearing a huge smile. ‘It’s somewhere,’ she told the child. ‘You’ll have to find it.’
Lisa jumped up and down on the spot. ‘What is it, what is it?’
‘A surprise. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?’
‘Is it a book, Mummy? I can read some words, cos I’m nearly four now.’
‘No, not a book.’
‘A toy?’
‘It might be. But you find it. No more questions, Lisa.’
For about five minutes, the little girl tore round the house like a whirlwind, finally returning to the kitchen. ‘Is it a little surprise?’ she asked, ‘cos I can’t find it anywhere, even in drawers and under beds and behind furniture.’
Frankie grinned. ‘It’s not little.’
Belle couldn’t bear her little girl’s tension. ‘If it’s not inside the house, it must be outside – not at the front, though. If it had been at the front, it might have got stolen.’
Lisa ran to the window. ‘There’s nothing in the back yard.’
‘Go and look where Granddad keeps his brush and shovel and tools.’
The child disappeared at speed, returning without her prize. She stood in the doorway between scullery and kitchen, blue eyes huge and watering. ‘Oh, Mummy. It’s the bestest present I ever had, betterer than Amelia’s.’
Midnight on Lime Street Page 8
