Paradise Court (32 page)

‘The devil!' Annie muttered.

Florrie and Dolly looked down anxiously at Duke and the rest. They felt the spider snares of abstract justice entangle them.

Once again the judge and jury retired. Once again the endless wait, the fluctuating hopes and fears. The family scarcely talked, their minds fixed on Ernie's own feelings as he sat in his cell and awaited the verdict.

The announcements were made. The appeal was lost.

Ernie was taken from them a second time and they were plunged into the pit. Hopeless, speechless, defeated, they filed from the court.

That evening, Duke sat at the living-room table and addressed a letter to the most eminent man in charge of law and order throughout England: the Home Secretary. Sewell said it was the only avenue left open; a plea for mercy and a stay of execution. They had four days.

Duke's letter flowed on to the white page. It spoke of the difficulty the family had in understanding the ins and outs of the law. He did see how bad it looked for Ernie, and how his simplicity could be turned against him. It described his son's character as loving, obedient and gentle.

‘Ernie has lived an honest life and I hope we taught him the same, since the death of his poor mother when he was little. Ernie ain't like other boys. He needs more help with things, and it breaks my heart when I think of him trying to cope with this latest piece of bad news.

‘He ain't never committed no criminal acts in the whole of his life, and you have to believe me when I say he ain't no murderer. I swear on the Holy Bible in front of me.'

‘But the law is the law, and they seen fit to convict my poor boy
and turn him down on appeal earlier today. His sisters, his brother and me know they mean to hang him before the week is out, so I write to you now, sir, for you to step in and stop this terrible thing before it is too late. If you don't help us, it don't bear thinking about.

‘The boy accepts it all, and I left him calm when we came away from court. But his sisters and his aunt ain't coping, and we're all broken-hearted.

‘Like I said before, sir, we want you to stop the hanging. We know you can do this for us, and save our boy from the noose.'

Duke signed himself as ‘obedient servant'. He pushed the letter adrift into the middle of the table. Sadie, Hettie and Robert read it through with dull eyes. Jess came out of the bedroom carrying Grace. She nodded; yes they should send it straight off. Florrie and Frances agreed. The light was turned down low, the embers settled in the grate as Duke sealed the white envelope, set it down, then bowed his head over clasped hands and prayed.

Sewell took charge of the delivery of the vital letter. For the family at the Duke, time passing became a nightmare, like having hideous foreknowledge of an assassin lying in wait around a corner, but being powerless to stop him. The minutes ricked by on the living-room dock.

In the cold first week of the New Year, business was almost at a standstill in the pub and out on the market stalls in Duke Street. Liz Sargent stamped her feet and blew on to her hands behind her boxes of fish. ‘Might as well pack up here and sod off home,' she complained to Nora Brady.

Nora looked up at the heavy grey sky. ‘It's gonna bleeding well snow if we're not careful.' She tried to cheer herself up by changing the subject. ‘You thinking of going up the Duke tonight for a singsong?'

Liz shrugged. ‘Ain't gonna have the time of our lives up there, are we? Like a bleeding morgue, according to Dolly Ogden, and I ain't a bit surprised.'

Nora jutted out her bottom lip. ‘Who'd want the job of hangman in this day and age? It ain't natural. Do you think he has kippers for his breakfast the day he does it?'

‘Don't.' Liz shuddered. ‘I heard he has to have a chat with the poor bleeder and shakes him by the hand. Just think. You know you're for the chop, and you have to act matey with the geezer what does it.' She shook her head. ‘How they taking it?'

‘Who?'

‘The family.'

‘Bad. They sent a letter off to the Home Secretary, asking him
to lift the noose from round the poor boy's neck. But they ain't hopeful.' Nora had spoken with Annie. ‘They ain't letting on to Ernie though. They tell him he's bound to get off, trying to keep his spirits up.'

Liz looked doubtful. ‘I think I'd tell him the score if it was me. How long they gonna go on fooling him?'

‘Long as they can. They only got two days to go.'

This and similar conversations were held in hushed voices up and down the street. Snow threatened, trade was bad. The war lumbered on and Kitchener wanted more men. People said times were so bad that all the able-bodied young men flocked to enlist. ‘And they come back home in a box, or not at all, like poor Teddy Cooper. Or useless, like Robert Parsons.'

Amy Ogden, standing, freezing behind Annie's haberdashery stall, overheard such remarks. It brought back memories of when Teddy was alive and she had a steady job at Coopers', before all this trouble. She lapsed into self-pity; she'd only done what any girl would, making the best of her looks and setting her cap at the boss's son. She knew there were those who still blamed her, but they didn't see how she herself had been badly treated by a so-called toff, and her own family had ditched her over it. A girl had to make her own way now, and she didn't expect to have to freeze to death over a load of glass buttons and stay-hooks. Amy snivelled. Life looked bleak on this early January day.

‘Bleeding misery,' Annie grumbled. ‘If you don't cheer up, girl, I'm gonna have to lay you off work again. You're scaring my bleeding customers.'

Amy glanced up and down the half-deserted street. ‘Ain't no bleeding customers.'

‘No, that's because you scared them all off, like I said. What's got into you, anyway?' Annie, like Nora Brady, was deciding to call it a day. She began to reach under the stall for the lids to the cardboard boxes full of needles, thread, ribbons and lace.

‘Nothing.'

‘Here, catch hold of these.' Annie handed her the lids. ‘If this is “nothing”, I don't want to see “something”.' She considered that
Amy might make a bit more effort and think of someone other than herself for a change. ‘What's the problem, girl? You gonna let on?'

‘I got something on my mind, Annie. Just leave it, will you?' Amy found the right-sized boxes for the lids. The cold had pinched her nose and cheeks and chilled her to the bone. She felt truly miserable.

‘Ain't we all?' Annie sighed. She thought of Ernie.

Amy hesitated, then took the plunge. She had to get it off her chest. ‘Syd let something drop last night. It keeps bothering me, I don't know why.'

Annie stood with an armful of boxes, ready to load them on her small handcart. ‘Come on, spit it out, girl.' She'd no liking for Syd Swan since his gloating performance at the trial.

‘Oh, it's nothing. Forget I said anything.' It was a small niggle; something not quite right in Syd's recollection of the night of the murder. He was always going on about it, boasting how he'd helped to finger the killer. Last night, on the tram home from the Gem, he'd let slip a fact he'd never mentioned before.

‘What did he say exactly?' Annie insisted. The slightest thing was worth knowing.

‘Nothing much, Annie, really. He just dropped Chalky's name into the conversation, like he was there at the Palace that night.'

‘Chalky White' Annie looked puzzled. He'd never entered the picture during the trial. She understood that Robert had flattened him earlier that day, and he'd had to hide away in his room. The police had never even had him in the picture, as far as she knew. ‘Weren't he busy licking his wounds?' she asked.

‘That's the way I saw it. So I says to Syd, “I thought Chalky stayed home that night?” And he says, yes, he did. He says I must have made a mistake; he never mentioned Chalky's name. I said he did. We had a blazing row on the tram. Syd just blew up at me.'

‘But you still say he did mention it?' Annie seized the suspicion like a terrier. She dropped her boxes on to the cart and turned to
grab Amy's hand. ‘Syd did say Chalky was up the Palace the night of the murder?'

‘Let go, Annie, you're hurting!' Amy withdrew her hand. ‘Yes, he did. Then he turns round and tells me I must have gone round the twist; Chalky's name never passed his lips. Give me a bad fright, he did.' Feeling sorry for herself, she sniffed and turned on the tears. ‘He said for me to keep my mouth shut, or else. Now he's gonna have a go at me again.'

‘Never mind, you done the right thing, girl.' Annie quickly put her thoughts in order. ‘You pack up here and take the cart on down the court. There's something I gotta do.' She nodded and set off up the street.

‘Annie!' Amy's terrified voice called after her.

Annie turned.

‘Don't say it was me. I'll get a beating off Syd if he finds out.' She stood in dismay at the chain of events she seemed to have unleashed.

Annie agreed, then hurried up to the Duke.

Duke stood behind the bar as usual. He'd just opened up for the evening, determined to go through the motions. There'd been no word from the Home Secretary. Two days had gone by, and no word back. Each hour on the hour he went to the door and looked for the cream letter with the House of Commons seal. It never arrived.

‘Duke!' Annie clattered through the doors and across the nearly empty bar. ‘I got something to tell you!' She gasped and clutched the edge of the counter for support. Her hair had come loose from under her hat, her dark eyes were fired up. ‘I knew things weren't right, and now I put my finger on it, thanks to a certain person!'

‘Calm down, Annie.' Jess had come straight downstairs to see what the fuss was about when she saw and heard Annie make her frantic entrance. She wanted to spare Duke any extra trouble, so she took the older woman by the arm and looked to Florrie for help. Her aunt came over from the window, where she'd been busy wiping down tables. They got ready to walk Annie out smartly through the still swinging doors. ‘We know how you feel. None
of us is taking it that well. But it don't do no good making a fuss. You gotta let Pa be. So come on, Annie, girl. Let's get you home.'

Annie shook herself free and pushed them to one side.

‘Act your age, woman,' Florrie said severely. She pulled her blouse straight. ‘You can't barge in here like this.'

‘Shut your mouth, Florrie Searles! And you, Jess, you listen to this!' Annie reached across the bar and laid hold of both of Duke's hands. ‘It's the night of the murder, right? Your Rob's come out of the Palace and he has to hang around for Ernie. He sets eyes on that nasty piece of work, Swan, and two or three of his mates, and he gives them a run for their money.'

Duke nodded and sighed. ‘What is this, Annie? This ain't nothing new.'

‘Not yet, it ain't. But you just hold on. Rob seen Syd and that bloke, Whitey, and one or two other hooligans. But he ain't never mentioned Chalky White, has he?' Annie delivered her news at a gabble. ‘And Syd Swan ain't mentioned him neither. So we think he ain't there that night, and no one gives him a second thought.'

Jess came forward. ‘What you saying, Annie?'

‘I'm saying he
was
there. There at the Palace. But he weren't hanging round with the gang, or Rob would've spotted him, see!'

Jess nodded. She looked quickly at Duke.

‘So where was he?' Annie demanded.

‘Backstage.' Jess's two simple syllables, delivered flat and deadly quiet, set up a flock of suspicions.

‘Chalky White,' Duke said. He looked Annie in the eyes. ‘You sure?'

She nodded. ‘Think about it. They never go nowhere without him, and he ain't one to stop home for a couple of cuts and bruises. He was there all right!'

‘And he'd fallen out with Daisy, Pa.' Jess had been carried along by Annie's reasoning. ‘I can just see him getting his own back.'

‘She threw him over. Ask Ett. You seen her in here with him, ain't you? And he didn't like it one little bit when she said she didn't want nothing to do with him. Ask Rob. I think she had a bellyful of trouble with him.' Annie refused to calm down. She
released hold of Duke and shook Jess by the arm. ‘What we gonna do?'

‘I don't know. I'll go and get Maurice for a start. You stay here and see who else we can round up. Tell the others. Ett's upstairs working. Tell her to find Rob.' Jess flew towards the door. ‘That's right, Pa, ain't it?'

Duke hesitated. ‘It ain't much to go on.' He narrowed his eyes and thought it through. ‘But it's better than nothing. You spotted something there all right, Annie. And when we lay hands on Syd Swan, he'll squeal, don't you worry. I know his sort.' He nodded at Jess, then went down into the cellar to fetch Joxer. They would gather all their help, then decide what to do.

Maurice was setting off for the Gem when Jess tracked him down. He handed over the cinema keys to Charlie and told him he was misting him to open up the box-office. He'd get to work as soon as he could. Charlie walked on, but he stopped on Duke Street to let Tommy O'Hagan know what was going on. ‘They're after Syd Swan. Anyone know where he is?'

Tommy had finished work for the day, and eagerly took up the cry. He ran up the street and passed the word. Soon all the kids on street-corners and doorsteps swarmed off down the alleys. Word was out; Syd Swan was wanted. Don't let him know, but go back and tell them at the Duke. There was trouble brewing; big trouble.

Tommy knew the gang's usual haunts and he was quick on his feet. He used all the short cuts, looking in all the likely places. It was he who landed back at the pub with the first news. ‘Syd's down at Milo's,' he reported. ‘With Chalky.' His breathless message provided the key.

The men left the pub straight away. Florrie was glad that Duke had decided to stay put and let the others deal with it. It was a young man's game, he realized. Walter Davidson said they didn't know what to expect exactly, but that he would keep an eye on Rob. Duke sent Joxer and Maurice to back them up. ‘Don't do nothing stupid,' he warned. ‘We want the truth, not a bloodbath.'

‘We want Ernie out of that place,' Rob reminded him. ‘Whatever it takes.'

Sadie, Hettie, Jess and Frances came out into the dark street to watch them go. They stood in silence. It was a last chance for Ernie; no one else could help him now.

Milo came up the long, shabby room to greet Rob arid his friends. ‘Good to see you out of that chair, mate.' His smile. wavered. ‘What's up? You ain't had no more bad news, I hope?'

Men exercised and trained in all corners of the room. Iron weights rattled against the wooden floor, there was the thud of punch-bags, the scrape and squeak of shoes on canvas. The raised platform of the ring was occupied. Inside its ropes, Chalky White and an opponent were sparring.

‘There's Swan, over there!' Walter pointed him out. He was standing fully dressed, with his elbows hooked over the low rope bordering the ring, shouting encouragement to Chalky and measuring his form.

Maurice took Milo to one side and quietly explained their mission. The small Irishman nodded. ‘I wish you luck, mate.' He stood by and watched as the newcomers closed in on Swan.

Chalky spotted them first, as he moved his sparring partner round the ring and came into a position which gave him full view of the intruders. He went flat on his feet and dropped his guard, eyeing them warily. They looked an ill-assorted group: Joxer in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, Robert on his crutches, Maurice dressed up smartly for work and Walter buttoned up inside a greatcoat. But he could see it was trouble. Syd turned to investigate.

Robert stood forward of the group. They were framed by the long, black windows of the gym which reflected the yellow glare of electric bulbs. Curiosity had brought other men up close, their attention on Syd and Chalky to see what they would make of the interruption. Many breathed heavily. They stood about idly, their hands still strapped with tape, their singlets damp with sweat.

At a signal from Robert, Maurice and Walter moved in on Syd. ‘We hear you've got a new story,' he began, ‘about who was where when Daisy got done in.' He kept his eyes on Chalky, as the other two moved Syd up against the nearest wall. ‘You might be interested
to hear this and all,' he told Swan, without deflecting his gaze from Chalky.