by D. S. Butler
“I was paying you to get a message.”
“No, you paid me to give Gertie a message. We didn’t discuss Gertie sending a message back to you. I’m not a bloody messenger service,” Samuel said.
Babs pursed her lips and counted to three. It wouldn’t do her any good at all to lose her temper now, but she was very close to raking her fingernails across the other woman’s face.
She took a deep breath, trying to control her temper, and counted to three. “I need to know that she is all right,” Babs said.
The prison guard screwed up her face. “This is just a friendly piece of advice, Morton. You need to keep your nose clean if you want to get out of here in a week. Why do you care about that old trout, Gertie? She is a lifer. She’ll never get out of here alive, or if she does, it won’t be for years and years.”
Babs shook her head, but she knew Samuels was right and that was exactly why Gertie had sacrificed herself and taken the blame for Babs. She knew she wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon, and so she committed the unselfish act of taking Babs’s punishment.
Babs made a decision that no matter what happened when she got out she would make sure that Gertie got the best possible legal representation. If it were within Babs’s power, she would make sure she got Gertie out, whether the old woman wanted it or not.
Gertie had forgotten what life was like outside, but Babs wanted to be able to show her life wasn’t all bad.
But Babs didn’t say any of that to Samuels. Instead, all she said was, “Gertie’s been good to me.”
“Well, from now on, I’d stay away from her if I were you. You don’t want any trouble if you’re getting out next week.”
Babs shook her head. “I can’t just abandon her.”
“That’s exactly what you need to do,” Samuels said.
When Babs didn’t reply, Samuels kicked her heels together and said brusquely, “I suppose I can expect payment in the usual fashion.”
Babs turned away and nodded slowly. She would make sure Tony sorted it, but right now it was the last thing on her mind. All she could think about was poor Gertie wasting away in solitary.
Left alone, Babs lay down in her bunk and covered her face with her hands. She tried to convince herself there was no point in both of them staying inside any longer than they had to. If Gertie wanted to take the blame, then Babs would let her.
It meant she could get out and see her kids again and put her plans into action.
The only thing standing in her way now was whether or not Mean Maud woke up and decided to point the finger at Babs.
* * *
When Martin Morton started to walk home, it was already getting dark. He’d been at The Queen’s Head and had a skinful, celebrating the firstborn son of one of his lackeys. The man had been laughing and joking and handing out cigars when Martin turned up to congratulate him.
The atmosphere had immediately soured, and everyone spoke in hushed whispers, darting nervous looks at Martin.
Truth be told, Martin didn’t mind that kind of reaction. He actually quite liked the fact that he struck the fear of God into them. He scratched his head and smothered a yawn. He’d had too much to drink, and he was tired. Martin could hold his drink all right, but just lately, he realised the more he drank, the more maudlin it made him feel, and he didn’t like that feeling at all. He preferred to feel angry.
He was halfway along Burdett Road when he sensed someone was following him.
He waited for a moment. Then he quickly turned, scanning the darkness, and saw a dark figure darting further into the shadows.
Most people would have legged it at that point, or shouted out, calling for help and attracting attention, but Martin did neither of those things. Instead, he smiled to himself, enjoying the thought of what was to come.
He carried on walking, keeping up his usual pace, as though he hadn’t noticed anything untoward at all. When the opportunity arose, he turned into a narrow alleyway.
He was looking forward to getting an eyeful of the person who felt brave enough to try and take him on.
Unlike some so-called gangsters in the East End, who preferred to let others do their dirty work, Martin had never been one to shy away from violence. He never handed over the job to somebody else if he could do it himself. He enjoyed inflicting pain. He saw it as one of the perks of the job.
He felt his heart rate speed up as he walked deeper into the shadows. He could hear the shuffling footsteps behind him and knew it was almost time to turn around and pounce.
He counted under his breath. One. Two. Three…
He whirled around, fists up and ready to swing a punch, but the alley was empty.
He stood there for a moment, blinking in the darkness, unable to believe his eyes. But there was definitely no one there. He walked forward quickly, seeing a stack of bins and wondering if his pursuer was hiding behind them. But there was nothing there apart from a mangy, stray cat.
He shook his head, unable to understand what was happening. He’d been so sure there was somebody there, but now…
He brought his fist up to his mouth and bit down hard on his knuckles, drawing blood.
He was losing it. It was the stress of knowing Babs was getting out of prison, knowing there would be another person out to get him.
There were traitors everywhere. He couldn’t trust anyone now, not even his own brother.
The thought of Tony siding with Babs against him shot a wave of fury through Martin, and he hit out, his fist striking the brick wall to his right.
The pain radiated from his knuckles through his forearm to his shoulder, and he cried out.
He crouched down on the floor, resting on his haunches, cradling his injured fist.
The stray cat darted away from him, recognising madness and evil when it came face-to-face with it.
Martin chuckled.
It was just the drink. He wasn’t losing it. He was Martin Morton, King of the bloody East End, and he was here to stay. He’d ruined everybody who had stood in his way in the past. Dave Carter wouldn’t be safe for long, and Martin had already got rid of one woman who’d got in his way. Babs better watch herself. He’d got away with it once. There was no reason he couldn’t do it again.
Chapter 21
Jimmy was late meeting Diane. They’d arranged to meet at the corner of Bread Street before going to the pictures. Jimmy jogged all the way there after talking to little Georgie. He felt bad about leaving him. Dave was still blaming his elder son Trevor for not keeping a close enough eye on their mother, and Georgie was taking it very hard. He just wanted them to stop arguing.
It had been a wrench to leave him because the Carter family were devastated, and Georgie wasn’t getting the support he needed from his brother or his father at the moment.
Jimmy had only seen Sandra rarely, and on the odd occasion they’d met, Sandra appeared to exist in another world.
He’d only spoken a couple of words to her, and she never replied to him directly but just blinked and looked at him as though she was surprised he was there.
He was well aware it had something to do with the tablets she took, and it seemed as though it was the tablets that had done her in at the end.
He might not get on with Trevor Carter, and he might consider him a bully and a nasty piece of work, but the look on Trevor’s face earlier today made Jimmy feel sorry for him.
The devastation was clear to see from his hurt expression after Dave accused him of not looking out for their mother. He would never be Trevor Carter’s biggest fan, but he knew that was unfair and nobody could have missed the devastation on Trevor’s face.
As he looked ahead to where Diane stood beneath the streetlight, he saw she didn’t look happy. She was scowling, and her normally pretty face was screwed up in anger.
When he reached her, she faced up to him with hands on her hips. She was only a short girl, barely over five foot, and when she glared up at him Jimmy felt a wave of irritation.
He
was only a few minutes late and had never been late to meet her before. Rather than being concerned, she was angry.
Jimmy opened his mouth to begin to explain, but Diane cut him off.
“I thought you were never going to show,” she said. “I’ve been freezing out here waiting for you. I don’t know who you think I am, Jimmy Diamond, but I am not the type of girl who waits for men on street corners.”
Jimmy held back a sigh. He had wanted to pick her up from her house, and it had been Diane’s idea to wait for him on the street corner.
He knew the best thing to do was to placate her with apologies and compliments about how she looked tonight. But he couldn’t be bothered.
“It was your decision to wait outside, Diane. If you’d waited, I could have picked you up from your house.”
She flushed as her face screwed up into another scowl.
“I don’t want my parents sticking their nose into my business. If you had shown up at my house again, I’d be in for an interrogation later. I don’t think you realise how much I put myself out for you, Jimmy.”
Right now, Jimmy wasn’t sure he wanted her to put herself out for him at all. He wanted to go back to Georgie and make sure he was all right.
He stepped closer to Diane with a sigh and said. “Look, I’m sorry I’m late. But Sandra Carter died earlier today, and I was busy comforting Georgie.”
He’d expected Diane to soften a little and let him explain further, but she surprised him by snapping her head up and saying, “Ah, I see. So you dumped me to spend more time with that little…”
Jimmy didn’t know whether it was the look on his own face that caused Diane to swallow her next words or whether she just thought better of it herself.
“Anyway,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I see who is more important to you. You clearly care about Georgie Carter more than you do about me.”
“His mother died, Diane. He is in bits.”
The scowl left Diane’s face, and Jimmy wondered whether she was starting to realise how unreasonable she was acting.
She shrugged and said grudgingly, “Well, that must have been horrible for him. What’s the time? Do you think we will still make the pictures?”
Jimmy looked away from her and huffed out a breath. He was starting to wonder if he’d been wrong about her. Had he been taken in by her sweet appearance? Diane definitely wasn’t as sweet as she had seemed when he’d first met her, and right now, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend the evening with her after all.
Diane breathed in sharply and then reached up to Jimmy’s cheek. “You’re hurt. How did that happen?”
Jimmy pulled back a little, and his own hand touched the mark on his cheek. It wasn’t much of an injury just a small bruise from where Trevor’s fist had grazed his cheekbone. He’d moved too fast for Trevor to inflict any serious damage,
“It’s nothing. Trevor was just working out his anger.”
“On you?” Diane said indignantly.
Jimmy nodded and then shrugged.
“Well, I hope you hit him back,” Diane snapped.
“No, I walked away. He’d just lost his mother. I wasn’t going to fight him in the street.”
Diane seemed to sense she’d gone too far and attempted to smile.
“Well, that’s good to hear. I don’t want my man brawling in the street.” She tucked her arm through his. “We’d better get a move on otherwise the film will have started.”
Diane began to walk forward, but Jimmy didn’t budge, making her turn and look up at him.
“I’m not in the mood for the pictures after the day I’ve had. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
Diane was quiet as they walked back to her parents’ house, and Jimmy could practically see her calculating how angry he was and what buttons to press. He was starting to see a different side of Diane, and he didn’t much like it.
* * *
Trevor hadn’t stuck around for long after his father had accused him of being responsible for his mother’s death.
When Jimmy had brought Georgie home, the poor little lad had been hysterical. Trevor wanted to try and put it right, but he didn’t know where to start. It seemed his father was determined to punish and humiliate Trevor at every turn. Feeling wretched and out of control, Trevor had left his sobbing brother with Jimmy Diamond comforting him. As soon as he’d left an inconsolable Georgie, Trevor headed straight for The Lamb and had been drinking pints followed by whisky chasers for the past hour.
He wanted to numb the pain and forget what happened today, but the drink wasn’t working.
He hated his father for accusing him of not being there, but he couldn’t help thinking that perhaps he was right. He shouldn’t have left her alone. And even worse, he felt overwhelmingly guilty for taking that money from her purse.
Although she hadn’t played an active role in his life since he’d been a small boy, Trevor felt like somebody had reached into his chest and pulled his heart out. He didn’t understand how it was possible to miss someone so much when she’d barely interacted with anyone in the family for the past ten years.
He missed who she used to be.
Trevor beckoned the barmaid over to him and ordered another drink.
He was already unsteady on his feet as he wasn’t a big drinker. Not through choice, but because he didn’t have much money to spend on booze usually. Besides, Trevor didn’t like the out-of-control feeling being drunk gave him, so he’d always avoided drinking to excess in the past, but today all he wanted was to get completely and utterly pissed.
He ordered drink after drink, knowing he didn’t have the money to pay his tab and not caring.
The barmaid was called Louise something or other, and she was a plain looking girl with bushy eyebrows that met in the middle. She raised a shaggy eyebrow as she poured Trevor another pint.
Even in his drunken state, Trevor realised she would like to tell him he’d had enough and send him home, but nobody would dare do that to him. Being Dave Carter’s son had some benefits at least, Trevor thought.
After another hour and another three pints, Trevor was falling off the barstool.
A couple of people did come up to try and give him their condolences, but he hadn’t been in the mood to talk to anyone. He merely nodded and then turned back to his drink.
He knew people were watching him, muttering and talking about him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care much about anything anymore.
He slurred his words as he ordered another drink and then felt a hand on his shoulder.
Trevor turned with a snarl, ready to tell whoever it was to sod off with their bloody condolences, but the words died in his mouth when he saw it was his Uncle Gary.
To his horror, Trevor’s face crumpled as he fought back the urge to cry.
Gary’s face was the picture of kindness and concern as he put an arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“Come on, Trevor. Let’s get you home.”
Trevor shook his head frantically. He didn’t want to go home. He couldn’t stand being there.
“I ain’t going home,” he said, wobbling as Gary helped him off the stool. “I can’t.”
“I understand. Let’s go back to my gaff. We’ll get some food into your stomach, and that’ll make you feel better.”
Trevor barely noticed the gazes of all the punters in the pub following him as Gary escorted him toward the door.
He began to babble about finding his mother and how it hadn’t been his fault. Uncle Gary muttered reassuring words as he patted Trevor’s shoulder and opened the door leading out onto the street.
* * *
Gary Carter looked at the sorry state of his nephew. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone, not even his worst enemy. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for the poor lad to find his mother like that. But Gary was mercenary enough to realise this could play right into his hands.
Dave’s treatment of the youngster would work against him.
There had alwa
ys been a wedge between Dave and Trevor, and although Gary didn’t really understand it, he wasn’t above using it for his own purposes.
It had been his game plan all along to ingratiate himself with Trevor and make the boy trust him. He put a reassuring arm around the boy’s shoulders and squeezed him.
“It’s going to be all right, Trevor. You can stay with me for a while until things settle down.”
The boy sniffed and nodded as Gary told him everything he wanted to hear.
It was a crying shame the boy was so desperate for love. His mother, God rest her soul, had been a waste of space for the last ten or so years. He’d once envied Dave his happy family life with Sandra and his children, but no longer. Sandra had been like a member of the walking dead, drifting around in a dream state after Lillian had died, and then Georgie had been born not quite right in the head, and she’d disappeared off into her own world, and never came back. She’d been weak. Weak in mind and weak in heart, and she had pulled back from real-life to try and protect herself.
Only the strongest characters survived events like that. It took a special person to make it despite life doing its damnedest to break you.
Gary didn’t blame the drugs like everybody else did. He was partial to a little sniff of cocaine and never turned down uppers and downers. But he knew how to take it right. He would never have accidentally overdosed. And he was sure that Sandra’s death hadn’t been an accident either. She’d wanted to go. She was tired of living.
Gary reached out to steady Trevor as he almost toppled over the kerb, tripping over his own feet.
“Nearly there, son. Not far to go now,” he murmured as he put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder to direct him around the corner.
Gary was playing the long game. He would always be there when Trevor needed him, slowly but surely feeding him with poison about Dave. Or as Gary liked to think about it, telling the boy the truth.
His brother had always had everything handed to him, all the while looking down his nose at Gary because of some of his lifestyle choices.
