Backstreet Child (3 page)

‘D’yer still feel it?’ she asked fearfully, her head against his chest.

‘It’s there at times,’ he said truthfully, ‘but it’s easy ter manage now. After all, it’s bin over eighteen months since I took a drink.’

Carrie could feel his heart beating strongly as he held her to him. ‘Never shut me out, Joe,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll always be ’ere for yer.’

Joe eased her away gently and looked down into her anxious face. He could see the pleading look in her blue eyes as he gazed appraisingly at her. He saw her firm full lips, the line of her fair hair and her tiny ears. ‘Yer still a beautiful woman,’ he said, a smile showing on his face. ‘D’yer remember that time at my place in Tower Bridge Road when we first made love?’

Carrie nodded. ‘I’ve never stopped lovin’ yer, Joe,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll always love yer. That’s why yer must never shut me out.’

He put his arm round her shoulder and led her back into the warm parlour. ‘I s’pose I’d better go look fer that muvver o’ yours,’ he sighed.

Chapter Two

Nellie Tanner had enjoyed the service, and when it was over she took a roundabout route back home via Page Street. The night air felt cold on her face but the thick coat with the fur collar which Carrie had bought her last winter kept her body warm, and she felt that the extended walk would do her good. The little backstreet was quiet as she turned into it from Jamaica Road. Ahead she could see the gates shining under the corner gaslight and the little house where her children had all been born. At the elbow of the turning, Nellie stopped and stared along both stretches of road. Apart from a couple up ahead, caught in the glare of the far gaslight and walking arm in arm away from her, the street seemed uncannily devoid of life.

Nellie puckered her thin lips as she stared over at the house next to the padlocked gates, and as though from far away, getting gradually louder, she heard the clatter of horses’ hooves. She could see children swinging from a rope hanging from the gaslamp and she heard their laughter. William was standing by the gate beckoning to her. How handsome he looked. Behind him she could see George Galloway. He was half smiling, half leering at her and Nellie’s eyes narrowed. Hatred for the man who had almost ruined her and William burned fiercely in her breast and she gritted her teeth. She looked away and fixed her gaze on the little house with its whitened front doorstep. Was that Charlie standing there by the front door? Yes, it was. He looked smart in his uniform, and there was James too, his arm round his younger brother. William was pointing to the boys, trying to draw her attention to them. ‘It’s all right, Will, I’ve seen’em,’ Nellie called out to him. Her husband had vanished among the shadows now but Nellie’s eyes were on the two young men. ‘Where’s young Danny?’ she called out to them. ‘Yer know yer promised me yer was gonna keep an eye on ’im. I’ll give yer what for if yer disobey me.’

James was moving off, away from his brother, and there was a smile on his pale face. Charles was beckoning him back but James raised an arm and with a fleeting wave disappeared from his mother’s sight.

‘Danny, Danny,’ Nellie called out. ‘C’mon in, it’s gettin’ late.’

‘It’s all right, Ma. Danny’s at the gym,’ Charles said reassuringly.

‘Go an’ get ’im this very minute, d’yer ’ear me, Charlie?’ she called out. ‘Yer know I can’t abide the boy fightin’.’

‘But, Ma.’

‘If yer stand there arguin’ I’ll take the strap ter yer. Now get’im this minute.’

The night mist was beginning to drift in from the river and it was turning colder. Nellie shivered and pulled the fur collar of her coat up round her ears. The street was empty again but she could hear noises. Everyone was coming out from the houses. Sadie Sullivan was carrying a rolling pin and Maisie Dougal had her knitting with her. Florrie Axford was there too, her gaunt face set firmly. Nellie could see the women lining up across the street. They had brought their own chairs out and Maudie was singing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’. ‘It’s all right, Nellie, jus’ leave it ter yer ole friends,’ someone called to her.

The mist was thickening and Nellie strained her eyes. They had gone now, all except Aggie Temple. She was bent double, a brush and pan held in her hands as she swept the dust from her doorstep. It was deathly quiet, and Nellie leaned against the corner lamppost, her heart beginning to pound and her breath coming in short gasps. For a while she stayed there until the pounding of her heart grew calmer. As she started to walk on, a lorry thundered along the turning and she saw Aggie Temple get up from her knees at her front door and curse after it, shaking her clenched fist at the trail of dust. ‘Yer can’t keep yer step clean fer five minutes wiv those bleedin’ lorries,’ she grumbled.

‘’Ow’s the ole man?’ Nellie called out to her.

Aggie shook her head. ‘It’s ’is back. Bin out fer weeks wiv it,’ she replied.

‘It’s the cold,’ Nellie told her, but Aggie had gone.

She felt the pressure of a hand on her arm. ‘Well, yer better get indoors an’ get yer feet in front o’ the fire,’ Joe Maitland told her.

‘’Ello, Joe. What yer doin’ out on a night like this?’ Nellie asked him.

‘I’ve come lookin’ fer you, Mum. Carrie’s bin worried about yer. D’yer know it’s nearly nine o’clock?’

Nellie slipped her arm through his. ‘It’s all right, Joe. I was just takin’ a stroll down the old street. Yer know somefink? There was a time when I could tell yer the name of everybody in this turnin’. I knew all the people an’ all their troubles. I’ve seen ’em come an’ I’ve seen ’em go. D’yer know somefink else? I knew the names of all the kids in this street once upon a time.’

‘I know, Ma,’ Joe said in a kind voice. ‘Now let’s get yer’ome before yer catch cold.’

Nellie blinked once or twice as though trying to compose herself and suddenly she swayed forward. Joe quickly put his arm round her waist to steady her and after a moment she looked up into his eyes. ‘I must ’ave lost meself fer a while,’ she said slowly. ‘Where are we, Joe?’

‘Memory Lane, luv. C’mon now, ’old on tight ter me arm,’ he told her.

In the small front bedroom overlooking the yard, Rachel stood peeping through the drawn curtains. She had heard the wicket gate creak open and she frowned as she watched Joe help her grandmother through the opening and escort her to the front door. She heard her mother’s enquiring voice and mumbled words from Joe, then the door banged shut and it was quiet again.

Rachel resumed her position in front of the dressing table and studied her face. The spot just to the side of her full lips irritated her and she put a dab of foundation cream on it in an effort to hide it. Every month the spot seemed to flare up. Rachel pulled a face at herself. ‘Tonight of all nights I wanted to look my best when Derek comes round and instead I look terrible,’ she groaned to herself as she picked up the hairbrush and proceeded to run it through her long flaxen hair. It was important that she looked her best for her special date with the young man who had attracted the attention of most of the young women at the Methodist youth club at Dockhead. Derek worked in a shipping office in the City and all the young girls thought he was very handsome. His quiet way and good manners were in contrast to most of the other young lads who frequented the place, and his sense of humour often had the young ladies giggling as they sat together in the club’s canteen. Rachel had tended to avoid him at first due to her natural reserve, and Derek had been prompted to get to know the one young woman in the club who showed little interest in him. They had been dating for some time now and he had approached her earlier that week and asked her to go to the jazz club with him on Sunday evening.

Rachel was not too keen on jazz, from what she had heard on the wireless, but she was excited to be asked out to the club by the young man and felt that it could be an exciting evening. Derek had mentioned some of the more famous jazz musicians and he seemed to know a lot about the music, although he told her he did not play an instrument himself. She was worried about what her mother might have to say, however. Derek laughed when she told him of her fears. ‘It’s a pub off the Old Kent Road where jazz musicians get tergevver on Sunday evenin’s. The music’s really good an’ lots o’ young people go. Everybody enjoys ’emselves,’ he told her enthusiastically.

At first Carrie had been worried about her daughter going to a pub with the young man but Rachel had found an ally in Joe, who said that he used to go to certain pubs where jazz was played and it was all very civilised.

Finally, when her hair was shining and secured in front of both ears with small bone clips, she studied her face once more, turning her head first one way and then the other. With a sigh she tucked her tight-fitting white blouse further into her black woollen skirt and reached for her coat.

Carrie glanced up and smiled at her daughter as she came into the parlour. ‘You look really nice. I told yer that blouse o’ mine would go wiv that skirt,’ she said, leaning back in her chair as she appraised her.

Joe grinned at Rachel and nodded in agreement as Carrie glanced at him, but Nellie continued to stare into the fire as she sipped her tea. Rachel gave her mother a quick puzzled look but Carrie shook her head quickly to stop her saying anything. ‘Now I don’t want yer out too late, young lady,’ she said firmly as Rachel reached down to slip on her shoes.

Joe and Rachel exchanged a furtive grin, and suddenly Nellie lost her grip on the cup and saucer and it clattered into the hearth. Joe got up instantly to go to her but Nellie waved him away.

‘I’m all right,’ she said quickly. ‘I jus’ lost meself fer a second.’

Carrie’s face was lined with concern. ‘Why don’t yer get an early night, Mum?’ she suggested as she bent into the hearth to pick up the pieces. ‘You go up, an’ when yer settled I’ll bring yer up a fresh cuppa an’ a couple o’ those biscuits yer like.’

Nellie glared at her daughter. ‘Why? D’yer want me out o’ the way before Rachel’s young man calls?’

‘No, Mum,’ Carrie replied with a sigh. ‘I’m jus’ worried about yer, that’s all.’

‘I’m all right. I’m not plannin’ on snuffin’ it yet,’ the older woman said sharply. ‘Anyway, I’m goin’ up now,’ she added and abruptly left the room without saying any more.

Rachel turned to her mother. ‘I saw Joe bringin’ Nan in. ’As she bin wanderin’ again?’ she asked.

Carrie nodded. ‘Joe went out ter look fer ’er when she was late gettin’ back from church an’ ’e found ’er in Page Street. She was standin’ by the lamppost talkin’ to ’erself.’

‘Poor Nan,’ Rachel said quietly.

Joe slumped down in the armchair facing Carrie and shook his head sadly. ‘The ole gel’s bin like this on an’ off fer a few weeks now,’ he remarked. ‘I don’t want ter worry yer, Carrie, but I fink yer mum’s in fer an illness. I noticed ’ow ’er arm seemed ter slump when she dropped that cup. I fink yer should ’ave a word wiv the doctor. ’E could give ’er a check-up an’ maybe give ’er somefink.’

The gate bell sounded and Joe took hold of Rachel’s arm as she made for the door. ‘I’d better answer it,’ he said, ‘just in case it’s not Derek.’

Rachel slipped on her coat quickly and cast a glance at her mother as she sat by the fire watching her.

‘Now remember what I said,’ Carrie reminded her.

Rachel’s face flushed slightly as Derek came into the room followed by Joe. The young man was tall and slim, with a thick mop of dark brown hair and he smiled shyly at the young woman. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late. I fink the fog’s slowin’ the trams up,’ he said, concern showing in his eyes.

Rachel glanced at the mantelshelf clock as though somewhat peeved, but really she had been glad for the few extra minutes to get ready. As the two young people prepared to leave, Carrie had a parting word for Derek. ‘Don’t keep her out too late, young man,’ she said with a searching look.

Later, when the house had become quiet, Carrie turned on the wireless in time to hear the solemn chimes of Big Ben heralding the nine o’clock news. During the broadcast Carrie noticed the serious expression on Joe’s face and when the news had finished she stood up and turned the volume of the radio set down.

‘It’s worryin’,’ she said with a sigh.

Joe attempted an encouraging smile. ‘I don’t fink it’ll come to it,’ he said shaking his head, but Carrie was not fooled.

‘I wish I could believe yer, Joe,’ she said, leaning back in her chair and glancing towards the ceiling. ‘I fink it’s gotta come. Gawd ’elp us if it is war. Look at last time. What a terrible waste o’ life.’

Joe leaned forward in his chair and reached out, taking Carrie’s hands in his. ‘We should get married,’ he said, looking intently into her eyes.

Carrie gave him a brief smile and gazed down at the fire. ‘We’ve agreed to wait, Joe,’ she reminded him in a soft voice. ‘Yer know I’m not worried about what people might fink, an’ what they say, outside the family that is, but I need ter be careful about Mum’s feelin’s, especially the way she is lately.’

Joe released her hands and slumped back in his armchair. ‘I realise that. It’s just that the way fings are goin’ it might be better not to wait. It’s just a feelin’ I’ve got, but don’t ask me why. Anyway, yer know the way I feel about yer. I’ve not touched a drop an’ there’s no way I’m gonna slip back. Yer’d ’ave no regrets, Carrie.’

Carrie gave him a warm smile and stared back into the flames without replying, remembering the discussion they had had soon after Joe returned to her. ‘I want ter marry yer, Carrie,’ he had said. ‘I want yer ter know that I’m off the booze fer good an’ I’ll make yer a good ’usband. I realise that we both need time an’ I’m prepared ter wait as long as it takes fer yer ter say yes.’