Tuppence to Tooley Street (24 page)

The sound of voices brought Detective Constable Stanley Stockbridge back to reality. The outer office door opened and he heard Miss Adams’s strident tones. ‘Go right in, Basil, Mr Sullivan’s waiting for you.’

A white–haired, stooped old man walked painfully into the inner sanctum and leaned on the desk for support. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Sullivan. Those stairs seem to take it out of me lately,’ he said in a cracked voice.

Mr Sullivan smiled sympathetically and motioned Basil to a chair. Fat Stan looked at the pathetic figure whose suit seemed to be two sizes too large for his frail body while Basil peered at him over metal–rimmed spectacles and blinked owlishly. His sunken cheeks puffed in and out as he fought to regain his breath, and his bony hands made motions of washing. Fat Stan began to get the feeling that pounding the beat again was becoming a distinct possibility.

The tragedy in Dawson Street left a cloud of gloom that hung heavily over the small turning. There were no children playing in the street, and the few people who stood at their doors were talking in little more than whispers. While she lived, Crazy Bella had been ignored by most of Dawson Street’s folk, but in death everyone had some anecdote to tell about the unfortunate woman.

‘She ’ad a son, yer know,’ announced Mrs Brightman.

Annie Barnes did not know. ‘Go on with yer,’ she said.

‘’S’right. ’E run away ter sea years ago when poor ole Bella lived in Tower Bridge Road. Wasn’t much good by all accounts. I ’eard ’e was dead rotten to ’er. Brought ’im up all on ’er own as well.’

‘Didn’t she ever marry?’ Annie asked, digging into her pocket for her snuff.

‘Not as far as I know,’ replied Mrs Brightman. ‘Accordin’ ter Granny Bell, she was a smart woman when she was younger. She used ter go up West quite a lot. She was always bringin’ fellers back. Still, she wasn’t doin’ no ’arm. Granny reckons she was on the game, but I don’t fink she was.’

‘Somefing must ’ave turned ’er brain,’ said Annie, shaking her head sadly. ‘I’ve seen ’er up on London Bridge Station. She used ter give the toffs a lot o’ verbal. I’ve seen ’er walkin’ be’ind ’em City gents swearin’ ’er ’ead orf at ’em.’

‘I did ’ear that she ’ad ’er son by a well–ter–do feller. ’E wouldn’t marry ’er but ’e gave ’er a few bob ev’ry week. That’s if yer can believe it,’ Mrs Brightman said, folding her arms under her apron.

Annie Barnes shivered although the evening was still warm. ‘Did yer see that poor carman’s face? White as a sheet it was. That copper was ’oldin’ ’is arm.’

‘Yer can’t blame ’im, Annie. They reckon somefink frightened the ’orse. Yer can’t foresee these fings. I say it was an act of the Almighty.’

Annie Barnes looked up the turning. ‘There’s young Danny Sutton goin’ ’ome fer ’is tea.’

‘What’s ’e doin’ now, Annie?’

‘’E’s got the bookie’s pitch in Clink Lane. I was talkin’ ter Alice Sutton earlier on. She’s all upset. ’Er Connie got some bad news about ’er chap. ’E’s on the boats and ’is muvver come round cryin’ ’er eyes out. They got a telegram ter say ’e’s missin’.’

‘Gawd Almighty, Annie! Whatever next?’

 

As the train jerked to a stop at Paddington Underground Station and the doors slid open, a tide of uniformed figures rushed out towards the exit stairs. Two young people who were holding hands and talking let the hurrying travellers pass them by. They were early, and they emerged onto the railway station almost reluctantly. Danny carried Alison’s small suitcase as they came to the station departure board and studied the train times. A large clock over the display showed ten minutes to nine. Alison looked at Danny and at her case he was holding. ‘I won’t be a minute. I’m just going to powder my nose,’ she said.

Danny eyed her slim figure as she walked swiftly towards the Ladies. Unlike Waterloo Station, he found Paddington depressed him. He watched servicemen pass to and fro, all laden with heavy equipment and rifles and all looking grim and tired. Tearful families and sweethearts waved handkerchiefs as a train grew smaller in the distance. The station tannoy announced yet another delay, and two porters began to argue over who should shift a heap of luggage the few yards to the nearby taxi rank.

Danny felt it was one of those forsaken days when everything went wrong. Back in Dawson Street everyone was mourning poor Bella, and Connie was shut up in her room crying. He had tried to cheer her up before he left to meet Alison, but on this occasion his playful chatter did no good. Now he was waiting to say goodbye to Alison, who seemed quite happy to be on her way home. As he stood beside her case a large lady in a mink stole and feathered hat dragging a tiny dog on a lead beckoned a porter over and addressed him with her high–pitched voice. The hysterical–looking dog sniffed at the case by Danny’s feet and began to cock its leg. Danny quickly lifted the case and resisted a strong urge to drop it on the dog’s head. He turned angrily and walked away.

Five minutes later he saw Alison emerge from the Ladies and talk briefly to a porter before walking over to him.

‘What shall we do, Danny?’ she said. ‘We’ve got almost an hour before the train leaves.’

‘This station’s givin’ me the willies. Let’s get a drink.’

They walked out into Praed Street and found a little pub a short distance from the station. In the smoky atmosphere they sat in a corner sipping their drinks. Alison put her stout down on the table and ran her index finger around the rim of the glass. ‘Tell me something, Danny,’ she said, ‘are you disappointed?’

Danny looked up into her dark eyes. ‘About what?’

‘About what I told you today in the park. And about us not having much time together.’

‘No, I’m not disappointed,’ he lied. ‘What ’appened wiv you an’ this Bill was yer own affair. As fer not ’avin’ much time tergevver, I’m not really disappointed, I’m more sorry. It wasn’t on the cards, was it?’

Alison fished into her handbag and took out a small mirror. While she was studying her reflection she said, ‘I’m sorry too. Really sorry.’

Danny laughed mirthlessly. ‘Now if I was an Arab sheik or somefink I’d ’ave carried yer off this afternoon. You’d ’ave bin a prisoner in my tent, an’ I’d ’ave dismissed all the uvver wives while we made love.’

Alison stroked his hand and Danny felt the softness of her skin. She looked into his pale eyes and smiled. ‘I don’t want to be ravished by a sheik, Danny. A soldier boy will do–or should I say ex–soldier.’

They were silent for a while, then Danny said, ‘Alison, do yer fink I’m a bit slow?’

The young girl laughed aloud. ‘Slow, Danny? I think you’re as sharp as a pin.’

‘I don’t mean that way,’ he said quickly, ‘I mean slow–you know–ter get goin’?’

Alison picked up her drink again and Danny had the feeling she was laughing at him. ‘Of course I don’t. Let’s face it, Danny, we’ve not had any opportunity to . . . Well, you know what I mean.’ She looked up at him and noticed the tell–tale twitch of his mouth. He put his hand into his coat pocket and laid Johnny’s front door key down on the table in front of her.

‘Yes we ’ave,’ he said. ‘A pal o’ mine loaned me that key. ’E said I might wanna take yer to ’is flat.’

Alison looked surprised. ‘Why didn’t you?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ he replied. ‘It seemed wrong. It seemed like it was all arranged. What’s more, the bloke that give me the key can’t keep ’is mouth shut. If I tell ’im I used the flat, ’e’d be a walkin’
News of the World
.’

‘Why did you take the key then, Danny?’

‘It was the way I was feelin’ at the time, I s’pose.’

Alison studied her long fingernails. ‘Do you feel different now?’

‘Yeah, I want yer twice as much,’ Danny said quietly.

‘Danny.’

‘Yeah?’

‘There’s another train leaving at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. We could go to a hotel.’

Their eyes met, and for a moment they clasped hands, the noise and movement around them forgotten. Finally Danny smiled sheepishly and picked up the glasses. ‘Let’s ’ave anuvver drink,’ he said.

Night was falling as they emerged from the pub. Taxis hooted and swerved in and out of the station and evening revellers sauntered through the busy street.

Danny took Alison’s arm. ‘Let’s cross over,’ he said. ‘The side turnin’s are the best bet.’

They found themselves in a narrow backstreet where almost all of the Victorian terraced houses offered rooms for the night. The first two places were full, but at the third attempt they were successful. A bleary–eyed man with his shirt–sleeves rolled back over his forearms span the register and watched as Danny signed them both in as Mr and Mrs Halleron. He handed Danny a key and called out, ‘Beryl, take Mr an’ Mrs Halleron up to number six.’

A fat woman with a cheery grin waddled up the carpeted stairs ahead of the young couple, and when she had recovered her breath she opened the door at the end of the landing. ‘There you are, me dears,’ she said. ‘If there’s anything else you want, you just tell hubby. Breakfast is from eight o’clock.’

The room smelled musty but it was clean. The curtains were drawn back and the bed with its white counterpane seemed to fill the room. Danny looked at Alison in the dimness and she stepped close to him. Their lips met and their bodies came tightly together. The kiss was long, and when they moved apart Danny pulled the curtains shut and switched on the light. A tall wardrobe of dark wood, an old chair, and a washstand were the only furniture in the room. Over the bed was a gilt–framed picture of Victorian Bayswater. The walls were covered with a floral wallpaper, and hanging from the ceiling above the bed was a tasselled shade around the light which gave out a pinkish glow. Danny opened a door which led, amazingly, to a private bathroom and Alison began to undo her suitcase.

‘Look at this,’ he called out to her, eyeing the large bath. ‘This beats our ole bog in the yard. A real tub as well. We take our’n down from a peg be’ind the back door.’

When Alison went to the bathroom Danny turned off the light and opened the curtains. He sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at the moon. The room felt strange and he suddenly realised he was trembling. The bathroom door opened and he saw Alison standing on the threshold. He caught his breath as he saw her figure silhouetted in the dim light; her hair seemed to shine, and as she came over to the bed Danny noticed her small, firm breasts standing out beneath the white cotton of her nightdress. ‘Christ! Yer beautiful,’ he breathed as she sat down beside him.

‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she said with a coy smile.

Danny reached out and pulled her to him. She did not resist as he kissed her chin and neck, and when he pressed her down on the bed Alison shuddered with pleasure as his fingertips traced a very gentle ring around her taut nipple. After a lingering kiss Danny drew up on his arms and looked down at her flushed face and sighed deeply. ‘I won’t be long,’ he whispered as he rose and went into the bathroom.

Alison climbed into the comfortable bed and pulled up the bedclothes. She had been aroused, and the desire for full love made her feel impatient. ‘Come on, Danny, don’t keep me waiting,’ she whispered aloud.

Danny was standing in front of the wash–basin. He had washed down in cold water to ease the growing feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. He eyed his pale skin and looked at the thin white scar that ran from his right side to his sternum. He ran his trembling fingers through his fair hair and reached for the towel which he wrapped around his middle. From somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind a strange alarm was beginning to interrupt his thoughts. He was reaching out for the unobtainable, a mutual attraction was drawing them both like two moths fluttering around a brightly burning candle flame. He shivered as he turned out the light and opened the door.

Alison saw the slim figure come to her and remove the towel from around his stomach as he slipped in the bed beside her. She turned to face him and felt his fingers stroke her hair. She had wanted their love–making to be slow and gentle, but now as his anxious hands caressed her aching body she became impatient. Suddenly Alison sat up, and with one smooth movement she pulled the nightdress over her head and guided his trembling hands up to her naked breasts.

In the dark hotel room, with the moon gently streaming over the bed, they became lovers at last.

 

A cloud had covered the moon, and now monstrous shapes seemed to loom up in the shadows around the ghostly white counterpane which covered Danny and Alison. The wardrobe creaked and occasionally the distant sound of a train drifted in through the open window. The lovers lay close, their demanding passion spent. Alison rested her head on Danny’s chest and gently ran her fingers down his arm. He held her close and watched the eerie light playing tricks around them. Danny could smell the fragrance of her hair and her warm body scent that had drawn him to the summits of pleasure. Now, his body calm and heavy, he whispered into her ear: ‘I’ve never experienced anyfing so good. You was fantastic.’

Alison sighed and nestled even closer. ‘I didn’t want it to end. Was I greedy?’

‘You was great.’

‘So were you.’

Danny stretched out and yawned. ‘It’s funny really. ’Ere we are in a bedroom of a strange ’otel, an’ only a couple of hours ago I was gettin’ ready ter see yer off. I ’ad the feelin’ yer wanted ter get on that train as soon as yer could. I was gettin’ the ’ump on that station. I like comin’s not goin’s. I was jus’ gettin’ used ter the idea of a lonely trip back ter Bermon’sey when yer told me about the uvver train. Was that what yer was speakin’ ter the porter about?’

There was no answer and Danny realised that Alison had fallen asleep. Her breathing was shallow and even, and as he eased her head onto the pillow she sighed and slipped her arm around him.

 

The early morning was dull and humid. When Danny awoke he found that the place beside him was empty. He sat up with a start and then dropped back onto the pillow when he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom. In a while Alison came into the bedroom fully dressed, her face fresh and pink. She squeezed his big toe. ‘Come on, sleepy–head, breakfast started ten minutes ago.’