The Girl from Cotton Lane (11 page)

Carrie had been listening intently, enthralled and hanging on to the union man’s every word, but she suddenly caught sight of Fred standing at the counter. He was looking in her direction, apparently ignoring Bessie who was chatting away to him, and there was a look in his eye which Carrie found disconcerting. Her husband’s jealous nature made it difficult for her to talk to any of the customers for very long without him questioning her, and it was becoming worse lately.

She got up with a sigh. ‘I mus’ go, Don,’ she said. ‘I’ve gotta start clearin’ up fer the day.’

That evening, when Rachel was tucked up in bed sleeping, the moment came when Fred could contain his suspicions no longer, as Carrie had expected.

‘I don’t mind yer talkin’ ter the customers, Carrie, but yer was sittin’ wiv that Don Jacobs fer ages,’ he said to her, a resentful look on his flushed face. ‘Bessie was ’avin’ ter do the servin’ an’ yer know I don’t like ’er be’ind the counter more than need be. She’s a chatterbox an’ it gets on the customers’ nerves. I don’t wanna lose me trade because of ’er.’

‘Well, if that’s the way yer feel about Bessie why don’t yer sack ’er, or at least ’ave a stiff word wiv ’er?’ Carrie replied with spirit. ‘Don’s a good bloke an’ ’e brings a lot o’ trade in ’ere. ’E was jus’ tellin’ me about the unions, an’ ’ow they’re all worried about a General Strike. An’ as fer Bessie doin’ all the servin’, there was only a couple o’ carmen in the place. I don’t fink she was bein’ ’ard pressed.’

Fred fidgeted in his chair. ‘There’s bin times when I was tempted, let me tell yer,’ he said. ‘The fing is, Bessie’s a very good worker, despite the length of ’er tongue. I’d be lucky ter get anybody that could match ’er in the kitchen. I jus’ don’t want ’er servin’ more than need be, that’s all.’

‘Well, I ’ave ter keep an eye on Rachel when she’s ’avin’ ’er afternoon nap,’ Carrie said sharply. ‘I can’t be be’ind that counter all the time. If that’s what yer want yer’d better ask Annie if she’d consider workin’ all day instead o’ jus’ the mornin’s.’

Fred puffed. ‘Look, I know yer can’t be servin’ all the time, but I was a bit narked the way yer was sittin’ wiv that Don Jacobs. I didn’t know what the two of yer was talkin’ about, did I?’ he growled.

‘I’ve told yer what Don was talkin’ about. There was nuffin’ in it,’ Carrie retorted.

‘What about that Tommy Allen? ’E’s bin comin’ in quite a lot lately,’ Fred remarked, looking surly. ‘’E always seems to ’ave a lot ter say fer ’imself.’

Carrie felt her anger growing. ‘I’ve told yer plenty of times, me an’ Tommy finished a long time ago. ’E only talks about everyday fings. If yer want me to ignore everbody who comes in, jus’ say so,’ she flared at him. ‘I’ll tell yer this though. It’s no bad fing ter listen ter the customers. It’s just as important as the quality o’ the food an’ drinks we sell. Those carmen are sittin’ outside the wharves fer hours on end at times, an’ they like ter come in fer a mug o’ tea an’ a chat. Spendin’ a bit o’ time listenin’ an’ bein’ pleasant is good fer trade. Yer said that yerself.’

Fred nodded. ‘I’m jus’ worried yer might be wishin’ it was Tommy Allen yer married instead o’ me,’ he said quietly.

Carrie looked into Fred’s eyes and her anger disappeared. She got up from her chair and went over to him. ‘Look, Fred. I wasn’t pushed inter this marriage,’ she said softly. ‘I went in wiv me eyes open. I’m quite ’appy, an’ I ain’t wishin’ I was married ter anybody else, so get that stupid thought out o’ yer ’ead fer a start.’

Fred reached up and took her hand from his shoulder, squeezing it gently in his. ‘I remember that day when yer agreed ter marry me,’ he said. ‘Yer told me yer liked me a lot, although yer didn’t love me. I didn’t ask yer why yer suddenly agreed if yer didn’t feel love fer me, I didn’t ’ave to. I felt it was security yer wanted. That an’ the chance ter ’elp me build up the business so yer could get some money be’ind yer. Yer was worried about yer parents an’ yer farvver gettin’ put orf at Galloways. I knew the pressure yer was under at the time, I’m not stupid, yer know. I am jealous about yer though.’ He looked into her deep blue eyes. ‘I love yer very much an’ I’ve bin ’opin’ an’ prayin’ that one day yer’d realise that yer’ve fallen in love wiv me.’

Carrie smiled at him and pulled his head to her chest as she stood over him. ‘What is love, Fred?’ she said. ‘If it means bein’ wiv somebody fer the rest of yer life, bein’ wiv ’em all of the day an’ night, ’avin’ their children an’ carin’ fer ’em, then I’ve fallen in love wiv yer. But then, I was ready ter do all o’ those fings the day I said I’d marry yer. P’raps yer puttin’ too much importance ter the word love. Maybe we all do.’

Fred could feel the softness as he rested his head against his young wife’s breast, and he could hear her steady heartbeats. ‘Maybe we do,’ he said.

Chapter Seven

The new year started cold and bleak and many of the wharves in Bermondsey and Rotherhithe were standing half empty as trade slumped. The rivermen were finding it hard; the scramble for work was becoming more and more intense as family debts grew and many valued and treasured items found their way into the local pawnshops. The Bradleys’ riverside establishment was still nearly always filled with customers during the day but the takings dropped. Where once dockers and carmen had gone in for breakfast or a midday meal they now sat around drinking mugs of tea and eating slices of toast and dripping. Men who had been unsuccessful in the search for a day’s work drifted into the dining rooms to pass the time away and many sat there on the bench seats, grateful for the warmth and a friendly chat.

Carrie and Fred Bradley had come to accept that a drop in their weekly takings was inevitable and there was never any pressure put on the men to leave once they had finished their morning tea or coffee. Most of them looked cold and miserable, and they were the men who had bought meals there when they could afford to do so, men who had helped build up the business. Carrie felt sad when she saw the worried looks on their faces as they sat talking quietly, their hands cupped around mugs of steaming hot tea.

As the cold winter gave way to early spring more shipping sailed up the Thames, bringing some extra work for the struggling rivermen, but there was still much unemployment in the riverside borough. The Bradleys talked about whether or not they could afford to keep the services of Annie McCafferty, and they decided to do so, at least for the time being. Rachel was now in her second year, toddling about and growing sturdy of limb, and she had become very attached to her nurse. Annie herself had grown very fond of the child. Whenever the day was dry and not too cold she would take Rachel into nearby Southwark Park. As the days became warmer they would go to the pond to feed the ducks and then along to the terraced rose gardens before making their way to the nearby swings and roundabouts in the small enclosed area. It was in the rose gardens that Annie McCafferty met the young ex-boxer one fine, crisp morning when the buds were appearing and trees were coming into leaf.

Annie was sitting beside Rachel’s pram, talking and laughing with the child, when she noticed the young man walking slowly along the paved path. He had his hands thrust into his coat pockets and his shoulders were hunched. He looked deep in thought as he approached but the thing which intrigued Annie most was the way his mouth moved. He seemed to be talking to himself, and as he drew level he glanced suddenly in her direction. Annie was not used to looking at young men, nor in the habit of attracting their attention deliberately, but on this occasion she met his gaze. He seemed to be troubled but his face suddenly relaxed into a smile and she smiled back. He walked up to the pram and looked down at the young child.

‘’Ello, young Rachel. Yer lookin’ bonny terday,’ he said lightly.

Annie’s face had flushed up and her natural reticence caused her to look away from Billy’s gaze as he glanced up at her.

‘You mus’ be Annie,’ he said in a friendly tone.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she replied quickly.

‘I’m Billy Sullivan. I’m Danny’s best pal. I s’pose ’e’s told yer about me,’ he said smiling.

‘You mean Mrs Bradley’s brother?’ she asked him.

‘That’s right. I used ter be in the boxin’ game,’ Billy told her, still smiling.

‘No, I don’t recall him mentioning you,’ Annie replied rather stiffly. ‘I don’t know Mrs Bradley’s brother very well. I’ve only met him once.’

The young man sat down beside her and started to pull faces at young Rachel. ‘She’s a ringer fer ’er muvver,’ he remarked. ‘I’ve known Carrie Bradley fer years. We grew up in the same turnin’, yer see. Me an’ Carrie walked out tergevver once. As a matter o’ fact we sat on this very seat, an’ if I remember rightly, I stole a kiss. Carrie wasn’t very pleased, I might tell yer. She reckoned I was bein’ a bit forward. There was no ’arm in it though.’

‘I’m sure there wasn’t,’ Annie said, still avoiding his direct gaze.

‘I was doin’ boxin’, yer see,’ he explained. ‘That was before the war. The war changed everyfing. Nuffink’s ever gonna be the same again, that’s fer sure.’

‘You don’t box now then?’ Annie asked, looking briefly into his eyes and reminding herself that she must not prolong the conversation.

‘I got wounded in France. It was a chest wound an’ I can’t do much now wivout gettin’ out o’ breath,’ he told her. ‘Still, I s’pose I was lucky. At least I can walk an’ see. A lot o’ young men wasn’t so fortunate. Fousands didn’t come back. I lost two bruvvers.’

Annie experienced a sudden feeling of pity for the young man. He seemed perfectly at ease as he faced her on the garden bench, and his wide blue eyes reflected a certain acceptance. Rachel appeared to like him too, she thought, smiling to herself. The child was chuckling as Billy made faces at her and when he looked away Rachel’s little face seemed to beg his attention.

‘I’m sorry,’ Annie said quietly.

He shrugged his broad shoulders and gave her a warm smile. ‘Carrie’s bruvver Danny was a good boxer,’ he went on amiably. ‘’E used ter box in the army. I taught ’im ’ow ter box at the club. That’s the one in Dock’ead. It’s closed now though. It’s a bloody shame.’

Annie had been brought up and educated within the walls of a convent and she had never become familiar with the more colourful words that people used.

The young man noticed her reaction and pulled a face. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ’ave swore, but it is a shame, none the more fer that,’ he asserted.

Annie let a smile touch her lips and she passed off her embarrassment by wiping Rachel’s mouth with a spotless white handkerchief which she took from her coat pocket. ‘It’s all right. I suppose I shouldn’t be so sensitive,’ she said dismissively.

‘All the people round ’ere use words like that,’ Billy told her with a grin. ‘Yer wanna ’ear the gels in the turnin’ where I live. They can outdo the men wiv such talk. Still, there’s no ’arm in it really. My own muvver swears worse than me farvver when she gets upset, an’ ’e’s a docker. Yer should ’ear ’er when me farvver comes ’ome pissed - sorry, I mean drunk,’ he corrected himself.

Annie laughed aloud as she saw the look on Billy’s face. ‘Where do you live?’ she asked, feeling a little less nervous about talking with the young man.

‘Page Street. It’s near where Carrie lives,’ he told her.

‘I know Page Street. That’s where the stables are,’ she

‘I know Page Street. That’s where the stables are,’ she replied.

‘That’s right. Galloway’s yard. Carrie’s ole man used ter work there. The Tanners lived next door ter the stables till Will Tanner got the sack. They ’ad ter move out then,’ Billy informed her in his easy manner. ‘They live in Bacon Buildin’s now. Right bloody slum that is.’

Annie laughed once more as Billy put a hand up to his lips in mock horror and then her face suddenly flushed as she realised he was appraising her. For a second or two his eyes seemed to be searching her as he glanced at her dark, tightly fixed hair, her face, her shoulders and her long neck. Annie suddenly felt uncomfortable beneath his gaze. She had never before been in the company of a man, let alone a young, attractive man. He was attractive, she had to admit. His deep blue eyes were expressive, his dark hair was wavy, and his finely shaped mouth and square jaw were pleasing to her eyes. He had an innocent manner about him too, and he had made her feel at ease despite her natural reserve. Now though she was feeling nervous, unsure of herself, and she could feel herself beginning to tremble slightly.

Rachel was getting bored now that Billy had used up all his funny faces. She fidgeted in the pram, straining against the reins which held her secure. It was an excuse for Annie to take her leave. ‘I must get back, Rachel’s getting hungry,’ she said quickly.

Billy got up from the bench and slipped his hands into his coat pockets once more. ‘Oh, well, I’d better be orf too. I’m goin’ fer an interview,’ he said with a grimace.

Annie took off the brake and started to push the pram along the paved path, feeling decidedly uncomfortable as Billy walked beside her. She felt her face beginning to get hot as two women passed by and gave the two of them a casual glance. ‘Er, what job are you going for?’ she asked Billy in a voice she hardly recognised.

‘Oh, it’s only a job at the sawmills,’ he replied. ‘I gotta get some work. I’ve got plans, yer see.’

Annie was hoping he would go in the opposite direction when they got to the end of the path leading from the rose gardens but to her dismay he moved into step beside her.

‘My ole lady threatened ter chuck me out if I didn’t look fer a job,’ he said suddenly. ‘She’s good as gold is my ole mum, but now me farvver’s gone on short-time she’s feelin’ the pinch. Mind yer, I don’t s’pose fer one minute I’ll get the job. They won’t take me on once they know I’ve got a disability.’