‘Where do they sleep?’
‘What?’
‘Which room or rooms do they occupy?’
‘Now look, you sling your hook—’
As the policemen brushed past Kitty and made for the stairs, Kitty growled, ‘Theirs is the first one at the top of the stairs,’ before hissing at Pearl, ‘Now look what you’ve done. You should have slammed the door in their faces an’ bolted it.’
Pearl stood in the hall biting at her thumbnail as her mother followed the policemen upstairs. It wouldn’t have made any difference if she’d done what her mother said, she told herself sickly as thuds and the sound of drawers being opened came from the lads’ room. Look at the Holdens in Fighting Cock Lane. The police had broken the door down when they’d come after Mr Holden, and the neighbours had seen Mrs Holden carried out kicking and screaming because she’d tried to stop them taking her husband.
Her stomach churning, Pearl listened to her mother ranting and raving. Then suddenly, Kitty’s voice stopped, and she could hear one of the policemen saying something, his tone grim and sonorous. She was just wondering whether to creep upstairs and listen at the keyhole when the door to the lads’ bedroom opened.
Shrinking back against the wall, Pearl watched the two policemen walk downstairs, her mother following. Kitty’s voice was plaintive when she said, ‘Look, I’m tellin’ you, I knew nowt about them things an’ nor do my lads. Likely they’ve bin stuffed up the chimney for donkey’s years, long afore we moved in.’
‘I doubt that, Mrs Croft.’ Constable Johnson was holding a cloth bag. ‘Some of this jewellery matches a description of property which was stolen over the Christmas period.’
‘Not by my lads.’
‘A robbery in which the butler of the residence was threatened with a knife until he showed the three thieves where the safe was hidden.’
‘There you are then. My lads wouldn’t know one end of a knife from the other. Good as gold they are.’
Constable Johnson stopped and turned in the hall, staring at Kitty who remained on the bottom step of the stairs. She stared back, openly defiant. ‘We’ve had our eye on your lads for some time, so this is no more a surprise to us than it is to you,’ he said flatly. ‘We just haven’t been able to get any proof before.’
‘Proof!’ Kitty snorted. ‘Likely you slipped that up the chimney when I wasn’t look in’, to fit ’em up.’
‘You know that isn’t true, Mrs Croft.’
‘The devil I do. You lot are all the same, terrorism’ good, honest, godfearin’ souls like my lads while turnin’ a blind eye to the goings-on of the nobs. I know, I know.’
‘Shut up.’ The other policeman was clearly losing patience. He included Pearl in the sweep of his head as he said, ‘Go and sit in the kitchen. And quietly.’
‘Don’t you tell me what to do in me own house.’ Kitty’s chin was up, her thin lips clamped together, but as the policeman took a step towards her she quickly went through to the kitchen.
Once Pearl and her mother were sitting at the kitchen table Constable Johnson opened the door into the yard and disappeared for a few minutes. Nothing was said until he returned. The other policeman stood in front of the range warming his buttocks as though he had forgotten their presence.
When Constable Johnson walked in, Pearl noticed he wasn’t holding the cloth bag any more. Glancing at his colleague, he said, ‘No sign as yet, but we’re ready.’
‘More of you skulkin’ about, is there?’ Kitty said sharply.
‘Worry you, does it?’
Kitty shrugged but she couldn’t hide her unease. Pearl’s hands were joined on her breast; she was feeling panic-stricken. Wild thoughts darted about her head. Could she jump up and run out before they caught her, and warn Seth and the lads? Or pretend she had to go and see someone? A neighbour maybe? Or say she had to go to the privy and then creep out and try to get away?
But she didn’t know where Seth and the others were or when they were coming back, only that it would be soon and they would enter the house via the back lane. They always did. And the waiting policemen would catch them.
Her mind whirled and spun; although it was hard for her to think clearly, she knew she and her mother were as helpless to change the next hour or two as her three brothers were. They were all caught in a trap.
She could smell that the hodge podge was beginning to catch on the bottom of the pan and so she stood up and walked over to the range to stir it.
‘Something smells good.’
Constable Johnson smiled at her but she didn’t smile back. She thought she heard him sigh but then from outside came the sounds she had been dreading. Men shouting, a policeman’s whistle, Seth’s voice and Walter’s too.
Constable Johnson’s colleague had wrenched open the back door and she and her mother followed them into the yard, Kitty shrieking obscenities. The yard vibrated to screams and yells and to the thud of blows, and in the tangle of fighting bodies Pearl saw her brothers and several policemen. Even as she watched, a policeman caught Fred a vicious blow on the side of his head with his truncheon and her brother went down like a felled tree, another policeman falling on top of him.
The next-door neighbours on either side had come to their back doors and were adding to the din, shouting encouragement to their own and screaming abuse at the policemen. Even the dogs in the immediate area were joining in and barking ferociously.
Pearl’s only thought was to get to her beloved Seth. She had flung herself into the fray before Constable Johnson, who was having his work cut out to hold Kitty, could stop her. Seth had undoubtedly been getting the worst of it – there were two big burly policemen to each brother – but he was still on his feet when Pearl reached him. The policeman who had been about to club Seth with his truncheon managed to stop in the nick of time as the small figure came between them, and Seth, his arms opening instinctively to receive her, staggered back a pace or two to land against the yard wall.
It was all over within moments. Fred was yanked to his feet where he stood dazed and bleeding next to Walter, who was being restrained by the simple expedient of having his arm twisted behind his back so far he was doubled up in agony. Kitty had stopped struggling and had collapsed on the icy ground, wailing like a banshee and slapping at Constable Johnson’s hands when he tried to pick her up.
Pearl was now wrapped around Seth’s chest like a small monkey, her body heaving with silent sobs as the blood from a cut above his eyebrow dripped on to her hair. When one of the policemen tried to take her from Seth she clung all the tighter, nearly strangling her brother in the process. It was a signal from Constable Johnson that made the other policeman step back.
‘It’s all right, lass, it’s all right.’ Seth’s head was swimming and he felt nauseous from the blows he’d received. ‘This’ll get sorted, don’t you worry.’
She didn’t believe him. She had seen the cloth bag and the expression on the face of Constable Johnson when he had looked at her mother. They were going to take Seth away and she couldn’t bear it.
‘I need you to look after James and Pat for me.’ The fight had gone out of Seth as he stood swaying with Pearl in his arms, and he knew he was in a bad way. He had never passed out in his life but he was a breath away from it. ‘Will you do that, eh, lass? Till I’m home?’
She didn’t answer for a moment and then a trembling, whispered, ‘Yes,’ reached him.
‘There’s a good girl.’ He didn’t want to give way and let himself slide to the ground, the coppers would love that, but he felt as weak as a kitten. He managed to unwind her from him and set her on her feet a moment before the ground rushed up to meet him, the last sound he heard before losing consciousness her frantic cries.
Chapter 4
Seth came to in the police wagon. He was propped between two big policemen, and Fred and Walter were sitting opposite him. As he raised his head and tried to focus, he remembered what had happened and in answer to Fred’s, ‘You all right, man?’ he nodde
d before shutting his eyes again, as much to think as anything.
‘They’ve found the stash up the chimney.’
Walter’s voice brought his eyes opening again. He felt muzzy and sick, but his mind was clearing. ‘Shut up, Walt.’
‘It’s no good, Seth.’
‘I said shut up.’ As his brother did as he was told, Seth looked at them both, his voice softer as he said, ‘You know nowt, all right? Nowt. Anything I did, I did on my own. Got it?’
‘You don’t seriously think the judge’ll buy that, do you?’ the policeman on Seth’s left said scornfully. ‘The three of you are going down the line, make up your minds about that.’ He jerked his head towards his companion. ‘Interesting what we found on him when he was out cold, eh?’
‘Very interesting.’
As Seth’s hand went instinctively to his trouser leg and the hidden compartment where he kept his knife, the first policeman laughed. ‘Too late, son. Much too late.’
Seth’s lower jaw moved from one side to the other but he said nothing. They had him, sure enough, but if his brothers played their cards right they might still walk away. Someone needed to take care of things at home.
He was still thinking this way right up to the moment the next morning when he was taken out of his cold miserable cell in the bowels of the police station. He was flanked by two policemen and led up a flight of stone steps into a narrow corridor which had several doors opening on to it. One of the policemen opened the first one and pushed him into a small, windowless room which had a bench attached to one wall. The only other furniture consisted of a square wooden table behind which two policemen were sitting on large padded chairs. He knew immediately that these were not ordinary flatfoots but men of authority, even before one of them said, ‘Seth Croft, isn’t it? I’m Inspector Taylor and this is Sergeant Atkinson. I hope you don’t intend to waste our time.’
The two policemen who had escorted him from the cells had gone to stand by the door, leaving him in the middle of the room facing his inquisitors. He turned and glanced at their impassive faces before staring at the two men sitting. The Inspector had spoken in what Seth would have described as a la-di-dah voice, but when the Sergeant said, ‘Well, lad? Going to make a clean breast of it, I hope?’ the Northern burr was strong.
Seth’s head was still pounding and he felt sick to the depths of his stomach, but his voice was steady. ‘Clean breast of what?’
‘The little matter of certain valuables taken from Highgrave House being found stuffed up the chimney in your bedroom, along with other objects we know to be stolen. That’s what.’ The Sergeant paused. ‘It’s no use denying it, lad. The knife even matches the description of the one used by the three assailants to threaten the butler.’
Seth returned the man’s stare but said nothing.
‘If you’re canny you’ll plead guilty and save us all a lot of time. Always goes down well with the judge, a guilty plea. He don’t like folk trying to mess him about, any more than we do.’
All through the long night hours when he’d been chilled to the marrow and feeling like death, Seth had thought about what he was going to say. Now it came easily. ‘Aye, well, it looks like you know it all, but you’ve got it wrong about me brothers. I was with two other blokes, but Fred and Walt aren’t involved in this.’
‘Oh, come, Mr Croft.’ The Inspector’s smooth voice suggested amusement. ‘Do we look as though we were born yesterday?’
‘It’s the truth.’
‘Your brothers accompanied you on that spree and others.’
‘No.’
‘They are your partners in crime in every way.’
‘No, they aren’t.’ He appealed to the Sergeant. ‘They aren’t, I swear it. He’s got it wrong.’
‘Tell him.’ The Inspector looked briefly at his colleague. ‘I haven’t got all day.’
Tell him? Tell him what? As Seth stared at the Sergeant, fear gripped his vitals.
‘We had a tip-off, lad. About you and your brothers. They put you down for the Highgrave job and two others. I’d say you’ve upset someone, someone who knew a mite too much for your good.’
McArthur. Seth’s stomach turned over. Somehow McArthur had found out about the couple of recent jobs they’d done on their own. But how could he? They’d been careful, dead careful. They hadn’t even tried to get rid of the stuff through the normal channels, knowing McArthur had long fingers, but had hidden it for the time when they left Sunderland for good. That’s what he’d been working towards. Getting the family away down South where they could make a new start.
‘Well?’ The Inspector leaned slightly forward over the table and Seth noticed how cold his eyes were. Glassy almost. Like a fish. ‘What do you say now?’
His mouth was dry. He had to swallow before he could say, ‘My brothers weren’t with me. They’ve never been with me.’
‘Get him out of here.’
The Sergeant nodded at the policemen behind him and the next moment Seth felt himself hauled backwards out of the room. Despite his protests that he could walk by himself they didn’t relinquish their grip on his arms until they thrust him back into his cell. When the door banged closed behind them Seth stood for a moment with his eyes tightly shut. Then he opened them and walked across to sit on the wooden pallet-bed which was devoid of even a straw mattress. Besides this there was just a bucket in one corner and it stank to high heaven.
Would Fred and Walter do what he’d told them and keep to the story that they were innocent of all charges? He sat gripping his knees, his mind racing. They had to – it was the only hope for Pearl and his mam and the babbies.
Perhaps he’d been crazy to think he could do anything without McArthur finding out, but he’d never imagined in his wildest dreams it would result in this. A beating from one of McArthur’s thugs perhaps, even a kneecap job, but not this. And of course McArthur would have known he wouldn’t have dared to try to get rid of the stuff through the network offences in the town, so he’d probably assumed it would be in the house somewhere. Damn it.
Seth dropped his head in his hands. How could he have been so stupid? Better to work for McArthur for ever and a day than this. The three of them banged up together. What was he going to do?
In the event he could do nothing. Three weeks later, on a bitterly cold February day, Seth, Frederick and Walter Croft were sent to prison for eight years apiece.
Kitty had left Pearl minding the children and gone to the courthouse to hear the verdict, at which time she caused such a commotion she had to be forcibly removed from the building. It was Constable Johnson who told her on the steps of the courthouse that she could count herself lucky; but for the fact that the judge’s wife had presented him with a bonny baby boy the night before, her lads might well have received fifteen years or longer. And now her best bet was to go home and look after her family, he added grimly. If the judge hadn’t been in such a good mood, she would have found herself in contempt of court and in the cells with her lads.
Kitty watched the constable as he made his way back inside the building, rubbing her arm where his fingers had gripped her as he’d manhandled her out of the court. Stinking copper. She spat on the ground. All alike, they were.
Pulling her shawl over her head, she began walking home, the grey afternoon made more miserable by the freezing fog which had enveloped everything in a shroud. She wasn’t far from Low Street when, on passing one of the rough, spit-and-sawdust pubs in the area, the door opened and a burly sailor half fell into the street, righting himself by holding onto her shoulder.
‘Hey, get off, you,’ she began, only to stop and peer at him. ‘Seamus?’ she said. ‘Is that you?’
‘Kitty?’ Seamus had had more than a few. ‘The fair Kitty? Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes.’ He belched a gust of beer fumes into her face. ‘Your lads around, are they?’
She knew what he was asking. And the idea that had begun to take shape from the day Seth and the others were arrested, crystallised. �
��No, they’re not around. They’ll not be around for many a long day.’ Swiftly she explained what had happened, adding, ‘So things’ll be a bit different from now on, lad. I’ve bairns to feed, so I can’t give it away for fun no more, if you get my drift.’
Seamus got her drift and it didn’t bother him an iota. He had paid for his pleasure since taking to the sea as a youth, leaving his seed in accommodating bellies in every port he’d docked at. Smiling, he said, ‘Suits me, lass. An’ I take it I can stay the night for the right price, being as we’re old friends, as it were?’
Kitty smiled back. Seamus was a good sort, he’d always brought a couple of bottles of gin with him in the past, and she had other ‘friends’ she knew would be as reasonable. ‘Don’t see why not. It’s up to me now, isn’t it?’
He put his arm round her waist, drawing her against him. ‘How about we get some gin on the way back, eh? An’ how are you off for grub? I could eat a horse.’
Kitty hesitated. The bit of money Seth had put by for what he’d called a rainy day was fast disappearing, and if Seamus was prepared to fork out . . .
Seamus took the hint. ‘Come on, lass, we’ll call and get a few victuals, how about that? I sail the morrer but I’ll see you all right afore I go. Can’t say fairer than that.’
The fog had drawn in an early twilight and Pearl had already lit the oil lamp in the kitchen when Kitty walked in. The relief at seeing her mother swamped everything for a moment and she didn’t realise Kitty wasn’t alone.
‘Oh, Mam, what happened?’ She had been like a cat on a hot tin roof all day, but since her mother had left earlier, her anxiety had known no bounds. After shouting at James for no other reason than that the toddler wanted some attention, she’d tried to pull herself together. Settling James on the clippy mat in front of the fire with a saucepan lid and a wooden spoon, she’d let him bang away to his heart’s content while she’d seen to Patrick, propping the baby up in the desk bed with a crust to chew on. He was teething hard and miserable with it. Once her baby brothers were occupied she had made the pastry for the cow-heel pie they were having for dinner, using the leftover pieces for a few jam tarts, but when it had begun to get dark and her mother still hadn’t returned, each minute had seemed like an hour.
Born to Trouble Page 4
