Backstreet Child (14 page)

‘I’m goin’ fer the doctor, Mum,’ she said firmly.

Nellie sat up in bed and grabbed her daughter’s coat sleeve. ‘Yer’ll do no such fing,’ she said, becoming agitated. ‘I’ll pop round ter see ’im meself termorrer. I only need a tonic.’

Carrie reluctantly bowed to her mother’s wishes, and as she began preparing the dinner the air-raid siren sounded. During the warning period Carrie and Joe, along with Rachel, sat round the bed chatting to Nellie.

‘What do I call myself now, Bradley or Maitland?’ Rachel joked.

‘Yer still yer farvver’s child, Rachel,’ Nellie told her.

‘Poor Mum,’ Rachel said feelingly.

‘Why poor Mum?’ Joe asked.

‘Oh, an’ poor Joe,’ she said smiling at him with affection. ‘You two are never gonna get an ’oneymoon now.’

Chapter Nine

The war was just two weeks old and already the opinion of many of the Kings Arms regulars was that it would be over in six months.

‘We called their bluff an’ they know they can’t win,’ one elderly docker remarked to his friend.

‘I make yer right, Arfur. There’s no way the Germans are gonna get frew that Maginot Line,’ the friend replied. ‘It’s bloody laughable. Yer got two armies starin’ at each ovver over them there fortifications an’ neivver of ’em are gonna make any move. Yeah, I give it six months at the outside.’

One old man in a black seaman’s jersey and cap puffed on his clay pipe and fixed the two friends with a contemptuous stare. ‘It’s gonna go on fer a long time, this war, mark my words,’ he growled. ‘All right, it might be quiet on the Western Front but it ain’t all quiet at sea. Look at the ships what’s bin sunk already. What about that passenger ship, the
Athenia
? It went down on the first day o’ the war, an’ what about the fishermen gettin’ fired on while they’re trawlin’?’

The first docker gave the old salt a look which told him to mind his own business. ‘Wars are always gonna be fought at sea, mate, we all know that,’ he answered in an offhand manner. ‘It’s bin like that from the year dot. It’s ’cos we’re a seafarin’ nation, that’s why. Take yer Nelsons an’ yer Drakes. They went out ter do battle fer king an’ country an’ that’s what’s gonna ’appen in this war.’

‘Queen an’ country,’ his friend corrected him.

‘All right, queen an’ country, but the trufe is, we’re an island, an’ there’s no better navy in the world than the British.’

‘Granted, but if yer fink it’s all gonna be over in six months, yer got less sense than that bloody table,’ the old seaman growled, turning his back on the pair.

Terry Gordon was busy serving pints, still looking a little out of sorts after his head injury, and he constantly cast his eyes over the gathered assembly for a strange face. His two attackers were known to him but he had refrained from saying so when he was interviewed by the police. He had been expecting some sort of trouble since the first day he took over the Kings Arms and it had not been long in coming. As he felt the tightness of his scalp where his wound was healing, it depressed him to think that there was still a lot of hate directed towards him.

Terry Gordon had been born in Dockhead, and when he was very young his family moved to the Elephant and Castle area. As a young man he had become a member of the McKenzie gang, a notorious family of villains who used protection rackets to control the local prostitutes, small shopkeepers and street bookmakers. At that time Terry’s future wife Patricia was the girl friend of Dougal, the most sadistic of the brothers, but his ill treatment of her finally led her into the arms of the handsome young gang member, who had by that time become disenchanted with his way of life. When Dougal found out, he had him beaten up badly, but Terry was a determined character. He left the area, married Patricia and took over the management of a pub in Stepney, and for some time all was quiet. After a few years, however, when Terry and his wife decided to move back south of the river and buy into a very busy pub in Walworth, trouble reared its head once more. One night, Dougal and his brother Callum called into the pub and made Terry an offer of protection.

He refused to bow to their threats, and other business people in the area who were themselves paying extortionate rates to the McKenzies for so-called protection were given the lead that they needed; a rebellion was born. The area around the Elephant and Castle had recently been taken over by a tough Irish policeman who had vowed to clean it up, and Divisional Inspector Tommy O’Shay set about his task with relish. Dougal, Callum and one or two other senior members of the McKenzie gang finally got long sentences. Callum died in prison; Dougal McKenzie served his full sentence and came out a twisted, vengeful man, bent on seeking out those who had caused the gang’s downfall.

When the Scot came back to his old haunts around the Elephant and Castle, he could see the changes. Most of his cronies had moved away and those left were older and wiser. Gone was the fear of the very name McKenzie, and the new young villains laughed behind the back of the heavily built, shuffling figure who had once ruled the area. There were still one or two loyal associates left, however, and Dougal started recruiting. He was in his forties now and slowing up, and whereas once he had been in the forefront of any violence, when word reached him that ‘an old friend’ had taken a pub in Dockhead, he sent in two hired musclemen to do the damage for him.

The landlord of the Kings Arms busied himself and worried. He had been very fortunate that Billy Sullivan was in the pub when the trouble started but it was obvious to him that Dougal McKenzie would not leave things as they stood. Maybe he should get a younger barman, he thought; someone who could look after himself and deter anyone from starting trouble. Maybe he should have a word with Billy Sullivan.

The Saturday evening was wearing on as Joe roused himself in front of the low fire. Carrie was sitting facing him, a newspaper resting on her lap.

‘Did I fall asleep?’ he asked, yawning widely.

Carrie smiled. ‘Yer bin snorin’ fer the past hour,’ she chided him.

Joe sat up in his chair and looked at her closely. ‘Is Rachel out?’

Carrie nodded. ‘Carol called for ’er.’

Joe stared into the fire for a few moments then he looked up. ‘D’yer know, it’d be nice if I could take yer ter the Kings Arms fer a quiet drink on Saturday evenin’s but I daren’t,’ he said, lowering his eyes to gaze at his clasped hands.

Carrie folded the newspaper and dropped it on the floor by her feet. ‘It doesn’t bovver me in the least,’ she replied. ‘Do yer feel the need fer a drink?’

Joe shook his head. ‘I like what I’ve got an’ there’s no way I’m gonna risk losin’ it,’ he told her firmly.

Carrie felt a sudden urge to hug him. He looked so childlike sitting there with his hair tousled and a very serious expression on his face. ‘I’m very ’appy, Joe,’ she said quietly.

He leant forward to rake the ash from the fire and then his face took on a thoughtful look. ‘D’yer know what I’m finkin’ about?’ he said after a moment or two.

Carrie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t,’ she replied with a warm smile. ‘What yer finkin’ about?’

‘I was finkin’ about the time when yer was gettin’ that cafe on its feet an’ yer came ter see me about some provisions,’ he said, his grin broadening.

‘In that little pub in Tower Bridge Road?’

‘That’s right, the Jolly Compasses,’ Joe said. ‘I remember lookin’ at yer then an’ finkin’ ter meself ’ow beautiful yer was. There yer were, a young innocent in a nasty, grabbin’ world, an’ actin’ like an ’ard-’eaded businesswoman. It certainly got me goin’.’

‘Did yer see frew my bravado?’ Carrie asked, smiling at him.

‘Yeah, course I did,’ he replied. ‘There was no way I was gonna let yer not get a good deal that day though, Carrie. It was part o’ the big plan.’

‘Ter get me inter yer bed, yer mean?’

Joe looked down at his feet for a few moments and then his eyes came up to meet hers. ‘I always knew yer were a little firecracker, ever since the time I saw yer pull that rearin’ ’orse away from yer dad,’ he said softly. ‘I jus’ wanted ter get ter know yer better at first, but sittin’ there in that pub talkin’ business wiv yer got ter me some’ow. I can’t explain it but suddenly I wanted yer. Wanted yer like mad. I knew it was gonna ’appen eventually, I jus’ knew.’

Carrie leaned forward in the chair with her chin cupped in her hand, her eyes sparkling. ‘An’ do I still excite yer?’

‘More than ever,’ he replied, his hand going out to hers.

The sound of the front door opening made them sit back with a grin, and Rachel walked into the parlour with a serious look on her face. ‘Did yer listen ter the nine o’clock news?’ she asked as she slipped off her coat.

Carrie and Joe both looked at her with anticipation.

‘There’s anuvver two ships bin sunk,’ she told them. ‘Carol got all upset. ’Er bruvver’s at sea.’

Carrie knew what was on her daughter’s mind. Derek would soon be at sea himself. ‘Maybe the war won’t last much longer,’ she said softly, feeling at a loss for something to say that would ease Rachel’s fears.

Joe stood up and put his arm round the young woman’s shoulders. ‘A couple more days an’ Derek’ll be ’ome, an’ in the meantime I’m gonna put the kettle on fer a cuppa,’ he said cheerfully.

Rachel’s face brightened and she sat down in the chair Joe had just vacated. ‘I was finkin’, Mum. Would yer mind if me an’ Derek went down ter Brighton fer a few days?’ she asked suddenly. ‘ ’E wants ter see ’is Aunt Clara before ’e gets a ship.’

Carrie studied her fingernails for a few moments then looked up at her pretty young daughter. ‘Rachel, I know you an’ Derek are in love, it’s obvious ter me, an’ Joe,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘The problem is, yer both still very young. Gawd knows ’ow long this war’s gonna go on for, an’ yer young man’s gonna be facin’ a lot o’ danger. Yer shouldn’t take fings too fast. Don’t do anyfing stupid, it could ruin yer life, both yer lives.’

Rachel leaned back in her chair. ‘I know what yer mean, Mum,’ she replied, her face colouring slightly. ‘Yer fink I’ll get pregnant on purpose, jus’ so I’ve always got somefing ter remind me o’ Derek if anyfing should ’appen to ’im.’

Carrie did not answer. The lump in her throat was rising and she averted her eyes to the fire.

‘I want us ter get engaged, Mum,’ Rachel went on. ‘It’s Derek who’s draggin’ ’is feet. ’E feels the same as you. ’E said we shouldn’t do anyfing stupid an’ we should wait till we see ’ow fings are gonna turn out.’

Carrie swallowed hard. ‘Go ter Brighton wiv ’im, luv,’ she said. ‘Just be careful.’

Suddenly Rachel slipped onto her knees and buried her head in her mother’s lap. ‘I love yer, Mum, you an’ Joe,’ she said, ‘an’ I wouldn’t bring any shame on yer. I jus’ feel I’m very lucky ter’ave yer both.’

Danny and Iris Tanner had just finished wrapping the last of the crockery in newspaper and packing it into a tea chest. Danny sat down on the edge of the scullery table and looked around.

‘There’s the breakfast fings ter wrap termorrer an’ then we’re ready,’ he said with a satisfied smile.

Iris nodded. ‘I’ll be glad ter see the back o’ this place,’ she replied.

‘It was our first ’ome,’ Danny reminded her.

Iris came to him and slipped her arm round his waist. ‘I’m not bein’ ’orrible, Danny, but it’s different fer a woman,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘I’m stuck ’ere all day wiv the kids an’ it’s a fankless task tryin’ ter make somefink of it. Jus’ look at that plaster, an’ that gap in the door. The bedrooms are the same an’ there’s dampness everywhere. I’m worried fer the kids.’

Danny squeezed her to him. ‘I know, luv,’ he replied. ‘The new place is a lot better than this, an’ Billy’s gonna ’elp me decorate it right frew. You’ll be pleased when we’ve finished.’

‘ ’Ow many trips d’yer fink it’ll take?’ she asked.

Danny shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘About two or three,’ he told her. ‘The wringer’s the only problem. We’ll ’ave ter make a special trip fer that. Not ter worry though. Billy’s gonna give me an ’and.’

Iris leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. ‘Well, luv, as this is our last night in this gaff, shall we ’ave an early night?’ she said with a grin.

Danny looked briefly at the clock standing on the dresser and gazed through the window at the star-filled sky. ‘If yer like,’ he said, and chuckled. ‘It’s only twenty past one.’

Dolly Dawson took the letter down from the mantelshelf and read it again, then she hugged the paper to her ample bosom and sighed deeply. Her prayers had been answered. Josiah was being released from Dartmoor on Monday and he should arrive home late in the evening. She thought how nice it would be for the children and for Wallace especially. He missed his father badly and as long as Josiah stayed off the drink, things were going to be very nice in future. He was really a good man, Dolly told herself. It was just hard luck that he got himself into trouble at times. Maybe he had seen the error of his ways after his long sentence. The boys would remember him but Joyce had been just two years old when he went away and would not know him, she realised.

Wallace was lying awake in his room, dwelling on what his mother had told him earlier. He remembered his father being very angry and shouting at him when he broke a cup and getting a cuff round the ear, but there were good memories coming slowly into his mind too. He had been given a bright coin once when he was quiet, and then there was the time he went for a ride on the tram. No, that was a bad time, Wallace thought, not remembering exactly why. There was the man who shouted and it frightened him. The rattle of the tram had made his head hurt and he was sick in the kerb afterwards. Wallace felt the pain starting up in his head again and he pulled the blanket right up over him and closed his eyes.