Gaslight in Page Street (38 page)

George smiled slyly. ‘’Ave yer ’eard about the Bermon’sey Bashers?’ he asked.

Geoffrey shook his head and his father leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together in his lap.

‘When you an’ Frank were still at school, there was a group o’ local publicans who banded tergevver an’ sponsored fighters. They called ’emselves the Bermon’sey Bashers. They each ’ad their own fighter. I can tell yer there was a lot o’ money changed ’ands when those fights took place. Twenty-rounders they was, an’ I’ve seen some o’ those fighters ’ammered ter pulp. They used ter ’old the fights in the pubs. It was eivver in the back yards or in one o’ the large rooms upstairs.’

‘What’s that got to do with Mitchell?’ Geoffrey asked, but the answer was already dawning on him.

‘I’m comin’ ter that,’ George went on. ‘The bettin’ on those fights got out of ’and. People were layin’ their bets on street corners wivout knowin’ the form o’ the fighters concerned. Word jus’ got around that so-an’-so was fightin’ a new boy, an’ o’ course the police got wind of it. They raided the Eagle in Tower Bridge Road one night an’ nicked everybody who was there. At least ’alf a dozen publicans lost their licences an’ it came to a stop. Well, I’ve jus’ bin told on good authority that it’s startin’ up again. This time, though, it’s gonna be run more tightly. They’ve even changed their name. Now they’re gonna be known as the Bermon’sey Beer Boys. It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t yer fink?’

‘And you’re thinking of sponsoring Jake Mitchell?’ Geoffrey remarked incredulously.

His father grinned. ‘Jake’s still more than an ’andful fer anybody the Bermon’sey Beer Boys can put up. ’E’s still only in ’is mid-thirties. ’E was only twenty-five or -six when I brought ’im over from Cannin’ Town ter fight fer me at the Eagle. I won a packet that night. Funny enough, it was only the followin’ week that the police raided the place. Fortunately I wasn’t there that time.’

‘But won’t the local publicans cotton on to your scheme, especially if Mitchell’s already fought in the pubs?’ Geoffrey asked.

George shook his head. ‘’E only fought once an’ that was at the Eagle. There’s a new publican there now, an’ besides, Mitchell fought under the name o’ Gypsy Williams, an’ that was ten years ago.’

Geoffrey flopped back in his chair. ‘So you’re going to give him a job as a carman and back him in the ring.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Supposing he won’t agree to fight - that’s if and when you do find him?’

Galloway stretched out his legs and clasped his hands, pressing his thumbs together. ‘Jake never could turn down a scrap an’ I’ll make it well werf ’is while,’ he said with a satisfied grin. ‘’E can also ’andle a pair of ’orses as good as anybody. All I gotta do is find ’im.’

‘Who told you Mitchell was living over this side of the water?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘It was Nora, funny enough,’ George told him.

‘Nora?’

‘That’s right,’ he replied. ‘Nora don’t know Jake, o’ course, but she does know most o’ the people in the turnin’, an’ that’s where she ’eard the story. It turns out that there’s a new copper on the beat an’ ’e’s one o’ those who likes ter take ’is coat orf an’ sort the trouble out in ’is own way. Well, accordin’ ter Nora, this copper come across two jack-the-lads ’angin’ around outside a pub an’ they was gettin’ a bit boisterous. This copper tells ’em ter bugger orf an’ one ses, “Yer wouldn’t say that if it was Mad Mitch standin’ ’ere.” Anyway, the copper gets a bit shirty an’ ’e ses, “Tell this Mad Mitch that I’m keepin’ me eye out fer ’im, an’ if I come across ’im ’e’ll know all about it.” A couple of hours later one o’ the blokes comes back an’ by that time ’e’s well tanked-up. As it ’appens ’e bumps inter the same copper. “’Ere, yer was lookin’ out fer Mad Mitch, wasn’t yer?” ’e ses. “That’s right,” ses the copper. “Well, I’m ’im,” the bloke ses. It turns out they ’ave a right set-to, an’ apparently the copper give as good as ’e got. Come ter fink of it, p’raps I ought ter offer the copper a job instead,’ George added with a chuckle.

Geoffrey did not see the funny side of his father’s attitude and grimaced openly. ‘Well, I don’t like the idea of it, to be perfectly honest,’ he said firmly. ‘I can see trouble coming from all of this. What happens if Mitchell gets shirty with Will Tanner? Will’s the yard foreman and he gives the carmen their orders. He won’t take kindly to being undermined by the likes of Jake Mitchell.’

‘That’ll be no problem,’ George replied. ‘While ’e’s in the yard Mitchell does ’is share o’ the work. I’ll make sure ’e understands that right from the start. I want ’im ter save ’is energy fer the ring. Anyway, I’ve already put the word out fer ’im ter contact me. Now do us a favour an’ get on that phone again an’ chase that bloody coachbuilder up. I’ve got an important meetin’ wiv a prospective customer an’ I wanna be on time,’ he said, hiding a smile.

Chapter Twenty-two

Carrie Tanner was finding her working week unbearably long. Each day she waited hopefully for Tommy Allen to make an appearance but he did not call into the dining rooms. Each day she tried to put him put of her mind as she waited on the tables and served endless cups of tea and coffee. One or two of the regular customers who had been there when Tommy asked her out made bawdy comments and laughed when she rounded on them. They joked with her about seeing the young man with a couple of young ladies on his arm. Carrie tried hard not to show that she was concerned but she could not help wondering what had happened to Tommy and why he had not bothered to contact her again.

Fred Bradley had been acting rather strange too, she thought. Normally he would chat to her at every opportunity but all week he had been withdrawn and moody. Carrie felt that he must be feeling unwell. It couldn’t be the business, she reasoned. They were doing more trade than ever, and now that the new berth was operating at Bermondsey Wall even more dockers were coming in.

It was Sharkey Morris who helped to shed light on Fred’s mysterious behaviour when he called into the dining rooms on Friday morning. There had been the usual amount of banter between the carmen, then one of them said loud enough for Carrie to hear, ‘I ain’t seen anyfink o’ Tommy Allen lately.’

‘Nor ’ave I. I reckon ’e’s got ’imself locked up,’ another said.

‘Nah, ’e’s frightened ter come in ’ere in case we jib ’im,’ a third piped in.

Carrie tried to ignore the chit-chat but found herself getting more and more irritated by their childish comments. Sharkey could see her face becoming darker and he turned to the first carman. ‘Who’s this Tommy?’ he asked.

‘Don’t yer know ’im?’ the carman replied, grinning broadly. ‘Tommy Allen’s our Carrie’s young man, ain’t that right, luv?’

Sharkey jerked his eyes towards the back room. ‘What’s Fred gotta say about that then?’ he joked.

‘P’raps yer better ask ’im,’ the carman said.

‘’Ere, Fred, yer don’t allow Carrie ter walk out wiv scruffy ole carmen, do yer?’ Sharkey said, grinning.

Suddenly Fred came out of the back room and leaned over the counter. ‘Why don’t yer stop yer silly talk?’ he said angrily. ‘What the gel does in ’er own time is no concern o’ mine, an’ it shouldn’t be none o’ yours neivver. Now if yer finished yer grub, why don’t yer piss orf an’ make room fer somebody else?’

The customers were surprised at Fred’s sudden outburst and became subdued. Carrie too was surprised at Fred’s behaviour and felt a little embarrassed as she got on with serving the tea. When Sharkey Morris finished his meal, he got up and walked over to her on his way out.

‘Take no notice o’ the lads, luv,’ he said quietly. ‘They was only ’avin’ a bit o’ sport. Fred should know ’em by now. If yer ask me I’d say the bloke’s jealous, the way ’e carried on.’

Carrie dismissed the idea with a laugh but as she watched Sharkey leave the shop her brow creased in a puzzled frown. Fred
had
been unusually moody and quiet since that day Tommy asked her out, she thought. Maybe there was something in what Sharkey had said. Fred had been very talkative and he had certainly smartened himself recently. No, it didn’t mean anything, she told herself. If he was interested he would have asked her to walk out with him. Fred was a good bit older than her anyway, and he was too set in his ways.

For the rest of the day Carrie busied herself with her chores, glancing up hopefully as customers came into the dining rooms. Later, as she was getting ready to leave, Fred called her into the back room.

‘I’m sorry if I frightened yer, shoutin’ at those carmen the way I did,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought they was upsettin’ yer.’

‘I didn’t take any notice, and they didn’t mean any ’arm,’ she replied, smiling.

Fred nodded. ‘Just as long as yer all right. I wouldn’t want yer ter get upset an’ leave. Business ’as picked up quite a bit since yer’ve bin workin’ ’ere an’ I appreciate it. I want yer ter feel free ter come an’ talk ter me if anybody does upset yer. I know I’m almost old enough ter be yer farvver, but if ever yer feel the need, don’t ’esitate, all right?’

Carrie nodded as she buttoned up her coat. There was something in the way he spoke that reawakened her earlier misgivings. Perhaps he did want to ask her out but felt he was too old for her, she thought, realising that she would have to be careful not to give him the wrong impression by becoming too familiar with him. It would be difficult though. She had grown fond of him in the short time she had been working at the café. Fred was kind and considerate, and she felt comfortable chatting to him. It would upset him if she suddenly shunned him. He was a sensitive man who had always behaved very properly towards her. A girl could do a lot worse than marry a man like Fred, she thought. She would have to think carefully about the way she dealt with the situation. Things were unsure enough between her and Tommy at the moment without any further complications.

Carrie had left the dining rooms and was walking along the narrow turning that led into Bacon Street when suddenly she saw Tommy driving his pair of horses towards her. He waved and pulled up to the kerb, jumping down and hooking a brake chain around the front wheel as she walked up to him. ‘I’m sorry I’ve not bin in ter see yer, Carrie,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ve bin off work fer a few days.’

‘’Ave yer bin ill?’ she asked him anxiously.

‘No, it’s the old lady,’ he replied. ‘She fell down the stairs last Sunday night.’ Carrie winced and drew in her breath sharply. Tommy slowly shook his head. ‘I’d jus’ gone ter bed when I ’eard the crash. She’d bin at the gin again. I told ’er ter sleep down in the front room but she would insist on goin’ up the stairs. I ’ad ter ’ide the bottle before I could get the silly ole mare ter bed, an’ as soon as she ’eard my bedroom door go she got up ter look fer it.’

‘Is she badly ’urt?’ Carrie asked him.

‘I dunno yet,’ Tommy shrugged, leaning back against the shafts. ‘I got the doctor in an’ ’e said there was no bones broken, but she started actin’ funny the next day. She was ramblin’ away an’ talkin’ a load o’ gibberish. I couldn’t leave ’er, she’d ’ave set light ter the ’ouse or somefink. Anyway on Wednesday she was no better an’ I got the doctor in again. ’E got ’er inter St James’s Infirmary. They’ve got ’er under observation.’

Carrie smiled sympathetically and touched his arm. ‘I thought yer didn’t want ter see me any more.’

Tommy looked down at his boots for a moment, and when his eyes came up to meet hers Carrie saw how sad they looked. ‘I really enjoyed last Saturday night,’ he said quickly. ‘I wanted ter ask yer out durin’ the week but I couldn’t leave me muvver. Besides, I’m in an’ out o’ the infirmary now. The ole gel’s frettin’ in there. She always dreaded goin’ in that place an’ now she reckons she ain’t comin’ out. Ter tell yer the trufe, Carrie, it drives me roun’ the twist goin’ in ter see ’er. They’re all ole ladies in ’er ward an’ I ’ave ter sit wiv ’er fer a while. Trouble is, yer dunno what ter say ’alf the time, an’ she keeps ramblin’ on. She asked me ter send the ole man in ter see ’er last night. Bloody ’ell, ’e’s bin gorn fer years.’

‘Would yer like me ter come in wiv yer ternight?’ she asked him.

Tommy’s face lit up. ‘Would yer, Carrie? Would yer really?’

She smiled. ‘’Course I would. Knock fer me when yer ready an’ I’ll be waitin’.’

‘It’s seven till eight visitin’ time,’ he said, releasing the brake chain. ‘I’ll be round at ten ter seven.’

Carrie watched as he climbed up on to the cart and jerked on the reins. ‘I’ll be ready,’ she said.

Trouble had been brewing in the Tanner household all week. On Friday evening, as soon as the meal was over, Nellie glanced across at Danny, hunched sulkily in his chair. ‘It’s no good yer sittin’ there lookin’ all mean an’ ’orrible,’ she said sharply. ‘I told yer I don’t want yer goin’ ter that boxin’ club. In fact, I’ve a good mind ter see Billy Sullivan’s muvver abaht it. Billy should ’ave more sense.’

‘But I like boxin’, Mum,’ Danny answered, twirling a knife. ‘It’s nuffink ter do wiv Billy. Yer’ll make me look silly if yer see ’is muvver.’

‘It is somefink ter do wiv Billy Sullivan,’ Nellie said, gathering up the plates. ‘It was ’im who kept on ter yer about boxin’, an’ it was ’im who took yer ter the club in the first place. I told yer before, I don’t want no fighters in this family. All them knocks ter the ’ead can’t do yer no good.’

William had his head buried in the evening paper and huffed defensively as Nellie rounded on him.

‘Yer sittin’ there takin’ no notice. Why don’t yer tell ’im?’ she said sharply.

He folded the paper and laid it down on the table. ‘I fink yer makin’ too much of it, Nell,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s a good club an’ they don’t let the kids get ’urt. It’s not like professional fightin’.’