Backstreet Child (66 page)

‘I wonder if you can help me,’ Frank Galloway said as he reached the caretaker.

‘That depends,’ Sammy replied, drawing on his cigarette and thinking that the man looked vaguely familiar.

‘I’m looking for Gloria Simpson,’ Frank said, trying to appear casual despite his anxiety.

‘D’yer know ’er?’ Sammy asked suspiciously.

‘She’s an old friend, as a matter of fact,’ Frank replied, forcing a smile. ‘I’ve been away on business and I wanted to look her up.’

‘I thought I knew the face,’ Sammy said, studying the end of his cigarette.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Frank said, becoming more anxious as the pain in his head started up again.

‘You was a client o’ Gloria’s. I remember yer face,’ Sammy said, stroking his chin. ‘Never ferget a face, I don’t. I ’ave ter look out fer the gels, yer know. There’s bin some very funny geezers ’angin’ round ’ere lately.’

‘Well, I can assure you Gloria will be glad to see me,’ Frank said, fishing into his trouser pocket and handing the man a ten-shilling note.

Sammy’s eyes lit up. Business was booming, he thought. Two ten-shilling notes in one day wasn’t bad. ‘Well, in that case yer better go up,’ he said, jerking his thumb towards the block entrance. ‘’Er flat’s on the top floor. It’s all right, she ain’t got a client wiv ’er right now.’

Frank nodded his thanks and climbed the steep stairs. It was good to get off the street, he thought. It would be good, too, to sit down out of the heat and let the headache pass. Gloria would take care of him, she always did. She wouldn’t hold it against him that he had sent her away from his house rather quickly. After all, it would have been disastrous to let Bella catch her there. She was a good girl, was Gloria. She’d take care of him.

Frank was puffing hard as he reached the top floor and knocked on the door. His head was pounding again and for a moment he swayed, putting his hand out to steady himself. At that moment the door opened and Gloria stood framed in the opening. Her eyes widened as she saw who it was and she made to close the door on him.

‘Don’t, Gloria. I must talk to you,’ he said pleadingly. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’

She hesitated, then stood back to let him in.

‘Can I sit down for a few minutes?’ he asked her.

Gloria motioned to the settee without speaking, her eyes fixed intently on him as she noted the fear on his face. For an instant she felt pity, but the incident at his house came flooding back into her mind and she realised that she could be in grave peril.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as he slumped down into the cushions and dropped his head in his hands.

‘My life’s in danger,’ he said flatly. ‘There’s a couple of men after me and when they catch up with me they’re going to kill me.’

‘What’ve yer done?’ Gloria asked.

‘They’re bookmakers and I owe them money,’ Frank told her. ‘I only need a few more days then I can raise the necessary cash. I need a place where I can stay. Somewhere they won’t find me.’

‘Well, yer can’t stay ’ere,’ Gloria said quickly. ‘I’ve got a livin’ ter get, an’ besides, I well remember the last time we shared an’ ’ouse.’

‘Look, I’m sorry I got angry with you then, Gloria, but I was desperate,’ he said. ‘Bella was due home at any time and I had to let you go. Surely you understood?’

Gloria sat down in the chair opposite and glared at him. ‘I came away wiv more than a few bruises. Yer wounded me pride,’ she told him. ‘I’ve never let a man do that ter me before, an’ I can assure yer I’d never stand it again.’

‘I wouldn’t lay a finger on you, believe me,’ Frank implored her.

‘Well, yer can’t stay ’ere, unless yer can pay the goin’ rate, an’ I don’t fink yer can,’ she said coldly.

‘Don’t send me away, Gloria. Those men’ll kill me for sure, and it’ll be on your head.’

‘Oh no. You can’t put that one on me,’ Gloria said angrily. ‘I’m not responsible fer what yer’ve got up to. I didn’t ask yer ter get in the bookies’ clutches. Now yer’d better go. I’ve got a client comin’ soon.’

Frank looked at her with wide, glassy eyes and she felt a cold fear run down the length of her spine. She had seen that maniacal look once before, when he attacked her at his house. ‘There’s a caretaker lookin’ after these flats,’ she said quickly. ‘ ’E watches out fer us gels. Any trouble an’ Sammy sorts it out.’

‘I won’t make trouble for you, I promise,’ Frank said, holding his hands up in front of him. ‘Just a few days, that’s all I ask.’

‘The answer’s still no,’ Gloria said firmly.

Frank got up slowly from the settee. He could feel the pain in his head getting worse and he ran his fingers through his hair. Sweat lay in beads along his hairline and he was beginning to tremble. A red mist was forming at the edges of his vision and he mouthed a curse. ‘You’re all the same. Take, take, take. Never give, only take. It was mine, do you hear? It was mine, and now they’re laughing at me. I saw them in the paper. Laughing at me, they were. She laughed too, but I stopped her laughing. She won’t laugh any more.’

Gloria had backed away from him and was inching towards the door. He was mad, she thought, stark raving mad. ‘Who yer talkin’ about?’ she asked as calmly as she could, hoping she would reach the door before he got to her.

‘Why, that woman who was looking after Mary O’Reilly, that’s who,’ he snarled at her.

Gloria felt her heart miss a beat and suddenly she was terrified of what he was going to tell her. ‘That was my friend Lola,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You didn’t ’arm ’er. She died in the air raid. Lola was burnt ter death.’

Frank laughed aloud, a wild, frightening laugh, like a prowling animal crying out as it cornered its prey. ‘She saw me, so she had to die,’ he growled.

‘Saw yer?’ Gloria said, hardly recognising her own voice.

‘Yes, she saw me. I was getting ready to burn the house down but she had to interfere. I told her I was seeking justice, and she laughed at me. She stood back and laughed at me so I hit her. I stopped her laughing,’ Frank cried, his voice rising to a crescendo. ‘She’ll never laugh at me again, do you hear?’

Gloria was sick with anger and fear. She had been shocked to learn of Lola’s death after the last bad air raid more than three years ago, but she had not thought for a moment that it was a cold, brutal murder. The memory of her beating at the hands of Frank Galloway flashed into Gloria’s mind, and she realised with horror that her fears then had been justified. Frank Galloway was capable of murder – he had just admitted it. He was mad, raving mad, and her life was in mortal danger.

‘Come away from that door, Gloria,’ Frank said with spite in his voice. ‘Come away or I’ll have to kill you too.’

Gloria made a sudden dart for the door handle but he was too quick for her. He grabbed her round the waist and quickly clamped his hand over her mouth. ‘If you try to scream I’ll strangle you, do you hear?’ he snarled.

Gloria was paralysed with fear and he could see by her eyes that she understood. He slowly released the pressure on her mouth. ‘Right then, we’ll sit you down,’ he said, his voice becoming calm again as he forced her down into an upright chair. ‘Just remember. One sound and I’ll throttle you.’

Gloria’s mouth and throat were dry and she sat rigid as he pulled her arms tightly behind the chair, holding them together with one hand as he leaned sideways and reached for the curtain cord. She was soon trussed up tightly, and Frank then went into her bedroom and came out with a couple of her silk slips.

‘Why are yer tyin’ me up?’ she asked fearfully.

‘Because I’ve got to go out,’ he replied. ‘There’s a little matter I’ve got to take care of. They won’t laugh at me any more after this night, you can be sure of that.’

Gloria saw the mad look in his eyes and she flinched as he came towards her. He bent down and used the slips to bind her feet to the legs of the chair, and when he was finished he studied his handiwork. ‘Now for the gag,’ he said aloud.

Sammy McCarthy was putting the finishing touches to the windowframe when Frank came down the steps. ‘Was Gloria pleased ter see yer?’ he called out.

Frank drew a deep breath and ambled up to him. ‘She wants me to stay a few days but there’s a problem,’ he said casually.

‘Oh, an’ what’s that then?’ Sammy asked.

‘Well, Gloria was expecting another client,’ Frank replied smiling. ‘I wonder if you’d be so kind as to tell him when he turns up that Gloria’s indisposed for the time being?’

‘I can’t be lookin’ out fer Gloria all the time,’ Sammy said, gazing down at his paint-smeared palm.

Frank took out a one-pound note from his wallet and held it out. ‘We’d like a bit of privacy, if you know what I mean,’ he said, smiling slyly. ‘I’m just away to make a phone call, then I’ll be back.’

Sammy nodded and watched his benefactor walk quickly along the turning, then he pocketed the pound note and picked up his paintbrush once more.

Carrie was listening to the early news broadcast when Nellie called out. She hurried to her mother’s room and found her trying to get out of bed. ‘Now yer must stay there, Mum,’ she said firmly.

Nellie winced as her daughter helped her back beneath the bedclothes. ‘I don’t want ter be a burden,’ she groaned. ‘I only wanted ter come downstairs fer a while. Besides, I don’t want yer fetchin’ an’ carryin’ all the time.’

‘Look, I’ve got Joe to ’elp, an’ there’s Rachel. I’m not doin’ it all,’ Carrie said quietly but firmly.

Nellie sighed as she leaned back on the pillow. ‘I feel so weak,’ she said.

‘Mum, it’s pleurisy, an’ yer know what the doctor said. Yer gotta stay in bed an’ rest,’ Carrie reminded her. ‘Give it a few days an’ you’ll be as right as rain, but if yer start gettin’ up an’ sittin’ in the draught, yer could get pneumonia easy as anyfing.’

‘’Ark at little Nurse Nightingale,’ Nellie chuckled.

‘Well, do as yer told then,’ Carrie said smiling, patting her hand fondly.

The phone rang and Joe picked it up. As Carrie came down the stairs, he slipped his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘It’s the
South London Press
,’ he whispered. ‘They wanna to do a piece on our Rachel an’ Tony.’

‘She’s slipped round ter one of ’er friends,’ Carrie told him. ‘She’ll be back soon ’cos Tony’s callin’ for ’er.’

A few minutes later Rachel walked in and flopped down in the chair. ‘I’ve picked up all the gossip,’ she laughed. ‘Mary Wilshaw’s got ’erself a new young man an’ Josie Phillips is pregnant again.’

‘Well, I’ve got a bit o’ news fer you,’ Carried said. ‘The
South London Press
wanna do a follow-up story about you an’ Tony. They’re gonna ring back shortly.’

Rachel’s eyes opened wide. ‘Well, well,’ she replied, grinning. ‘We’re gonna be famous.’

Carrie stood over her, arms akimbo. ‘Just remember ter tell’em yer’re a backstreet child, an’ proud of it,’ she said with feigned seriousness.

Rachel laughed aloud and stood up stretching. ‘Oh well, I’d better get me ’air washed,’ she said. ‘We’re goin’ ter the flicks ternight.’

Ten minutes later the phone rang again and when Carrie answered it, she passed it over to Rachel. ‘It’s them again,’ she whispered.

Nellie called out just then and Carrie hurried up the stairs once more. When she came back down into the parlour, Rachel was putting on her coat.

‘They wanna see me right away,’ she said excitedly.

‘Just you?’ Carrie asked, looking quickly at Joe as he walked into the room.

‘Yeah. They wanna see me about arrangin’ a proper meetin’ wiv the two of us termorrer. They’re sendin’ a taxi right away,’ Rachel told her. ‘’E said it won’t take long an’ ’e’ll drop me back ’ere afterwards.’

‘It seems a funny way ter do business. Couldn’t they wait until termorrer?’ Carrie said, pulling a face.

‘’E said ’e was sorry about the rush but they want ter get it in this Friday’s edition,’ Rachel explained, adjusting the collar of her coat.

‘Well, don’t be too long,’ Carrie replied. ‘Remember Tony’ll be ’ere early.’

Frank Galloway had been cursing his luck after the first phone call, but ten minutes later he was smiling as he climbed back up to the top-floor flat in Rotherhithe. Gloria was sitting with her head bowed as he let himself in, and she looked up and stared balefully at him. Frank checked the gag round her mouth and then took a piece of clothesline that was hanging over the gas stove. He proceeded to tie one end round Gloria’s neck and then pulled it rigid, fastening the other end to the cross-rail under the chair.

‘Now listen to me,’ he said, waving his finger at the trussed woman. ‘That’s a lorry knot I’ve just tied round your neck, which means that if you struggle, the rope will get tighter. Try to get free and you’ll slowly choke, so for your sake you’d better sit very still until I get back. If all goes well, I won’t be long. Then we’ll get a little more civilised.’

With a last quick glance at his prisoner, Frank let himself out of the flat and hurried down the stairs.

It was only a short walk to Rotherhithe Tunnel, where he hailed a passing taxi. Two minutes later the cab turned into Salmon Lane and Frank sighed with relief as he saw that Rachel was waiting by the yard gate and she was alone. As the taxi drew up, he opened the door and she stepped in smiling. He pulled her down quickly into the seat and her face blanched as she saw the large carving knife in his hand. ‘Don’t scream or try to attract the driver’s attention, or I’ll put this in you,’ he whispered.