Rough Justice (30 page)

After a quick word with Joe Lovell about the children, Nell started making her weary way back to Whitechapel, paying out money for a bus fare that she could well have done with keeping in her purse.

Nell fought to keep her eyes open as the bus rocked rhythmically through the London streets. Mary Lovell, meanwhile, was still at work with Sarah Meckel, listening with increasing anger as Ada Tanner held forth. The woman had made the
trip back to the shop especially for the purpose.

‘You wouldn’t recognise our landing,’ Ada said to no one in particular. ‘Stephen Flanagan’s dead and buried. Martin Lovell’s scarpered.’ She flashed a sly look at Mary, who was again being held back by Sarah. ‘And just now I saw the twins moving out of their own home. Fancy that, being driven from their own flat. That’ll be that Nell’s doing. Disgraceful. Mind you, they’re doing well for themselves. I heard that they’ve got a set of rooms over near the market. But it still doesn’t seem right does it, being driven away? You could tell they weren’t very happy about it.’

‘How do you know?’ asked a woman from the Buildings, who was a passing acquaintance of Nell’s from the basement laundry. She liked Nell, but, like a lot of the other neighbours, had been too scared of Stephen Flanagan to befriend her in any more than the most casual of ways. It made her feel bad, when she heard what the girl had been through.

‘Bernie Woods, him from the Hope and Anchor over in Whitechapel, he got them a place.’

‘Blimey, Ada,’ said the woman, ‘if we ever have another war, we’ll have to have you as our secret bloody weapon. I don’t know how you do it. You’re like a flipping spy.’

Taking that as a compliment, Ada continued. ‘Still, it wouldn’t matter how nice the place was, it wouldn’t suit me, working and living over there with all them Jews.’

As if on cue, Florrie Talbot appeared in the
doorway at the back of the shop. ‘Wouldn’t it, Ada? That’s a shame. Because they’re my favourite people, Jews.’ Florrie landed a smacker of a kiss on Sarah’s cheek.

‘Busy evening planned, have you?’ sniggered Ada.

‘Why don’t you ask your old man?’ suggested Florrie with a wink and a smile before disappearing out onto the street. Then she stuck her head back in the shop. ‘Oops, shouldn’t let on about who my customers are, now should I?’

‘Tomcat,’ growled Ada, and then without waiting to catch a breath she carried on. ‘And you do know that all the kids are back at school now, don’t you? And that that little madam across the way, that Nell – Flanagan’s trollop – she’s only gone and got herself a flipping job. Woman with little kids going out to work, I ask you. What’s the world coming to? Anything to get out of looking after her home, that’ll be the reason, because between you and me, I’ll bet that that Stephen Flanagan left her a fortune.’ She hauled her shopping bag up her arm. ‘Wouldn’t suit me, taking blood money.’

Sarah shook her head at Mary. ‘Don’t waste your time on her, Mary. I don’t think even she knows what she’s talking about half the time.’

‘She knows all right,’ said Mary. ‘She knows exactly what she’s up to.’

Nell hefted another pile of ironed sheets onto the shelf. It was like being back in the home, but with a hundred times the amount of laundry to deal with. Then there was the noise – there was no keeping your voice to a whisper, as there had been when Matron Sully had been in charge. Her head was aching, and even though she’d only been working at the hospital for a couple of weeks it felt more like a lifetime. And she was so tired.

She should have been feeling better than this. For a start, when she’d gone to see Sylvia after Lily and George had moved out so suddenly, Sylvia had assured her that there was nothing to worry about, whatever the twins were saying was just a load of nonsense, they were being stirrers as usual. Then Nell had managed to pay off a little bit more of the funeral debt; the children loved going to school; Mary and Joe were keeping an eye on them until she got home, and the twins were becoming a distant – if still obnoxious – memory. It seemed as if even the police had given up pestering her; they either had something else to worry about, or since Martin had disappeared they didn’t see any point in
looking for anyone else to blame. She didn’t like it, but it was the realistic explanation.

A loud bell sounded. Shift over. Nell closed her eyes. Thank goodness for that.

Nell knocked on Mary’s door. ‘I’ve come to collect the little ones.’

Mary stepped out onto the landing and pulled the door shut behind her. ‘Nell, I’m ever so sorry love, but I’ve got to be straight with you, this is not working out the way I thought it would. I hate to say it but Joe’s enough of a handful for me at the minute, especially since Martin went, and the atmosphere in here, it’s not nice for the kids.’

Ada appeared in her doorway, and leaned against the jamb with her arms folded across her bosom.

Mary lowered her voice. ‘And to be honest, Nell, even though Sarah’s good enough to keep me on, without Martin’s money I’m finding it really hard to make ends meet. Tommy and Dolly, well, you know what it’s like, they’re growing kids, so they’re always hungry. Especially with the evenings drawing in so they’re up here indoors more.’

Mary’s voice wasn’t quiet enough to foil Ada.

‘I know if I was so kind as to be looking after someone’s little kiddies, I’d expect to be paid for my trouble,’ Ada offered from across the landing.

Nell felt herself flush bright red. ‘I’m so sorry, Mary, I never thought. How much do you think would be fair, just tell me and—’

‘How are you going pay anyone?’ Ada piped up. ‘From what I heard, all that talk about her having money was a load of old fanny.’

Ada didn’t bother to mention that it was she who had started the rumour in the first place. ‘No, she hasn’t got a pot to piss in.’ She grinned nastily at Mary. ‘She’s still paying off Stephen Flanagan’s funeral. Did you know that? Silly daft mare thought the deposit was the whole cost of the thing. How stupid’s that, eh? So pay you? No chance. Can’t even afford to feed herself by the look of how pale and skinny she is.’

Mary’s reaction wasn’t what Ada had hoped.

‘Aw, Nell, I had no idea.’ Mary pushed open her door, put her arm around Nell and guided her into her flat. ‘Come inside with me, love, and we’ll have a cup of tea and put our heads together to see what we can do about it, shall we?’

Mary topped up Nell’s cup for the third time, recklessly adding spoonfuls of precious sugar. She’d been so tied up with her own troubles she hadn’t even noticed how ill the girl was looking.

‘Right, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll ask Sarah if she can give me a few more hours, and instead of the children coming back here on the days I’m working, I’ll ask her if they can stay in the shop with us. They’ll like that. And we can give them a few little jobs to do. Everything’ll be fine, Nell, we’ll find a way round this, love.’

‘But say Sarah doesn’t agree?’

‘Then we’ll have to think again, won’t we?
Cheer up and stop worrying yourself, we’ll sort it all out.’

‘Told you not to worry, Nell.’ Mary was leaning on the top banister, catching her breath after climbing the stairs to the top floor of Turnbury Buildings at twice her usual speed. ‘I just nipped back round to Sarah’s and she said it would be no trouble at all having the children there. In fact she said she’s really looking forward to seeing them; said that their laughing little faces will cheer the place up.’

Mary was now grinning broadly. ‘And you’ll never guess what, Nell, because the shop’s been getting busier, what with the workmen off those new blocks they’re putting up, she only offered me extra hours. Before I even mentioned it. And you know how I do Saturdays for her – until she takes over after sunset? Well, she said she could do with staying open on Friday evenings too, now that there are going to be more customers coming in, but she goes upstairs for her special meal and prayers and that with David then. So she said I can do those hours for her as well. It’s like a dream come true. Seems as if things are looking up all round, eh Nell? Who knows, Joe might even get himself some labouring work on the new buildings.’

Nell couldn’t have been more grateful to Mary, but she didn’t have time to thank her before someone prodded her in the back.

It was Ada.

‘You know what they say?’ she said. ‘Don’t ever go thinking that things can only get better, just because you reckon they can’t get any worse. Because you’d be wrong – they can always get worse and they usually do.’

‘Why don’t you keep your nose out of other people’s business, Ada?’ said Mary.

Ada let out a dismissive puff of air. ‘Trouble with some people is they can’t face the truth.’

Mary shook her head sadly. ‘I’d rather face the truth any day than have to face myself in the mirror if I looked as sour and wicked as you, Ada.’

It was a bright but chilly Saturday morning in December. Nell was sitting on the edge of the double bed in the front room where she and the children still slept. The twins had been gone from the flat for over three months, but she could still feel their presence and she liked the fact that the front room had its own lock. Even though the twins had left the two sets of flat keys behind – she remembered George throwing them on the floor as they went, for her to pick up as if she were their inferior – she wouldn’t have been surprised if they had kept another set so that they could snoop around the place while she was out at work. They were probably the only people she could think of who were crafty enough to avoid being spotted by Ada Tanner. After the terrible thing that George had done to her after the funeral, she knew she would never feel truly safe in Number 55, despite the front room having that lock. But getting somewhere else to live would remain a dream that was unlikely ever to come true. She was just glad that the rent man’s only stipulation was that he was paid each week in cash, in her case with the money she left for him with Joe. He was not concerned with who actually lived there.

At least Tommy and Dolly seemed a little more settled since the twins had moved out. They were downstairs, muffled up in the scarves and gloves that Sylvia had bought for them, playing in the courtyard with the other children, while Nell was supposedly doing the weekly clean that she gave the flat now that she was working Monday to Friday. Unfortunately, so far she hadn’t even made the bed, she felt so weary. And then the letter had come by the first post.

She stared at the envelope again, comparing the writing to that on the roughly fashioned packet she had found on the doormat all those months ago, the packet with the seven pounds and ten shillings that she had still not spent. There was no denying it, the writing was the same, which could only mean one thing – it had to be from Martin.

Slowly, Nell rose to her feet and went into the kitchen. She took a knife from the dresser drawer and sat at the table, torn between wanting to know how and where Martin was, and trying desperately not to care about him. The trouble was she did care – she cared so very much.

With her hands trembling, Nell eased the point of the knife under the flap of the envelope and slit it open.

‘
Mum
.’ Tommy came racing into the kitchen.

Nell flushed scarlet and stuffed the envelope and the packet with the money under the breadboard.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’

‘Mum, can I have a dog for Christmas? That kid who wets himself, he’s just got a dog and he says the kids don’t laugh at him any more.’

Nell frowned. ‘Has someone been laughing at you?’

‘Only a few of the kids at school.’ Tommy pulled a face, wrinkling his nose, trying to look as if he couldn’t care less. ‘And some of them from downstairs.’

‘What are they laughing at?’

Tommy suddenly took an interest in his shoes and started twiddling his hair. ‘They said cos we haven’t got a dad it means we’ve got no money, and so we’ve all got cooties. And they made Dolly cry the other day, but I said I’d bash them if they said anything more to her and they left her alone. But they might start again, Mum,’ he added, remembering he was meant to be putting his case forward for getting a dog. ‘Some of them are so horrible.’

‘Tom, where’s Dolly now?’

‘She’s down with some of the big girls. They’re showing her how to play two balls. She’s not very good at it, but she’s all right playing with them. I wouldn’t have left her if she was alone or with the ones who laughed at her.’

‘I know you wouldn’t, Tommy. You’re a good boy.’

‘And if we had a dog I’d be
really
good. I know it’s only a couple of weeks until Christmas, but I could ask Sarah if I can do some more jobs for her and save up for a lead.’ A smile of pleasure
spread over Tommy’s face as his attention wandered away from dogs’ leads. ‘You know what, Mum, Sarah’s got ever such good stuff in the shop for Christmas. She’s got trees and little chocolate umbrellas that you have to hang on the branches and these shiny metal peg things for clipping candles on the trees. They’re ever so nice. And Sarah was telling me all about Hanukkah. It’s smashing. It’s like Christmas, but you get loads of presents if you’re a Jewish kid. Could we be Jewish, Mum?’

‘We could, but if you were a little Jewish boy you wouldn’t be able to go to Sunday school, would you? And then you wouldn’t be able to be in the nativity play. And I thought you and Dolly were all excited about that.’

Tommy shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

‘And you sing your song ever so well, they’d proper miss you if you weren’t in it.’

Nell put out her arms and, grown-up as he considered himself to be, Tommy climbed up onto her lap.

She kissed the top of his head, breathing in the sweet smell of soap from where she had washed it for him the night before. Her little boy and girl were being laughed at. She couldn’t bear the thought of it. She hated so much what had happened to them and what they had put up with over the years. They hadn’t asked for any of this. She hugged Tommy close and thought of the letter in the envelope, and the seven pounds ten shillings still in the paper packet, on the table
right there in front of her under the breadboard. She would have loved to have bought Tommy a dog, but she knew she couldn’t afford to keep it. Even if she pawned her brooch – how long would the money last? And she really didn’t want to lose her brooch. Ever since she had had the children she had always told herself that she would never get rid of it. She wanted so badly to leave the keepsake for them to remember her by, just as that wonderful, loving lady had left it to her.