by Carol Rivers
'Would you listen to him?' Her smoke-roughened voice was deriding as she glared at him. 'The galloping great eejit returns!'
He strode towards her and grabbed her arm. 'Where is he? Where's the devil hiding?'
She looked at him and laughed. 'The only devil in this room is right before me eyes.'
'Cough up, you lying bitch!'
She shrugged carelessly. 'I wouldn't waste me breath on you, Jack Router. Just look at the state of you.' She shook her arm free, her voice scathing. 'As far as I'm concerned your bitches can have you. Rita warned me you was a conniving, scheming bastard and so by Jesus, you are too.'
It was a reflex action. An instinctive blow that lifted her off her feet and across the bed. A blow that would have felled any man and Jack was more than surprised to find her still moving. He hit her again and again and kept on punching as she covered her face with her arms. When his hand was sore with the effort, he tore away her blouse. 'Mary Doyle, you think yourself so fine. Well, from now on changes are going to be made.' He felt a swell of desire at the sight of her huge breasts. 'Boot me out, would you? We'll see about that.' He squeezed her neck and her eyes bulged from their sockets.
'You hear me, Mary, you hear what I'm saying? You'll never toss off a punter again without paying me a cut.'
He was laughing at this thought when suddenly his head jerked back. It was an odd sensation, one he had never experienced before. He seemed to be going backwards and wondered if the drink had finally got to him. But he hadn't had that much. The brass had cleaned him out today and he'd had to curb his thirst. Then he felt an excruciating pain, a grip of iron around his neck. The pain intensified and his arms were impaled to the wall. A series of blows to his kidneys and a crunch on his face.
A figure was dancing in front of him. Or was it two? He blinked before trying a swipe, but was flung back on the wall again. His legs buckled. The taste of his own blood was in his mouth.
The last thing he remembered was begging them to stop. But he knew as sure as a tart was a tart he was a goner as the dull drum of planes overhead outweighed his screams.
Bella held Terry against her, listening to the beat of the planes as they drowned the gurgling screams inside the cottage. Ronnie had told them to stay outside until the business was finished. The sky was glowing pink over the houses and smoke filled the night air.
When Ronnie and Micky appeared again the man hung between them, arms outstretched over their shoulders as though he'd been crucified, like the figure of Jesus that Bella had seen on the broken cross in Mary's room.
'Look after your mum,' Ronnie told her jerking his head toward the cottage.
'What's he done to her?' Bella asked nervously.
'Nothing you've not seen before, kid.'
'I told you, I'm not a kid.'
'No, you're not any more,' Ronnie agreed, dragging the man into the road.
'Where you taking him?' she called, scrambling to her feet.
'For a walk. A long one.'
'Is he coming back?' Bella's eyes went wide in the hope she'd never see Jack Router again.
'Go on in now,' was the only reply she was given, so she watched them leave, listening to the man's boots drag over the cobbles. The same boots that had caved in Terry's ribs. Whatever they did to him, it wasn't enough in Bella's books.
Bella took her brother's hand and led him in to their mother's bedside. She lay on the bed, half-dressed, looking at them with dull eyes. 'Look what the cat dragged in,' she slurred.
'We stayed at Micky's.'
'Ah, so it was him and that brother of his, Ronnie Bryant, took my bloke off?'
Bella nodded, keeping her distance as she had learned to do.
'Well, I hope they teach that useless git a lesson he'll not forget. Lift a hand to me, would he? Strike a defenceless woman? Good luck to your Micky and Ronnie, girl. Now, stop bloody staring and get me my fags.'
Bella pulled Terry to the sink. She took the filthy tobacco tin from the draining board, brushing away the mildew coating its surface.
Mary Doyle rolled her own with shaking hands. 'Light me a match, girl.'
Bella did as she was told. Exhaling slowly, Mary sighed in satisfaction.
When the planes grew loud again Bella led Terry into their room. 'Terry's scared,' he sobbed as she made him lay down.
'Say your prayers, then. Jesus will take care of us.' She stroked his head and covered him with the blanket.When he was asleep, she went back to Mary.
'You know, that bastard was going to kill me?' Mary reminded her again. 'See what the fecking sod did? See this? And this?' She gestured to the many bruises and cuts over her body. 'All the same, he was no better or worse than other.' Her face crumpled as she coughed, falling back on the filthy pillow to stare up at the ceiling. Dust fell like rain as the bombs landed. 'Listen to their bloody racket!' Mary exclaimed without moving. 'I might as well stay in me bed. It's as good a place to die as any.'
As Mary fell to sleep, Bella took the lighted roll-up from her fingers. She pushed it down in the stained jar with the others and then went back to Terry. The bombs fell loud and heavy and the cottage rattled as she crawled beside him.
In the darkness she said thank you to God for the prayers that He'd answered. The man was gone and hadn't returned. But then she decided to stop praying when the thought occurred to her that it was Micky and Ronnie who had delivered them from evil tonight.
Not God.
Chapter 5
July1947
Bella tossed back her hair and slid her school tie from her collar. Squeezing it into her satchel, she smiled contentedly. It was the final day of school. She was free at last and more than ready to take on the world. Her full lips turned up in a smile. 'I can only stay till half past six because of Terry,' she said to her friend Dolly Taylor as they walked past the Newcastle Arms.
Spilled ale and musky tobacco wafted out from its doors and windows into the hot day. Bella inhaled the cocktail and felt a thrill. She loved everything about the island, especially in summer when the river was full of movement as the ships passed under the bridges into the heart of the docks. Bets were being laid that it was the hottest summer in years. Bella couldn't wait to be rid of her off damp blouse and purple blue school blazer. It had been worn many times before she had bought it for next to nothing at the market. Over the years she had altered her uniform so many times it looked what it was, a total mess. As soon as she started work, she was going to buy herself some pretty frocks and her pleasure grew at the thought of it.
'You're always rushing off,' Dolly pointed out, breaking the magic spell of the wonderful summer's day.
'Terry'll be on his own. He could get up to anything.'
'You know, I can't see your Terry going back to school after you leave,' Dolly remarked as they linked arms and turned the corner.
'He might.' But privately Bella had no doubt at all that Terry's schooldays were well and truly over. At twelve years of age, he still had the mind of a child, despite his tall, thin body. It was always Bella that woke him, dressed him and got him ready for school in time.
'What's he going to do with himself all day?' Dolly pressed. 'He can't stay at home, can he? Not with him around.'
Bella had been considering the problem for some time. Not that the cripple could easily get off his backside now. It was Terry she couldn't trust. Last week he had started a fire and Mum had threatened to have him put away in an institution. She threatened often enough, but had never seen it through. This time however, the bedclothes had gone up in smoke and Terry's trousers as well. The match had been a plaything to him. He wanted to smoke the same as everyone else. It must have been some kid at school who gave him the cigarette. She had smelt the smoke quick enough to extinguish the smouldering bedclothes. Ten minutes more and the fire would have finished the job the Luftwaffe failed to do.
'The man's no threat now.' Bella shrugged casually. 'All he does is sit in the chair or drag himself down the pub. If it wasn't for the crutch he'd never get the
re at all.' Ever since the night Micky and Ronnie had dispensed rough justice in the middle of a disused anti-aircraft battery at the back of West Ferry Road, their lives had changed. Bella smiled to herself as she thought of the drooling figure with a claw for a hand curled over his stomach, unable to touch her now.
'He still gives me the creeps,' Dolly said.
'Yeah, well, he's no oil painting, that's for sure.'
'And all squashed into such a small house - ' Dolly put a hand up to her mouth. 'I mean, it's not that bad, but it's – '
'A dump,' Bella said for her, nodding.
'Has your mum heard from the council?'
'There's a prefab empty down the road and she's put in for it.'
'D'you think she'll get it?'
'You never know.'
Dolly shook her head in wonderment. 'You're the last family in Bow Street now. Even old Mr Billings has gone and Rita Moult too. The council's given her a flat at the top of a big block in Dagenham, would you believe?'
'Yes I would,' Bella nodded, 'just to shut her up.'
The girls laughed. Bella coiled a copper coloured lock of hair around her finger. 'Your Ray be home, will he?'
'Yeah. He's just got a new job, with the PLA, as a guard on the dock gates. With a uniform and all. And the money's good too. Mum's everso pleased.'
Bella had no doubt Mrs Taylor was beside herself with joy at her son's new appointment. She was desperate for her children to do well for themselves and enjoyed asking people how much money they earned and what their prospects were. But she was good at heart and had always made Bella welcome which was a lot more than could be said of others.
'Have you got fixed up yet?' Bella asked, knowing that Dolly hadn't.
'No, but Dad said I should go up to Poplar town hall and make enquiries. He said he'd put in a good word for me. The thing is, I want to smarten myself up a bit before I apply. I've got nothing proper to wear. I thought about getting a cherry red suit to match my beret.'
Dolly had light brown hair and plenty of curves. But she was also short and in Bella's opinion the bright coloured clothes she wore didn't flatter her.
'You're good at typing and shorthand,' Bella said, changing the subject. 'Much better than me.'
Dolly blushed. 'Typing's about the only thing I am good at.'
'That's daft Dolly. You'll never get anywhere if you think that.'
Bella would rather have gone round Micky's, but she had agreed to go to tea with Dolly because it was their last day at school. Next week she was starting work at Dixons of Stepney, the furniture people and she couldn't wait. Not that she fancied her prospective job much, but it paid good money.
'I wish I was confident like you, Bella. I was shaking like a leaf at that interview and me fingers went in all the wrong places. I couldn't even remember the shorthand properly.'
'What was there to be nervous of?'
'I don't know. But I was.'
'You're as good as the next person, probably a lot better.'
'I never think that,' Dolly said, embarrassed, adding quickly, 'So what does Micky have to say about you working up Stepney?'
'Not told him yet. Anyway, why should he have anything to say on the subject?'
Bella knew exactly what her friend was getting at. Micky had wanted Bella to work for the Bryants "in the expansion of their business" as he put it, but she had refused. Not because she didn't want to, but because she did. She owed Micky everything. The way he had looked after her and Terry and even their mother, getting her a job as a barmaid at the Rose and doing up the cottage. But she felt she must show she could do something on her own. Her independence was important to her and Micky might not respect that.
'You know what I mean. Stepney's off the Bryant's patch.' Dolly raised her eyebrows as they turned into Chapel House Street. The Taylor's house was a mid terrace council house with a shining brass horseshoe fixed to the yellow painted front door. The windows all had lace curtains and to the left by the path there was a small square of mowed lawn edged with a border of flowers. 'Not that it would stop Micky from having something if he wanted it bad enough,' Dolly giggled as they stood on the front doorstep. 'And we all know what that something is, don't we?'
Bella's cheeks flushed fiercely. 'I'm fifteen, Dolly. Not fifty. And for your information Micky doesn't own me.'
'No, but he thinks he does.'
'Well he don't know much then.'
'And you're daft about him.'
'I'm not!'
'You are!' Dolly sighed dramatically. 'Anyway, it won't stop our Ray from giving you the eye, so be prepared. He'll be done up to the nines in his Sunday best, just you wait. All I hope is I don't wet my drawers with laughter at the sight of him.'
Bella grabbed her friend's arms. 'Dolly, I'll crown you if you've told Ray I fancy him because I don't.'
'I've not breathed a word! Anyway, what's wrong with my brother? Some girls would think he's a real catch.'
Bella didn't have time to reply as the door opened. Raymond Taylor stood there and was, as his sister predicted, dressed in a suit, his chin supported by a tie and shirt that looked as though it was choking him. He blushed at the sight of Bella who had often thought that her friend's older brother was good looking in a sort of dull, conventional way. Soft brown hair and eyes just begging to be noticed. But as she walked past him, she knew that Dolly had spoken the truth. Micky Bryant was the only one who could make her heart race like a train with just the briefest flash of his lovely dark eyes.
Bella hated eating tea with the Taylor's. She did it as little as possible, and only for Dolly's sake. They sat at measured intervals around the big oval table set with the best china and a cake stand and teapot in matching design. The conversation was always the same. How marvellous Mrs Taylor's cooking was, a result of Mr Taylor's vegetable garden just over the railway line. There were questions slipped in about her mother too and her job as a barmaid at the Rose. So Bella was always on her guard which made eating the unpalatable food even more tedious.
She took a sandwich from the plate and bit it into it, wincing at the concoction of fatty spam and sliced vegetable pressed inside the bread. Mrs Taylor, always so proud of the miracles she produced from her ration book, smiled at her husband.
'It's Doctor Carrot again, Neville dear. Fresh from the allotment.'
'Amazing little chap, isn't he? Don't know how we'd have managed without him during the war. I mean, Doctor Carrot even helped us to see in the blackout!'
Bella glanced at Dolly sitting beside her. Both girls smothered their laughter.
Mr Taylor munched noisily as he spoke. Bella had heard it all before as had every other person sitting in the room. The adventures of Doctor Carrot and Potato Pete, the brainchild of the government minister Lord Woolton, who had pioneered the famously indigestible vegetable pie.
'This is lovely, Mum,' Dolly said making a sly face at Bella.
'The best,' agreed Raymond as he patted his stomach, clearly full of the watery custard and anaemic looking spotted dick he had just consumed.
Bella nibbled and between gulps of air, attempted to keep the food down. The Taylors always ate their sandwiches last, to "fill an empty gap" as Mrs Taylor put it.
'Well now, better clear the dishes,' said Mrs Taylor rising to her feet.
'Where is my newspaper, Mother?' Neville Taylor rose too as if they were joined at the hip. He brushed the crumbs from his immaculate grey suit. As a white-collar worker at Poplar town hall, he always wore the same clothes, always a tie and freshly pressed white shirt with detachable collar. A custom, Bella noticed, that Raymond had begun to follow.
'Over there, dear.' Mrs Taylor indicated the direction. 'By your chair, next to your pipe.'
'We'll do the washing up, Mum.' Dolly winked at Bella. 'You put your feet up.'
'That's nice of you, dear.' Dorothy Taylor beamed at her daughter. 'Your father and me will sit down, then. Raymond, turn on the wireless.'
'I'm going to stretch my legs,' Ray
said, jumping to attention. Bella looked at Dolly who was also trying to hide her laughter. 'Be back later though, to say goodbye to the girls.'
'Don't stay out too late,' Mrs Taylor replied predictably. 'You've got to be up bright and early for work.'
Raymond pecked his mother on the cheek. Following the girls out to the kitchen, Ray paused by Bella. 'What you doing tomorrow?'
'Breathing, I hope.' Bella lowered the cups and saucers into the bowl.
Dolly giggled, causing Ray to scowl at his sister. 'You know what I mean, it's Saturday.'
'I know it is. Because today's Friday.'
Ignoring the sarcasm, he moved closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. 'Fancy coming to the Troxy?'
'To do what?' Bella asked, wide-eyed.
'To see a flick of course.'
'What's on?'
'Dunno, a double feature, p'raps.'
Bella shook her head solemnly. 'You don't even know what's showing, do you?'
'Give us a chance, Bella. We'll find out when we get there.'
'And then what?' Bella demanded. 'A grope in the back seats for two hours? No thank you.'
Raymond Taylor's face turned scarlet. 'That's not what I meant!' he yelled, humiliated.
Dolly was clattering the dishes noisily but turned round at the disturbance. 'What's going on, you two?'
'Nothing,' Bella said indifferently. 'Much to your brother's disappointment.'
'Now, now.' Dolly came between them. 'Keep it down or Mum'll be in.' She pushed her brother back. 'And anyway, Bella's spoken for. You're wasting your time, Ray.'
It was Bella's turn to look annoyed. Her expression darkened. 'Shut up, Dolly.'
'Well you are, aren't you?'
Before Bella could reply Ray caught hold of Bella's arm. 'Micky Bryant is trouble with a sodding great T, Bella. Him and his family. You'll end up on the wrong side of the law. Why can't you see that?'
'And you are the world's biggest snob for looking down on them,' Bella retorted angrily. 'What do you know of the Bryants or what they've done for me? I wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for them and that's the plain truth.'
