Rough Justice (14 page)

‘Anything else?’ she asked Stephen as she took his plate, keeping her voice light even though the rind that Tommy would have loved to have eaten wrapped in a slice of bread was staring up at her, mocking her powerlessness.

‘No.’ He got up and took his jacket from the back of his chair.

If she hadn’t learnt that it would infuriate him, Nell could have burst into song: not only had the twins gone out, but now it looked as if he was going out too. That meant she could go down and watch the children enjoying themselves in the courtyard, the space bounded by the three five-floor tenements that served variously as a sports field and playground, a general meeting place, a parking area for babies sleeping in prams, and a sometime battlefield for warring neighbours. It was also a totally forbidden laundry-drying space, still used, of course, weather permitting.
Sheets and pillowcases would flap from the illicit washing lines that the women from the Buildings would string between the blocks, and stretch high and taut with the tall wooden clothes props that would appear from their hiding places down in the basement. The pleasure of being able to dry your laundry in the open air was far too great for the women to worry themselves about following such mean-spirited rules.

‘Hello, Nell, come and sit here with me. The sunshine’s still lovely and warm.’ Mary Lovell was perched on the bottom of the stone steps that led down from their block into the courtyard. She had her crossover apron pulled modestly over her knees and a saucepan in her lap into which she was slicing runner beans.

She shuffled sideways on her bottom to make room so that Nell could join her. ‘I’ve been watching your two little ones bouncing around, just like the jack rabbits you see when you go down hop picking they are. Just look at the pair of them. Wish I had half their energy. Getting the tea ready is enough of an effort for me after a day’s work.’

‘You and me, Mary.’ Nell shaded her eyes, checking where her children were, and that they were safe. ‘I’m glad I’ve had a chance to see you alone. I wanted to ask you how Sarah’s David is doing.’ She asked the question in a quiet, almost matter-of-fact way, not wanting to seem to be prying, but genuinely concerned. ‘I could hear from her voice this morning that she’s been worried about something, and I just thought it might be David. Nothing else ever seems to get her down.’

Mary looked unseeingly at the heap of unsliced beans. ‘You know me, Nell, I’m never one to gossip, but Sarah wouldn’t mind me telling you. Like she always says: there’s no shame in what’s wrong with David – he’s the way he is because he was such a brave young man, but I don’t think he’s too good at the minute, to be honest. He’s, a bit, you know, worse than usual. Sarah said it was that thunderstorm the other night; it really gave him a bad turn. It was all the banging and crashing and the lightning. And when he eventually managed to get off to sleep, she said he had these terrible nightmares. Calling out, sweating and thrashing around she said he was. Must have been horrible for the pair of them. Sarah said she didn’t know what to do – whether she should wake him up or leave him. I mean, you do hear these stories, don’t you? People having heart attacks and suchlike if you wake them up suddenly. I suppose she’s only lucky she lives over the shop and not here in the Buildings or she’d have her next door to me banging on the wall, complaining about the noise. I can’t stir my tea and put the spoon down in my saucer without her leading off. She drives me potty at times.’

‘No one takes any notice of Ada, Mary. You mustn’t let her get you down.’

‘It’s not her really, Nell, I know she’s just a whining old bat, I just wish I could help Sarah and David. Things are so hard for that poor girl at times.’

‘And she’s such a kind person.’

‘I know, and as for David, I just wish you’d known him when he was a young man, known him the way he used to be. He was such a good bloke. When you think, he came over here with his parents when he was a little boy, but he was one of the first to volunteer to fight for this country. So brave, and not much more than a kid really. Now he’s stuck up there above the shop, fretting that he’s not doing his best for Sarah, and not able to do anything about it. They both deserve better than that, Nell.’

‘Things’ll turn out, Mary, you see if they don’t. Just like they will for you and Joe.’

‘I do hope so, love. But for the life of me I can’t think how. Things are really getting Joe down lately. I don’t know what him and me are gonna do when Martin goes. We’ve already got used to the extra he’s been bringing in since he got his promotion.’

Nell turned away, apparently suddenly fascinated by Dolly, who was clapping as Tommy cavorted about, springing handstands up against the wall, and turning cartwheels like a circus acrobat. ‘So, Martin’s met someone special, has he? Will he be leaving the Buildings very soon?’

‘No, not yet, but you know him, always got girls chasing after him. But I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? I know he’s my boy, but he’s a handsome young so-and-so.’

‘Wish I could say the same about Lily and George,’ said Nell lightly. ‘That pair are so sour-faced and angry-looking all the time. The way
things are going, I’ll bet I’ll be stuck with them living up in fifty-five for ever.’

Mary, knowing where lines were drawn, said nothing more.

Nell watched as all the children in the courtyard unexpectedly ran to one of the walls and gathered in a huddle, as if some signal, undetectable to adults’ ears, had been sounded.

‘So Martin’s not got anyone special then, you say?’ Her tone was casual, as if she was barely interested.

‘No, like I say, not yet.’ Mary tossed the top and tail of another bean onto the pile that had been growing on the sheet of newspaper by her feet. She stopped suddenly, the cutter in one hand, bean in the other. ‘Not unless he’s mentioned something about anyone to you, Nell.’

‘Me? No.’ Nell was nearly choking on the words. ‘Why would he say anything to me?’

‘That’s a relief, because when he does decide it’s time for him to go I wouldn’t dream of stopping him, course I wouldn’t. But for now we are so grateful that he got his promotion and that new job at the brewery. First office worker in the family he is, on both sides. I can’t tell you how proud I am of him. But mainly, of course, it’s the extra money that he’s bringing in that’s so handy.’

Mary tossed the bean slicer into the saucepan. ‘Do you know, Nell, my Joe’s tried everywhere. Everywhere. But there’s nothing. I shouldn’t complain though, Sarah gives me what hours she
can in the shop, which is more than most people have. But I could work there morning, noon and night and it still wouldn’t be enough to manage on, not without Martin’s money coming in. And as for what would happen if we had to go to the Assistance, I don’t even want to think what having to go through this new means test they’ve brought in would do to my Joe. It’s a wicked thing to do to a decent, willing man.’

Nell patted Mary’s hand, feeling guilty that although she and the children never derived much benefit from the good fortune that Stephen and the twins seemed to enjoy, they were hardly desperate.

‘Did you hear about all them people marching to Trafalgar Square last week to protest about it?’ Mary went on. ‘Fifteen thousand people, Joe said the paper reckoned there were. Fifteen thousand desperate people. It’s not right, is it, Nell?’

‘I’m sorry things are so hard for you and Joe, Mary.’

‘I don’t even know if I’m going to bother going down hopping this year. I’d like to try and get a few extra bob for Christmas so I can at least treat Joe and Martin, but from what Martin’s heard at the brewery they’re probably going to cut the rates again this year. It’ll be all strikes and rows and no work for days. Hardly worth it. Mind you, not that there’s going to be much to celebrate the way things are, Christmas or no Christmas.’

‘I’d love to take the kids down hopping,’ said Nell. ‘From what you’ve told me it sounds
wonderful, all that green everywhere, and the animals, and the lovely fresh eggs and butter.’

‘We’ll all have to go together one year – you, me and the kids.’

It went unsaid between them that Stephen would never allow such a thing – what would he do without Nell there to run around after him and the twins?

‘Still, at least we’ve got the courtyard to sit in, eh Mary?’

Mary nodded. ‘Yeah, we’re a lot luckier than most, I suppose.’

‘And let’s hope this weather holds until Monday, cos we’ll have the washing dry in no time.’

‘Washing day coming round again. Unbelievable.’ Mary went back to slicing her beans. ‘It’s funny you know, I’ve no idea where the weeks or even the months go, but when I get home from doing my hours in the shop and go indoors the hours just drag by. Joe’s sitting there, reading his paper, and I’m thinking how soon I can start the tea. It’s like I’m trying to use up the minutes, waiting till bedtime, so I can pull the covers over myself, close my eyes and just forget about everything.’

‘It’ll all sort itself out, Mary. It always does.’

‘I hope so, Nell, I really do.’

‘Mum, Mum, look at me.’

Nell’s attention was caught by Tommy as he shouted to her from across the yard. He was holding a makeshift cricket bat. It had been
fashioned out of a cut-down plank of wood, with rough hairy string bound round one shaved-off end to serve as the handle. He was standing sideways on from a wicket that an older boy had chalked on the wall of one of the far blocks.

Tommy flexed his skinny little eight-year-old shoulders. ‘I’m gonna really whack this one.’

A freckled, ginger-haired boy of about ten took a fast skipping run across the tarmac and hurled a grubby, grey, almost hairless tennis ball with all his force right at Tommy’s head.

‘Oi! Watch it!’ Tommy ducked, the ball hit the wall and went ricocheting across the yard. ‘You bloody rotten cheat, Danny Leary. Who do you think I am – Don Bradman?’

‘I heard that, Tommy Flanagan,’ shouted Nell. She was doing her best not to look amused, and was rather more successful than Mary, who was sniggering into the back of her hand.

‘Love him,’ Mary spluttered. ‘At least he’s managed to make me laugh.’

‘
Mummy
.’ It was Dolly. She was sprinting across the yard to the steps as fast as her little legs could carry her. ‘Did you hear what Tommy said? He said bloody and rotten, and we’re not allowed to say those words. They’re naughty. And only Auntie Sylvia can say them, because that’s different.’

Nell reached out and scooped her daughter up onto her lap. ‘He didn’t mean it,’ she said, wishing that everything could be as easy to deal with as children saying the odd bad word.

Mary couldn’t hold back the laughter, it was as if something had been released from inside her. ‘And how does a little one like you know about Don Bradman?’ she snorted.

‘Your Martin told me all about him,’ Tommy called back, his eye firmly on Danny Leary as he shaped up to bowl again. ‘They chucked the ball right at him. The rotten . . . I mean the flipping . . . No, I mean the horrible cheats.’

Mary now had a pleased grin on her face. ‘He’s always had a nice way with kids has my Martin, God love him. He’ll make a right good dad one day.’

‘What are you lot up to then?’ Nell looked up, surprised to see Martin himself walking towards them, the bright sunlight turning him into a dark silhouette. She couldn’t make out his expression, but he was smiling broadly. ‘I don’t really care what it is, but I do know it’s the first time I’ve seen Mum laughing like that for ages. All right if I join you girls for a bit, enjoy the last of this lovely sunshine?’

He didn’t wait for an answer; he just plonked himself down on the step next to Nell, loosened his tie and took out the studs from his collar.

Nell’s cheeks flushed red as his thigh brushed hers. ‘I’d better be getting upstairs soon.’

‘You’re not leaving on my account are you, Nell?’

‘Course I’m not.’

‘Good.’ Martin nodded, clearly pleased. ‘Tell you what, Mum, why don’t I pop over the road
and get a jug of shandy for you two girls from the four-ale bar, and then you can sit here and have a nice cold drink.’ He winked at Nell. ‘Reckon you deserve it, cheering up Mum like that.’

Nell jumped to her feet as if she’d been doused in scalding water. ‘I can’t, I’ve got, I’ve got . . . polishing to do. That’s what I’ve got. Polishing.’

She started off up the stone stairway. ‘Would you tell Tommy and Dolly to come up when it starts getting dark, for me?’ she called as she disappeared into the gloom.

Stephen Flanagan was also about to disappear up a flight of stairs, but these were in the Hope and Anchor in Whitechapel.

‘What d’you think then, Steve-o? Ready to go up, are we?’ Bernie drained his glass. ‘We might as well go and get set up, cos the others’ll be here soon enough.’

Stephen finished his pint and stood up. ‘Might as well.’

He was about to follow Bernie through the door at the side of the Hope’s main bar when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

‘Dad. Dad, hang on. Wait a minute.’

Stephen’s frame stiffened. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin, summoning all his self-control. It was bloody George, what the hell did he want?

He turned round slowly, opening his eyes. For Christ’s sake, it wasn’t just George, it was the twins – the sodding pair of the buggers. What the hell did they want? ‘What are you two doing here?’

Lily waggled her head angrily as if she were trying to shake off a persistent wasp. ‘I don’t know why you even have to ask that, Dad. It’s not
right. We keep trying to talk to you indoors, but you’ve never got any time for us any more. All you think about is her and those snotty-nosed rotten kids. They’re always hanging around and listening, pair of little sneaks. We never get a chance to talk to you in private, so when we were having a couple of drinks up the road just now we decided we’d had enough of it, and we came to find you.’

‘You finished?’

Lily shrugged sullenly. ‘I reckon I’ve only just begun.’

‘Aw you do, do you?’ Stephen ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Now tell me, because I’m really interested, you’ve had enough of what exactly? And what is so important that you’ve got to show me up, following me about?’