Backstreet Child (34 page)

George sipped his drink without saying anything. John Hargreaves is a bloody old fool, he thought. Always looking on the dark side.

‘How is the application for extra petrol going?’ the solicitor asked, breaking the silence.

George allowed himself a smile. ‘Pretty good,’ he replied. ‘The first rum consignment inter Bristol docks is due in next month. It looks like we’ve got a transportation licence, providin’ the railways don’t put their oar in.’

‘I wish you luck,’ Hargreaves said, holding up his glass. ‘By the by, the landlord tells me the Scotch is in short supply. Whose round is it?’

On that bright Sunday afternoon Carrie and Joe caught the train to Woolwich Dockyard and then hailed a cab to the large military hospital some distance away. She carried the bunch of flowers Joe had bought outside the railway station and they joined the many anxious civilians hurrying through the high gates and making their way to the brightly painted wards bedecked with flowers.

Carrie held onto Joe’s arm as they walked into a highceilinged ward on the first floor and scanned the beds. She spotted the white-faced lad lying back against the pillows. His bedclothes were raised over a steel frame and there was a handgrip suspended just above his head. Carrie handed the flowers to a nurse hovering nearby and leaned over the bed. ‘’Ow’s our soldier boy?’ she asked, kissing his forehead.

Jamie looked embarrassed as he grasped the handgrip to pull himself up against the pillows. ‘I’m well, Mrs Maitland,’ he replied.

Joe leaned forward and took the lad’s hand in a firm grip. ‘We’re pleased ter see yer, Jamie,’ he said.

‘Did me mum tell yer?’ Jamie asked, nodding towards the mound of bedclothes.

His visitors both nodded and as Carrie sat down in the chair beside the bed, she touched the lad’s arm. ‘Is there much pain?’ she asked him.

Jamie shook his head. ‘I wanted ter see yer soon as possible, Mrs Maitland, because there’s somefink I want yer ter know,’ he said in a low voice.

Carrie gave him a smile of encouragement but Jamie dropped his eyes to the bedclothes and then glanced up at Joe. ‘I thought it’d be easy,’ he said falteringly, ‘but I don’t know ’ow ter start.’

Carrie could see his plain unease as his eyes flitted back and forth between her and Joe. She gave her husband a quick wink and turned to the ashen-faced young man. ‘Would it be easier if Joe waited outside?’ she asked.

Jamie nodded. ‘Would yer mind, Mr Maitland?’ he said.

Joe gave him a reassuring smile and walked away towards the corridor, Jamie’s eyes fixed on him until he reached the door of the ward. Finally the young man turned to Carrie, tears filling his eyes. ‘I done yer wrong, Mrs Maitland. I let yer down,’ he said in a low voice.

Carrie patted his arm reassuringly. ‘No yer didn’t, Jamie,’ she said. ‘Yer felt it was right ter go an’ do yer bit. I understood, so did Joe.’

Jamie shook his head slowly. ‘Yer don’t understand. It wasn’t that at all. I betrayed yer, betrayed the trust yer put in me, an’ after all the kindness yer showed me.’

Carrie’s face took on a puzzled look. ‘What is it, Jamie?’

‘It was me that cost yer the rum contract. Me,’ he groaned.

‘Go on,’ she urged him.

‘I gave Frank Galloway all the information he needed to undercut yer,’ Jamie told her, his eyes averted from Carrie’s gaze. ‘That’s why yer lost the contract.’

‘But why, Jamie? Why would yer do such a fing?’ Carrie asked, shocked at what he was saying.

‘It’s a long story,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t know where ter begin.’

‘At the beginnin’, Jamie. That’s where it usually starts,’ she said, looking at him kindly.

He took a deep breath, his eyes coming up to meet hers. ‘When yer was tryin’ ter get me a call-up exemption I was really pleased,’ he began. ‘I was worried about me mum an’ dad, me bein’ the breadwinner an’ all. Anyway, it wasn’t long before the snide remarks began. Who d’yer know ter get out o’ the fightin’? Are yer a pansy boy? Then there was the same sort o’ remarks made ter me parents. At first it didn’t worry me, but then it slowly got ter me. I started goin’ out ter the pub in the evenin’s. Jus’ fer a couple o’ drinks ter make me feel better. One night I met this young lady. She seemed very nice.’

‘Yer met ’er in the pub?’ Carrie cut in.

Jamie nodded his head slowly. ‘She came up an’ asked me fer change so she could make a phone call,’ he went on. ‘She told me ’er name was Gloria an’ we got talkin’ about work an’ fings. Then she asked a lot o’ questions about me, like where did I work an’ was I joinin’ up soon. I was flattered by ’er interest an’ I bought ’er a drink.’

Carrie’s forehead was creased in a frown but she said nothing and let him go on, aware that he was now trembling noticeably.

‘Gloria told me that she worked in an office an’ that it was a small world because ’er dad was Jack Simpson who used ter work fer yer,’ Jamie continued. ‘We ’ad a few more drinks an’ I was beginnin’ ter feel light-’eaded. I wasn’t used ter more than a couple. Anyway, I walked ’er ’ome an’ I suddenly felt really sick. Gloria let me stay at ’er place fer a while, an’ then we made arrangements ter see each ovver again. I got serious an’ wanted ter see ’er all the time, but she told me she ’ad ter take turns of lookin’ after ’er sister who was ill. One night we went back to Gloria’s flat an’ I stayed the night. I loved ’er, Mrs Maitland. I really loved ’er,’ Jamie said, his voice suddenly faltering.

Carrie gently gripped the young man’s arm. ‘Take yer time, Jamie,’ she said softly.

After a few seconds he continued, ‘I only made love wiv’er twice but then Gloria told me she was pregnant. I was naturally upset but I told ’er I’d do the right fing by ’er ’an marry’er. It was then that she told me she was already married an’ that ’er ’usband was away in the army. She said ’e was a violent man an’ that ’e’d kill the pair of us if ’e found out. She said she needed money ter get rid o’ the baby an’ that it was my responsibility.

‘I ’ad no money, Mrs Maitland. I didn’t know what ter do an’ I was worried sick. That was when I went an’ volunteered fer the army. Gloria told me I’d ’ave ter find the money or she’d write an’ tell ’er ’usband that I’d raped ’er an’ got ’er pregnant. Then she came up wiv this idea about gettin’ the money from Frank Galloway. She said that ’er farvver told ’er all about the bitterness between you an’ the Galloways, an’ ’ow yer got a lot o’ their contracts by undercuttin’ ’em. She asked me ter go an’ see Frank Galloway an’ tell ’im I’d sell ’im the information ’e needed ter do the same. She said it was only right, considerin’’e’d lost out by bein’ undercut. I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t face the man, but Gloria said she’d go an’ see ’im for me. I jus’ needed time, Mrs Maitland, ’opin’ me call-up papers would arrive, so I put ’er off fer a week or two, but then she said ’er’usband was comin’ ’ome on leave soon an’ she’d ’ave ter tell’im that I’d raped ’er. I ’ad no choice, I ’ad ter give ’er the information.

‘So now yer know the ’ole story. I sold yer out, betrayed yer fer money. I wish now that that shell ’ad taken me ’ead off, instead o’ me leg. I really do.’

Carrie reached out to him and held his hands in hers. Her shock at his disclosures was tempered by the sight of him crying like a baby. Tears fell down his cheeks and onto his chin, and his eyes focused on hers appealingly. There was no anger in Carrie, only a sadness for the weak and immature young man, now so brutally maimed.

‘It’s all right, Jamie, it’s all right. Yer couldn’t ’ave done much else ter raise the money,’ she told him kindly. ‘There’s no ill feelin’.’

Jamie tried hard to compose himself and then he squeezed up the bedclothes in an angry fist. ‘I jus’ said that yer know the full story now, but yer don’t, Mrs Maitland,’ he went on. ‘Gloria finished wiv me as soon as I gave ’er what she needed. I saw ’er wiv Frank Galloway in a pub the night before I went inter the army. She an’ ’im looked very friendly. They set me up, Mrs Maitland. They planned the ’ole fing between ’em. She told me openly when I begged ’er ter come back ter me.’

Carrie felt a familiar cold anger rising in her chest. Once again a Galloway had cheated and manipulated to get what he wanted. It went much further than a normal business rivalry when the lives and the emotions of people were disregarded, used and then thrown away to gain a cheap advantage. It was because of such cynical callousness that Jamie was lying there now with one leg missing. There would be a price to pay, though. She would make sure of that, she told herself, remembering the vow she had made to herself in her early years, the vow that only recently she had tried to forget, that one day she would witness the end of the Galloways.

Joe held Carrie’s arm tightly as they left the hospital, having been told all that Jamie had said. He was quiet, angry at Frank Galloway’s dirty scheming and the damage it had caused to a lad he had grown fond of, and mindful of his wife’s simmering rage. He knew that whatever happened now, whatever pressures were brought to bear on Carrie, she would strive single-mindedly and relentlessly to outgrow and outlive the Galloway concern. He knew that in the past she had always had a good business sense and acted responsibly; his only fear was the one he had once heard voiced by Nellie, that hatred could sometimes eat into a person’s soul and destroy everything that was good.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Bermondsey backstreet folk saw out the long June days with a good deal of trepidation, fearing an invasion at any time, their conversations always returning to the expected invasion.

‘They’ve took all the signposts down,’ Ernest told Maudie.

‘What difference does that make?’ she asked him.

‘It’s ter fool the Germans if they arrive,’ he replied.

‘But the signposts are in English, not German,’ Maudie said.

‘Well, I s’pose there’s a few Germans that can read English,’ he sighed, wishing he had never mentioned the signposts.

Daniel was feeling better by now and he ventured up to the Kings Arms for a pint one evening, only to be cornered by Bert Jolly.

‘What they could do is come up the Thames in a submarine,’ Bert remarked, ‘land at Westminster pier an’ they’d be in Parliament before yer knew it. After all, there’s only one copper standin’ on the gate, an’ all ’e’s got is a bloody gas-mask case. What would ’e be able ter do ter stop ’em, smash ’em wiv ’is gas mask?’

‘Who yer talkin’ about?’ Daniel asked.

‘Why the Germans o’ course,’ Bert replied.

‘That wouldn’t work, the tide changes too quick,’ Daniel told him.

‘I know that, an’ you know that, an’ the bloody Germans will too, what wiv all those fifth columnists we’ve got,’ Bert went on. ‘They could come up on the tide, take over the Parliament an’ Bob’s yer uncle.’

‘An’ Fanny’s yer bleedin’ aunt,’ Daniel growled. ‘I’ve never’eard so much tosh in all me life. Submarines up the Thames indeed.’

‘Well, they got one in Scapa Flow, didn’t they?’ Bert persisted.

‘Scapa Flow is a bit wider than the Thames, an’ a lot deeper,’ Daniel said. ‘They’d be better orf rowin’ across the Channel, comin’ up on the
Brighton Belle
an’ doin’ the London bit by Underground. Mind you, that wouldn’t go down well wiv the passengers. Fancy ’avin’ ter give yer seat up ter some scruffy German soldier.’

Bert realised that his perspicacious idea was being ridiculed and he turned his attention to the domino team. Daniel settled himself by the counter sipping his pint of ale and soon he was joined by Maurice Salter, who was feeling depressed by the day’s events.

‘I knew I should ’ave stayed in bed terday,’ he groaned.

‘Why’s that then?’ Daniel asked.

‘Well, I was on early shift this mornin’ an’ I thought I’d try out me new bike,’ Maurice said.

‘Yer got a new bike, then?’

‘Well, it ain’t a new bike really, only a second-’and one, but it’s a good runner,’ Maurice told the ex-docker. ‘Got four speeds, it ’as. The cogs need a good oilin’, but it’s in fair condition. Trouble was, the bleedin’ dynamo packed up this mornin’ before I got ter work, an’ the bleedin’ coppers stopped me fer ’avin’ no lights. Anyway, I thought ter meself, Maurice, I said, yer better fink of a good excuse or yer in fer a fine. One o’ me stoker mates got fined twenty shillin’s last week fer no lights.’

‘What did yer tell ’em?’ Daniel asked, beginning to wish he had stayed indoors and sent Sadie up to the jug bar for a pint of each.

‘Well, I said that I wasn’t on early shift this week but there was a shortage o’ stokers due ter sickness and the guv’nor sent fer me ter do an extra shift,’ Maurice told him. ‘Anyway, the coppers seemed satisfied wiv me explanation, ’specially when I said that me guv’nor told me I was ter get ter work as quick as possible.’

‘So yer got orf, then?’ Daniel asked.

‘Nah, I got nicked,’ Maurice replied.

‘ ’Ow comes?’

‘Well, as I started pedallin’ away, me saddlebag fell orf the back o’ the bike,’ Maurice told him.

‘So?’

‘All the tins o’ corned beef fell out in the road.’

‘So yer got done fer black-market stuff, then?’ Daniel asked.

‘I’m bailed to appear on Monday,’ Maurice replied.

‘There’s a bit in the paper terday about a bloke gettin’ nicked for black-market corned beef,’ Daniel told him. ‘Six months’’ard labour, ’e got.’