Gaslight in Page Street (62 page)

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. ‘I wish I knew. My ole man’s worked fer yer farvver fer donkeys’ years. I jus’ can’t understand it as far as my folk are concerned. As fer yer farvver, at least there’s a proper reason, much as I don’t like it. The point is, what d’yer intend ter do about it, Josie?’

Josephine looked at him, her deep blue eyes burning with determination. ‘I want us to stay together, Charlie,’ she replied in a very quiet voice. ‘I want us to be lovers. I want you to hold me and never let me go.’

He smiled and stroked her hand. ‘That’s the way I feel too,’ he said, his eyes staring back into hers. ‘There could never be anybody but you. I thought of nuffink else all that time I was in the trenches. I carried a picture of yer in me mind an’ it ’elped ter keep me from goin’ mad.’

Josephine’s eyes brimmed with tears and she gazed at Charlie’s hand on hers. ‘Every day when I saw the troop trains pull into the station I said a prayer that you’d be kept safe,’ she said. ‘When I saw you lying on that stretcher I felt I was going to die. I knew then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I couldn’t live without you, Charlie,’ she whispered.

The ward sister was ringing a handbell and looking very stern. Josephine got up and leaned over him, her lips meeting his in a soft, tender kiss.

‘As soon as you’re back from convalescence I want us to go away somewhere, Charlie,’ she said. ‘I want us to spend a couple of weeks together, just the two of us. Will you promise?’

He kissed her open lips for answer, and she walked away, turning at the door to wave to him.

Father and son sat facing each other across the highly polished table at number 22 Tyburn Square. Spread out in front of them were the company ledgers and sheaves of paper containing columns of figures. To one side was a whisky decanter which was slowly being depleted. George Galloway toyed with a full glass of Scotch as he pored over the last of the figures Frank had presented him with. The older man’s florid face had a set expression and his heavy-lidded eyes did not blink as he scanned the columns. Frank leaned back in his chair and sipped his third drink, feeling irritated by his father’s reluctance to make the final decision. How much longer was the silly old fool going to take? he wondered. It was all straightforward and simple to understand. There was the initial outlay, which would be offset by the substantial bank loan he had negotiated, the first year’s trading projection and the evidence of the ledgers too. It was all in front of him.

George took a swig from his glass. ‘Are yer sure these figures are right?’ he asked, looking up at Frank.

The younger man nodded. ‘It’s time we got moving, Father. We’re going to be left at the post if we don’t start moving pretty quickly,’ he said testily.

‘So we sell off ’alf the ’orses, an’ buy the four Leyland lorries to start with?’ George queried.

‘That’s right. We can accommodate the lorries in the yard once the carts have gone and we’ll start looking for larger premises in the area,’ Frank reiterated. ‘If I place the order now the lorries will be delivered in January. If all goes well we can increase the fleet at the end of next year.’

George nodded slowly and reached for the decanter. ‘I’ll give Will Tanner ’is notice as soon as we get the confirmation of delivery,’ he said, his face muscles tightening. ‘I want ’im out o’ the yard as soon as possible. That business wiv young Josie is the last straw as far as I’m concerned.’

Frank stared at his refilled glass thoughtfully. His father had been adamant that Josephine must stop seeing Charlie Tanner and there was no moving him. The girl had gone to her room in tears after the confrontation and his words of comfort had done little to help. Why should his father take such a hard line with Josephine? he wondered. She was old enough to make her own mind up and his attitude was only going to harden her resolve. Something must have happened in the past between the families to make his father so desperate to stop her seeing the Tanner boy. Maybe nothing had, though. It was quite likely the old boy was just being cantankerous, he allowed. He had certainly become terribly moody and short-tempered since Geoffrey’s death. Even the birth of Caroline had not cheered him to any great extent. If Bella had presented him with a grandson instead of a granddaughter perhaps he might have shown a little more enthusiasm. He was keen to have a male heir to carry on his name, but it was just one of those things.

It was fortunate he hadn’t been present when Bella came out of the hospital, Frank thought. She had made it clear then that she wasn’t intending to have any more children and that she was anxious to get back into the theatre as soon as possible. It had been so pleasant during the later months of her pregnancy as well. Bella had become resigned to her condition and had finally stopped worrying about her figure. Nancy boy Hubert stayed away for some time and Frank had been hoping he had seen the last of him, but it was not to be. Hubert was back on the scene now, large as life and as obnoxious as ever.

‘Are yer goin’ in fer a large family?’ George asked suddenly, as though reading his thoughts.

‘I expect we will,’ Frank said, grateful that Bella could not hear the conversation.

‘An only child gets spoilt, ’specially if it’s a gel,’ the old man commented. ‘Yer wanna ’ave a few boys. It shouldn’t be no trouble fer Bella, she’s wide in the girth.’

Frank nodded, thinking that the old man was getting her mixed up with one of his horses. ‘She’ll be wanting to get back to the stage as soon as she can,’ he told his father.

‘I wouldn’t be in too much of an ’urry ter let ’er get back if I was you, Frank,’ George said sternly. ‘She’ll ’ave ovver responsibilities now. Yer muvver never left you an’ young Geoff. She was a good woman.’

Frank nodded sadly and clenched his hands under the table. It was always the same when his father had too much drink inside him. He pushed back his chair. ‘I’d better be off if I’m going to get the last train,’ he said quickly.

George did not look up as his son bade him goodnight. The whisky was beginning to depress him and his mind was already dwelling on an unpleasant matter.

Christmas came and went. There was little festivity in the Tanner household. Nellie had been very quiet and moody. As she sat in the parlour her eyes would constantly stray to the photograph of James, which she had shrouded with a piece of black velvet, and the Christmas card which Danny had sent from his rest camp. William had gone to the Kings Arms on Christmas morning to sit with Daniel Sullivan and Fred Dougall, their thoughts far removed from Yuletide revelry. The piano player sipped his beer and played in subdued fashion, while around the bar eyes glanced furtively in the direction of the three sad men. Alec and Grace Crossley served up pints and chatted quietly with their customers, aware of the silent grief prevailing in the little bar. There was no bawdy laughter, and unlike other Christmas mornings no one stood beside the piano and sang in a strident voice.

Carrie felt it had been the most miserable Christmas she had ever known and was glad to get to work once more. She had been hoping that Charlie would be home in time for Christmas but he had been too ill, and with her vivacious younger brother away as well the house had seemed deathly quiet. Her mother’s strange behaviour had been puzzling her, and as she served teas and took the orders for food on her first morning back Carrie was lost in thought. She continually served up the wrong food and forgot to relay orders to Fred, receiving more than a few frosty looks from the impatient customers. Fred had not failed to notice how distracted she was, and when the café emptied took her quietly to one side.

‘Yer seem miles away, Carrie. Is everyfing all right?’ he asked her gently.

She nodded and forced a smile. ‘It’s jus’ bin a miserable Christmas,’ she said. ‘I’ll be all right termorrer.’

William was busy in the newly built small stable, replacing a bandage on one of the Clydesdales. The massive horse had kicked out while in the shafts the previous day and had damaged a back tendon, causing the yard foreman an awkward problem. The two Clydesdales pulled a heavy dray which hauled rum kegs from the London Dock to Tooley Street, and they always worked as a team. He had to choose whether to pair the other horse with one of the Welsh cobs or else send it out with a single-horse cart. William had decided that it might be wiser to give it a rest from heavy hauling until its partner had recovered and so the Clydesdale was harnessed into the small van.

All day long the massive horse trudged around unfamiliar streets, driven by a carman who was more used to the sprightly cob and who became increasingly impatient with the heavy horse’s constant plod. Neither the whip nor the carman’s blasphemous tongue intimidated the animal which trudged on in its usual way, missing its partner and the smell of rum as the dray was loaded on the quay. The small cart it was tethered to now was hired daily to transport treated leather from a Long Lane tannery to various leather workers, and the massive horse was hardly aware of the two-ton load it was pulling. The impatient carman did not appreciate that the Clydesdale was built for power and not speed. Normally he would hurry around his regular deliveries, picking up a few coppers in tips on the way, and then spend a spare hour in a local coffee shop before returning to the yard. With the Clydesdale there was no spare time left at the end of the day, and it was almost five o’clock by the time he drove the van into Jamaica Road.

There was one more stop the carman always made before driving into the yard and that was to buy a paper from Solly Green and exchange a few words with the grizzled ex-boxer who always stood at the top end of Page Street. The carman normally slung the reins across the back of the Welsh cob, and it would not set off until it felt him stepping on to the shafts as he climbed into the dicky-seat. He had never used the wheel-chain with the cob, and did not think to anchor the wheel on this occasion. The Clydesdale was not used to waiting with slack reins and it leaned forward to test the resistance from the chain. The carman realised his mistake too late. The horse had smelt the stable and it set off, eager to dip its nose into the water trough and settle down in fresh straw.

William had finished parking the carts and as he crossed the yard he suddenly saw the Clydesdale clopping down the turning with its reins trailing on the cobbles and the carman running behind, trying to catch it up. The yard foreman’s first thought was to grab hold of the reins and slow the animal in case anyone got in its way. He raced from the yard and reached the beast just as the carman grabbed at the reins, making the horse veer towards the kerb. The nearside shaft caught William full in the chest and he was thrown violently on to the pavement. The carman quickly managed to stop the cart and rushed over to the gasping foreman.

‘I’m sorry, Will. It took off on its own,’ he said fearfully as he bent over him.

Florrie Axford had heard the commotion and was outside in a flash. ‘Don’t touch ’im!’ she shouted at the frightened carman. ‘I fink ’e’s broke ’is ribs.’

William was ashen-faced as he staggered to his feet, holding his chest. ‘I’m all right,’ he gasped, racked with a knife-like pain as he breathed. ‘’Elp me indoors, Flo.’

The carman was sent to fetch Doctor Kelly. Meanwhile Nellie and Florrie eased the injured foreman into a chair and removed his shirt with difficulty. The elderly doctor soon arrived and looked stern as he gently prodded and pushed.

‘You’re a lucky man, Tanner,’ he announced as he finally stood up straight. ‘You’ve got a couple of cracked ribs. It could have been much worse. I’ll put a tight strapping on. It’ll ease the pain, but you’ll need to lie up for a couple of weeks.’

That evening Frank Galloway looked in on his way home and seemed sympathetic as he chatted with William. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get Mitchell to take over for a couple of weeks. You just take it easy,’ he said as he left.

The fire had burned low and the ticking of the clock sounded loudly in the quiet room. William had been helped up to bed earlier and was sleeping fitfully, propped up with pillows. Carrie had finished the ironing, cleared out the copper grate and laid it ready for the morning before going off to bed herself, leaving her mother sitting beside the dying fire. Nellie frowned and chewed her lip as she stared at the glowing embers. It seemed strange seeing Galloway in the house, she thought. In all the years her husband had worked at the yard, this was only the second occasion a Galloway had graced the house with his presence. The first time had been many years ago now and it was the memory of that visit which filled Nellie with loathing for George Galloway. Fate had decreed that the lives of the two families would be interwoven from the very beginning, and now the threatened union between Charlie and the Galloway girl felt like a cord tightening around her neck to choke the life out of her. She could never allow it to happen, whatever the cost.

At eleven o’clock the following morning George Galloway made his second visit to the Tanner household. He looked tense in his heavy worsted overcoat with the astrakhan collar pulled up close around his ears. His face was flushed, and he leaned on a cane walking-stick as he removed his trilby and ran a hand over his grey sleeked-back hair. He refused the offer of a seat and stood beside the table instead, looking down at William as he reclined in an armchair.

‘’Ow’s the ribs?’ he asked, frowning.

‘Painful,’ William replied, knowing instinctively that the time had come.

‘I’m sorry ter ’ave ter tell yer, Will, but I’ve got ter put yer off,’ Galloway said. ‘We’re finally gettin’ the lorries, an’ the ’orses’ll ’ave ter go. I’m givin’ yer two weeks’ wages an’ a little bonus.’ He put a sealed envelope down on the table.