Dream On (12 page)

‘I was going to offer you a job.'

Marge's face dropped. A job! What was he, barmy?

Lilly looked relieved. ‘Come on, Marge.'

‘I don't think you understand.' Saunders turned to Johnno. ‘Fetch a round of drinks and bring them over to that table,' he said, walking over to the corner of the pub.

The girls followed him. They weren't stupid, they knew when they had to do as they were told; there was no one in the pub who would take a tom's side in the general run of things, never mind against these two big buggers, and especially not after what they'd done to Ted.

There were two men already sitting at the table that Saunders had chosen. ‘You don't mind chaps, do you? Only me and the ladies want a bit of privacy.' He winked and slipped a ten-shilling note into the nearest man's hand.

Without a word, the men moved.

Saunders sat down on the bench seat that ran along the wall and gestured for the two girls to sit opposite on the rickety, splintered little stools.

He shrugged out of his camel coat and folded it carefully, setting it beside him as though it were a pampered pet cat being bedded down for the night.

He looked across at the girls, fixing them with his unusually pale blue eyes. ‘I'm expanding my interests.'

‘Aw yeah,' said Marge warily. ‘What sort of interests would they be then? Painting and decorating?'

He laughed at her cheek. People didn't usually give him that sort of backchat, nervously or otherwise. ‘Business interests. Property. Clubs. Mostly clubs at the minute.'

He paused while Johnno put down a tray of drinks. Beer and chasers for him and Saunders, and gin and orange for the girls.

‘Up West, they are,' Saunders went on. ‘But I fancy setting up one or two out this way, and in a few other spots round the East End. Shoreditch maybe. From the sort of deals I've heard are going on round here, and with all the money I've seen change hands, I reckon there's plenty of people with spare dough to chuck about on having a good time. And that's where you two come in.'

Lilly and Marge sipped at their drinks, listening in watchful silence.

‘I'm looking for pretty girls like you. Girls who know their way round the sort of punters you get in these parts. And that's why you're gonna work for me.'

Lilly's eyes opened wide and she mouthed something to Marge.

‘If it's that twat Ted Martin you're worried about, you can forget him. He won't worry you while I'm around.' Saunders took a long swallow of beer and grinned at Johnno across the rim of his glass. ‘Even a no-mark like him's got the sense to keep his head down when he knows he's in Billy Saunders's bad books.'

It wasn't even six o'clock in the evening, but as Lilly climbed, or rather stumbled, up the bleak, unlit staircase to the top floor of the grubby Stepney boarding-house where she had her miserable little room, her head was spinning as though she'd been out all night.

Billy Saunders was generous with the gin, she'd give him that. And he wasn't mean in other ways either. He had told Johnno to see them home as if they were proper ladies or something. Lilly had protested at first, not liking too many people to know where she lived. She'd never been one to work from home unless she couldn't help it, as you never knew with punters, some of them could be right nasty buggers. But, in the end, she was glad she'd given in. She could never have shifted Marge once the booze got the better of her and she'd passed out on the corner of Salmon Lane. But it was no trouble for Johnno. He'd just hoisted her up on his shoulder as though she were a bag of nutty slack and had carried her all the way home to her flat.

Lilly smiled drunkenly to herself, as she thought what Marge would say when she told her how she had been carted through the streets like a parcel. And as for the look on her landlady's face! That was something to behold.

But after the walk back from Marge's, having to persuade Johnno that she'd be just fine and then the further effort of getting to the top of her stairs, Lilly was now feeling really groggy.

She paused in the gloom for a moment, taking deep breaths of cabbage-stinking air, trying to get her balance. Pushing open the door – she never bothered locking it, she had nothing worth nicking – Lilly called huskily into the darkness, ‘Ted. You awake yet?'

A groan came from the single bed that took up more than half of the mean little space.

She staggered across the room in the direction of the sound. ‘Ted. Come on. You've gotta get up. It's gone tea-time.'

‘So?'

‘You've gotta go,' she slurred. ‘You can't stay here no more.'

Ted sprang from the bed as though it were on fire and slapped her hard across the face. ‘
What
did you say, you dirty little whore?'

It must have been the drink that made her so brave. Swaying slightly, Lilly took aim, then stabbed her finger hard into his chest. ‘I wouldn't do that again if I was you, Ted Martin. I've got someone looking out for me now.' She took another step forward. ‘And his minder's downstairs waiting for me to throw you out,' she lied recklessly, half wishing that Johnno was still down there.

After a fortnight of putting up with Ted's increasingly unpredictable temper, the idea of being shot of him definitely appealed to her, although she still felt bad about chucking him out without any notice. She knew what it was like to have nowhere to go. But he
was
married – weren't they all – let him go back to his old woman. ‘I mean it Ted. You've gotta go. Now.'

Ted raised his hand. ‘You stinking, little—'

Lilly lurched back towards the door, out of his reach. ‘I'll do you a favour. I'll go down and say I'm giving you a couple of hours. A chance to sort yourself out. Then I'll go along to the coffee shop and wait for you to clear off. But I'm telling you, Ted, if you ain't gone by the time I get back, I won't be responsible.'

Holding on to the jamb, she paused, stared down at the faded lino and muttered that there was some grub in the cupboard and a fresh bottle of milk in the sink, then, somehow, she found her way back down the stairs.

Ginny dipped her chin and yawned loudly. She wanted to put up her hand to cover her mouth, but couldn't because she was so loaded down with shopping bags. As well as going out to work, keeping the house clean and doing all the washing, Ginny was now responsible for doing every bit of shopping as well. She felt worn out and cold. The evening sky might have been clear and bright, but there was a chill in the air that made her shiver.

When she had worked near the Lane she had often brought home a few bits and pieces during the week, but it wasn't so easy now she was working in the factory at Stratford. And getting the bags home on the bus was bloody murder. She would have made do with a sandwich but Nellie always wanted a proper dinner, which was easier said than done since Ted hadn't been around for the past few weeks, and what with all the queuing and rationing . . .

Ginny thought with longing about having a proper dinner hour when she could sit down with a cup of tea and the paper instead of standing with a bunch of women all moaning about the price of mince. Sometimes she wondered what things would've been like if Britain had lost the war instead of winning it. They couldn't have been much worse.

If only Nellie would try to help a bit, no matter how small the effort, at least it would have been a gesture. But there was less chance than ever of that now. Since Ted had gone into hiding from the police, Nellie had been even more of a pain to live with and had taken to going to bed for most of the day. She hadn't even roused herself for Violet Varney's funeral.

Ginny shuddered as she thought what had happened to Violet. How she'd wound up a disease-ridden torn, just like the women who hung around the street corners in Whitechapel. Bad as things might be, Ginny would never let her life get out of hand like that, she'd take an oath on it. She'd never give up, not like Violet.

Poor, sad Violet.

Her funeral had been a terrible affair. Martha had organised a collection in the Albert so there had at least been a few flowers, but apart from the neighbours who had turned out to show their respects for Bert's sake – the man was a war hero when all was said and done – the church was almost empty. And when the undertakers lowered the coffin into the cold, damp earth, Bert had cried silently to himself, doing his best to keep a bit of dignity, but it was obvious that he knew what people were thinking: however had Violet let herself stoop so low?

Ginny sighed. There must have been another way, surely.

Violet really must have lost her mind. There was no other explanation.

Nellie didn't even have that as an excuse. She was just a selfish, idle old trout, and her not bothering to go to the funeral hadn't surprised Ginny in the least. In fact, there wasn't much about Nellie that could surprise her any more. During the four years Ginny had been married to Ted, any illusions she had had about Nellie becoming a mother to her had slowly, but surely, worn away.

Ginny could only think herself lucky that she was fortunate enough to have someone like Pearl to go to; not that she did very often. Pearl had enough to worry about with her own family. Dilys had always been a handful, Ginny knew that, but now the boys as well – both girl mad, like any young fellers of their age – were causing Pearl aggravation of their own. She certainly didn't need Ginny bothering her as well. But it was still comforting to know that she was there. A sort of safety net, a last resort if Ginny couldn't cope any more.

At last Ginny reached the corner of Bailey Street. She turned out of Grove Road and crossed the street, heading straight for number 18. She had almost reached her front door, when she heard Dilys calling her name.

Dumping her bags on the step, Ginny turned round. ‘All right, Dilys?' she greeted her.

‘Come over for a minute, will you, Gin?' whined Dilys. ‘There's something I've gotta ask you.'

‘Dilys, I can't. Really. I've just got home and there's Nellie wanting her tea, and—'

‘But, Ginny, I've been waiting for you for ages,' moaned Dilys.

‘Hang on.' Wearily, Ginny reached inside the letter-box, pulled out the key on the length of string and undid the door. She put her shopping bags inside the passage and called out, ‘It's only me, Nell. I'll be in to do your tea in a minute, but I've just gotta pop over the road first to see Dilys.'

She dragged herself back across the street to number 11, preferring not to wait for what she rightly suspected would be Nellie's sarcastic reply.

‘D'you know how long I've been waiting for you?' Dilys demanded, pulling the door to behind her, so that nobody inside could hear them.

‘Sorry, Dil, but what with Ted being away still, I'm having to do even more hours. Nellie might have the hump but it don't stop her eating like a flipping horse. And I've gotta get the money for grub from somewhere.'

Ginny didn't know how, but Dilys, as usual, had managed to make her apologise even though she had nothing to apologise for. It was one of the knacks she had.

Dilys folded her arms. ‘I reckon I quite fancy a job there,' she said carelessly. ‘Anything going, is there?'

‘Well, they're always looking for more workers on the conveyor belt.'

Dilys looked shocked. ‘Why didn't you tell me?'

‘I didn't think you'd be interested.'

‘I've got no choice, have I?' Dilys kicked viciously at a bit of slate, sending it spinning into the gutter. ‘I've gotta be interested. Me mum and dad'll throw me out if I don't start bringing in some money soon.'

‘Pearl and George wouldn't do that to you. Anyway,' Ginny grinned, shoving her supposed friend playfully in the ribs, ‘how about that feller of yours you're always going on about? You said he was keeping you.'

Dilys nibbled her lip as she thought of how much she was missing Ted and, more importantly, how much she was missing the money he gave her.

‘Well?' Ginny urged her.

‘He's working away, ain't he?' Dilys snapped.

As Ginny lay in bed that night, she thought about Dilys's chap. He might have been working away but at least Dilys knew where he was. She knew it was wrong to be envious, but she couldn't help thinking how fortunate Dilys was.

She wished she knew where Ted was hiding himself.

Ginny wasn't exactly angry with him for going away, she knew he had no choice, she was more worried. He'd been gone for weeks now and it was dangerous out there. The police were really after black marketeers. And, it was no good wrapping it up in any other words, that's what her husband was.

Still, he never did anyone any harm. So why did this bloke, whoever he was, have it in for him?

Something else for her to worry about. She sighed out loud and rolled on to her side, staring at the shadows cast on the wall from the street lamp outside her window.

It was bad enough being concerned about money – Nellie just wouldn't get it into her head that with Ted away there wasn't as much coming in as usual – but thinking that Ted might be in danger was far worse.

If only her mum and dad were still around, they'd know what to do. She missed them and her brothers and sisters so much.

She felt so alone.

Ginny swallowed hard, trying to sniff back the tears, but it was too late, she could already feel them gathering in the corners of her eyes. She rolled on to her back and stared up at the ceiling as they spilt down on to her cheeks, then slowly found their way into her ears.

The sound of a car turning into the street and a pattern of headlights criss-crossing on the ceiling made her turn over and stare at the curtained window.

That would be Sid from over the road. He'd just bought himself a little motor and was really proud of it. She even managed a brief smile as she thought of how Pearl had warned him over and over again to be careful, and how Sid had snapped back that he could hardly go speeding with the amount of juice the bloody government allowed you.