Lily of Love Lane (36 page)

‘We’ll get you, BUF boys!’ yelled others.

Everyone seemed to want a fight. Ben pulled up his collar and took his driving cap from his pocket. He flattened it down over his forehead and kept alert.

The crowd was like a great sea. There was no hope of fighting against the tide. He’d just have to do his best and try to keep out of trouble.

But he found it wasn’t so easy. The thrust of the mob forced him onwards, some men urging him to rise up and fight. Others were shouting slogans against the Blackshirts. Many were wielding
their weapons and even prising up the cobbles on the roads. Some had broken windows and others were building barricades. There were loud bangs from fireworks and just beyond Blackchurch Lane he saw
an overturned lorry. It made him think of his own lorry safely parked up at the Quarry. He hoped the riots weren’t about to spread.

The men around him pushed him forward. Ben ducked a large missile thrown from a roof. It hit the man next to him who fell to the ground.

‘Are you all right, mate?’ Ben bent down to help. The man’s face was streaming with blood.

‘It was a bloody Blackshirt!’ cried the dazed man as Ben helped him to his feet. ‘Look what they done to me.’

Ben frowned. ‘You don’t know who it was, chum. It came from out of nowhere.’

‘And whose side are you on?’ the man shouted back angrily as he wiped the blood with his fingers.

‘There seem to be a lot of different sides,’ said Ben unwisely.

The man clutched him by the lapels. ‘You’re a fascist, ain’t you? Or are you one of them commies?’ he demanded as more stones and bricks rained down on them.

Ben pushed his assailant off as he heard a warlike cry in his ear. ‘Here are the coppers, let’s get ’em!’

The man lost interest in hitting him. He had seen the group of mounted policemen approaching. The horses were nervous and shied away from the militants. But soon police reinforcement appeared
using their truncheons to beat back the crowd.

Ben saw many injuries. He was so shocked that he almost missed the sight of the large car that suddenly appeared from a side road. Some men began to rock it and the driver quickly reversed the
way he had come.

As the fighting grew more violent, Ben squeezed himself into the open doorway of a shop. The man behind the glass window looked out with frightened eyes. Ben flinched as a large brick hit his
shoulder and bounced on the window.

Suddenly the door gave way. ‘Come in quickly or you’ll get my window smashed!’ The shopkeeper quickly locked the door again.

Ben took off his cap and brushed the dirt from his shoulders. ‘Thanks, that was a close one.’

‘They’re turning into animals out there.’

‘They seem to have forgotten what they’re fighting for. Some blokes are even having a go at each other.’

‘I’ll draw the blinds so they can’t see in. They might want to steal my stock.’

Ben could smell paraffin and oils. The hardware store was full of saucepans, brooms, brushes and pails.

‘How did you get mixed up with them?’ the shopkeeper asked as he drew the blinds.

‘I couldn’t get through to the city with me cab.’

‘You’re a cabbie?’

‘Yes, I hid it in someone’s yard.’

‘I hope it is safe. Have you seen what they did to that lorry?’

Ben nodded. He felt sick as he thought of the angry crowd and how quickly they had destroyed the vehicle. His motor was his livelihood, he couldn’t imagine what state it might be in when
he returned to it.

‘What is the world coming to?’ the shopkeeper asked, ‘when men as meek as lambs become demented lions?’

Ben nodded anxiously. He was thinking about Lily. What if the trouble spread down to Poplar? It wasn’t the Blackshirts he was worried about. It was, as the shopkeeper had said, ordinary
men who were taking up arms to fight for what seemed like the sheer hell of it.

Lily heard a commotion outside. Turning down the light, she went to the window. All she could see at first were lanterns swinging in the dusky light. Then, as her eyes
accustomed to the dark, she saw the grey shapes of men pushing and shoving a broken barrow. One of its wheels seemed to have come off. The procession passed by with a few loud shouts, but gradually
the men made their way along Dewar Street and disappeared into the night.

Lily closed the curtains and turned on the light again, wondering what had happened in the city and whether the Blackshirts had been stopped at Tower Hill. She hadn’t been able to hear
what the men were shouting.

Suddenly a knock came at the front door. She went into the hall and waited. The knock came again. ‘Who is it?’ she called out.

‘It’s me, Ben.’

Relief flowed through her as she unlocked the door.

‘Lil, are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m glad it’s you. Some men have just gone by pushing a broken barrow. I thought it might be one of them.’

He looked inside. ‘Are you on your own?’

‘Yes, come in.’

He took off his cap. ‘Only for a minute.’

Lily noted his ruffled appearance. ‘Mrs Brewer told me there might be trouble at Tower Hill where Oswald Mosley and his Blackshirts were holding a meeting. Then after you left, some men
marched past. I guessed it was true.’

Ben nodded. ‘I was caught up in the crowds in Cable Street so I took refuge in a shop and sweated it out. Everyone outside was fighting. Didn’t seem to matter who they fought just as
long as they had a good scrap. The coppers did their share of bashing people on the heads. But in the end everyone just seemed to give up. Even the bluebottles just walked away with their helmets
in their hands. When the coast was clear I went back to me car. I’d hidden it in someone’s yard. Luckily it was safe but I was worried trouble might come down here.’

‘No, the dockers only passed by. Were many hurt?’

‘I did see a few casualties.’

‘I felt sorry for those men. They were only like me dad, but something had got into them.’

Ben put on his cap again. ‘I think they’re stirred up to cause trouble.’

‘What happened to the Blackshirts?’

‘Dunno. I hope they’ve learned their lesson. Anyway, must go. Couldn’t drive home without checking, could I?’

‘Thanks, Ben.’

‘Lock up after me, Lil.’

A little later she went upstairs. The warmth of the fire engulfed her as she sat on the couch and thought about all that had happened. Turning on the radio, she heard a serious voice.

‘Today, one hundred thousand people gathered in the streets of London. Their intention to prevent Sir Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts from an organized march from Tower Hill, achieved a
successful result. But police were called out to stop rioting, the worst of which was in Cable Street. Under a storm of protests, the Metropolitan Police heroically brought calm to the streets. But
many were injured in the process and damage was incurred to buildings and vehicles alike . . .’

Lily sat up, her heart beating fast. She was certain that tomorrow, Mrs Brewer would tell her all the gruesome details that her husband was certain to have found out about.

Lily woke in the middle of the night, something had disturbed her. Was the rioting starting again? As she climbed out of bed and pulled on her robe, she listened for sounds.
Pushing her feet into her slippers she went to the door and opened it.

There was a light on downstairs. A strange noise made her heart beat faster. It couldn’t be Charles, not at this time of night. Could someone have got in? Or had she left the light on by
mistake?

Fear travelled through her body. She was often alone in the house but had never been afraid as Charles and Mrs Brewer were the only ones to have keys.

Lily went out on the landing. She couldn’t hear anything. Creeping slowly down the three flights of stairs, she paused at the bottom and listened again. Would an intruder put on the light?
No, she must have left it on herself. Slowly she went down the passage to the kitchen.

For a moment, she felt frightened. Taking a deep breath, Lily went to the kitchen door and pushed it open. A man stood at the sink.

Lily gasped as Charles turned round.

‘Oh, Charles!’ She gave a sigh of relief.

‘Did I wake you, Lily?’

‘I thought it might be some of the rioters coming back. They passed the house shouting and dragging a cart.’

‘The city has been quite disrupted.’

He came towards her and she saw a stain on his forehead. ‘Are you hurt?’ she asked in concern.

‘It’s just a small wound.’ He put his fingers to his head. ‘I broke down in the car having taken a diversion to avoid the riots. In my haste, I ran the fender into a
lamppost. The car isn’t damaged as I drove it back all right, but the windscreen shattered. I think a piece of the glass flew in and cut my head.’

‘In that case, you were lucky it wasn’t your eye.’

He said no more as he sat down and Lily carefully parted his thick, dark hair. Gently she began to clean the injury. ‘The bleeding has stopped now, but tomorrow you must see a
doctor,’ she told him as she gently applied a small square of lint.

‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary.’

After she had done what she could, he looked into her eyes and smiled. ‘You’ve been very kind, Lily. I’m sorry to have given you such a fright.’

‘I was relieved it was you,’ she admitted.

‘Go back to bed and sleep. We must both get some rest.’

Lily returned to her quarters but was still awake at dawn. Why had Charles, who was a good driver, gone into a lamppost? Had it been more of an accident than he had told her about?

And would she find out more in the morning?

There was a banging on the door as Lily came downstairs the next morning. Two men stood on the steps dressed in raincoats. Neither of them bothered to remove their hats as they
addressed her.

‘There’s a large blue car parked round the back,’ one of them announced. ‘The windscreen is smashed. Does it belong to someone in this house?’

‘Who are you?’ she asked, straightening her back, not liking the look of them one bit.

‘We’re police officers investigating the riots.’

‘Why do you want to know about the car?’

The policeman put his foot in the door. ‘We’re asking the questions. Now, let us in.’

Before Lily could stop them they had entered the hall. Charles walked down the stairs. He was fully dressed and had removed the dressing from his head. Combing his dark hair over to one side, he
had disguised his wound.

‘May I help you?’ he asked in a calm voice.

‘Does that car with the broken windscreen belong to you?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘What were your movements yesterday, Sunday the eleventh of October?’

Charles glanced swiftly at her. ‘I was at home all day.’

Lily wondered if she had heard him correctly. But as he glanced at her again, she saw a message in his eyes.

‘Can anyone else in the household vouch for this?’ demanded the other policeman aggressively.

Charles nodded and turned slowly to gaze at her. His dark eyes were penetrating as they spoke silently to her.

‘Well?’ demanded the policeman impatiently.

‘My assistant Miss Lily Bright was with me all day. I’m sure she will be pleased to confirm it.’

Lily felt her head spin. Was she to lie on his behalf? Why hadn’t he told them the truth?

‘Well?’ the policeman barked at her.

Lily nodded. She couldn’t betray Charles.

‘Is that a yes?’ said the second policeman.

‘Yes, Mr Grey was here.’

‘All day?’

She looked at Charles who was still regarding her intently. ‘Yes, Mr Grey was here all day,’ she confirmed as she looked away.

‘Then how do you account for the condition of your car?’ the first policeman asked Charles.

Lily felt a chill go down her spine. Now Charles would have to tell them something quite different to what he had told her.

‘I have no idea, officer. I can only assume that it was done in the night.’

‘So you’re telling me that you wasn’t in it when it was done?’

Charles nodded. ‘That is correct.’

‘And you didn’t see or hear anything?’

‘Nothing, nothing at all in the night. I can only assume that some of the roughnecks who passed this way yesterday evening must have returned and attacked it. As Miss Bright will tell you,
we heard a disruption that we put down to the rioting of the dockers.’

Lily was speechless. She couldn’t believe Charles was saying this, and so sincerely that if she hadn’t known better, she would almost have believed him.

‘So how do you account for the fact there ain’t no glass on the road?’ said the taller policeman with a glint of satisfaction in his eye. ‘If it was done out there,
you’d see the damage.’

‘That’s easy to explain,’ said Charles with a shrug. ‘I’m in the habit of taking an early morning walk and cleared the damage myself.’

Both men stared at him. Lily felt sick with disbelief. The lies seemed to be growing. Why was Charles doing this? Her heart was banging so fast under her ribs she wondered if the policemen could
hear it.

‘Well, if that’s all?’ said Charles, moving to the door and holding it open.

Reluctantly the two men followed him.

Lily’s heart gave another jump as Charles said brazenly, ‘Incidentally, I would appreciate it if you would report my mishap to your station. Perhaps the culprit will be found during
the course of your investigations.’

The larger policeman turned, his face growing red under his hat. ‘We’ve more important things to do,’ he grumbled, ‘like catching the troublemakers behind the riots and
putting them where they belong, behind bars. If you want to report the incident you’ll have to go to your local station.’

‘Then I wish you good luck and a satisfactory outcome,’ said Charles politely. He watched them tread heavily down the steps then closed the door.

When he turned to face her, there was sweat on his brow and his face was suddenly bloodless.

Mrs Brewer came bustling in. ‘Is Mr Grey at home this morning? I saw the car. What happened to it? Was it the riots?’

Lily was still in a state of shock. No one liked the police banging on the door at the crack of dawn and certainly those two had been rude and discourteous. But why hadn’t Charles told the
truth?