The walk home went by in a blur, but she was still sensible enough to know that clambering over the high wall at the end of Plumley Street, and walking past all the houses wasn’t a very good idea. Her clothes, her hands, and, she suspected, her face, were spattered with Mr Zuckerman’s blood, and the last thing she felt like doing was explaining to Phoebe and Sooky what she had been up to.
So she walked along East India Dock Road, ducking into shop doorways whenever she thought she saw anyone she knew coming towards her, and then slipped into Chrisp Street. Being a Sunday, there was no market and everything was much quieter than usual, so no one saw her as she darted along the alley that led from the back of the Queen’s to the back of Joe and Aggie’s place.
Still unobserved, she shinned up over the wall into the yard of number twelve, completing Timmy and Michael’s favourite escape route in reverse. But, as she stepped into the kitchen, the sight of her coming through the back door, covered in blood, was enough to make Liz, who was doing the teatime washing up with Danny, drop the saucer she was wiping dry. It smashed on to the lino, breaking into what looked like a thousand fragments.
‘Moll!’ she gasped. ‘Whatever’s happened to yer?’
‘Where’s Mum?’ Molly asked, dropping down heavily on to one of the kitchen chairs.
Danny grabbed her hand. ‘She’s up having a lay down, upset about Dad again. But that don’t matter, where you hurt, Moll?’
‘I ain’t. This blood ain’t mine.’ She turned to Liz; for some reason her friend looked as though she was about to start crying. ‘Yer couldn’t get us a drop o’ water, could yer, Liz?’
‘Yeah. Yeah. Course.’
Molly nodded her thanks as she raised the drink to her lips, then she gulped it down in one go and handed back the empty cup. ‘I’ve just seen Bob Jarvis kill some old bloke,’ she blurted out.
‘You what?’
‘You heard, Dan. He kicked him to death, right in front of me.’
Danny shook his head, trying to make sense of what he had just heard his sister say. ‘But you ain’t seeing him no more.’
‘No, course I ain’t. I just bumped into him.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It’s simple, I told yer. He kicked a bloke to death and I saw him do it. And that’s exactly what I told the police and all.’
‘You what?’
‘You heard, Dan. I told ’em everything.’
‘I don’t believe you. Yer do know who yer messing with, don’t yer, Moll?’
‘Yeah. I went out with him, remember?’
Danny looked round at Liz, but she just got down on her hands and knees, and started collecting the shards of china in a sheet of old newspaper. ‘I hope this wasn’t one of yer mum’s best saucers,’ she said, keeping her head down.
‘Bugger the saucer,’ hissed Danny. ‘I wanna know what she thinks she’s up to.’
Molly rose shakily to her feet. ‘And what should I have done, eh?’ she demanded, daring him to contradict her.
‘I think I’d have thought what Jarvis might do to me before I started mouthing off to the law.’
‘Aw yeah? Your old mate Bob a bit of a nutter, is he?’
Danny didn’t know what to say. Not only was he scared for Molly – he had seen what Bob Jarvis was capable of at the rally – but he was still unable to come to terms with the fact that he’d been taken in by someone who could even think of doing such terrible things. Danny was sickened by the thought of how close he himself had come to being just like Bob Jarvis. In his confused state of mind, it was the fury he felt at himself, rather than any anger he felt with his sister, that made him flare up at her.
‘Yer know what’s wrong with you, Moll?’ he asked, his eyes narrowed. ‘Yer’ve turned on yer own.’
Molly levelled her gaze on Danny. ‘You sound just like Jarvis.’
‘Running to the law.’ Danny shook his head contemptuously, but he was quaking inside, thinking of what Jarvis was capable of. ‘Name one family round here what don’t pull some sort o’ stroke or other to make a few extra coppers.’
‘Are you taking the piss, Dan? I ain’t talking about a bit of thieving or fencing. I’m talking about murdering a defenceless old man.’ Molly turned to Liz. ‘You tell him.’
‘Don’t look at me, Moll,’ she said, putting the wrapped china in the rubbish bucket. ‘I ain’t getting involved.’ She quietly fitted the lid back on the pail. ‘I know we’re mates, and I hope we always will be, but I can’t take sides.’
Danny went over to the back door. He grasped hold of the frame and stared out at the dusty back yard.
‘Did I hear someone break something in here?’ It was Katie; she was standing in the kitchen doorway. She looked terrible, but any thoughts of her own problems were instantly forgotten the moment she saw her daughter’s blood-stained clothes. ‘Molly?’
‘It’s all right, Mum, this ain’t my blood. I saw an accident.’ She dropped back down on to her chair. ‘I helped an old man what had been knocked over.’
‘Flaming traffic!’ fretted Katie. ‘Even on a Sunday. What’re things coming to?’ She lifted Molly’s chin in her hand, checking for herself that her daughter wasn’t hurt. ‘Was the old boy all right, love?’
‘I dunno, Mum,’ Molly answered her, flashing a wary glance at Danny’s back. ‘I left as soon as someone fetched the doctor. I didn’t want yer to worry about me being late.’
‘Yer a good girl, Moll,’ said Katie, going over to the sink. She ran the tea towel under the tap and then busied herself, using it to wipe away the smears of dried blood from Molly’s face. ‘Danny,’ she snapped over her shoulder, ‘whatever’s the matter with you, boy, standing there staring out the back yard when yer can see the state yer sister’s in? Put the kettle on, will yer, and make her a cuppa tea.’
‘I was just making one, Kate,’ said Liz, interrupting before Danny had the chance to put his foot in it. She picked up the kettle by way of proof and, with a shaking hand, she lit the gas and started setting out the cups and saucers. Liz was used to the Mehans hollering at one another all the time, especially since Pat had been gone, but she had never seen Danny and Molly fall out really seriously before, not like this. It made her nervous. And the thought of Bob Jarvis, and what she had now gathered he was involved in, made her feel a lot worse than nervous. She had never liked Jarvis, not after he had grabbed hold of Molly that first day they had all met up, but Danny had kept telling her that she was wrong about him, that he was a good mate, so she hadn’t thought it her place to say how he had given her the creeps.
‘Ta, Liz,’ said Katie, examining Molly’s face for any other stains. ‘Yer a good girl.’
As Liz spooned tea leaves into the pot, she cast around for something to say, anything to try to lighten the atmosphere a bit, and prevent Danny and Molly starting on each other again. She dreaded even to think what would happen if they did, especially in front of their mum. What would she have to say if it came tumbling out what had really happened and that Danny had been mates with the likes of Bob Jarvis, and that Molly had actually been seeing him?
Despite her mounting panic, inspiration struck. ‘I know, Moll,’ Liz said, reaching up to put the tea caddy back on the dresser, ‘why don’t yer come out with me and Danny tomorrow? For the Bank Holiday, like. It’ll do yer good, take yer mind off it.’
‘No thanks,’ Molly said levelly, looking over her mum’s shoulder at Danny. ‘I’ve already made plans of me own.’ She gazed up into her mum’s careworn face. ‘You be all right if I go out, will yer, Mum?’
‘Course, darling,’ Katie said, wearily dropping down on to the chair next to her daughter’s. ‘You don’t have to stay in on my part.’
The next day, after a night disturbed by nightmare visions of Mr Zuckerman dying in her arms, Molly was glad to have a reason to get up and out of the house. And, stupid as she knew it probably was, she was glad that the reason was Simon Blomstein. She just hoped against hope that he would be there af
ter what she had said to him yesterday.
But it hadn’t been so easy leaving the house.
When Molly went downstairs to the kitchen to wash, Katie was sitting at the table in her night things, nursing a cup of tea. From the look of her, she had been there all night.
‘You all right, Mum?’
Katie didn’t look up. ‘Yeah, I’m all right.’
‘You sure there’s nothing wrong?’
She smiled weakly to herself. ‘Nothing that robbing a bank and having yer dad come home wouldn’t fix.’
‘I won’t go out. I’ll stay here with you.’
She lifted her head and looked at Molly. It took Katie a moment to focus, but as the memory of Molly sitting there covered in blood sharpened in her mind, she stood up and folded her arms around her daughter.
‘I don’t want you to stay with me, love. I want yer to go out and have a good time with yer friends. Try and forget all about yesterday.’
‘Yer sure?’ Molly asked, leaning back so that she could see her mother’s face.
‘Course I am.’
‘But won’t yer be lonely? Yer know, it being Bank Holiday and everything.’
‘Lonely? With that lot next door to worry about and drive me mad?’ Katie made a feeble attempt at a smile and shooed her daughter upstairs to get ready.
By the time Molly reached the entrance to the foot tunnel – fifteen minutes early but still out of breath from running all the way in the midday August sunshine – Simon was already there.
The moment he saw her, he grabbed hold of her and kissed her on the mouth.
‘Simon! Get off!’ Molly pulled away from him. ‘Have you taken leave of yer senses?’
He stepped back from her. ‘I would have done if you hadn’t turned up.’
Molly smoothed her dress down as though he had crumpled it into a rag. ‘Will yer just look at me.’
‘You look beautiful.’
Molly glanced nervously about her. ‘We’d better get going before you do something really barmy.’
He stepped to one side, letting Molly through the doorway and on to the cast-iron spiral stairway that led down to the tunnel. ‘I was awake all night wondering if you’d come,’ he said, as he trotted down the stairs to catch up with her.
‘I didn’t get much sleep either.’
‘Good!’
Molly said nothing until she reached the bottom stair, then she turned round and said to him, ‘I couldn’t sleep, because . . .’ She paused, took a breath. ‘Look, come over here a minute, there’s too many people about.’
They moved into a dark corner, away from the lift that was just dispatching the less energetic tunnel users into the mouth of the big pipe that would take them beneath the river.
‘I didn’t get no sleep ’cos, after I left you yesterday, something really terrible happened.’
‘Your dad?’
She shook her head sadly. ‘No,’ she said quietly.
‘He’s still not back?’
She shook her head again.
‘Let’s see,’ said Simon, smiling gently down at her. ‘You saw what life would be like if you didn’t have me around to love you?’
Molly looked away; she couldn’t bear to face him when she told him what she had seen. She took a deep breath and began her story.
Only when she had finished describing the whole, horrible incident and the mess she had got herself in with the police and Bob Jarvis and her brother, did Molly look at him once more. ‘Well?’ she breathed, dreading, yet needing his response.
‘Well,’ he echoed her. His tone was measured, his face tense. ‘I think they’re bastards, him, Jarvis, especially. I think you did the right thing. I think you’re really brave. And I know I love you more now than I ever would have thought possible.’
She bowed her head. ‘Even though I used to see him when I was seeing you?’ she whispered, her words barely audible. ‘And even though me own brother was once one of ’em?’
‘You’re not seeing Jarvis any more?’
‘Course I’m not. Not since Christmas time.’
‘And your brother doesn’t sound as though he’s a bad type, not like them. He was stupid maybe, but at least he saw sense.’
Molly kept her head down. ‘I still don’t reckon he’d like me seeing yer.’
Simon lifted her chin with his finger, so that she had to look at him. ‘I think we both know that it goes without saying, there are plenty of people who wouldn’t like the idea of us seeing each other.’ He held out his hand to her and laughed sardonically. ‘After what you’ve told me, holding hands doesn’t really seem so very terrible, does it, Molly?’
They walked through the tunnel hand in hand, oblivious of the noisy families and the boisterous groups of kids who pushed past them, their manners forgotten in their eagerness to get to Greenwich and the delights of the Bank Holiday fair that awaited them on Blackheath.
As they emerged on to the south bank of the river, Simon squinted up at the bright summer sky. ‘The weather looks like it’s going to hold,’ he said, ‘so I’ll tell you my plan.’ He smiled and shook his head at his own foolishness. ‘One of my plans,’ he corrected himself. ‘I’ve got all sorts of others worked out, in case you don’t like this one.’ He scratched his head, embarrassed at what he was about to say. ‘Because, Molly, I have no intention of giving you any excuses for not wanting to spend the whole of the day with me.’
Molly smiled weakly back at him. ‘Yer a caution, you are, Simon.’
‘That’s good is it?’
‘I reckon.’
He nodded. ‘Well, let’s see if you like my plan as much as you obviously like me. Now, you sit there.’ He put his hands about her waist and lifted her easily on to the wall that ran parallel to the river bank. ‘And, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate your full concentration on what I have to offer.’
Molly did her best to keep her smile in place as, in complete contrast to his usually reserved self, Simon pranced around, acting the fool, doing his best to cheer her up and make her laugh.
He held out his hand and counted off the proposed activities on his fingers. ‘First, we have something to eat.’ He bowed in a gesture of mock formality. ‘I know that you, Miss Mehan, like me, can always fit in a bit of something tasty. Then we go to the park; have a walk, maybe a sit-down.’
‘And an ice cream?’ she asked, helping Simon with his pretence that they didn’t have a worry in the world between them.
He hesitated, considering the idea. ‘We’ll see,’ he said eventually, then grinning, he jumped back before she could reach out and flick him round the ear. He gestured behind him with his thumb. ‘Then we stroll up towards Blackheath, have a little something for our tea maybe and then . . .’ he waggled his eyebrows at her ‘. . . this is where I become all masterful. I show off my skills and win you armfuls of prizes at the fair. And then we wander home in the twilight, happy, contented, and, of course, stuffed full of ice cream. How about that?’
‘I think that sounds smashing,’ Molly said. What she didn’t say was that it would need a lot more than a day out to make her feel happy and contented ever again.
But, by early evening, as they walked up the hill towards the sounds and lights coming from the fair on Blackheath, Molly had begun to relax a little. She loved being with Simon so much, and he had made such an effort to make her forget her troubles, that it was no longer so much of a pretence. She really was beginning to enjoy herself.
As they reached the edge of the temporary, miniature city of tents, stalls and rides, flanked by the show people’s caravans, carts and trucks, they found themselves crossing a line where everyday, mundane reality ceased and a new reality of gaudy, heightened sensations began; a make-believe world, where, for a few magical hours, the commonplace could be forgotten.
The air was heavy with the cloying smell of hot engine oil mingled with the prickly scent of burning sugar. Every colour imaginable shimmered about them, and was reflected back from the h
uge gilt-framed mirrors set all around the extravagantly decorated rides. Sounds of laughter and squeals of pleasure were counterpointed by a cacophony of competing mechanical organs, churning out their jangling discordant tunes.
Digging his hand into his trouser pocket, and pulling out a handful of money, Simon ushered Molly forward onto the parched, brown grass. ‘We,’ he said, ‘are going to spend every brass farthing I have on me. So, whatever madam wants, her humble servant will be glad to provide.’
Molly looked at him and smiled, and this time she didn’t have to pretend.
‘So?’ he asked. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think I wanna do it all, Simon. I wanna have a right laugh and forget everything. Come on.’
Molly grabbed his hand, dragging him past a glittering red and gold pipe organ, with cheery, painted figures jigging and prancing to its whirling, swirling music. She guided him neatly around a huge steam engine, whose fiercely burning furnace was being fed by sweat-covered, bare-chested men wielding great black shovels so it could continue to generate the power for the rides and for the strings of bulbs draped around the stands and stalls like the loops of a bead necklace.
On they rushed, dodging in and out of excited knots of people gathered by each new wonder, until they reached the steam Gallopers, a magnificent carousel with thirty flared-nostrilled, snorting steeds pawing the air, awaiting their riders.
‘This first,’ she shouted above the music, steering Simon towards the glass-sided pay booth. ‘I went on it once when I was little with me dad.’ She paused, then added, ‘I hope he comes home soon, Simon.’
‘He will. Now come on.’
Before the roundabout had even come to a halt, Simon hauled Molly up the curving wooden steps after him. ‘Quick, I want us to go on this one. The one with the blue saddle.’
As Molly mounted the carved wooden beast and slipped her feet into the gold painted stirrups, she felt like a little girl again, or at least, the young, headstrong girl of just a year ago, the one who would scramble over the high wall at the end of Plumley Street with the best of them, not caring about who did or didn’t see her legs.
Just Around the Corner Page 32
