The Girl from Cotton Lane (13 page)

‘I remember that,’ Maisie butted in. ‘She was on about the end o’ the world was nigh. Poor cow was frozen stiff too. Mrs Casey took ’er in an’ called fer ole Doctor Kelly. They got ’er took away in the end. That’s ’ow she come ter move. They found ’er a place near ’er daughter in Kent somewhere.’

The street was in full shadow by the time the group dispersed. As Nellie Tanner started off Sadie called her to one side.

‘’Ave yer got a minute, Nell?’ she asked.

‘What is it, Sadie?’

‘It’s my Billy. ’E’s got ’imself in a bit o’ trouble,’ she said in a whisper.

‘What sort o’ trouble?’ Nellie asked.

‘Come indoors fer a minute an’ I’ll tell yer. I can’t talk out ’ere, Nell,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes.

Chapter Eight

On Monday morning the dining rooms in Cotton Lane were full of working rivermen. The regular freighter from Denmark had docked and along the quayside barges were moored, filled with coconuts and spices which had been transshipped from the large Oriental freighters at the Royal group of docks downriver. It was the first day’s work in weeks for many of the dockers and all day a steady stream of men passed through the doorway of the little cafe. In the small back room Danny Tanner sat listening to his old friend Billy Sullivan’s problems. Carrie’s young brother was waiting to tie up a brace of barges to a river tug for their journey back to the Royal Albert Dock and he had taken the opportunity to visit his sister and her husband in the dining rooms. Carrie was hard put to it and she had little time to talk with him, but it was not long before Billy turned up at the cafe eager to see his friend and Carrie directed him into the back room.

Billy was sitting with a mug of tea at his elbow, his flattish face looking serious as he spoke. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave troubled ter go after the job in the first place, Danny,’ he was saying, ‘but yer know she worries. That dopey Arnold told ’er there was a job goin’ at the sawmills. Anyway, she told me if I didn’t go after it she was goin’ ter chuck us out. She said it was about time I started bringin’ in some dosh, ’specially now the ole man’s on short time. Well, I decided I ’ad ter try. Not that I was worried about ’er chuckin’ me out, I know she wouldn’t do that, but it was only right after all. Anyway, down I goes. It was that place underneath the arches in Abbey Street. I ferget the name of it - Brindle’s I fink it was. Well, there was a silly ole cow workin’ in the office an’ when I went in there she give me a dirty look an’ told me ter take a seat. I must ’ave bin sittin’ there fer over an hour an’ then this geezer comes out an’ beckons me in ’is office. There was nowhere ter sit an’ so there was me standin’ in front of ’is desk like a bad little boy. ’E said ter me, “What ’ave yer done in the past year?” an’ I said, “Nuffink.” That didn’t go down very well an’ then ’e asked me why. I told ’im I was gettin’ over me wounds an’ ’e said the work was ’ard an’ did I fink I could manage it. I said, “’Course I can,” an’ then ’e starts lookin’ at these papers as though I wasn’t there. Well, ter cut a long story short ’e ends up tellin’ me that the last bloke was put off fer losin’ too much time an’ I might be a bad time-keeper as well, what wiv me injuries. Anyway, I asked ’im what ’e done in the war an’ ’e told me it was no concern o’ mine. You know me, Danny, I don’t go roun’ askin’ fer trouble but this geezer got me goin’. I knows I ain’t got the job by now so I ups an’ tells ’im a few fings.’

‘Like what?’ Danny asked, guessing the outcome.

‘I told ’im ’e was a no-good whoreson an’ ’e shouldn’t ’ave wasted my time in the first place,’ Billy replied, his blue eyes blazing at the memory of it. ‘Anyway, ’e told me ter get out an’ called me a lazy so-an’-so so I stuck one on ’im. It was only a slap really but it sent ’im sprawlin’.’

Danny winced. He was well aware of Billy’s prowess in the ring and knew that although he was far from well he could still punch his weight. ‘An ’e called the police?’

‘’Ow did yer guess?’ Billy asked, grinning sheepishly.

‘My Carrie told me when I come in ’ere this mornin’,’ Danny replied.

Billy sipped his tea thoughtfully. ‘The ole cow saw me clump ’im frew the office winder an’ she phoned fer the police,’ he said as he put his mug down on the wooden table. ‘I should ’ave ’ad it away smartly but instead I walked inter that little park opposite the firm an’ sat down ter fink. The ole cow must ’ave seen me go in there from the winder an’ suddenly the law pounces on me. These two coppers takes me ter the office an’ the geezer who I whacked told ’em it was me what done it. The coppers asked ’im if ’e wanted ter press charges but ’e said no. Don’t ask me why. P’raps ’e knew ’e was in the wrong by provokin’ me in the first place. Anyway, they give me a good talkin’ to an’ one o’ the coppers kept givin’ me an old-fashioned look. Suddenly, out o’ the blue, ’e asked me if I knew the Tunnel Mob. This was out in the street afterwards.’

‘What did yer say?’ Danny asked.

‘I said no, didn’t I?’ Billy replied quickly. ‘This copper said ’e used ter be on the Tunnel beat an’ ’e’d seen a bloke who looked like me knockin’ around wiv ’em. Mind yer, Danny, I ain’t seen nuffink o’ Freddie an’ ’is pals since that time last year when we was gonna do that job I told yer about. This copper said the Tunnel Mob’s bin done fer a ware’ouse job in Wappin’. ’E told me they was still lookin’ fer two more blokes who was involved but they don’t know who they was.’

‘Well if yer wasn’t involved yer got nuffink ter worry about,’ Danny reassured him.

Billy looked worried. ‘Trouble is, Danny, they beat the watchman up an’ ’e picked ’em out in an identification parade, so the copper told me. ’E said I might be ’earin’ from ’em. S’pose they take me down an’ put me in a line-up. S’posin’ the ole boy picks me out.’

‘Well, if yer wasn’t involved ’e won’t be able to. I shouldn’t worry any more about it,’ Danny said dismissively.

Billy was not so sure. ‘S’posin’ I look like one o’ the ovver blokes,’ he went on. ‘The ole watchman could make a mistake. ’Specially if they was all over ’im when they was doin’ ’im over. Anyway, after what I did ter that silly ole goat at the sawmills the coppers might fink I’m a villain an’ try ter get the ole boy ter say I was there. It could ’appen.’

Danny grinned. ‘Billy, if pigs could fly.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Jus’ try ter fink where yer was when they turned the ware’ouse over,’ Danny prompted him. ‘All yer need is somebody ter back yer up.’

‘But I dunno when it ’appened,’ Billy said irritably.

‘Well, find out. Yer got friends down Rovver’ithe, ain’t yer?’ Danny reminded him. ‘Ask about, or see if there’s any ole newspapers lyin’ about in yer ’ouse. There might be somefink in there about it. I’ll ’ave a look too, an’ I’ll ask about, some o’ my pals on the river might know somefink. Once yer know the date an’ time o’ the job yer can fink back. It’ll all work out right, so don’t worry.’

Billy looked gloomy and his friend got up and collected the empty mugs. ‘Let’s ’ave anuvver mug o’ tea. I gotta get back ter work soon,’ he said.

It was nearing two o’clock and Annie McCafferty paused as she put on her coat in the back room of the cafe. She had seen Billy enter the dining rooms in front of her as she returned from the park with Rachel, and the sight of him had sent a little shiver through her body.

Annie felt angry with herself for dwelling on thoughts of the young man over the weekend. She had been unable to concentrate on her reading, her mind constantly straying to the conversation she had had with him in the rose gardens. He was obviously not very well educated by the way he spoke, and he seemed very troubled and disgruntled by what had happened to him. She had thought at length over what he had told her and she felt truly sorry for him. There were other, more delicate feelings which Annie realised had been awoken inside her by meeting the handsome young man. He had looked at her in a way that frightened and worried her, but looking back she became excited and stirred by his attention. Often in the past she had listened to other women talking about their young men and she had tried not to dwell on what they said. Marriage was not for her, she told herself. Now though she had met a young man and felt strange feelings which she could not quite understand. It had only been a brief talk and nothing improper was intimated. He had been very careful in the way that he spoke to her and was very apologetic when he swore. He had said he was a very good friend of Danny, Carrie’s brother, and it was likely that she would see him sometime in the future. She had not expected to see him so soon, as she returned to the dining rooms.

Carrie came into the back room to take Rachel up for her afternoon nap and smiled at Annie as the young woman was buttoning up her coat. ‘Did yer ’ave a nice stroll?’ she asked.

Annie nodded. ‘We went to the swings and fed the ducks, didn’t we, Rachel?’

The young child was more interested in her father who was busy cutting slabs of meat into small portions for the next day’s pies.

‘I met that young man Billy Sullivan in the park the other day,’ Annie said casually, wanting to glean some information about him. ‘He said hello to Rachel and introduced himself to me while we were sitting on the bench. He seems a nice young man.’

Carrie smiled. ‘Billy Sullivan an’ my Danny are like bruvvers,’ she said. ‘We all grew up tergevver in Page Street. Did ’e tell yer about ’is boxin?’

Annie nodded. ‘Yes, he did. He also said he was going for a job that morning. I wonder if he got it.’

Carrie smiled again as she shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave thought so. Billy an’ work don’t get on very well tergevver. In any case, ’e wouldn’t be in ’ere terday if ’e’d been lucky.’

Annie tried not to look too concerned. ‘Has he not got a young lady?’ she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but she could feel herself almost blushing.

Carrie looked at her child’s nurse with renewed interest. Until now she had never thought about Annie being interested in men, she was so reserved and proper, but it seemed to Carrie that Billy might have kindled a spark in the young woman.

‘Billy’s never been all that interested in women, Annie,’ she replied. ‘Boxin’ was ’is love, but all that’s over now. Mind yer, Billy’s bin on about openin’ up a gymnasium for the young lads around ’ere. I don’t know if ’e’ll ever do it but yer never can tell wiv Billy.’

‘He said you and he walked out once,’ Annie mentioned with a shy grin. ‘He only said it in passing,’ she added quickly.

Carrie laughed aloud. ‘Yeah, it was only once. Billy kissed me on the cheek an’ I got all silly an’ decided ’e was too forward,’ she said, not divulging to Annie what happened later, when they were walking home and Billy tried to make love to her.

‘Billy told me he kissed you in the rose gardens,’ Annie said smiling.

‘That’s right, ’e did. Billy’s one o’ the best,’ Carrie told her. ‘The family are Catholics and ’is farvver’s Irish. They’re regular churchgoers an’ Sadie, Billy’s mum, is very nice. It was a terrible shame about what ’appened to ’im. ’E lost two bruvvers in the war too.’

Annie shook her head sadly. ‘It was terrible, the loss of life. Billy got badly wounded, didn’t he?’

Carrie nodded. ‘’E was shot in the chest. It finished ’is boxin’. ’E was goin’ ter fight fer a title before ’e went in the army.’ She paused for a moment. ‘If yer want, I’ll tell ’im yer ’ere. P’raps ’e’ll walk yer ’ome,’ she added.

Annie shook her head quickly. ‘No, it’s all right. I’ve to hurry. There’s a nurses’ meeting at the church this afternoon and I mustn’t be late,’ she said quickly.

Carrie thought she caught a moment of panic in Annie’s eyes and she held up her hands to reassure her. ‘It’s all right. Maybe you can ’ave anuvver chat wiv ’im when yer’ve more time,’ she said lightly. ‘Billy would be pleased, I’m sure.’

Annie McCafferty left the Bradley Dining Rooms and walked home feeling cross with herself. She had wanted to meet the young man again, but now the opportunity had been afforded her she had not been confident enough to accept it. Maybe she was being foolish in placing so much importance on those brief few words she and Billy had exchanged in the park. Her life was mapped out for her by providence, she told herself firmly. She was going to stay in her profession and concentrate her energies on what she knew best.

She reached the busy Jamaica Road and suddenly felt depressed as she hurried across and turned into a quiet backstreet which led to her home. It had occurred to her that by devoting her life to her work she would never have the chance to look after her own babies, and her thoughts turned once more to the young man with the dark wavy hair and the expressive blue eyes.

William Tanner finished tidying up the small warehouse stock and sat down to await the van which was due. He had sorted the boxes of patent medicines and stacked them in one corner away from the cartons of collar studs and bootlaces. He had repaired damaged boxes with sticky brown paper and stacked the large cartons of cleaning cloths and feather dusters up against a back wall, to make room for the consignment of cottons and wools which was due soon. The warehouse looked neat and tidy with all the stock now sorted and listed and as he looked around William sighed to himself. The job was a steady one, and he was left alone to manage the place. Joe Maitland his boss was very often out buying and selling and he rarely interfered with the running of the store. William realised that he should feel contented with his lot, but he was not. Horses were his love and he had spent the best years of his life working at the Galloway stables.