The Girl from Cotton Lane (24 page)

Broomhead nodded and walked to the front door, feeling slightly disappointed. He had never been in a saloon bar in his life. To him saloon bars of pubs were strictly for the ‘hoi polloi’, his pet name for the snobs and stuck-up people who didn’t want to mix with the likes of him.

When he stepped out into the street Broomhead cursed to himself. The cart had gone! He looked up and down the turning, scratching his head in agitation.

‘Oi, you!’

The totter looked over at the tall, stern figure of Florrie Axford standing at her front door, arms akimbo.

‘Yer ’orse-an’-cart’s jus’ pulled inter Gallo way’s yard,’ she informed him. ‘Yer wanna keep yer eye on it instead o’ leavin’ it wivout the chain on.’

Broomhead mumbled an obscenity under his breath and smiled winsomely at her. ‘It’s broke,’ he said.

‘You’ll be broke if that ’orse does any damage in there,’ she retorted sarcastically.

When Broomhead had retrieved his horse-and-cart and threatened the horse biblically he climbed aboard with a swagger, pondering on his good fortune in meeting Alice Johnson as he rode out of Page Street.

Chapter Fourteen

During the late summer Carrie Bradley realised her ambition at last. Fred finally agreed that they should go ahead with her plan to purchase number 26 Cotton Lane, the empty house next door to their dining rooms. The Bradleys had a meeting with the estate agents, and then without more ado they went to see their bank manager and sat serious-faced as he gave them a long sermon on the practicalities of expanding in business and the pitfalls to watch out for. Carrie chewed on her lip in nervous anticipation and Fred sat holding his cap tightly on his lap while the bank official put on a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and proceeded to examine their yearly accounts. After what seemed like an eternity to Carrie the manager smiled benignly and told them that he would grant them a loan against the cafe. The young woman felt she wanted to kiss him but she resisted the temptation and turned to her husband instead, elation radiant in her face. Fred responded with a brief smile, feeling a little overawed by it all. He was painfully aware that if they failed to repay the loan then the bank would foreclose on his business.

At the end of October the deal was finally sealed. Carrie immediately set about making arrangements with a firm of local builders which agreed to start work in January, with assurances that their work would cause the minimum of disruption to the normal running of the dining rooms. It was all very exciting, and Carrie felt happy at the way things were going. Rachel was now comfortably settled in the infants school just a few streets away and Annie McCafferty had written to her saying that she was well and that her mother was still bravely fighting her illness. Trade was steady along the waterfront and work went on without any disputes of note. Carrie’s young brother Danny was now walking out with Iris Brody, a pretty girl from nearby Wilson Street, and the two young people seemed very suited, she thought.

In the surrounding backstreets life went on as usual. Sadie Sullivan hummed to herself as she ran a grubby shirt up and down the scrubbing board in her backyard. Her husband Daniel had had two weeks’ solid work on the quay and her family were all doing well, including Billy who had found himself another job at last. Shaun her youngest son was married now, as were the twins Pat and Terry. They all lived nearby and Pat’s wife, Dolly, was expecting her first baby any day now. Only Joe, who was twenty-seven, and Billy, coming up to thirty-four now, were still single and living at home. Joe was courting Sara Flannagan, a Catholic girl from Bacon Street, but Sadie’s eldest son Billy seemed to be happy leading a bachelor life. Sadie remembered how she had once despaired of him, but now that he had managed to get work she was feeling more optimistic that he would finally settle down. He had found a job with a local builder and there was now some colour in his cheeks. The heavy physical labour of mixing cement and carrying hods full of bricks had been very hard at first and his breathing was often troubled, but Billy persevered and found it less of an ordeal as the days went by.

Sadie heard Maisie Dougall calling to her over the wall. She went to the front door to let her in.

‘I mus’ tell yer, Sadie, ’e’s bin in there again this mornin’. I’m sure there’s somefink goin’ on,’ she said in a low voice as soon as she came in.

Sadie could not understand why Maisie found it necessary to whisper in the privacy of her parlour but she listened nevertheless.

‘’E ’ad a tweed jacket wiv a sprig o’ lavender pinned on ’is lapel an’ ’is trousers looked liked they could do wiv an iron shoved over ’em,’ she was going on, ‘but it was ’is boots what made me laugh. They was covered in ’orseshit. ’E ’ad that rotten ole trilby on as well. What that Alice Johnson sees in ’im I’ll never know.’

‘I’m sure there’s somefink wrong wiv ’er,’ Sadie replied. ‘I remember that second ole man runnin’ out o’ the ’ouse an’ ’er chasin’ ’im up the road wiv a chopper. The first ole man left ’er as well, by all accounts. I remember ’im. Nice bloke ’e was. Always give yer the time o’ day. Smart too. She nagged ’im narrer, accordin’ ter Maggie Jones. She used ter live next door to ’er in Conroy Street. Maggie told me Alice was always after the men. It was ’er what used ter ’ave that tally man in fer hours on end while ’er ole man was at work. No wonder ’e pissed orf. My Daniel wouldn’t put up wiv what she did. D’yer know, Mais, she’d come out in the street an’ shout all the bad language she could lay ’er tongue to as ’e was goin’ orf ter work. Bloody shame it was ter see a man put on so.’

‘Well, ole Broom’ead’s got a shock comin’ ’is way,’ Maisie chuckled. ‘Mind yer, ’e might be ’er match. ’E can get ’is tongue round a few choice words as well.’

‘’E’s a dirty ole goat,’ Sadie remarked. ‘I remember that time poor ole Aggie Temple ’ad a go at ’im over ’er cat. ’E really let fly at ’er.’

‘Well, I’d better get back, I’ve got the copper boilin’,’ Maisie said, making for the door. ‘I jus’ popped in ter let yer know, Sadie.’

Further along Page Street in the Galloway yard office Gerry Macedo sat toying with a glass of Scotch whisky, while opposite him George Galloway sat looking hard-faced as he listened. Frank Galloway was very quiet.

‘You invited me over last year to intervene in your troubles, George,’ Macedo said, ‘and now you’re saying you don’t want to join with us on this. I’m sorry but I don’t follow your line of reasoning. All right, there was a slip-up in that Don Jacobs affair last Christmas, but we took care of the Bradleys’ place like we agreed and no one got hurt.’

Galloway was fingering the small gold medallion on his watch chain. ‘Look, Gerry, we’ve known each ovver fer a while now,’ he said slowly. ‘I asked yer over last year ter do a job o’ work an’ yer was well paid fer yer trouble. As it ’appens, fings didn’t work out the way I would ’ave liked. They’re still ’avin’ those meetin’s at the cafe an’ as far as I can make out they’re still well supported. That Jacobs affair only served ter stiffen their resolve. If it ’ad bin done right fings would ’ave bin different. I expected more, Gerry. Yer let me down there.’

Gerry Macedo swallowed the contents of his glass. ‘All right, I take your point, George,’ he replied, ‘but to be fair that was a situation that wasn’t really under our control. This is something much bigger. What I’m putting to you now is a chance for you to come in with us and enjoy the mutual benefits. It’s a good scheme, and believe me, this has not been put together without first looking at all the pitfalls. There’s a consortium in agreement, and there’s big money being put up. If we’re to succeed we need a one hundred per cent backing from the people who count in this neck of the woods. I’m not joking when I say that if you fall in with us, George, you’ll not look back. There’s a lot of money in it for you. I tell you now, when you get to meet the rest of the interested parties you’ll be very surprised indeed. It can’t fail, George. Give it some very serious thought at least, for your own sake.’

George stood up and slipped his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. ‘All right, Gerry, I’ll talk it over wiv Frank an’ we’ll let yer know soon, one way or anuvver,’ he replied.

Macedo got up from his chair and glanced briefly at the younger Galloway as he buttoned up his camel-hair overcoat. ‘You’re either in or out on this one, George. There’s no sitting on the fence,’ he warned.

The East End gang leader’s words sounded like a thinly veiled threat to George Galloway and he blinked as he picked up his glass and swallowed the whisky in one gulp. ‘I can’t afford ter get mixed up wiv all this business at my age, Gerry,’ he said quickly, ‘A few years ago maybe, but now I’m gettin’ too old. I jus’ wanna be allowed ter carry on tradin’ until I finally decide ter pass the business over ter Frank.’

‘Why don’t you do that now, George?’ Macedo asked, glancing quickly at the younger Galloway. ‘You should sit back and take things easy. Young Frank’s a very good manager and he’s certainly got your concern running well, as you’ve already said. We can do business with Frank, providing he’s got the reins. Give him the chance. You should be sitting back a little and enjoying the rest.’

‘Yer seem ter ferget, Gerry, this is my life,’ the elder man answered with spirit. ‘I’ve built this concern up from one bloody van. I tramped the streets lookin’ fer work an’ it wasn’t easy. Now I’ve got good contracts an’ a fleet o’ vehicles on order. We’re gettin’ anuvver yard soon an’ then I’m goin’ fer the trunkin’ jobs furvver afield. It’s all beginnin’ ter pay orf an’ I’m not about ter let it all be destroyed under me very nose. No, my friend, yer can count me out.’

Gerry Macedo donned his homburg and took out a pair of leather gloves from his coat pocket. ‘Talk to Frank, George,’ he said quietly as he made for the door.

When the gang leader had left, George sat down heavily in his chair and looked over at his son who seemed to be suddenly engrossed in some papers on his desk.

‘What did ’e mean, Frank?’ he asked.

Frank Galloway shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ he said dismissively.

George stared at his son for a few moments, a brooding look on his florid face. There was some deep meaning to Macedo’s parting words and Frank knew the answer, he felt sure. He would get to the bottom of it.

‘Don’t you think we should at least consider the proposition, Father?’ Frank said, breaking the awkward silence. ‘It makes good sense.’

George Galloway leaned forward, his eyes glaring into his son’s. ‘You ’ave realised by now the sort o’ people we’re dealin’ wiv, ain’t yer?’ he said in a loud voice. ‘P’raps yer don’t understand. Me an’ Gerry Macedo used ter take our own fighters ter the tournaments over the East End. That’s where I first met ’im. It’s goin’ back a few years now but I remember Gerry was makin’ a name for ’imself then. ’Is family’s Italian an’ they ’ad a flourishin’ greengrocery business in Spitalfields Market. They sent Gerry ter the best schools an’ ’e got a good education. They wanted somefing better fer their boy, but ’e got inter gamblin’ an’ worse. ’E wanted nuffink ter do wiv greengrocery an’ when ’e finally got the family business ’e sold it as soon as ’e could. Gerry managed fighters, an’ ’alf the local prostitutes who worked the East End. ’E’s got ’is fingers in a lot o’ pies, Frank. Apart from that nightclub ’e owns up West there’s at least a dozen ovver shady concerns that ’e’s involved wiv. Gerry’s a big man over the water an’ now ’e’s plannin’ on extendin’ ’is activities over this side. That’s where ’e’s gonna come unstuck. All right, I know I agreed ter bring ’em over ter sort our little problem out, but on reflection I know now that it wasn’t a good idea. I agreed because I wanted somebody who wasn’t known over this side o’ the water, somebody who ’ad enough muscle ter get the job done wiv no come-backs. Gerry Macedo owed me a favour an’ I was silly enough ter decide I’d collect. Yer don’t collect favours orf o’ the likes o’ Gerry Macedo. Them sort o’ people expect all the favours ter be done fer them.’

‘But what Macedo’s suggesting seems to be a good deal,’ Frank cut in. ‘It’ll put business our way, and we’ll need all the regular work we can get for those lorries we’re buying. They’ve got to be paid for.’

George Galloway shook his head sadly. ‘Yer don’t understand, do yer?’ he said in a deflated voice. ‘If we go along wiv Macedo an’ put money in that Rovver’ithe nightclub ’e’s talkin’ about we’re gonna be part of an exclusive club, granted. It’ll mean a few of us are gonna share the best o’ the cartage contracts jus’ like Gerry said. We’re gonna be able ter name our price instead o’ cuttin’ it ter the bone, but at what cost? Macedo’s gonna put ’is prossers in there ter get the bosses o’ the big food firms an’ sheet metal firms in a position where ’e can blackmail ’em ter give us lucrative contracts, an’ ’e’ll be creamin’ off a tidy bit o’ dosh fer ’is trouble. If the law don’t get us fer a racket like that, which ain’t such a lightweight matter in case yer didn’t know, we’re always gonna be be’olden ter Macedo. We’ll be ferever givin’ ’im money, an’ ’ow long’s it gonna be before ’e starts blackmailin’ us?’