Eve of the Isle (11 page)

‘It was only a smile.'

‘Moody would have you in the cells for that.'

‘Moody ain't here.' If it was one thing that dismayed Charlie about the Force it was public relations. Or rather the lack of it. The general attitude was them and us. Well, he wanted to make a difference to this community. If you couldn't give a smile to the public now and then, what was the world coming to?

‘Incidentally,' said Robbie as they stopped at a jeweller's and he tried the door. ‘What happened at the morgue?'

Charlie was startled at the question. He had no idea that anyone knew of the incident other than Moody. ‘We took a widow to identify a corpse to see if it was her sailor husband,' he said briefly.

‘Was she young?'

‘Who?'

‘The widow, of course.'

Charlie went on the defensive. ‘What's all this about? It was just an ordinary identification process.'

‘Which means she was a bit of all right.'

Charlie looked into his friend's eyes. ‘I don't know what you're talking about, Robbie. And how come you know about it anyway?'

‘From old Moody. I was on the desk when he came back.'

Charlie felt his heart beat hard against his ribs. ‘What did he say?'

‘He was in a right strop, said he was late because the paperwork he'd had to do at the morgue had taken him all day. Said the case should have been chucked in the bin five years ago. That it was all a load of red tape that cost the tax payer a fortune. A bloody foreigner, were his words. And why should half of Stepney manpower still be called out on the job?'

Charlie's pleasant start to the day suddenly evaporated. Who did Moody think he was, talking about Eve's husband like that? He may have been born abroad but he lived here, didn't he? Worked bloody hard for his living and supported a family. Since meeting Eve he'd done a bit of enquiring into the lascars. He'd seen them about often enough, slender figures dressed in flimsy cotton coats and trousers, summer and winter alike. But he'd never had anything to do with them, just accepted them as part of the landscape. Now he'd turned up a few facts he hadn't known before. These Asiatic seamen were officially defined as natives of the British Empire
and were highly regarded in their trade. Conscientious and loyal to the line that employed them, they were, however, a sitting target for the keepers of lodging houses and opium dens who preyed on the innocent. In fact, though they could be seen on leave, trailing round the docks and markets in their fascination for all things English, their sobriety, patience and obedience to their employers were exemplary. For Moody to denigrate the dead man like that was a sin to Charlie.

‘You shouldn't take notice of Moody,' he replied as his friend looked at him curiously. ‘You know what he's like, a right ignoramus at times.'

Robbie frowned, his fair eyebrows coming low over his eyes. ‘So why don't you enlighten me, chum?'

Charlie shrugged. ‘For a start, half of the Force ain't on the case.'

‘Well, you and him were.'

‘The truth is the sailor, this Raj Kumar, died in mysterious circumstances. He was lost from a ship run by a British company.'

‘And?'

‘Well, ask yourself this. The master reports his disappearance. Kumar wasn't a novice, but a sailor who'd gone up through the lascar ranks. There was no enquiry, no investigation in London and none that came to light from abroad. The case surfaced again when this body turned up in the flood. The ensign on the dead man's jacket denoted the same company as Kumar's and Mrs Kumar was brought in to see the body.'

Charlie was pleased to see that he had given Robbie something to think about. Had Eve's husband been a member of an English crew would there have been an enquiry? The two policemen began to walk on. Their steps were in unison, but Charlie could feel a certain unrest between them.

‘Anyway Moody says the case is closed,' said Robbie after a while. ‘You should think yourself lucky not having to follow it up.'

‘I reckon there's more to it than meets the eye. I did a bit of checking up and Oriental seamen are protected by the Indian Merchant Shipping Acts. So why wasn't they involved?'

‘But this isn't your concern, Charlie.'

‘It's our job to seek justice and uphold it, isn't it?'

‘You're sure it's not because you fancy the widow?'

‘Hey watch it,' Charlie returned sharply. ‘She's not that sort. She's a decent woman.'

‘You're sure of that, are you?'

This time, Charlie caught his arm hard. ‘Look, Robbie, I might only be a copper on the beat but I do know something about human nature.'

His friend gave him an even stare. ‘Charlie, it's only ever a woman that makes a man talk like you're talking. Don't get involved. Moody would call it fraternizing with the enemy. You've got a good career in front of you. You'll go far one day if you don't confuse your high and mighty ideals with the way the law works.'

‘I thought the law was an ideal.'

‘To you, my friend, perhaps.'

‘And you?'

‘All I'm saying is beware of the wrong women.'

‘And look who's talking, Casanova himself!' exclaimed Charlie in a gasp.

‘Yeah, well take a tip from a bloke that's not always been led by his brains,' Robbie answered dryly. ‘I learned a valuable lesson last year. The little hiccup I had over Diana Thomas was too close for comfort even though she was a real stunner and absolutely up for anything. But she was also married – and to another copper. I was only bedding her for the hell of it anyway. If it wasn't for my CO pulling a few strings, I'd have been out on my backside with a DD.' Robbie grinned gently. ‘So concentrate on your job and grow a tough skin. And remember, you're my pal, I'm looking out for you.'

Charlie couldn't believe he'd just received a lecture from someone whom he'd heard boast that he'd only joined the Force for the uniform and the power it gave a man over females. Not that Robbie wasn't his best chum and a damn fine footballer, but Charlie had heard rumours that he was still playing the field, and again, with married women.

Charlie knew that if he opened his mouth now, he'd end up saying something he'd regret. So he shut it firmly and without saying more, they walked on.

By the end of their beat, they had returned to the subject of football and the match that night. But Charlie was still ruminating on what his friend had said about
the Kumar case. He wondered now if Moody had mentioned something else – hinted in some way about Eve – that had Robbie pressing all the wrong buttons today. Well, he would take what his friend had said into account, but the truth was he didn't regret the help he had given Eve and her boys. They'd had a rough time of it and he'd tried to do his best to help. But what irked Charlie the most was the casual dispatch of the circumstances surrounding Eve's husband's death. Both Moody and Robbie had been of the same mind; Raj Kumar warranted no interest.

But why?

Charlie felt the sting of the winter wind on his cheeks and pulled back his shoulders. Maybe he'd done all he could in this case and now should leave it alone. He certainly had no power to investigate a case that was closed.

He tried to propel his mind forward to the match at Locke Lancaster's ground. It would be exciting, challenging. He needed a shot of adrenaline that would put an end to the disturbed feeling inside him.

A solid career was what he was after. It wasn't the docks, it wasn't in professional football; it was the Force. But with this admission came certain responsibilities. Should he stick to the letter of the law and put the unresolved death of a lascar behind him? Or should he follow his instincts and delve deeper?

Chapter Seven

T
he next morning Eve took breakfast to Joan as usual. But she was shooed away by a bad tempered grunt. Leaving the tray on the bedside table she paused at the door.

‘I'll be home in time to cook Harold's dinner and do the chores,' she promised but received no response.

All day at the cottage, she was thinking about money. Her patch of watercress had been destroyed. In winter there was practically no cress sold on the streets but each spring she would harvest from her crop and sell it to shops and factories. When she had none she would sell posies of flowers that she bought from Covent Garden, rising early to ride on the back of a coster's cart. But now she had no basket or money for stock.

As she worked, piling the mud and dirt in the wheelbarrow, she decided the boys must return to school. St Saviour's was a highly respected Catholic school and Eve encouraged the twins to observe their religion. But the nuns insisted they learn their catechism and the Latin responses to Mass. Samuel and Albert were not
star pupils, and frequently they missed confession on Saturday morning because Eve allowed them to sleep in after their late Friday nights.

This sin, especially, went against being a good Catholic and Eve didn't want the boys to be ridiculed or singled out at school. So on Monday she would hang her head and apologize to Sister Mary for their extended absence.

As Eve watched them from the kitchen window, her eyes lingered on their two small figures. In their too-big boots, warm scarves and peaked caps, Samuel and Albert looked the picture of health. They gazed up admiringly at the Higgins' sons as they flexed their muscles under their rolled-up shirt sleeves.

Suddenly there was a loud yell, and Jimmy opened the closet door. Eve stepped back from the window. She didn't want to see what horrible surprise was in there.

The day wore on and Eve was with Peg in the kitchen. Although Jimmy had shovelled away the top layer in the wheelbarrow, the drying mud clung to every surface. Eve knew it was a health hazard. She found a large drowned rat in the larder and shrieked. The men came running in and disposed of it.

A little later it was Peg's turn. ‘Oh my Gawd!' screamed Peg as she jumped back from the stove. An army of black shiny roaches poured out of the oven.

‘Oh, Peg, what next?'

‘They took refuge from the water I suppose. Bugs can't swim.'

Eric Higgins rushed in, a look of alarm on his face. ‘What's up now?'

Peg and Eve pointed to the oven. Eric aimed his broom at the interior, but it was useless. The roaches, beetles and insects flopped out onto the dirty floor and scuttled away. Even the heavy sole of Eric's boot didn't deter them.

‘Sorry girls, what you have here is an infestation. Rats, mice, bugs, you name it, they're here.'

Eve knew this warranted a visit from the council. It was the one thing they couldn't remedy themselves. A fumigation had to take place. If the bugs weren't killed by a naphtha disinfectant spray, they would multiply.

‘We'll put in a request at the town hall,' sighed Peg, wiping her thin face with the bottom of her apron. ‘Next week when I pay the rent.'

Eve knew she hadn't got the two shillings to give to Peg towards the rent. It had been spent on gin.

Peg slammed the oven door shut. ‘Well, we ain't gonna be cooking no dinners in that for a while.'

Maude entered, slapping her hand over her mouth as she saw the trail of little black bodies. Some flopped on their backs in the still wet patches. Others sped up the walls.

‘Oh, you poor loves.' Maude's buxom breasts heaved under her brightly coloured jacket. Her black hair was scraped back from her rosy face in a bun and her gold
hoop earrings dangled, banging against her face as she shook her head sadly.

‘And whilst you're at it, you'll need old Slippery and his dog,' added Eric with a wink. ‘There's rats all over the yard. The boys and me have hit a few on the head with the spade, but the khazi is alive with the buggers. They're coming up the hole underneath.'

‘Oh, no.' Eve wanted to cry. ‘I didn't think it would be so bad.'

‘We'll come again tomorrow to help you,' said Maude gently, patting her hand. ‘But the following day we're off to our relatives in Kent.'

Eve nodded gratefully. ‘You've done enough already.'

‘Will your friend help again?'

Eve blushed. ‘No he's—' She was about to say on duty but stopped in time. ‘At work.'

‘Well, the wheelbarrow has been useful.'

Eve stepped back to avoid something larger and hairier that sped across the tiles. Peg and Maude shrieked and hurried off. Eve was left with Eric. He put his arm round her. ‘Sorry, lovely, but you gotta accept this place ain't gonna be 'abitable for some time.'

Eve suppressed a sob and nodded.

‘At least you've got a roof over your heads for now.'

Again Eve nodded. But for how long? What would happen tonight when she went back to face the Slygos?

To Eve's dismay, Harold had arrived home. He was sitting in the parlour reading a newspaper.

‘Hello, Uncle Harold,' the boys chorused, hiding their dirty hands behind their backs.

He gazed at the four of them standing in the hall. They were all in their smelly clothes and Peg and Eve still wore turbans.

‘What is that dreadful smell?'

Eve glanced warningly at Peg who was about to respond, the look on her face telling Eve that Harold was about to receive sharp words.

‘We're going to wash.'

‘You'd better all go to the communal wash house downstairs.'

Eve had looked in on the tin-roofed hut that housed a water pump, two brown-rimmed china basins and a long trough. It didn't smell as bad as the lavatories on each floor, but it was freezing cold and the water was liquid ice. She would prefer to boil up a saucepan or two and wash in the privacy of their room, but she didn't want to upset Harold.

‘Then when you're done, I should like my dinner. I don't want a repeat of yesterday. Joan is still upset that you let us down so badly. My wife deserves more consideration after all she's been through.'