Survivor: Only the strongest will remain standing . . .

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Unless she was there at your birth, she couldn’t have been a hundred per cent sure of anything. I think Billy might have started putting ideas in her head, questioning what she believed to be true. It would explain why she had a fear of Mal Fury. What if he found her and took you away? That must have been a pretty scary thought for her.’

  Lita’s eyes grew sad and solemn as though she was remembering past times – times that were not entirely happy. ‘But what was in it for him, for Billy?’

  ‘Who knows? Just the fun of it, perhaps. It gave him a hold over her. If she didn’t do what he wanted, he’d pick up the phone and tell Mal Fury where she was. She wouldn’t have wanted that even if she could prove you weren’t his. It would have meant the truth coming out. It would have meant you finding out that she wasn’t actually your mother.’

  ‘That’s evil,’ she said.

  ‘It’s that all right.’ Nick had been talking to lots of people since his last meeting with Lita. He’d been retracing Stanley’s steps, repeating conversations, going over old ground in the hope of unearthing something new. And eventually his persistence had paid off. He now had another theory, but not one he was currently prepared to share with Lita. He thought he knew who her real mother was.

  57

  Lita didn’t like the Blackwall Tunnel. It felt like a never-ending corridor of gloom; grey and bleak with the walls pressing in on her. She half closed her eyes so she wouldn’t need to see it clearly. Her head was full of too many things for her to concentrate on any one of them: her mother, Billy Martin’s sick machinations, Mal’s imprisonment, the death of Teddy Heath, and the fact that she was homeless and had nowhere to go. The latter of these was brought to the forefront when Nick asked her where she’d like to be dropped off.

  As yet, Lita hadn’t really thought this through. She tried to think of somewhere, anywhere.

  ‘Lita?’

  ‘Huh?’ she said, playing for time as if she hadn’t heard the question.

  ‘I was just asking where you’d like to go.’

  Lita had to make a quick decision. She only knew two parts of London well and one of these was the Hatton Garden area – completely out of the question – and the other was Kellston. It was better, surely, to choose somewhere familiar. It wasn’t ideal but it would do for now; she could always move on once her head was less frazzled.

  ‘Oh, right, yes. Could you drop me off in Kellston?’

  Nick seemed surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve got friends there.’ It only occurred to her, as she said this, that what she actually had were enemies. Brenda Cecil and her sons would still be harbouring a grudge. Tony would be out of prison by now and she doubted his time inside had done much, if anything, to alter his feelings towards her. But it was too late to change her mind. With any luck they wouldn’t even recognise her after five years. ‘The station will be fine. I can ring them from there.’

  ‘They’re not expecting you then?’

  Lita thought she detected a hint of scepticism in his voice and said firmly, ‘Of course they are. I just wasn’t sure what time I’d arrive.’

  Nick’s eyebrows shifted up a fraction but he didn’t pursue it.

  Ten minutes later they were out of the tunnel and in the East End of London. It wouldn’t be long now before they got to Kellston. Gradually the streets became more familiar until Lita felt a lurch in her stomach. She saw the three tall towers in the distance and knew she was on home ground. The sudden swelling of emotion took her by surprise and she swallowed hard, turning her face away so Nick couldn’t see it.

  There was nowhere to stop outside the station and instead he pulled into the car park of the Fox. He kept the engine idling while he jumped out and retrieved her suitcase from the boot. Lita followed him, reaching out a hand to take the case.

  ‘Thanks for the lift,’ she said.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

  Lita forced a smile. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You’ve got my number. You’ll stay in touch, yeah?’

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  But still he didn’t go. Instead he said, ‘I’ll tell you what, why don’t we meet up here on Saturday? We can have a catch-up. How about seven o’clock?’

  ‘Seven,’ she repeated. ‘Fine. Okay. I’ll see you then.’

  ‘You won’t forget?’

  Lita shook her head. ‘Bye then.’

  ‘Bye.’

  Before he could think of anything else, Lita started walking towards the station. She was aware of the car door shutting and the car moving off. She waved as he went past, trying to keep the smile on her lips. It was only when he’d gone through the traffic lights on the corner that she stopped and put the case down again.

  Lita wondered why she’d lied, pretending to have somewhere to stay when she didn’t. It was partly pride – she didn’t want his pity or his help – but mainly because she didn’t trust him. Mal was in enough trouble without being implicated in Stanley Parrish’s death as well. The corners of her mouth turned down. Would she turn up on Saturday? She hadn’t decided yet. Maybe not, but then again… There was an old saying, wasn’t there, about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?

  Lita sighed and turned her attention to the matter in hand. Station Road was lined with boarding houses and B&Bs and she reckoned she could find some cheap accommodation, especially if she headed for the less desirable area up by Albert Road. Accordingly, she turned round, picked up the case and started walking in the opposite direction to the station.

  It was hot and despite her economical packing the suitcase seemed to get heavier with every step she took. She could feel the ache in her arm and a prickle of sweat on her forehead. Once she had booked into a room, her next task was to find a job. Anything would do, although she wasn’t exactly qualified for much. Ideally she’d like to work in a jewellery shop, but without a reference the chances were slim. She thought of the job she’d been supposed to be starting at Fury’s in September, and sighed again. It was unlikely to happen now. With Mal locked up she wasn’t even sure if the business would keep running.

  Lita plodded on. The large redbrick Victorian houses grew shabbier the further she got from the station. Most of them had a cardboard sign stuck in a bottom window with the word VACANCIES scrawled on it. She stared at each one as she passed, trying to figure out from its appearance – the state of the paintwork, the colour of the net curtains – which was likely to be the cheapest. She would need to be frugal if she was to make Esther’s money last.

  Lita was still trying to make up her mind when she came to a short row of shops squashed between the houses. A tallish woman emerged from a newsagent’s holding a bottle of milk in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. She was in her late forties with dyed blonde hair, and was wearing a white leather miniskirt, a skimpy white top and a lot of make-up. There was something familiar about her but it took a moment for the penny to drop. Lita’s mouth widened into its first genuine smile of the day.

  ‘Stella!’

  The woman turned a blank face towards her, her scarlet lips parting slightly.

  ‘It’s me,’ Lita said. ‘Don’t you remember? It’s —’

  Stella suddenly let out a squawk. ‘Oh my God! Lolly! It’s little Lolly!’ She tottered a few steps in her high heels before wrapping her skinny arms round Lita and giving her a mighty hug. Lita could feel the cold chill of the milk bottle on her back, but the warmth of the greeting more than made up for it.

  Stella leaned back and gazed at her. ‘I can’t believe it’s you. I really can’t. What are you doing here, love? Look at you! All grown up! God, it’s been years.’

  Lita laughed and some of the tension slipped from her body. ‘Five,’ she said. ‘How have you been?’

  ‘Oh, you know me. I always get by. I asked that Brenda Cecil about you but she wouldn’t tell me nothin’, just that you’d gone off to live with someone else. She doesn’t open her gob without a lie coming o
ut of it so I didn’t know what to believe. I thought she might have put you into care.’

  Lita’s smile faltered a little on hearing Brenda’s name. ‘She’s still here then?’

  ‘Christ, yeah. The only way she’ll be leaving that shop is when they carry her out in a box. But enough about that old cow. Tell me about you. How have you been? What have you been doing?’ Before Lita had a chance to answer, Stella’s gaze slid down and alighted on the suitcase. ‘You planning on staying a while, hon?’

  ‘For now. It’s a long story, but I need somewhere cheap to stay. Do you know anywhere that isn’t too pricy?’

  Stella shoved the cigarettes in her bag and linked her free arm through Lita’s. ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a brew while I think about it.’

  The house on Albert Road hadn’t changed much since Lita had visited as a thirteen-year-old. The kitchen still had paint peeling from the walls and still smelled of stale cigarette smoke and weed. The door to the small back yard was open but there wasn’t a breeze. She sat at the table while Stella put the kettle on and washed out a couple of mugs.

  ‘You’ve had some problems then, the place you’ve been living?’

  Lita didn’t want to go into it all. The story was too long and even the thought of explaining made her feel tired. ‘You could say that.’

  Stella looked over her shoulder and smiled. ‘Well, these things happen; it’s not the end of the world. You’re back where you belong now. We’ll soon get you fixed up.’

  Lita nodded, smiling too. In truth, she had never been entirely sure where she belonged, but it felt comforting to be in the kitchen, to be back in the place where she had once found a temporary escape from her misery. ‘You always were good to me. Kind, you know? I never forgot. I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about that.’ Stella flapped a hand dismissively. ‘You were only a kid. Anyhow, you must have had more important things on your mind than us lot.’

  ‘I used to like coming here.’

  ‘This old dump? I can’t think why. All we ever do is sit around and gossip.’

  Lita knew it was because they’d taken an interest, paid her some attention, but wasn’t sure how to put into words without coming across as sad and needy. ‘I’ve got a lot to catch up on then. You’ll have to tell me everything.’

  ‘How long have you got?’ Stella put the mugs of tea down on the table and pulled out a chair. ‘You heard about Joe Quinn, did you?’

  ‘Only recently.’

  Stella lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew the smoke out through her nose. ‘I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and all, but he was one nasty bastard. Deserved everything he got if you ask me. Terry’s got his faults – ain’t they all? – but at least he treats us decent. You can talk to him, straightforward like, without him going off on one.’

  It was a long time since Lita had thought about Terry Street. She remembered him coming to Brenda’s on the day he organised the alibi for Tony, standing at the back door with his dark hair slicked down by the rain. ‘He’s still around then?’

  ‘Stepped straight into Joe’s shoes, didn’t he? He even bought the Fox. Got it for a snip, mind, after Joe’s boys went down. That wife of Tommy’s couldn’t wait to get rid.’

  Lita, recalling the errands she’d used to run, wondered if Terry had any jobs going now. She wouldn’t be much use to him in her former position – she was too old to run around unnoticed like she used to – but maybe there was something else. In the pub, for instance. It couldn’t be that hard to pull a pint. But would he even take her on? She took a sip of tea, frowning while she thought about it.

  Stella must have mistaken her worried expression for concern about something else, because she suddenly reached out and laid her hand across Lita’s. ‘Are you in trouble, love? Is that it? Only if you are, you can tell me. You can tell me anything.’

  ‘I’ll be okay.’

  ‘We all make mistakes. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. And it’s always the woman, of course, who’s left to pick up the pieces. But don’t you worry about it. You’ve got choices, you know.’

  It was a moment before Lita realised what kind of trouble she meant. ‘God, no. I’m not… I’m not pregnant.’ And then, because she thought Stella deserved some kind of an explanation she quickly added, ‘I just can’t go back to where I was living. Not at the moment. It’s all gone wrong.’ Recent events tumbled through her mind and she felt her lower lip start to tremble. ‘I can’t go back. I can’t.’

  ‘And no one’s saying you have to, hon.’ Stella patted her hand. ‘Don’t go getting upset. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Look, why don’t you stay here for a while, just until you get yourself sorted? There’s an empty room up top. It’s nothin’ much but it’s a roof over your head.’

  Lita felt relief wash over her. ‘Really? Do you mean it?’ Suddenly, she didn’t feel quite so alone. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘You won’t be thanking me when you’ve seen it, love.’

  ‘I don’t care what it’s like.’

  Stella stood up and laughed. ‘Famous last words. Come on, grab that case of yours and we’ll get you settled in.’

  The room was up three flights of stairs, under the eaves at the very top of the house. The slant of the roof took up a third of the space and the rest was filled with a bare single mattress, a rickety looking chest of drawers and an old armchair with stuffing oozing out of the arms. There was a stained beige carpet on the floor, and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Dust lay everywhere, a thick unmoving blanket. It was a far cry from the room with the peacocks, but Lita didn’t care. For her, at this moment, it was sanctuary.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Stella said. ‘It ain’t exactly the Ritz.’

  Lita dropped the case on the floor. ‘It’s fine, really it is.’ She went over to the window and looked out. Albert Road was quiet with only a few cars cruising by. There was a crack in the pane of glass running from the top right hand corner to the centre where it suddenly stopped as though it had run out of steam. A thin pair of curtains hung either side, slightly lopsided from where they’d come adrift from the rings on the rail.

  ‘I’ll sort you some sheets and stuff, and you can use the bathroom downstairs.’

  Lita turned and smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No need to thank me, hon. Like I said, it ain’t what you’d call five star. Still, so long as you’re okay with it.’

  They went back downstairs where the kitchen table was now occupied by two other women. Lita recognised one of them straight away, but the other was a stranger.

  ‘Hey, Jackie,’ Stella said. ‘Look who I bumped into!’

  Jackie stared hard at Lita, clearly trying to place her without having much success.

  Stella gave up waiting and announced, ‘It’s Lolly, little Lolly! Don’t you remember? I was just walking down the street and… Can you believe it after all these years?’

  ‘Hi,’ Lita said.

  Jackie, who had never been especially friendly back in the day, hadn’t mellowed with age. She gave a low grunt as if Lita’s presence was of no more interest to her than a speck of dust in the air. ‘Oh, right.’

  Stella turned her attention to the other woman. ‘Maureen, this is Lolly. She’s going to be staying for a while.’

  Maureen nodded and smiled. ‘Hello, hon. Nice to meet you.’

  ‘What do you mean, staying?’ Jackie asked, her indifference instantly switching to something more aggressive. ‘Why haven’t I been told about this?’