by Anna King
For as far back as Barney could remember, his family had never been short of money, which was a rare occurrence in the East End; unless of course the money had been made through crime. But Will Hobbs was no criminal. He had worked all his life to better himself, starting with a small stall down Roman Road market, and, over the years, building up a profitable business, which included three shops in prime locations in the East End. Another man might have let his success go to his head, but not
Will Hobbs. As he had often told his late wife, he was born and bred in the East End, and no matter how much money he had, he would never leave his roots. His only concession had been to buy a larger house to keep his wife happy. Barney had been their only child, and when he had reached the age of eighteen, Will had taken him into the business. To be fair to Barney, for all his faults, he had never been afraid of hard work. Like his father before him, he had done his fair share to help make the small business prosper; and it had.
The Hobbs family were known for being comfortably off, but whereas Will had remained true to his origins, Barney, like his mother, had always thought himself a cut above his neighbours. To all intents and purposes he seemed to have it made. For not only was he a partner in his father’s business, he had also been endowed with good looks, and an easy charm that radiated from him whenever he was in the company of the opposite sex. So it was no wonder that the girls had flocked around him since he first went into long trousers. But he hadn’t been the only boy who had been popular with the girls. Barney paused in his reminiscences, his face taking on a fierce scowl, his gaze fixed on the narrow pathway in front of him. He had come to the park for the same purpose as all couples did on a weekend afternoon, but his ardour had soon been dashed at the sight of Cathy and Rory Flynn wrapped around each other, totally caught up in a world of their own.
A couple pushed past him, laughing happily.
‘Sorry, mate.’ The young man grinned at Barney, a smile that disappeared at the look on the other man’s face. It was a look that said this man wasn’t to be messed with. The young man hurried on, anxious not to get involved in any trouble.
Barney watched them go, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. There was nothing he would have liked better than to start a fight; but he knew that would achieve nothing. His problem was with Rory, not some passing stranger.
Leaning against an oak tree, he let his mind run wild. He had first dashed with Rory Flynn back in their school days. Even at an early age the two boys had taken an instant dislike to each other; and that feeling hadn’t abated over the years. It had always galled Barney that the red-haired Irishman could attract girls by his personality alone, without any of the trappings that Barney had. But their feud had been reasonably quiet, confined to playground skirmishes, both of them giving as good as the other until the teacher pulled them apart. A smile touched Barney’s lips as he remembered those long-ago days. For not only had the two boys received the cane for fighting, they had also been given a note to inform their respective parents of their troublemaking. The dreaded notes had resulted in both boys getting a good hiding from their fathers for getting into trouble at school in the first place. Those incidents had occurred on a regular basis during their formative years.
After they had left school their paths had often crossed, which was understandable as they both lived in the same area of the East End. When they did meet up they invariably ended up fighting, and if anyone had asked why, neither boy could have given a reason; it was almost as if they continued to fight out of habit.
As the years passed and they grew into adulthood, they had graduated to verbal abuse rather than physical, again out of habit. It was as if they thought it was expected of them. The one thing neither of them would ever have admitted, even to themselves, was the grudging respect they held for each other.
In recent years they had simply ignored each other whenever their paths crossed; until Cathy Meadows appeared on the scene.
From the time the Meadowses had moved into a modest terraced house in Shore Road with their seventeen-year-old daughter, all the eligible men within a two-mile radius had tried their luck with the beautiful, golden-haired girl with her provocative figure and sensual, come-hither eyes. But out of all the eager would-be suitors, Cathy had turned her attention to Barney Hobbs and Rory Flynn. She had toyed with both men until finally settling for Rory, and by doing so had flung them back to their childhood days of resentment and bitter competition.
Cathy had loved the power she held over the two men, a power she had recognised from the time she had taken her first step. Her earliest memories were of being pampered by her uncles and her father, all of them forever telling her how beautiful she was. She had quickly learned how to get what she wanted from her adoring male relatives. A sad look, a flutter of innocent eyes would result in her getting whatever she wanted; it was an act she had mastered to perfection over the years. Barney had recognised the kind of girl she was straight away; he had met many just like her over the years. But Cathy had had that something extra. It was nothing he could put his finger on, it was just there; that special something that attracted men to her like moths to a flame.
Barney’s eyes focused on the narrow path that Cathy and Rory would have taken earlier, his face a mask of stone. She had used both him and Rory, finally dumping them both for a man old enough to be her father. His only consolation at the time was that she had humiliated Rory just as much as she had him.
He had learned of her return before Rory knew she was back, and had fully expected her to seek him out, especially as he now had a good deal more money than the last time they had been together. But his hopes had been quickly squashed. When they had met up on that Sunday afternoon, she had smiled at him pleasantly, then walked on, cutting him dead. It was bad enough being made a fool of, but to have his humiliation witnessed by his friends was more than Barney could stomach. Then he had spotted Jane standing on the corner as she did every Sunday, waiting for her brothers, and the sight of the red hair, so similar to her brother’s, had triggered a wave of resentment towards the entire Flynn family.
He had only meant to tease her, to give her a bit of a fright, but then he had seen Cathy watching them from across the road; directly opposite the pub the Flynn brothers frequented every Sunday. It was then that it had crossed Barney’s mind that she must be waiting for Rory, and something inside him had snapped and he had taken his aggression out on the vulnerable Jane Flynn, an act for which he and his friends had suffered dearly. But Barney had barely felt the blows rained down on him, so preoccupied had he been with thoughts of Cathy. She should have come to him, but instead she had sought out that ignorant Irish labourer, a man who would have to work a whole year to earn what Barney made in a month.
Another couple brushed past him, their arms entwined, their faces alight with happiness, and Barney had to fight down the urge to pull them apart and smash the male stranger’s face to a pulp. His fists clenched and unclenched, his mind telling him not to be such a fool. If he didn’t keep a tight rein on his temper he would find himself behind bars, and Rory Flynn would love that. Yet he needed to vent his spleen on someone before he did something stupid. He could of course take the same path as Rory and release his burning anger on the man he held responsible for his present state of mind. But as he knew to his cost, Rory wasn’t a man to be easily taken on.
Barney shook his head in frustration. He wasn’t afraid of tackling Rory; he never had been. But in all their years of feuding, neither of them had ever come out the victor, due to the intervention of others. Just like their last encounter. If Rory’s brothers hadn’t pulled him away, they would have continued the fight until there was only one man left standing. With this in mind, Barney decided not to tackle Rory, especially in front of Cathy. For if Rory was to get the better of him, he knew he would never get over the humiliation. It would eat away at his insides like a cancerous growth until it finally destroyed him.
He felt his breath coming faster, and his heart raci
ng, and he knew he had to put some distance between him and the couple before he lost control of his emotions. With a low growl of anger he turned on his heel and walked away, but he couldn’t stop the mental images of Cathy with that Irish bastard’s hands all over her willing body, just where his own had been in the past. He could almost feel her soft, silky skin beneath his fingertips. Cursing violently, he stormed away from the well-trodden lovers’ path. He needed a drink, and not just one, but as many as it took to blot out the graphic images that were tearing his insides apart. He also knew that until he managed to best his lifelong adversary, he would never be able to rest.
He was trying to form some kind of plan when he spotted Jane, and judging by her downcast head and slow tread it didn’t take a genius to work out that he wasn’t the only one who had seen the couple enter the woods. He stopped in his tracks, a slow smile tugging at his lips. Well, well, well! Now if that wasn’t some kind of divine intervention, then he didn’t know what was. He might not be able to break Rory with his fists, but there was one way he could bring him to his knees. If there was one thing Barney was certain about, it was the love and strong bond that existed between Rory and his scarred sister. His smile widened. What was that old saying? There was more than one way to skin a cat.
He watched Jane until she disappeared from view. Feeling much calmer now, Barney ambled on, a satisfied smirk spread across his face.
* * *
Annie awoke with a start at the sound of the front door banging, followed by the loud voices of her men back home from work, expecting their dinner ready on the table once they’d had a quick sluice under the cold tap in the scullery. And here she was, lying on the bed, with not even a potato peeled. Squinting at the bedside clock, she saw with dismay that it was almost three o’clock. Lord help her! She’d been asleep for nearly two hours. She wished now she had prepared dinner before leaving the house; it was what she normally did when she had to go out to make a delivery to one of her customers. But she hadn’t anticipated running into that old cow Ida Black. Neither had she meant to stay so long at Josie’s, but what with her encounter with Ida preying on her mind, and the brandy she had downed like water, the time had just flown by.
She jumped up quickly, then uttered a soft groan as a sharp pain shot across her forehead. Down below she could hear Shaun’s voice, then a roar of laughter from Pat and Paddy. The next thing she heard was loud footsteps running up the stairs, then the bedroom door was flung wide and her husband stood framed in the doorway, a wide grin plastered across his grimy face.
‘Begod! If I hadn’t seen it with me own eyes I wouldn’t have believed it. Me own wife drunk in the middle of the day. Why, I’ll not be able to hold me head high when the news gets out me wife’s a drunkard. And what if Father Murphy hears about your lapse to the demon drink! Not to mention fighting in the street like a common fishwife. Well, one thing’s for sure. Come tomorrow, me and Jane will be sitting in a pew as far away from ye as possible. That’s if Father Murphy lets ye through the church doors at all. Ye’d best be getting yourself down to confession, though if ye do, we won’t be expecting ye back till supper time, not with the penance ye’ll be getting. And while you’re there, say a couple of Hail Marys for me.’
Paddy threw back his head and roared with fresh laughter, and the noise caused Annie’s eyes to screw up in pain.
‘Ah, don’t, Paddy. I feel bad enough as it is. There’s no dinner ready for ye or the lads, and after the lot of yous working since eight this morning. I’m a disgrace, so I am. But I swear on me mother’s eyes, God rest her soul, I only had the one drink, Paddy, that’s all, just the one.’
Paddy’s face creased into an affectionate smile and he shook his head in mirth. His Annie had never been one to hold her drink. She could get drunk just breathing in the fumes, Lord love her.
‘Help me up, Paddy. I’ve the dinner to get ready…’
‘Ye’ll do no such thing, woman. Shaun met us on the way home and told us what happened. I’ve sent him and Pat down to the chippie. They shouldn’t be long. Ye’ll soon feel better once ye’ve some food inside you. Here, take me arm, we don’t want ye falling down the stairs, now do we?’
A mischievous smile tugged at Annie’s mouth.
‘Sure, and I can remember a time when ye could carry me down the stairs, Paddy Flynn. Though if memory serves me well, ye were always more willing to carry me up them.’ She gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Still, it comes to all of us sooner or later. The truth is, ye’re an old man now. Your days of carrying me are well over.’
Paddy looked at his wife with love in his eyes, together with a glimpse of merriment.
‘Old man, me eye. I’m in the prime of me life, woman. I could still carry ye… if ye hadn’t doubled in size over the years.’ He ducked as a pillow came flying at him, and chuckled. ‘Begod! There was a time when ye could throw the nearest thing to hand and always find its mark, and I’ve the scars to prove it.’
Annie got unsteadily to her feet, her face wreathed in smiles.
‘Aye, ye’re right enough there, Paddy. But don’t go getting all smug on me. Me aim’s just as good as it was back in the days when we were first wed. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of practice over the years. It’s the drink that spoiled me aim, not me age, and don’t ye forget it.’
Taking the plump body in his arms, he said softly, ‘I’m not a complete eejit, me darlin’, and I deserved every one of those scars. And d’ye know something else?’ He stepped back from her and smiled gently. ‘I’d not swap a single one, ’cos every one of them has its own special memory.’
Annie moved her head back and looked up at her husband.
‘Ah, away with you, ye daft divil.’ She waved a hand in his face, then stopped and sniffed his breath. ‘Why, ye crafty old beggar. ’Tis not only me that’s had a drink the day, is it?’
Paddy took her arm and walked her to the door.
‘Well, I couldn’t help it, me darlin’. Like I said, Shaun met us on the way home, and said we might as well stop for a drink ’cos there wasn’t any chance of dinner. I said to the lads, no, I’ll not be having a drink the day, ’cos I want to get back home to me darlin’ wife in her hour of need, but they dragged me in with them anyway.’ He shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish look coming over his face. ‘Shaun said ye’d be best left to sleep it off, and Pat agreed with him. Now what was I to do? Like I said, I’m still in me prime, but Lord above, woman, I’m no match for two strapping lads, now am I?’
Annie stared into the eyes of the man she still adored after twenty-seven years of marriage, saw the twinkle in his eyes and leaned her head against her chest.
‘Ye’re right enough there, Paddy. But, by, ye must have put up a dreadful struggle to stop them forcing ye into the pub.’
They both began to chuckle, and were still laughing as they came down the stairs, just as Shaun and Pat walked through the door accompanied by Jane.
‘Look who we bumped into on the way home,’ beamed Shaun, ushering an unusually subdued Jane into the house, a fact that wasn’t lost on Annie. Hungover or not, Annie knew her children, and the false smile Jane quickly pasted onto her face didn’t fool her mother for a moment. Her heart sank. Obviously someone had made fun of her daughter and it was all her fault for getting drunk in the first place. If she hadn’t, Jane wouldn’t have had to go out alone, and whatever had happened would have been prevented. Suddenly Annie was stone-cold sober. Even though she knew Jane had wanted desperately to go out on her own, it didn’t help to allay her guilt. She wouldn’t say anything now, but later on she would get Jane on her own and find out exactly what, or who, had caused her daughter’s distress.
All bustle now, she shouted orders left, right and centre, and within five minutes the table was set with plates and cutlery laid out on the snow-white tablecloth, even though her family would have been quite happy to eat their meal straight out of the greasy bags. But Annie liked to lay a meal out properly, even when she hadn’t cooked it herself.
&
nbsp; It was only when they were all seated and Paddy had said grace that Pat said, ‘Hang on. Shouldn’t we wake Rory? He must have had enough sleep by now. I sent him home over two hours ago. It’s lucky we’re ahead on schedule, else I’d’ve been two men down. It’s a good job Dad’s still young enough to do a day’s work, otherwise Josie would have had to find someone else to help her with her decorating.’ He ended his words with a smile, then jumped as Jane, who was sitting beside him, dropped her knife and fork, the sound of the metal cutlery hitting the linoleum with a loud clatter.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she stuttered nervously as she bent to pick up the cutlery. Forcing a laugh, she added, ‘I’m all fingers and thumbs today. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. It must be the excitement of being out on my own for a change.’
All the men smiled at Jane with affection, but not Annie. If she’d thought something had happened on Jane’s short journey she had no doubts now. Her eyes swept around the table, and she shook her head imperceptibly, wondering at the stupidity of men. None of them had a clue when it came to women. What was glaringly obvious to Annie was completely lost on the male members of her family. Then her head shot up and round to face Pat.
‘What d’ye mean, wake Rory? He’s not home; at least not to my knowledge. And why in heaven’s sake did ye send him home early in the first place?’ Her eyes on Pat, she waited for an answer.
Pat shrugged.
‘Like I said, Mum, we’re well ahead of schedule, so when Rory asked if he could go early ’cos he hadn’t had a lot of sleep last night I let him go. He’s probably upstairs right now, dead to the world. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll go up and check.’ Pushing back his chair, he stood up. ‘If he ain’t, I’ll go straight to the police and demand they get up a search party.’ Pat laid his hands on the table, grinning. ‘Or we could just share his dinner between us and let him get his own when he turns up.’
