The Girl from Cotton Lane (16 page)

The young ex-boxer could have hugged the man in his delight. ‘I’m all right, pop. ’Ow’s yerself?’ he grinned back.

The old man pumped Billy’s hand enthusiastically while the policeman just stood there, his face a dark mask.

‘Right, gents, that’ll be all. Thanks for your co-operation,’ the station sergeant called out.

Billy stood chatting with the old watchman for a few moments and then as he left the yard the policeman who had escorted the old man beckoned him over.

‘I’m gonna be watchin’ yer, Sullivan,’ he grated. ‘Jus’ put one foot wrong, an’ I’ll be down on yer like a ton o’ bricks, so yer better remember. I don’t like your kind. Give me ’alf a chance an’ I’ll be on yer, is that clear?’

Billy looked him square in the eye. ‘I’m finkin’ of openin’ a gym soon,’ he said coolly. ‘When I do yer’ll be welcome. P’raps me an’ you can put on a demonstration fer the youngsters.’

For a moment the policeman’s eyes flashed, then he turned on his heel and walked quickly from the yard.

The Tanners were sitting together in their flat at Bacon Buildings and Carrie had just arrived on her usual Friday evening visit. William was still showing the signs of his encounter with Joe Maitland’s enemies as he sat back in his easy chair by the low-burning fire. He looked tired and pale, and his hands shook as he filled his pipe. Danny Tanner was slumped in a battered settee beneath the window, his arms folded and a humorous expression on his handsome face as his mother held court.

‘Well, as far as I’m concerned yer can go back ter work fer Joe Maitland, an’ if yer get anuvver pastin’ don’t expect me ter come in the ’ospital ter see yer,’ she said with conviction.

William looked fondly at his wife and realised how the years were beginning to take their toll. She was still a very attractive woman, but there were lines now etched around her eyes and her forehead was permanently furrowed. Her figure was as trim as when they first walked out together and the fire in her eyes had not diminished, but he noticed the tiredness in her voice and the way she had of biting the inside of her cheek when she became anxious.

‘Look, Nell, Joe’s not gonna let that ’appen again,’ he reassured her. ‘’E’s rented an arch in Druid Street an’ it’s a lot better than that scruffy ware’ouse. Besides, I’ve gotta work. I can’t sit around ’ere scratchin’ me bleedin’ self all day. We gotta get the rent money an’ we’ve gotta live.’

‘There’s no need ter rush back, Farvver,’ Danny told him. ‘I’ve got plenty o’ work fer the next few weeks. There’s plenty o’ trade comin’ up river an’ I can chip in wiv a few extra bob.’

‘There’s no need ter worry about food eivver,’ Carrie said quickly. ‘Me an’ Fred won’t see yer go ’ungry.’

William puffed on his pipe and then inspected the glowing bowl for a few moments. ‘There’s no need ter worry on that score,’ he told them. ‘Joe’s payin’ me while I’m orf sick an’ ’e’s told me straight not ter rush back. That’s more than ole Galloway ever did. Fing is, I can’t expect ter stop out too long. It wouldn’t be fair ter the man.’

Nellie snorted. ‘That’s the trouble wiv you, Will Tanner,’ she chided him. ‘Yer’ve always bin fair. Yer should start finkin’ o’ yerself fer a change, an’ if yer can’t fink o’ yerself, fink o’ me. I’m the one who ’as the worry. If it ain’t one fing it’s anuvver.’

Danny glanced quickly at Carrie and smiled briefly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. Nellie saw him, however, and she gave him a smouldering look.

The young man got up from his seat and put his arm around his mother in a fond gesture. ‘We all love yer, Mum, an’ we won’t let yer worry anymore, so what we’re gonna do is start up a business,’ he said with a huge wink at Carrie. ‘Me an’ Sis ’ave decided ter open up a laundry ’ere in the flat. We can ’ang a notice out o’ the winder sayin’ we take in washin’, an’ you can do the ironin’ if yer like. I’ll do the fetchin’ an’ carryin’ an’ Farvver can be the foreman. That way yer can keep yer eye on ’im all day long. Mind yer though, we gotta ’ave time off fer a few drinks at the Kings Arms, ain’t we, Farvver?’

‘By the way, yer’ll ’ave ter mind Rachel as well,’ Carrie butted in.

Nellie could not keep up her serious look and she smiled as she slapped Danny around the head playfully. ‘Yer might joke about such fings but I remember the time when that poor Mrs Knight took in washin’,’ she told them. ‘She ’ad a tribe ter care for as well. ’Er ole man couldn’t work at the time. Terrible shame it was.’

Danny returned to his seat and slumped down with a sigh. ‘Those times could come back again,’ he reminded them. ‘There’s a lot o’ work on the river at the moment but it don’t look too good fer the future, so I’ve bin told. If it gets too bad I might take up boxin’ again.’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ Nellie told him firmly. ‘I ain’t ’avin’ none o’ those Billy Sullivan tricks in this ’ouse. Yer know ’ow I feel about boxin’. It’s a terrible fing ter see two men punchin’ the livin’ daylights out of each ovver.’

‘They do it every weekend outside the pubs,’ William remarked. ‘At least in the ring they get paid fer it.’

‘I don’t care, I’m not ’avin’ Danny go boxin’ again,’ she said, adopting her favourite adamant pose of folded arms and protruding bottom lip.

Carrie gave Danny a look suggesting that he hold his tongue and she got up with a sigh. ‘C’mon, Mum. I’ll ’elp yer wiv the supper,’ she volunteered.

As soon as they were out of the room William turned to his son. ‘The police come terday,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Lucky fer me yer muvver was out shoppin’ at the time. They was ’ere fer over an hour. Mind yer, I wasn’t worried. When yer muvver goes down the market she always comes ’ome through Page Street, an’ there’s always one o’ the women standin’ at their front doors. Yer muvver always stops fer a chin-wag.’

‘What did they ’ave ter say?’ Danny asked.

‘They was pumpin’ me about the sort o’ stuff Joe ’ad in the ware’ouse. I told ’em about the boxes o’ collar studs an’ shoelaces, an’ about the odd bits an’ pieces, but they was on about the ovver stuff Joe stored there.’

‘What ovver stuff?’ Danny asked, his curiosity aroused.

‘Well, there was boxes marked up as patent medicines but I know fer a fact that some o’ those boxes were full o’ perfumes,’ Will told him. ‘There was a lot o’ fancy leavver gloves too, an’ smart shoes, not the sort o’ shoes we wear. Joe lost the lot when that ware’ouse went up in smoke.’

Danny scratched his head, a look of puzzlement on his face. ‘The fing I can’t understand is, you’re in charge o’ the ware’ouse an’ yet yer don’t know what’s goin’ on there,’ he remarked. ‘On top o’ that, yer get pasted over somefink Joe Maitland’s done, an’ yet soon as yer feelin’ all right yer gonna go back ter that new place ’e’s got in Druid Street.’

William tapped his pipe on the edge of the iron fender and picked up a pipe cleaner from the hearth. ‘Me an’ Joe’s got an’ understandin’,’ he said, unscrewing the stem of the pipe. ‘I got ter know Joe pretty well when I was at Galloway’s an’ ’e was lodgin’ at Flo Axford’s. There’s a lot o’ good in the man an’ it’s common knowledge around ’ere that it was ’im that got the boxin’ racket stopped at the Crown. There was that time too when the stables caught light. If it ’adn’t ’a’ bin fer Joe ’alf those ’orses would ’a’ perished. ’E ’elped me pull ’em all out. Anyway, when ’e knew I was out o’ work ’e offered me a job lookin’ after the ware’ouse. There was nuffink ’ard about it. It jus’ meant seein’ in the stuff an’ despatchin’ it. Joe told me then that some o’ the stuff was pretty valuable an’ it wasn’t always kosher, yer know what I mean. ’E was honest wiv me at least. ’E said then that ’e could trust me ter do the job an’ not ask awkward questions. ’E also said that if ever there was any come-back over the stuff ’e was ’andlin’ then ’e would make sure I wasn’t involved. That was fine by me, Danny. I told Joe at the time, what I don’t know can’t ’urt me.’

Danny gave an ironic laugh. ‘Well, it did, didn’t it, Farvver? Yer got set about fer somefink that didn’t concern yer. What’s Joe ’ad ter say about that?’

William shrugged his shoulders. ‘It was jus’ one o’ those fings. Joe’s still in the dark about it all. ’E told me that as far as ’e knows ’e ain’t trod on nobody’s toes lately.’

‘Didn’t the coppers ’ave any ideas who it might ’a’ bin?’ Danny asked.

‘They wouldn’t say anyfink ter me even if they did know, would they?’ William replied, pulling the pipe cleaner back and forth along the stem of his briar.

‘Well, somebody must ’ave ’ad it in fer ’im,’ Danny said, shifting his position in the settee.

‘There was jus’ one fing though,’ William said, glancing quickly towards the scullery, from where they could hear Carrie talking to Nellie. ‘I’ve bin puzzlin’ about that smart-dressed bloke that clocked me. I knew I’d seen ’im somewhere before. It all ’appened so quick but since then I’ve give it a lot o’ thought. I can still see ’is face clearly in me mind an’ it come ter me this mornin’ after the coppers ’ad left. That bloke come in the yard once wiv George Galloway. They was in Galloway’s trap. I remember it now. It was ’is shoes what jogged me memory. When I got clocked an’ fell down the last fing I saw was the bloke’s shiny pair o’ shoes. Everyfing went black then. I was sittin’ ’ere this mornin’ turnin’ it all over in me mind an’ fer some reason I got ter finkin’ about the old days at the stables. I thought of ole Jack Oxford an’ I wondered ’ow ’e was gettin’ on. Yer remember ole Jack the yard sweeper. I ’eard ’e got married recently. Well, anyway, I was finkin’ of ’ow ’e used ter dodge off an’ I’d ’ave ter look fer ’im ter clean the yard up. Then I suddenly remembered when this bloke got out o’ Galloway’s trap and stood in some ’orse shit. ’E ’ad shiny patent shoes on an’ they was smovvered. George Galloway got the needle an’ threatened ter sack old Jack fer lettin’ the yard get in a state. It’s funny ’ow yer suddenly remember these fings. Anyway I’m certain it was the same bloke.’

‘Are yer gonna tell the police?’ Danny asked.

William shook his head. ‘I’m gonna talk ter Joe Maitland first,’ he replied.

Danny stared down at his clenched hands. ‘Every time anyfink bad ’appens ter this family of ours it seems Galloway’s involved. It’s like there’s a Galloway curse ’angin’ over our ’eads,’ he said with feeling.

William nodded in agreement. ‘I daren’t tell them what I jus’ told you,’ he said in a low voice, casting his eyes towards the scullery. ‘Carrie an’ yer muvver feel the same way.’

There was no more time to continue their conversation, for the two women came back into the room at that moment carrying the supper.

Chapter Ten

William Tanner went back to work with Nellie’s words ringing in his ears. ‘Now don’t ferget ter warn Joe Maitland that if there’s any sign o’ trouble yer’ll pack the job in,’ she reminded him.

William grinned to himself as he walked down the grimy wooden staircase of Bacon Buildings and out into the cold morning air. He was happy to get away from the dilapidated tenement block and its ever-present stench of rotting garbage in the alley behind. It was no wonder Nellie spent most of her spare time chatting to her old friends in Page Street. Danny did not spend much time in that flat either, he had to admit. He only came home to eat and sleep, preferring to spend most of his spare time in the Kings Arms or hanging around on the street corners with Billy Sullivan and a few other friends from the area. As for Carrie, she was always going on about getting enough money together so that she would be able to help him and Nellie get a better place away from the squalor. The way things were going it looked as though she and Fred were hard pushed to make ends meet, what with the situation at the wharves. She would survive though, William told himself. Carrie was a fighter and she knew what she wanted. She had pushed Fred into action and the changes she had compelled him to make had paid off. They had a regular trade and at least their business was holding its own, when many in the area had been forced to close.

Joe Maitland was waiting for William and he smiled as he called him into the dusty office under the railway arch. ‘Nice ter see yer back, Will,’ he said, shaking his warehouse manager by the hand. ‘’Ow d’yer feel?’

‘I’m all right,’ William replied, looking around the room. ‘The law was round ter me last week, Joe. They was interested in the sort o’ stock yer ’ad in Dock’ead. I couldn’t ’elp ’em much though,’ he grinned. ‘By the way, is Benny around?’

Joe shook his head. ‘Benny said ’e wanted ter go back over the water ter live. I fink the turn-out at Dock’ead frightened ’im off. What about you, Will? Are yer sure yer still wanna work fer me?’ he asked.

William sat down in a rickety chair and stretched out his legs. ‘Well, Joe, Nellie was against me comin’ back ter work ’ere, after what ’appened. She thought I should look fer somefing else. Trouble is I ain’t everybody’s cup o’ tea at my age. I can still work though, an’ I’m ready ter start.’

Joe Maitland grinned, exposing white, even teeth. He was a slim, handsome-looking man in his mid-thirties, with dark wavy hair and a square chin. ‘I’ve bin makin’ a few enquiries over the water while yer bin off sick, Will,’ he said, ‘but I’ve come up against a brick wall. Nobody knows anyfink, or nobody wants ter talk. Ter be ’onest I don’t fink the trouble come from over the East End. I fink it’s nearer ’ome. I’ve bin rackin’ me brains tryin’ ter figure what sparked it but I’m stumped. If I’d ’ave turned anybody over I’d ’ave expected a comeuppance. It’s a mystery ter me.’

William shifted his position in the chair and slipped his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. ‘I’ve remembered where I saw that geezer that clocked me, Joe,’ he said quietly.