Gaslight in Page Street (41 page)

‘I’d like ter see ’em go in the boxin’ ring,’ Danny said derisively.

‘They’d take their gloves off an’ pull each ovver’s ’air out, I should fink,’ James said, winking at his younger brother.

‘Sadie Sullivan wouldn’t,’ Nellie remarked. ‘She’s still a match fer any man.’

‘That family’s bloody mad,’ James declared. ‘If they’re not thumpin’ ovver people, they’re knockin’ each ovver silly.’

‘Not now they don’t,’ Danny said quickly. ‘Billy’s the only one who fights now, an’ ’e’s earnin’ money fer doin’ it.’

‘Well, that’s as it may be, but yer can get it out of yer ’ead if yer fink me an’ yer farvver are gonna let you be a boxer,’ Nellie told him firmly.

William hid a grin as Danny looked appealingly at him. ‘There’s a fighter started work at the yard. Jake Mitchell ’is name is,’ he said, turning to Nellie. ‘’Ave yer clapped eyes on ’im yet?’

Nellie nodded. ‘Ugly-lookin’ git. I see ’im drivin’ up the turnin’ the ovver mornin’. Usin’ the whip ’e was. I don’t like ter see ’em whippin’ those ’orses.’

‘If I catch ’im usin’ the whip there’ll be trouble,’ William said quickly. ‘Yer’ll never get the best out of an ’orse by usin’ the whip. ’Orses ’ave gotta be coaxed.’

‘What’s this bloke doin’ workin’ fer Galloway if ’e’s a fighter?’ Danny asked.

‘’E fights in the pubs, or ’e used to before the police stopped it,’ William told him.

‘Billy told me all about those pub matches,’ Danny said. ‘Billy reckons they don’t fight under the Marquis o’ Queensberry rules, an’ some o’ the fighters put liniment on the gloves.’

‘What’s that for, the bumps an’ bruises?’ Nellie asked innocently.

‘Nah, it’s ter blind the ovver bloke,’ Danny answered amid laughter.

‘When’s tea gonna be ready?’ Charlie said suddenly, looking up from his book.

‘Five minutes. I’m waitin’ on the greens,’ Nellie told him. William smiled to himself. Charlie was so different from his brothers, he thought with amusement. He seemed able to lose himself in a book despite all that was going on around him. James always had something to say and was ever ready to get into an argument, and Danny was the cheeky one, restless and inclined to sudden changes of mood. Charlie could sit curled up in one corner with a book or the paper for hours. Nothing seemed to worry him and his two brothers had long ago given up trying to bait him.

Nellie was serving up steaming mutton stew and Carrie sliced the bread as the family gathered around the table. William looked at the eager faces of his sons and Nellie’s set expression as she evened out the portions of stew. He glanced at Carrie and noticed how grown-up she had become. He sighed contentedly. Things had been uncomfortable in the yard lately, he felt, and his future there looked uncertain, but it was easy to push all that to the back of his mind as he sat down to eat with his family around him.

Nora Flynn was feeling unhappy as she cleared the table after the evening meal. George had been out two evenings that week - to meet with prospective customers he had said, but Nora felt he was lying to her. When George went out in the evenings to meet clients or future customers, he never took the trap. Usually he would go to a local public house and discuss business over drinks. Handling the trap when he was inebriated was something George did not relish and he had told her as much. Now that he had a lively and spirited animal between the shafts he was even more loath to take the vehicle on his business jaunts, but on the last two occasions he had used the trap and returned comparatively sober. Either George was losing his taste for a tipple or he was dealing with teetotal clients. Nora realised that nothing could be more unlikely. This was something or someone else.

Loud laughter came from the front room where Josephine was entertaining some of her school friends. Nora forced a smile as she put away the washed plates and cutlery. Laughter had been in short supply in the house for a long time, and it was very quiet now that Frank had left to get married and Geoffrey always seemed to be out with his married lady friend. Nora closed the dining-room door and climbed the stairs to her room. The summer evening was drawing in and she gazed down at the long shadows spreading across the quiet square. Her feeling of sadness deepened as she sat down in her favourite armchair and stared out at the evening sky. Her life had been dramatically changed since she and George had become lovers. He had reawakened feelings inside her that she had thought were gone forever. She had felt young and lighthearted again, happy and contented, until the last few weeks.

George seemed to have changed since Frank’s wedding. His nocturnal visits to her bed had become less frequent and lately they had exchanged a few harsh words. When she had asked him for a little extra money to buy some lace curtains for the front windows he had suddenly grown angry and stormed out of the room. He seemed to be getting very mean lately, and he had never behaved that way towards her before. Something must have changed him, but what?

Not for the first time she wondered whether there was another woman. Perhaps he had met someone at the wedding reception who had taken his fancy, she thought as she tried to picture the occasion in her mind. He had spoken to many people there but he had been drunk and making a nuisance of himself for a great deal of the time, she recalled. There was one woman though. She had been in his company at the bar and had seemed to be hanging on his every word. Then again, she was with a younger man and had left quite early. Perhaps she was being silly. George was no spring chicken and he was working hard at the business. Perhaps it was she who had become possessive and domineering, forcing him to seek pleasure outside the house.

Nora got up and walked over to the mirror. Evening shadows filled the room and darkened the glass as she studied her reflection. Slowly and deliberately she removed her hairpins and let her raven hair fall down around her shoulders. It was how George liked it, she brooded as she raised a stiff brush to the tangled tresses. It had taken her some time but she had won the man’s affections and now she was resolved that she would fight to keep him. Tonight she would not lie awake and wait for his key in the door and pray for his footsteps on the stairs. Tonight she would beard the lion in his den.

Chapter Twenty-four

Life in Page Street beyond the yard gates carried on in the usual way as the summer days went past. Canvassers came round and knocked on doors with a petition to the local councillors for action over Bacon Street Buildings. Sadie Sullivan wanted her whole family to sign but was informed that only one signature was allowed from each household. She signed twice, once for herself and once on behalf of a make-believe cousin, who lived a few streets away but was visiting and had just popped out to the shops, the petitioners were solemnly informed. Maggie Jones and Ida Bromsgrove signed with vigour, and Maudie Mycroft peered through her lace curtains to make sure everyone else was signing before she committed herself. ‘Yer can’t be too careful, Ernest,’ she warned her long-suffering husband. ‘They could be anarchists.’

Ernest puffed loudly as he tried to read the account of a society scandal. ‘That’s right, luv,’ he answered with a suitable amount of seriousness in his voice. ‘Puttin’ our names on paper could be tantamount ter treason. Mind yer, if we don’t sign the petition it could be seen as somefing else an’ we could be murdered in our beds.’

Maudie decided that Ernest might have something there and hurried to the door to sign. Dot Argent signed, as did Maisie, Aggie and the redoubtable Florrie Axford. Nellie Tanner put pen to paper and got Jack Oxford and three of the carmen to sign as well.

Billy Sullivan won his latest fight on a knockout and was now a serious contender for the middleweight title. Danny Tanner knocked at Billy’s house the next morning and got his idol out of bed for his signature so that he could show it off to all the customers. Everybody knows about Page Street now, and when I become British Heavyweight Champion the street will be famous, he told himself, puffing out his narrow chest.

Once again, sheer pluck and devilment served to enhance Florrie Axford’s already formidable reputation in the street. It happened a few days after Jake Mitchell came to work for Galloway’s. Florrie was whitening her front doorstep when Mitchell came by, driving his team at a lively pace. She got up off her knees and watched the cart rattle into the main road, a scowl on her thin face.

‘They’ve all bin told ter take it steady till they get out o’ the turnin’,’ she reminded her friend Aggie who was on her way to buy the morning paper.

‘Yer right, Flo,’ Aggie agreed. ‘Nellie Tanner said ’er Will always tells ’em ter mind the kids when they come in an’ out o’ the street.’

‘Well, I’m gonna keep me eye out fer that ugly-looking git,’ Florrie vowed. ‘I tell yer straight, Aggie, if ’e comes in this street at a gallop ternight I’m gonna go in that yard an’ see Galloway ’imself.’

It was nearing five o’clock when Florrie heard the frantic clatter of iron wheels on the cobbles and quickly peered out through her clean lace curtains. Her face darkened as she saw Jake Mitchell sitting forward in his seat, his gnarled hands pulling on the reins to slow the fast-moving pair of greys as they went through the yard gates. ‘Right, that’s it!’ she exclaimed aloud to herself as she buttoned up her coat and pressed her bonnet down on her head.

The noise of the horses cantering into the yard had already alerted William in the upper stable. He hurried down, ready for a confrontation.

‘In future don’t drive the cart in like that, mister,’ he growled. ‘I’ve already told yer the rule ’ere that ses we walk the ’orses down the turnin’ ’cos o’ the women an’ kids.’

Florrie was more vociferous when she reached the yard. ‘Oi! You!’ she shouted at Mitchell as he was climbing down from the cart. ‘Next time yer drive that soddin’ cart down the turnin’, make sure yer not drivin’ like the devil’s on yer tail ovverwise yer gonna end up killin’ somebody.’

Jake Mitchell scowled at Florrie and turned his back on her, which only served to infuriate her. ‘Oi! Are yer dumb as well as bein’ bloody stupid then?’ she shouted at him.

Mitchell rounded on the woman. ‘Piss orf, missus. Why don’t yer go ’ome an’ nag yer ole man?’ he snarled.

Florrie could not contain herself any longer. ‘I ain’t got no ole man. ’E looked like you, that’s why I got rid of ’im,’ she screamed, rushing towards him with her fists clenched.

Mitchell backed away, surprised by her fury, but before Florrie could reach him William stepped in front of her and took her by the shoulders. ‘All right, luv. Calm down,’ he said placatingly. ‘I’ll sort this out. Yer right ter complain, but let me ’andle it.’

Florrie puffed loudly and pressed her hat down on her head. ‘All right, Will, but yer better tell ’im straight, ovverwise I’ll be straight in ter see Galloway.’

William watched the irate woman march out of the yard then he turned to Mitchell, his face dark with anger. ‘Next time yer drive in like that yer finished ’ere, understand? An’ while I’m about it, yer better get one fing straight. As long as yer a carman ’ere yer don’t get no special treatment. Yer take orders jus’ like the rest of ’em. If yer got any complaints on that score, yer better see Galloway. Right?’

Mitchell matched his foreman’s stare. ‘I’m not in the ’abit o’ takin’ that sort o’ talk from any woman,’ he growled.

‘Well, in this case you ain’t got no bloody choice,’ William told him. ‘An’ I tell yer what - Florrie Axford’s as good as gold till she’s upset an’ then she’ll front yer, big as you are. Yer’ll do well ter remember that.’

Mitchell sneered as he turned his back on William to unhitch his horses and the foreman walked away, feeling better for a confrontation that had been overdue.

Carrie took Tommy’s arm as they left the Infirmary and walked slowly along the quiet thoroughfare. The doctor had said that his mother was well enough to go home the following day. Tommy was quiet as they walked under the railway arch and then turned into St James’s Road, and Carrie understood what he must be thinking. The chance of their relationship flourishing seemed remote and she was feeling desperate. She needed him, wanted him to love her, and she was prepared to settle for the way things were. The alternative was a sterile friendship that would surely not survive as their normal emotional needs were smothered and withered by circumstance.

They were passing his house on the opposite side of the road. Suddenly she leant her body against his a little, indicating with a subtle pressure that they should cross the road. Tommy instinctively responded and they walked over to his front door. No words were spoken as they entered, and in the darkness of the passage she went to him, moulding her body against his and entwining her arms around his neck. Her lips searched for his and with a deep shuddering sigh she pressed her mouth to his. She had boldly seized the initiative, feeling that the time had come. She was ready, a willing partner, urging and guiding his searching hands until he was fully roused. There could be no going back now.

His lips were on her now. She could feel the deliciousness of his mouth wet against her neck, kissing her ears, her closed eyes, and brushing her soft throat. His arm slipped around her waist as he led her slowly into his bedroom and suddenly she was in his arms, poised above the bed. Tommy moved forward and his lips were hard on hers as they fell backwards, down on to the soft covers. Carrie was gasping, urging him on. She felt a short, sharp pain as he groaned above her. She was his now, and moaned as the ecstatic pleasure of his loving flowed through her willing, trembling body.