Backstreet Child (25 page)

Dolly’s face lit up. ‘That’s very fair, luv. Wallace will be pleased when I tell ’im,’ she said smiling broadly.

On that Friday morning, in the Galloway yard in Wilson Street, an expectant Frank Galloway opened a letter and then grinned triumphantly to himself. The official contract from the Associated Rum Merchants was his. All that was needed was his signature. ‘Well, well,’ he said aloud. ‘Isn’t that Tanner woman going to be disappointed.’

The smile widened still further when George Galloway hobbled into the yard office later that day. ‘We got the rum contract, Father,’ Frank announced. ‘There it is. Will you sign it, or shall I?’

The white-haired old man reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out a pair of silver-rimmed glasses. For a while he studied the document and then he nodded. ‘I must say yer did a good job there, Frank,’ he remarked, taking the pen his son had offered him. ‘It’s regular work, an’ it might bring us in more cartin’ jobs, once they switch the trade ter Bristol. There’ll be a lot of imports switchin’ ter Bristol.’

Frank felt happy with the way things had turned out. His father seemed pleased for a change, he thought, and so he should. It wasn’t every day a contract like this came along. What was all the more pleasing was that the new business had been taken away from that Tanner girl. It was only justice, after all. She had filched that little rat Robins and used his knowledge to undercut them. Well, Jamie Robins was going to remember his little indiscretion for a long time, he chuckled to himself.

George puffed as he spread his bulky frame in the large office chair. He was finally going to meet his new-found grandson for the first time very soon and he was looking forward to it. The lad was coming home on leave after training and then apparently going off to join a regiment in France shortly. George frowned suddenly as he fingered the gold medallion hanging from his watch chain. What if the lad met the same fate as his father? he wondered anxiously. No, it couldn’t happen, he told himself. It would be too cruel.

Frank had been watching his father closely and wondered whether now would be a good time to open up the subject of the will. He had been meaning to talk to him about it for some time but the old boy had not been very approachable of late. He was getting bad on his legs and looked to be breaking up fast. Anything could happen. He could take a heavy fall in the snow or maybe his kidneys would finally pack up with all that whisky he was throwing down. It was only right to get things sorted out, Frank felt. After all, he had taken over the firm when his elder brother Geoffrey was killed in France and he had done his best to cushion the old man from the day-to-day worries. It had not always been easy, he told himself. The old man should recognise the fact and give him his just rewards. Now was as good a time as any to bring it up, Frank decided.

‘As soon as the collections shift I’ll be putting an advert in the trade paper saying we’re doing regular runs to Bristol,’ he informed his father.

George nodded and took off his glasses, running his thumb and forefinger over his eyelids. ‘That sounds good,’ he said with a sigh.

‘By the way, Father, I think there’s something we should discuss while you’re in the office,’ Frank began. ‘Look, I don’t want to sound morbid, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but shouldn’t you be bringing me into your confidence a little more?’

George’s eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly d’yer mean?’

‘Well, Father, you involve me in certain of your business affairs when a problem arises, such as the Page Street properties, but you tend to keep me in the dark about your other assets. Remember, I’m your son, and I feel that I do have some rights. Besides, supposing you suddenly became ill and were unable to look after your business affairs properly. I would have to assume the responsibility, just as I look after the transport side of it. I should be kept informed, don’t you feel?’

George leaned forward in his chair, his two hands clasped over his silver-topped walking cane. ‘Let me ask yer somefink,’ he said, his heavy features flushing slightly as his temper rose. ‘What about the past deal yer did wiv that Macedo bloke be’ind me back? An’ what about those gamblin’ debts yer got yerself into? Would yer say that was bein’ open, ’cos I wouldn’t.’

Frank looked down at his fingernails for a moment and then met his father’s hard gaze. ‘I didn’t want to worry you about the debts, Father,’ he said quietly. ‘And as for that business with Macedo, it was a long time ago, and I did explain all about it.’

‘Yeah, after I dragged it out o’ yer,’ the old man growled.

‘All right, Father, forget I mentioned it,’ Frank said, raising his hands in front of him.

The elder Galloway’s face relaxed slightly and a ghost of a smile crossed his heavy features. ‘Look, Frank,’ he began. ‘When I go you’ll get yer inheritance. It’s all taken care of. I’ve drawn up a will an’ it’s lodged wiv my solicitor. So yer shouldn’t fret on that score. You’ll be well provided for.’

Frank’s expression did not change as he struggled to hide his satisfaction. ‘I’m not talking about a will, Father,’ he lied. ‘I’m just concerned about being in the dark over things.’

George nodded. ‘Well, now we know where we are,’ he said, taking out his watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘I’ve got ter go. I’m meetin’ somebody shortly. Phone fer a taxi, will yer?’

Jamie Robins looked at the letter his mother handed him as soon as he got home from work and prayed that it was the one he was waiting for. His mother watched with trepidation while he opened it and she could see by his expression that it was his call-up papers.

‘When are yer goin’?’ she asked.

‘Next Thursday,’ he replied. ‘The Royal Artillery, Catterick.’

Jamie’s mother took out a handkerchief from her flowered apron and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Yer didn’t ’ave ter go,’ she said, fighting back the tears. ‘Yer could ’ave got an exemption.’

Jamie sighed and put the letter against the mantelshelf clock. ‘Look, Ma, we’ve bin all over it time an’ time again,’ he said quietly. ‘I can’t stay out of it, I jus’ can’t.’

‘Well, go an’ wash yer ’ands, dinner’s nearly ready,’ she told him crossly.

Jamie walked out into the scullery feeling very relieved. The last few weeks had been terrible. It had been hard to look his employer in the eye without wanting to tell her everything, even though she would never have forgiven him for what he had done. But what else could he have done? He had been caught like a rat in a trap by his own stupidity, and there had been no way out, except to do as he had been told. It was hard to believe it had happened to him, but it had, and volunteering for the forces was the only thing he could think of in the circumstances. At least now he would not have to face Carrie, who had been so very good and kind to him.

Jamie splashed cold water over himself and sighed as he buried his wet face in a rough towel. One day Frank Galloway was going to have to pay for what he had done to him, and to the Bradley firm.

Billy Sullivan slipped the bolts as soon as the last customer had left and then proceeded to collect the empty glasses from the tables. Patricia was busy in the saloon bar and he hoped that her husband would return home before she was finished. Terry had come home on a couple of occasions and found them chatting together in the public bar. He hadn’t seemed at all put out but Billy felt guilty, thinking how Patricia had been making up to him. He had tried to dissuade her but she only laughed at him and said that Terry had other things to occupy his mind. She seemed to have got over the visit of the two strangers very quickly and she had told him that when she approached her husband about it he had assured her there was nothing to worry about.

Billy felt otherwise. He had noticed one or two strange faces in the bar recently. Outwardly there appeared to be nothing wrong. Strangers did occasionally come in, and they would not attract much attention, but it had seemed to him that these particular strangers were very watchful. Their eyes darted about the bar and they seemed interested in everyone who came in. Maybe it was his imagination, he thought. Perhaps he was getting unduly nervous in his old age, but try as he would, Billy could not dismiss the nagging feeling that something very unpleasant was going to happen soon, and he was going to be inevitably drawn into it.

Patricia came into the bar and sighed as she looked around her. ‘Leave the rest of it, Billy, I wanna talk,’ she said.

Billy walked over to her and leaned on the counter, keeping his distance, but she moved up close to him.

‘Don’t yer find me attractive?’ she asked, her blue eyes widening.

He puffed. ‘Of course I do, but yer know the score, Pat. We’re both married. It’d be wrong ter start anyfing.’

She reached out and stroked his bare forearm. ‘I’ve a feelin’ yer’ve bin avoidin’ me lately,’ she told him in a low, seductive voice. ‘I’ve watched yer. Yer turn away when I look at yer an’ yer always findin’ fings ter do.’

Billy moved his arm away and straightened up. ‘Be sensible, Pat,’ he said sharply. ‘I’m well known around ’ere. If I start makin’ up ter yer while I’m workin’ ’ere the customers are gonna notice. The next fing yer know my Annie’s gonna get a letter. I know ’er, she’ll be on the next train ’ome. I can’t take the chance o’ ruinin’ our marriage.’

‘Listen, Billy, it doesn’t ’ave ter be like that,’ she said. ‘I could talk ter Terry, tell ’im I need a night off. We could meet somewhere. Annie would never know.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Pat. I’m not takin’ a chance. I can’t.’

She moved closer, her hands reaching up to his shoulders and her eyes boring into his. ‘Tell me yer don’t fancy me. Tell me I don’t get yer excited. Yer can’t, can yer?’

He tried to push her away but her lips pressed against his and for a fleeting moment he let her mould herself against him, his lips responding to her kiss and his arms holding her tightly. Then suddenly there was the sound of a key in the lock and footsteps in the side passageway. They moved apart only just in time as Terry came into the bar. He looked away and said nothing, but it was obvious to Billy that he had noticed something.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ he asked after a moment or two, his eyes flitting from one to the other of them.

Patricia smiled disarmingly. ‘What d’yer fink’s goin’ on? We were jus’ talkin’ about Billy’s wife an’ kids,’ she said coolly.

Billy had to admire her. Her calmness had taken the edge off what could have been a nasty confrontation. She went over to Terry and led him further into the bar. ‘Billy wanted ter get away early ternight but I asked ’im ter stay till yer got in,’ she explained. ‘I’m frightened o’ bein’ alone ’ere, Terry. I’m glad yer not late.’

Billy slipped on his coat and mumbled a goodnight, feeling the cold night air on his hot face as he stepped out into the empty street. That does it, he told himself. He would have to leave now, before he got in over his head. After all, it was Terry’s responsibility to look after his wife, not his.

Inside the Kings Arms, Patricia faced her angry husband, her hands on her hips as she glared at him. ‘Nuffing was goin’ on,’ she shouted. ‘I’ve already told yer once. Billy’s never said a word out o’ place. We was jus’ talkin’, that’s all. Anyway, if you didn’t keep goin’ out, yer wouldn’t ’ave nuffing to worry about, would yer?’

Terry turned away from her and sat down heavily on a chair. ‘Look, Pat, yer know what I’m up against,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve got them two monkeys leanin’ on me an’ they’re gettin’ impatient. I’ve told Bruce McKenzie everyfing. ’E knows the score now.’

‘Did yer tell ’im about ’ow the coppers got ter yer?’ she asked incredulously.

He nodded. ‘I told Bruce straight that if I didn’t play along wiv their little scheme they was gonna put the word around that I was the grass who put that ovver crowd away, but I swore to’im it wasn’t true.’

‘And did ’e believe yer?’ Pat asked.

Terry nodded. ‘Yeah, at least ’e seemed to,’ he said, staring down at his feet. ‘’E told me not ter worry an’ that ’e’d fix those two ’tecs.’

Patricia felt a sudden pity for him. He had been a good husband, and very loving towards her, until he had fallen foul of those two policemen. It had been that which had soured their marriage and made her feel unwanted. She had sought comfort with Billy, knowing that he was lonely and vulnerable. She had done wrong in leaving Terry to face his problems alone.

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. ‘Why don’t we get out, luv?’ she said. ‘Let’s move away. Let’s get right away from all this trouble an’ aggravation. Let’s do it fer us, before we ruin what we’ve got.’

Terry’s eyes came up to meet hers. ‘Is that what yer really want?’ he asked in a low voice.

‘I can’t see any other way out of it, if we’re gonna ’ave any sort o’ future tergevver, Terry,’ she sighed.

He closed his hand over hers. ‘I’m dog tired, luv. Let’s sleep on it. We’ll talk about it in the mornin’.’

Chapter Sixteen

Carrie was hard pressed to find work for Paddy Byrne now that she had lost the rum contract, but with a lot of phoning around she managed to get casual work most days. Sometimes there was the odd extra load available at the food factories and leather factories, who seemed to be kept very busy supplying the armed forces. Paddy remained as cheerful as ever and Carrie reassured him that he would be kept on the payroll as long as she could still get the work. Paddy responded with his usual grin. ‘There’ll be somefing comin’ up shortly, gel,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t worry too much.’