Rough Justice (23 page)

Shit, thought Sylvia, this could lead to all sorts of trouble. ‘Hang on a minute,’ she interrupted. ‘There’s been a misunderstanding. You’ve got the situation here all wrong. Stephen Flanagan wasn’t this girl’s husband. His next of kin are his twins, Lily and George Flanagan, and they’ve got stalls in the markets. Down the Waste during the week, and on Sundays they’re down the Lane. They must make a nice living, the pair of them. I mean, who’s ever seen a poor stallholder? You want information about where Stephen Flanagan got all his dough from, or someone to identify him? They’re the ones who can help you.’ Sylvia paused for effect. ‘Lily and George Flanagan – anyone down the markets will point them out to you.’

The policemen exchanged another look. ‘Stalls on the Waste and down the Lane, but their
name’s Flanagan and they live in Wapping? So they’re hardly going to be Jews, are they? Bit unusual that, don’t you think?’

‘Stephen Flanagan was a well-known man. He could pull strings, because he knew all sorts of people. And a lot of them were, how can I put it? Indebted to him.’

‘And you seem to know a lot about him, Mrs . . .’

‘Woods. He drinks . . .’ She paused again. ‘I suppose I should say he used to drink in my pub. The Hope and Anchor.’

‘We’re with the river police, Mrs Woods. You’re going to have to help me here.’

‘Whitechapel. Nearly opposite the hospital.’

‘There’s a lot of gambling over that way. Spielers, street betting, pitch and toss.’

‘I know.’ Sylvia answered the officer as she took away their not quite empty tea cups. ‘It’s shocking the way people carry on. I don’t know where they find the money to throw away like that. And that’s not the half of it. You might want to ask some of the local coppers over my way about the protection rackets they have to put up with down them markets. Jack Spot might make himself out to be a local flipping hero, but if the stallholders or the street gamblers don’t pay up then all hell breaks loose with him and his sidekicks wading in. Terrible violence you hear about. That’s what should be interesting the law. They’re right nasty men, you take my word for it. Some of the stories I hear in the pub, they’re
awful. It’s frightening what they’re capable of.’

Sylvia knew what she was talking about; she’d seen Bernie paying out enough over the years.

She hadn’t even had time to dry the teacups before she’d fed the two officers with enough tasty tit-bits to have them straining to leave.

‘Thank you, Mrs Woods, you’ve been a lot of help.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, you stay there, Nell. I’ll see these gentlemen out.’

‘Wait, please. Will you be going down the market to speak to Lily and George?’ Nell asked the officers.

The two men looked at one another; one of them flicked a glance towards Sylvia.

‘As next of kin, we’ll be asking them to identify the body and then we’ll be making some general enquiries. But if you’d like to be the one to break the news to them, then that’s fine by us.’

When Sylvia came back into the kitchen, Nell was on her feet.

Sylvia held out her arms. ‘Come here, darling. I know it’s hard, but at least you’ve still got me.’

‘I’m sorry, Sylvia, nothing’s changed. You’ll have to leave. George and Lily wouldn’t like it if they came home and found you here.’

‘What’s it got to do with them?’

‘This is their home, that’s what. Like you said, Stephen wasn’t my husband, remember? If me and the kids are going to keep a roof over our
heads, then it’ll be down to them whether we stay or not.’

‘Come on, Nell, you don’t have to be beholden to that pair. They treat you like you’re their bloody skivvy. It’s them who should be thanking you, not the other way round.’

Nell started putting the cups and saucers back in the cupboard. ‘I’ll say goodbye now, Sylvia, and on your way out, would you mind sending Tommy and Dolly back up here, please? I need to talk to them.’

‘Mum. Mum,’ Tommy hollered as he raced along the passageway to the kitchen. ‘Look what Auntie Sylvia gave me.’ He held out his hand to show Nell a silver half-crown. ‘I’ve never even seen a bloody tosheroon before, never mind had one of my own.’

‘Mum,’ protested Dolly, ‘Auntie Sylvia gave it to both of us, she said so. Honest, Mum. It’s to share.’

‘That was very kind of her, give it to me and we can think about how you can spend it later.’

‘But Mum,’ protested Tommy.

‘Just do as you’re told. I want you both to sit down and have a glass of milk and a slice of bread, because we’ve not got time for dinner, we’ve got to go out.’

‘Why?’ asked Tommy, clambering up onto a chair.

‘Because I’ve got something to tell you, and then we’ve got to go and see George and Lily.’

‘Aw, Mum, I hate them two. They’re right rotten spiteful.’

‘Tommy, I know they’re difficult, but don’t you ever dare say anything like that again.’

Nell closed her eyes. This was all going to be so
much harder than she had thought. ‘And wash your hands, the pair of you, goodness only knows what you’ve been touching while you’ve been down there.’

Tommy sloped over to the sink where Dolly was already working up a lather with a bar of Lifebuoy.

‘I can’t help it if I don’t flipping well like them,’ he muttered, taking the soap from his sister and shaping up to blow a few choice bubbles at her. ‘They’re like Dad, horrible. I hate them all.’

‘You know Auntie Sylvia said that money was for both of us,’ whispered Dolly, nudging him in the side.

‘Grass,’ hissed Tommy.

Nell smacked her hand down on the table, making them both jump. ‘Just be quiet, you two. I’ve got something important to tell you.’

As the three of them left the flat, Tommy and Dolly were pale-faced and silent, and they were holding their mother’s hands exactly as she had told them to. Their dad was dead, and their mum sounded scared.

Ada Tanner was standing out on the landing, her arms folded and a hairnet stretched over her metal curlers. ‘You’ve taken your time, I’ve been waiting out here for over half an hour.’

‘Ada, as usual, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but whatever it is I haven’t got time for it.’

‘I won’t beat about the bush then. So, cough it
up, what did them coppers want? Came to tell you Stephen Flanagan’s been nicked, did they? Caught up with him at last?’

Nell tightened her grip on her children’s hands. ‘No, Ada, they came to tell me that he’s dead.’

As Nell spoke, Mary Lovell had just reached the top of the stairway. ‘Dead? Oh, Nell, I don’t know what to say.’

Ada did. ‘How about good riddance? That’d be a start.’

Mary shot an angry look at her neighbour. ‘Even you should know to keep your mouth shut in front of little children, Ada Tanner.’ She turned to Nell. ‘Anything I can do for you, love?’

‘I’m not really sure I know what to do myself, Mary. That’s why I thought I’d best go to see Lily and George, to see what they want to happen. There’s going to be a coroner’s hearing but then they’ll release – you know – and arrangements are going to have to be made.’

‘How about if I have the kids for you?’

Nell bent down. ‘What do you think? Do you want to stay with Mrs Lovell while I go down the market to see the twins?’

Tommy and Dolly were clasping Mary’s hands before anyone had a chance to change their minds.

Nell stood on the corner of Commercial Street and Wentworth Street, plucking up her courage. Whatever would they say when they heard that their father was dead?

‘I only hope you don’t think we’re paying for the funeral,’ said Lily, sliding a hand of bananas into a brown paper bag.

‘So who will?’ asked Nell, watching Lily drop a handful of change into the already bulging money pouch that was tied around her waist. Just a little of that would have fed the children with better food than they had now.

‘It was you who lived with him and had his bastards.’

Nell flushed red, from both embarrassment and shock at Lily being so loud and so callous, especially in front of the queue waiting at the stall.

‘What did I say just this morning, Lil?’ said George, hefting a new box of apples onto the stall. ‘I said I thought it was funny him not coming home all week. That he’d probably got pissed and got himself rolled by thieves. Seems I was right. Funny they didn’t take his wallet, though.’

‘Is that it?’ asked Nell.

George shrugged. ‘I suppose so, but who knows how things might have to change. I’ll have to give it a bit of thought.’

‘But you will go and identify him, won’t you?’

‘How many more times?’

She could see that George was getting close to losing his temper.

‘We’ve said yes. When we’ve finished here.’

‘And we don’t want any pauper’s do for the funeral. So make sure you don’t go showing us up.’
Lily lifted her chin at the next customer in line. ‘Yeah?’

Considering herself dismissed, Nell walked away from the stall still not knowing what to think other than that she had – somehow – to pay for a funeral. How much would it cost? And where would the money come from? And what did George mean –
things might have to change
?

Nell sat at Mary Lovell’s kitchen table, something she had never done before, with the children sitting on either side of her. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

Joe, who was standing behind Mary’s chair with his arms folded across his chest, said quietly, ‘You have to go and see a funeral director, love. I remember when I lost my old mum and dad. They sorted it all out.’

‘Does it cost a lot?’

‘Depends what you want.’

Nell covered her face with her hands and began to weep.

Joe looked at the kitchen clock – nearly half past two – then at Mary, his eyes asking his wife whether it was right for him to speak.

Mary nodded.

Joe unfolded his arms and went over to the fitted dresser that ran along the back wall. ‘Nell, why don’t you leave the kids here with me? I’ll knock us up a bit of bread and jam, and we can have a listen to the wireless or have a game of snap, while you and Mary go round to Price’s,
they’re the ones who did my mum’s and dad’s for me.’

‘But George and Lily have just got something to see to after they close the stall, then they’re going to be back home.’

‘I’ll let them know where you are,’ said Joe, handing Tommy a pack of cards from the drawer.

‘Thanks, Joe, but I’d better leave a note for them. From me, letting them know what I’m doing. I think that’s what I should do.’

‘Whatever you reckon’s best, sweetheart.’

‘Thanks, Joe. Will you two be all right here with Mr Lovell?’

‘Yeah,’ said Tommy, dealing out the cards into three hands. ‘Bread and jam and cards, I should think so.’

‘Me too,’ said Dolly, kneeling up on her chair.

Mary looked at their eager little faces. It either hadn’t sunk in yet that their father was dead, or . . . No she didn’t want to believe that they were glad about someone dying, even if they had been terrified of him at times. But, if she were truthful with herself, if she were a child having to live in that flat then being rid of him would have probably had her cheering from the rooftops. God forgive her for even thinking such a thing.

‘Go on then, Nell,’ she said. ‘You go and leave your message for George and Lily, and I’ll get my coat.’

Nell wrote three versions of her note before she was satisfied with her efforts.

Nell propped the note against the sugar bowl on the kitchen table and then took out the money from the tin tea caddy. She counted it. Almost seven pounds. She put two pounds back, and then took them out again.

How much was the funeral going to cost? And how on earth was she going to manage without the money – however mean – that Stephen gave her each week?

Mary stood respectfully to one side of the big overstuffed armchair that the funeral director, Stanley Price, had drawn up for Nell.

‘These are slightly unusual circumstances, Mrs Flanagan.’

He raised his hand to still Nell’s objections.

‘I think for form’s sake we’ll stick with Mrs Flanagan, it makes it easier all round, especially as you say there are young children involved. Now down to details, the coroner has released the body?’

‘His adult children are identifying him this afternoon, and the policemen said it shouldn’t be too long after that, sir,’ murmured Nell.

‘It’s Mr Price, my dear. Now, what were you thinking of for the day?’

‘I don’t have a lot of money, Mr Price.’

‘We’ll worry about that later, but we do have a basic arrangement that is very popular. A hearse, plus two mourning carriages – all pulled by two horses each of course – and including the coffin and cemetery fee.’

He saw Nell throw a look at Mary.

Mary ducked her head. ‘That pays for the burial,’ she whispered, ‘at the City of London
and Tower Hamlets it’ll be. Over in Bow.’

Nell shook her head.

‘Southern Grove. Nell, I know it sounds a long way, but—’

‘No,’ Nell whispered back, ‘I mean all those horses and carriages.’

Mary sighed. ‘It’s expected, love. And you can’t really get away with much less than that.’

Nell thought of the twins, and Lil saying she didn’t want to be shown up. The last thing she needed was to antagonise her and George. She returned her attention to Mr Price. ‘I see,’ she said non-committally.

‘Right, we’ll look at some samples then shall we, Mrs Flanagan? You’ll be wanting to choose the type of wood and so on.’

If Stanley Price’s experience was anything to go by, even the misers could usually be shamed into spending just that little bit more. And rightly so, he justified his thoughts to himself, it was after all the most important day in a person’s life – so surely it was only right that you were expected to put on a good show for them, and no one helped a person put on a better show than Stanley Price and Sons.

Five pounds, he asked for. She had been right to choose the coffin that Mr Price had suggested after all. Nell could have kissed him on his whiskery chops. She could afford that – just – and have enough left over to see her through next
week, maybe a little longer if she was careful. She handed him the money.