The Street (19 page)

Jimmy tested her with a vicious lash across the legs but she was out cold and didn’t murmur or flinch. Fired up and frustrated he kicked her for good measure then prowled back and forth. His lips drew back against his teeth as he began cursing the stupid bitch for being so pathetically weak that a couple of smacks had finished her off too soon. If he hung around waiting for her to come round so he could give her a bit more Bobbie and Stevie were sure to turn up and create a commotion. The boys were older now; not so inclined to cower quietly in a corner when he was on the rampage. He didn’t want old Prewett poking his nose in, or Tilly bloody Keiver for that matter.

Suddenly he stopped pacing to listen. Another bump from above could be heard and a slow, crafty grin split his face. He went to the door and crept onto the landing, looking right and left, alert to being spotted, as he made for the stairs. He knew the sound of Tilly Keiver finishing off a bottle of whiskey. He knew what the thuds and clunks meant after so many years living in close proximity to her. He knew too that, drunk or sober, she wouldn’t even open the door to him unless he gave her good reason.

He knocked and called softly. ‘’Ere, Til, it’s Jim. You seen Fran? She ain’t in. I come by ’cos I got some money for her fer the lads.’

Tilly stuck a hand through a tiny opening. ‘Give it ’ere then,’ she slurred. ‘I’ll make sure she gets it tomorrer.’

‘Ain’t she with you?’ Jimmy enquired, all friendly, whilst keeping his bruises turned away from the aperture.

‘No, she ain’t,’ Tilly muttered, getting annoyed.

‘I was gonna knock at old Prewett’s, before I go. Say hello.’ He paused. ‘Know if the ol’ git’s about, do yer?’ It was a sly probe to discover if anyone was home and might bear witness against what he had planned.

‘He’s gone to Bethnal Green. Funeral,’ Tilly muttered succinctly. ‘Now give us Fran’s money ‘n’ piss off, will yer. I’m done in.’

Jimmy put his shoulder hard against the door and Tilly staggered back to crash into the table. ‘Wot the fuck yer doing?’ she spluttered, frowning incomprehension. Her inebriated state made it difficult for her to regain her balance and she clutched at a chair back.

An encompassing glance about the room told Jimmy what he needed to know. She was on her own. It was late and the kids were probably all akip in the back room. Nevertheless he kept his voice silky and soft. ‘I’m doin’ what I should’ve done a long time ago, you mouthy bitch. No Jack now to hide behind, have you?’ he taunted through his teeth as he back-kicked to flick the door to. ‘Got two things for you, Til,’ he purred with sadistic relish. ‘Got this . . .’ He raised a fist. ‘And got this . . .’ He started to unbutton his fly. ‘Now how you take this . . .’ he handled his groin lewdly, ‘is gonna determine how much of this you get.’ He suddenly let fly with a punch that whipped Tilly’s slack head sideways. He licked his lips as he heard her stunned gasp.

‘Now that didn’t hurt,’ he mocked. ‘That were just a little tickle.’

The throb of agony in her jaw had dispersed some of the inebriated fog in her mind. Tilly blinked and with a guttural cry launched herself at him. Her drunken state made her clumsy and Jimmy floored her with ease and stood grinning down at her semi-conscious figure.

He used his boot to turn her onto her back and came down astride her. ‘Want it here, do yer?’ He pounced on her heaving breasts, double-handed, then ripped the buttons from her blouse. Her skirts were already awry and he tugged them higher while she bucked beneath him, cursing and crying in frustration and rage. But try as she might she was too drunk and stunned to stir her senses into action or shift the weight on top of her.

Jimmy levered himself up a bit to yank down his trousers and as he surged forward again Tilly recovered just enough to spit in his face. Jimmy cuffed her spittle from his cheek and drew back that same arm, intending to give Tilly back what was hers.

‘What’s going on?’ The voice, faint with shock, came from the threshold.

‘What’s going on?’ Alice cried and rushed into the room. She’d just returned home from a walk to the café with Geoff. Only moments ago they’d parted at the foot of the stairs. She bent to her mum and gasped as she saw the state of her battered face. She then raised her eyes to her uncle; their faces were almost level. ‘What have you done to her?’ she whispered, aghast. Her fearful gaze fell to a puce part of him that poked jauntily out of dirty white cotton. With a shudder of revulsion she sprang up and tottered back a step.

Jimmy whipped to his feet and caught her as she turned to run for the door. ‘Where you off to, Al?’ he asked, his voice guttural with lust. The arm about her waist tightened and he slid a hand up to squeeze a small breast. ‘Stay fer a bit and be nice to yer uncle . . . eh? Got a little kiss for me, have you?’

Alice shrieked and one of his brutal hands quickly muffled her cries. She could feel hot pressure behind her and felt the bile rise in her throat as he ground himself against her buttocks.

‘Come on, li’l Alice,’ he crooned. ‘That streak o’ piss boyfriend of yours ain’t old enough to know how it’s done. What you need is a real man. I’ll show you a better time’n he can manage.’ He dragged her back with him to the iron bed and forced her down on the dirty mattress.

Alice felt as though she were suffocating. She twisted her head away from his boozy breath, tried to squirm from the rough hands tearing at her clothes to reach her skin. She wanted to see her mum. She could hear her groaning but not locate her on the floor.

Tilly dragged herself to her knees and lunged for the bed. ‘Get off her! Get off her, yer filthy bastard. She’s yourn. What you doin’ to yer own daughter?’

Jimmy turned his head as Tilly pounded ineffectual punches at his thigh. ‘What you on about?’ he snarled.

‘She’s yourn . . . your kid . . . get off her, you . . . evil . . . fuckin’ . . . bastard.’

As the hand that had been gagging her slackened Alice jerked free and screamed. When Jimmy turned back to stare at her drop-jawed she drew a breath to yell again. The disbelief in his eyes at what her mum had said was already being dimmed by lust. His rough fingers pinched her lips again to quieten her. ‘She’s a lyin’ bitch,’ he mouthed close to Alice’s ear. ‘Don’t you take no notice. I ain’t yer daddy . . .’

Geoff was taking a final drag from his roll-up, leaning against the railings, when he heard Alice scream. He thought for a moment he must be mistaken, for only a minute or two previously he’d kissed her goodnight in the shelter of the doorway and she’d gone off humming happily. But this was The Bunk and God only knew anything could happen in it. A second later he was bounding up the stairs.

The sight that met his eyes as he burst in to the Keivers’ room momentarily petrified him to the spot with shock. Tilly was on her knees at the bed edge, dragging at Jimmy’s legs and crying, her features mired in blood and snot. Alice had seen him over Jimmy’s shoulder and her eyes were dull with humiliation and misery. Jimmy turned his head and spat a curse at him. Aiming a backward kick at Tilly to get her off his legs he vaulted to his feet, closing his trousers.

Geoff quietly pushed to the door. ‘What d’you think yer doing?’ He sounded oddly polite yet tight-lipped wrath had drained his complexion of colour and narrowed his eyes to slits.

‘What you can’t, sonny. I’m gonna give her a good time. And when I’ve done with you I’ll finish her off ’fore she goes cold on me.’

Geoff continued into the room and circled as Jimmy started to navigate the furniture.

‘He’s got a knife, Geoff,’ Alice choked out. She’d seen Jimmy’s sly movement and the flash of silver as one of his hands withdrew from a pocket. She swiftly yanked down her rucked-up skirt and scrambled to the edge of the bed.

‘Stay where you are, Alice.’

It was uttered with such quiet authority that Alice obeyed Geoff and froze into immobility.

Slowly Tilly’s numbed senses were surfacing though a mist of pain and alcohol. She tried to pull herself onto her feet. But her legs buckled beneath her and she cried out in anguish and frustration. Her head was reeling, her throat clogged with blood and mucus, making her retch and gag. She sank again to her knees.

Jimmy lunged and Geoff dodged sideways. Jimmy chuckled and licked his lips on seeing he’d got a lucky hit and drawn blood. Red beads had sprung up on Geoff’s forearm and stained his shirt.

‘Come on . . . you can do better’n that, can’t you, sonny?’ he taunted then feinted with the knife a couple of times, showing off.

Alice had also seen the stain on Geoff’s shirt and she jumped off the bed, her darting eyes searching for something with which to attack Jimmy.

‘Stay where you are!’ Geoff roared at her. ‘Stay!’

Alice sank back on the bed edge.

Again Jimmy used the distraction to his advantage and got the blade glancing off Geoff’s left shoulder. The wound was deeper than the first but Geoff barely felt it for he’d got what he wanted. He’d drawn him in enough to strike. He jabbed a brutal fist at Jimmy’s nose with his right hand then followed it quickly with a left cross before dancing out of range of the waving knife. As Jimmy started to collapse he stepped in again and brought his knee viciously in to his groin then followed it through to slam under his chin. As Jimmy sagged to his knees he swiped out wildly at Geoff, spitting curses.

Nobody had seen Fran appear. From behind a half-open door, and a half-open eye, she’d watched the scene for minutes in silence. She’d seen her niece pulling down her skirts and her sister’s bloodied face and torn clothing. She’d seen Geoff Lovat’s heroic defence of her female kin. Now her husband was on his knees she walked in and raised, two-handed, the heavy pot she held. She brushed past Geoff and swung the vessel sideways, with all her might, into Jimmy’s cheek. He rolled away groaning, trying to avoid another blow from her. She followed, wordlessly, doggedly, and smashed the pot down again on his head as he writhed at her feet.

Geoff tried to push Fran clear as he saw the knife rising in Jimmy’s fist but he was too late and it scored Fran’s belly, finally drawing a rasping sound from her. Geoff came down on top of Jimmy, pinning him to floor to try and wrestle the blade from his grip. A moment later there was a loud grunt followed by a cough.

Geoff struggled to his feet and looked down at Jimmy’s rapidly blinking eyes. Suddenly the lids fell and his head sagged to one side. Geoff turned to the women in the room. All three were looking expressionlessly at the man sprawled on the floor.

‘Is he dead?’ Tilly croaked.

‘Dunno . . . Think so . . .’ Geoff answered hoarsely.

‘Good,’ Tilly said tonelessly. She finally managed to drag herself to her feet using the bed edge. One of her hands rested on her daughter’s down-bent head, just briefly, before she staggered over to her bleeding sister.

‘Let’s see,’ she said and, dragging Fran’s trembling hands from where they covered a crimson stain, began to pull apart her clothes.

Geoff went to the bed and sat down next to Alice. ‘You hurt?’

‘No . . . I’m not . . . no, I’m not . . . he didn’t . . . I’m not . . .’ she whispered through chattering teeth.

Geoff put his arm about her and drew her head down onto his shoulder.

‘Thought Dan was the boxer out of yers.’ A hysterical giggle followed Alice’s words.

‘Used to spar with him. Was always better than him. Never let on though. Didn’t want to get roped in.’

Alice clung to him, feeling him shaking as violently as she was herself. Suddenly she started to keen quietly, her hands clutching at her face.

‘Wot in fuck’s name’s gone on here . . .?’ Jeannie Robertson took a hesitant step into the room. Her eyes flitted over the carnage, settled on the young girl weeping on the bed being supported by a young man with a face as white as a sheet. Finally she gazed at the man on the floor, a dark pool spreading under him on the floorboards.

Quietly she closed the door behind her. Hoisting up her smart skirt to keep it clean she stepped over Jimmy’s body and stood by the table. For some long moments she stared at the two women who seemed to be propping each other up. Their features were almost unrecognisable because of the battering they’d taken.

Tilly blinked back at Jeannie through an eye that was puffed to a slit. For almost a minute nobody spoke and Alice’s weeping was the only sound.

‘He the one done this to you all?’ A jerk of Jeannie’s head took in Jimmy’s inert form.

Tilly nodded. Moisture slid from the small crack hiding her eye. She winced as she knuckled it away. ‘Tried to rape me ‘n’ me daughter too,’ she croaked.

‘He weren’t no good,’ Fran mumbled with such absurd understatement that Jeannie raised her eyes heavenwards.

‘Well, he ain’t gonna bash or rape nobody no more, is he?’ Jeannie said gently. She looked at the young couple still huddled together on the bed edge. She could stab a guess at what had gone on, and how Jimmy Wild had finally got what he deserved. ‘You intending getting the police involved?’

As though the consequences of Jimmy’s death had not occurred to any of them, four people lifted their heads to stare at Jeannie before they exchanged glances with one another.

‘It were self-defence,’ Fran mumbled through her swollen lips. ‘He had a knife and Geoff tried to take it off him after he cut me. Look what he’s done to me,’ Fran moaned and opened her blouse to show the long gash on her belly.

‘Ain’t done yer face no favours either, love,’ Jeannie observed as she frowned at the lump of flattened flesh that was Fran’s nose. ‘So you gonna get the police involved then, and hope for the best?’

‘No . . . we ain’t!’ Tilly whispered forcefully, spitting blood. ‘Not if we can help it. Could go bad for Geoff and he don’t deserve to . . .’ She stopped but everybody knew what she’d left unsaid.

A court case, a trial, a jury . . . Geoff could be found guilty of murder if things went against him.

‘Ain’t swingin’ fer him,’ Geoff said quietly. ‘Ain’t even risking getting locked away for that piece o’ shit.’

Beside him Alice retched, and crossed her arms over her belly as though to contain its contents. Fresh tears dripped from her eyes.

‘We got to somehow sort it out,’ Tilly muttered, agitated, and knuckled again at her blurry vision.

‘Looks like you need a favour doin’ after all.’ Jeannie dropped the bag that contained her unwanted clothes onto the table. ‘Wish now I’d never bleedin’ offered,’ she wryly added. ‘Can you get him down the stairs and out the back to the shit house?’

Geoff looked up, realising Jeannie was addressing him.

‘Yeah,’ He agreed automatically. ‘I can do that.’

‘Good. With luck I’ll get him gone by morning.’

Geoff made a move to get up then sat down again and turned to Alice. ‘I’ll be going in the morning too, Al. Looks like I’m off to fight after all,’ he said with a bleak, twisted smile.

Tilly slipped out into the back yard at dawn.

She’d not slept and neither had Fran. They’d done what they could to clean themselves up while Alice went down to tell Bobbie and Stevie that their mum had had a little accident and was going to sleep up in theirs. The boys had accepted the news, as they always did – wide-eyed and close-lipped. If they thought it odd that Alice looked weird and white and shaky they said nothing. No questions. They undressed quickly then huddled together in bed, whispering about their game of football.

Alice had wearily climbed the stairs again to join her mum and aunt. The three of them had lain down on the bed in the front room and waited for the dawn light so they could grapple with a new day. Dazed with shock and exhaustion there’d been no further conversation between them, just intermittent moans from Fran as her injuries throbbed and she tried to ease her position on the mattress.

Tilly raised a hesitant hand to the door of the shit house. Her eyes closed as she pulled it, groaning, open. It was vacant and stinking dirty as usual. Staggering relief swamped her. She shoved the door closed and leaned back against it for a moment. Then quickly she went back inside.

‘Going to work Al?’

Alice nodded and looked at her mum. A dreadful question hovered in the air between them and it seemed neither could find the courage or energy to mention it. There were so many dreadful thoughts, urgent thoughts, battling for attention. A deceit, possibly of more than sixteen years standing, could wait a little longer.

‘He’s gone,’ Tilly gruffly told Alice, eliminating one of the torturing uncertainties from her daughter’s head. ‘Jeannie’s done what she promised. Gawd knows how . . .’

Alice nodded in thankfulness. Neither of them wanted to voice their dead tormentor’s name but a train of thought had been set in motion, prompting Alice to plaintively burst out, ‘Mum . . . what you said . . .?’

‘Gotta go down ‘n’ see how Fran’s coping with the boys,’ Tilly brusquely interrupted. ‘Reckon her wound needs stitches but doctors ask questions. See to Lucy for me if she wakes before you leave. I’ll see you later.’

*  *  *

‘I hoped you wouldn’t go without saying goodbye.’

‘Nah . . . wouldn’t do that,’ Geoff said and smiled at her through the iron railings. ‘Got time for a little walk?’

Alice nodded vigorously. It was her dinnertime at the factory and she’d hoped and prayed that he’d be there as she emerged into autumn sunlight. Throughout the morning she’d worked like an automaton, shutting dreadful memories from her mind. She’d concentrated solely on whether she’d get a chance to see Geoff before he went away. She desperately wanted to see him and try to make him change his mind about going off to fight. As they started to walk along, Alice slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. Geoff glanced down then placed his fingers over hers.

Last night Geoff hadn’t taken much notice of his injuries. He’d let Alice bathe away the blood and cover the wounds in clean rag. He’d taken up the offer of one of her dad’s shirts too. He couldn’t go home wearing his own and risk inevitable questions so he’d left it, torn and bloodstained, on the floor.

‘Are your cuts hurting?’ she asked in quiet concern. She had felt him wince just now as she touched him. ‘Are they worse than we thought?’