Just Around the Corner

by Gilda O'Neill

  Simon nodded. ‘They were, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, but I ain’t so sure they would’ve been if they knew I’d been mixed up with Bob Jarvis.’ He dropped his chin and stared down into his cup. ‘I come here today ’cos I reckoned it wasn’t good enough just regretting ever being fool enough to listen to him. I wanted to show whose side I was on.’

  ‘You’re a brave man, admitting that, Danny,’ said Simon, holding out his hand across the rickety, oilcloth-covered table.

  Danny shook Simon’s hand, glancing sideways at Molly. ‘I think it’s about time he met the rest of the Mehan clan, don’t you?’ he said solemnly.

  Molly almost choked on her tea. ‘What!’

  ‘Mine and Lizzie’s wedding’ll be the perfect opportunity. This Christmas, we thought. We’ve been saving for so long now we reckon it’s now or never.’ He gave a joyless little laugh. ‘Times have been hard.’

  Simon blinked with astonishment. ‘Er, thanks. Thanks. I’ll have to see if I can make it.’ He looked at his watch then turned to Molly. ‘Will you be all right now?’

  Molly nodded dumbly. She was so amazed by her brother’s invitation that she could hardly think straight, let alone speak.

  ‘If you’re really sure, then I’ll get off home. I promised my uncle I wouldn’t come within a mile of this place and if I don’t get back soon he’s going to start getting suspicious.’

  Still Molly didn’t answer him.

  ‘Look, it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to go yet.’

  ‘No, please,’ Molly stood up, her legs wobbling unsteadily. ‘I’ll be fine, I’ve got Danny with me.’

  As the three of them stepped outside into the cold October air, Simon looked up at the sky. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’ He shook Danny’s hand again. ‘Take care of her for me.’ Then he leant forward and kissed Molly tenderly on the cheek. ‘See you Sunday, Molly. I’ll come round to Terson’s in the week to tell you where.’

  With that he dodged off into the crowd.

  ‘Coming?’ Danny asked.

  Molly didn’t move, she looked too dazed. ‘I can’t believe all this is happening. Yer don’t know nothing about him, Dan. And yer’ve gone and asked him to yer wedding.’

  ‘I know enough. Lizzie told me about him.’

  ‘Eh!’

  ‘I made her, when I was worried about Jarvis coming after yer. And now I’ve seen him for meself, I know he’ll look after yer. He’d never let no one hurt yer, Moll.’

  ‘D’yer reckon he could stop Mum killing me when she meets him?’

  Danny shrugged. ‘Sorry, I never thought . . .’

  Molly’s hand flew to her mouth.

  ‘Look, Moll, we’ll think of something.’

  ‘No.’ Molly pointed urgently. ‘Over there.’

  Danny twisted round and looked over his shoulder.

  ‘I know he’s got a bandage round his head, Dan, but I’ll swear that’s Dad. Come on, we’ve gotta make a run for it.’

  ‘You sure yer up to running?’

  ‘If Dad’s gonna be after us, you bet I am.’

  18

  IT WAS A cold dark Monday night, the last day of November, and Molly was again running as fast as her legs would carry her. Although this time she wasn’t running away in case her dad saw her, she was charging along towards Plumley Street on her way home from work. But instead of stopping when she reached number twelve, she ran straight past, and didn’t slow down until she came to a breathless halt outside the Palmers’ yard, where Danny was backing Joe’s truck in through the gates.

  ‘Dan! Dan!’ She slapped the flat of her hand on the cab door. ‘Have you heard?’

  ‘Hold up, Moll, don’t do that. Joe’ll do his crust if yer scratch the flaming paintwork.’ He wound down the window and checked that she hadn’t damaged the door. ‘What the hell’s got into yer?’

  ‘Dan, it’s important. Please.’

  Irritated, but knowing that Molly wasn’t one to give in when she got an idea in her head, he turned off the engine and got out of the cab. He folded his arms and looked bored. ‘This had better be good. I’m trying to get finished for the night.’

  ‘Simon come down the warehouse at dinnertime.’

  ‘I’m very pleased for yer,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘He come to tell me about Bob Jarvis.’ She now had her brother’s full attention. ‘Him and some of them other nutcases was planning another one of them revenge attacks.’

  ‘Bastards!’ Danny’s fists balled up as his temper rose. ‘What, breaking more shop windows and scaring old ladies, I suppose?’

  Molly lowered her voice and looked around nervously. ‘No. It was gonna be some sort of explosion, in some tailoring workshop off of Brick Lane. Last night it was gonna be. Jarvis and some other bloke. But they got really tanked up, didn’t they?’ She snorted contemptuously. ‘Some heroes, eh, needing Dutch courage?’

  ‘Molly . . .’

  ‘Yeah, well, they got so pissed they started mouthing off in the boozer. Bragging about what they was gonna do.’

  ‘Stupid bastards.’

  ‘I’m telling yer. Anyway, they go round to the workshop, and while they was stuffing all these paraffin rags round the doorway, these other blokes turned up. Caught ’em at it. No one’s saying who these other blokes was, mind, but the word is they was, you know, protecting the place.’ She paused, letting Danny take in her meaning.

  Danny nodded slowly. ‘Right.’

  ‘Well, of course, it turned into a fight. But the bloke what was with Jarvis got the wind up and had it away. Left him to it.’

  ‘Typical o’ that mob. So what happened?’

  Molly leant very close to him. ‘They done him in,’ she whispered.

  ‘They what?’ Danny frowned. ‘Who?’

  ‘They mullered Bob Jarvis.’ She straightened up and took a deep breath. ‘They found him this morning. With his throat slit. And a razor by his side. His own razor, so they’re saying.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’

  ‘It’s over, Dan. He’s gone. Gone for good this time.’

  ‘Yer sure this ain’t just a load of old toffee?’

  ‘Course I am. The blokes what done it are making sure everyone knows all about it. And how that’s what’ll happen to anyone else who reckons they can start messing around on their patch.’

  ‘I dunno what to say.’

  ‘I thought yer’d be pleased. No,’ she added hurriedly, ‘not pleased, relieved. Yeah, that’s it. Relieved.’

  ‘Course I’m relieved that bastard’s outta the way, it’s just . . . Aw, I dunno, it’s something Simon said after all that business in Cable Street. I keep getting it stuck in me head, going round and round.’

  ‘What yer talking about?’

  ‘About us winning that day, but how it’s gonna take more . . .’ He ran his hands through his thick dark hair. ‘Look, it’s nothing. It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all.’

  ‘Yer can say that again.’

  ‘Moll, can yer do us a favour? Tell Mum I won’t be in for me tea straight away. I wanna go over and see Liz about something first.’

  As soon as Danny had backed the lorry into the yard and sheeted it up for the night, he went across to number nine and rapped on the door.

  ‘Hello, Dan.’ Liz smiled up at him, her face dimpling prettily. ‘I didn’t expect to see you so early.’

  ‘I knows it’s a Monday night, Liz, and I know we ain’t meant to be spending no money ’cos the wedding’s in a couple o’ weeks, but I feel like I wanna get out for a few hours. Fancy coming for a drink later on? Joe said I could borrow his bike and sidecar. We could have a little ride out.’

  ‘Well, if yer let me get a word in edgeways,’ she grinned, ‘I’d love to. I’ll have me tea and brush me hair and then I’ll be ready. About seven suit yer?’

  It was just gone half past seven, when Danny parked the motorbike outside a little pub close to the foot tunnel on the Isle of Dogs.

  Liz shivered as Dan
ny lifted the roof of the sidecar and helped her out onto the pavement. ‘I’m glad I had that rug round me legs,’ she said softly. ‘You must have been frozen on that bike.’

  ‘I didn’t really notice,’ he said, pulling off his goggles and leather helmet.

  ‘On a perishing night like this,’ she said, stamping her feet to get her circulation going, ‘yer wouldn’t credit yer could walk under the river to Greenwich, would yer?’

  ‘No,’ Danny said, stuffing his gloves into his pocket.

  Liz pulled up her collar round her ears. ‘Can we go inside, Dan? I’m freezing.’

  Danny silently held out his arm and led her into the warm fug of the saloon bar. Then he settled her at a table, while he went to fetch some drinks, leaving her increasingly anxious about his odd behaviour.

  Liz took a sip from her port and lemonade, thought for a moment whether she should actually be saying what she was about to say and then thought that if she didn’t she might well burst into tears or start screaming. ‘Look, Dan, I’m doing me best to seem all happy, but I know something’s up. I can tell.’ She dropped her chin as her tears won and her big round eyes filled with water. ‘If yer’ve changed yer mind about getting married, or yer’ve met someone else, then I think I’ve got a right to know. I’d rather yer told me now than made a fool of me later on.’

  ‘Lizzie.’ Danny put his drink down on the little round table, put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. ‘Whatever give yer that idea?’

  ‘I ain’t used to yer being all moody like this.’ She sniffed delicately, and licked away a tear that had run down the side of her nose. ‘If something’s up yer usually just spit it out. That’s what I’ve always liked about all you Mehans, yer straight. But this is different. Yer bottling something up, and it’s scaring me. I mean it, if yer wanna finish, I want yer to tell me now.’

  ‘Daft. How could I ever wanna finish with you?’

  ‘So what is it then? Here, you ain’t in no trouble, are yer, Dan?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’ He ran his finger round the top of his glass. ‘Yer gonna think I’m stupid when I tell yer.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’

  ‘Yer won’t laugh at me?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It’s the world.’

  ‘The world?’

  ‘Yeah. All this stuff about Japan and Germany and Italy and . . . And all that lark. And then there’s Spain. It’s all just getting worse and worse.’

  ‘But why should that worry us? I don’t even know where them places are.’

  ‘I don’t either. Well, not all of them. It’s just . . . I’ve been thinking about things. And there’s a lot that’s going wrong in this world, Liz.’

  ‘Yeah, but we’ll be all right here, won’t we? We won’t have no trouble, not in England?’ She looked around the bar, a bright, happy place, buzzing with laughter and good-natured chat. ‘Not in the East End?’

  Danny looked down into her big, trusting eyes and shook his head. ‘No. We won’t have no trouble here. We’ll be all right.’ He squeezed her to him. ‘And anyway, yer’ve got Danny Mehan to look after yer, ain’t yer?’

  He felt Liz’s body relax. ‘I love you, Dan,’ she whispered contentedly, and picked up her drink to hide her blushes.

  The bar room door was suddenly flung back on its hinges and a man came rushing into the pub.

  ‘Close that bloody door!’ hollered the landlady. ‘Letting all my heat out.’

  ‘Yer’ve gotta come and see this,’ the man shouted, beckoning furiously. ‘There’s a fire out here and yer’ve never seen nothing like it in yer life.’

  Drinks were gulped down and coats and hats grabbed, as the bar emptied out on to the pavement. They followed the man up the little slope that led to the footpath running alongside the Thames.

  ‘Where?’ complained a whiskery, middle-aged man, whose moustaches, stained yellow from years of filtering tobacco smoke and straining beer, twitched up and down as he spoke. ‘I can’t see no—’

  ‘There!’ The man who had run into the pub pointed for him to look across the river.

  ‘Gawd bloody blink me!’ the whiskery man gasped, as he stared at the night sky that was lit up like a blood-red travesty of daylight. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  A woman called down to him from one of the pub’s upstairs windows. ‘Here, George, did yer know there’s a fire?’

  ‘Yes, Min,’ he snapped.

  ‘All right,’ she snapped back. ‘I was telling yer, ’cos it’s only on the wireless, innit? They’re saying the roads are all jam-packed with people trying to get over there to see it all go up, and they’re stopping the rest of the fire engines getting through. They reckon ships right out in the Channel can see it and all. Hang on.’ She ducked her head back inside the window, then out again. ‘They just said that if people really want to see it close up, they should go on the special trains they’re laying on at all the stations!’

  ‘Yes, Min, very interesting.’ George was losing his patience. ‘But what the bleed’n hell is it that’s a-sodding-light?’

  ‘It’s only the bloody Crystal Palace, innit!’

  They all stood there watching, huddled against the cold, unable, as they shivered, to imagine the heat that must be coming from a fire that would be big enough to be seen from such a distance. But, even though they were so far away, they automatically shielded themselves with their arms as three massive explosions sent the fire flaming even higher into the night sky.

  George took his pipe from between his lips and stabbed the stem towards the river. ‘Just like the last war,’ he said, and gave a loud, shuddering sigh. ‘Just like when we was in them trenches. You wait and see, it’s an omen, that’s what it is. An omen.’

  ‘Go on with yer,’ heckled Minnie.

  Danny pulled Liz closer to him and kissed the top of her head. She was his rock of sanity in a world that he was terrified might just tip over the edge into madness. He thought of Bob Jarvis lying in the street with his throat slit. Good riddance as far as he was concerned, but the trouble was, as Simon had tried to explain that day, and Danny was now beginning to realise, there were plenty more like Jarvis, all over the world, just waiting to take his place if nobody stopped them.

  He nuzzled Liz’s sweet-smelling hair. ‘I love yer, Lizzie Watts,’ he breathed. ‘No matter what happens, I want yer always to remember that.’

  It was nine o’clock in the morning on 19 December, the last Saturday before Christmas 1936, and all thoughts of what might or might not be happening in the world outside of Plumley Street, had, for the moment, been forgotten. Everyone was far too busy fussing and panicking over last-minute arrangements for what was promising to be the neighbourhood event of the year – the wedding between Danny Mehan and Liz Watts – to concern themselves with troubles in places they couldn’t even pronounce.

  Preparations had actually been going on for over two years now, ever since the day Danny and Liz had become engaged. Peggy Watts had started a bottom drawer for her daughter that very evening, taking the cross-stitched chair backs right off of the front room furniture from behind Bill’s head while he was trying to have a snooze after he’d sunk a few celebratory pints in the Queen’s.

  Bill reckoned that Peggy’s collecting had become a bit of a mania. She hadn’t only filled the one bottom drawer, but a whole chest of drawers, packing it tight with countless odds and ends from the market as well as from her own store of household bits and pieces. Then, when she had run out of space in the original chest, she had set Bill to making another one, bigger this time, a tallboy, one that would go with the dressing table and wardrobe she had decided he was going to make for the kids. After all, she told him, a young couple starting off in a few rooms in Grundy Street would never be able to afford to buy their own furniture, not at first anyway.

  It wasn’t only Bill and his cabinet-making skills that were put on to overtime; Peggy and her talents with a needle and cotton were also goin
g at full stretch. There wasn’t a bit of linen in either of the chests that hadn’t had the benefit of at least a bit of embroidery in one corner or another, and as for Liz’s wedding gown and the bridesmaids’ dresses, Peggy had sewn every loving stitch by hand.

  But now the big day itself had arrived at last, and the preparations were on their last, frantic lap.

  In the Watts household, Molly and Peggy were charging around like a pair of headless chickens. One moment they were making sure that the hems of the dresses were straight and that all the tacking had been removed; the next they were fiddling about with the curlers they had wound into Liz’s blonde hair, desperate that they shouldn’t come unravelled, or get damp as she splashed around in front of the fire.

  Liz was concentrating on just the one job for now: scrubbing herself spotless in the big tin bath that Peggy had instructed Bill to lug into the front room and set in front of the roaring hearth she had got up at five that morning to light. Having the bath in the front room was definitely a once-only treat on account of the special occasion. Peggy would never usually have allowed the thing past the kitchen door and into the passage, let alone tolerate having water slopped all over her treasured hearth rug.

  Across the street, Katie was working herself up into an equal frenzy, as she did her best to take some sort of control over the proceedings in the kitchen of number twelve.

  ‘You did go across and ask the Gibsons in for a drink, didn’t yer, Dan?’ Katie asked the soon-to-be bridegroom as he stood at the overmantel, trying to shave amongst all the bedlam without actually cutting his throat. He had tried standing at the sink, where he usually shaved, but it was brimming over with pots, so he was having to manage where he could, dipping his razor into a bowl of barely warm water balanced on the side.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ said Danny wearily, having answered the self-same question at least three times before. He caught sight of his dad’s reflection in the glass and treated him to a jaded roll of his eyes. ‘Like I told yer, I’ve been over to the Gibsons and they said thank you very much they’d love to come over the Queen’s this afternoon. And it was right nice of yer to ask. All right?’