Gaslight in Page Street (63 page)

Nellie looked at her husband and saw the blank expression on his pale face, then she stared up at Galloway, her eyes hardening. ‘Couldn’t yer wait till Will was on ’is feet before tellin’ ’im?’ she said cuttingly.

Galloway returned her hard stare. ‘I would ’ave done, Nell, but I need the ’ouse. I’ve got a motor mechanic startin’ in two weeks’ time an’ ’e’ll need a place ter live.’

William looked up dejectedly at the bulky figure which seemed to fill the tiny room. ‘Yer not givin’ us much time,’ he said.

Nellie was shocked by her husband’s quiet manner and felt cold anger rising in her own stomach. ‘Is that all yer’ve got ter say, Will?’ she complained. ‘Yer’ve bin a good servant fer more than firty years an’ now yer bein’ chucked out o’ yer job an’ yer ouse, an’ all yer can say is, “Yer not givin’ us much time.” Christ, I can’t believe yer can be so calm!’

William looked appealingly at his wife. ‘We knew it was gonna come,’ he told her. ‘What d’yer expect me ter do, beg fer me job?’

Nellie turned her back on her husband and glared at Galloway. ‘Two weeks. Two weeks ter clear orf after ’e’s done a lifetime’s work fer yer,’ she said bitterly. ‘Years of lookin’ after those ’orses an’ keepin’ yer business goin’, an’ that’s all the time ’e gets. Yer a cruel, unfeelin’ man, Galloway. Yer jus’ use people. Yer taint everyfing yer come near. I’ll be glad ter be done wiv yer, by Christ, an’ I’m glad my Will won’t ’ave ter be at yer beck an’ call any longer. Yer not welcome ’ere, so I’d be obliged if yer left.’

Galloway walked to the door and turned suddenly. ‘It’ll be fer the best,’ he said, a dark glitter in his eye. ‘I wish yer good luck, Will.’

Nellie turned away as Galloway walked out, and closed the front door behind him. She flopped down in the chair facing her husband and lowered her head, covering her falling tears with her hands.

‘It’s not fair,’ she groaned. ‘Yer should ’ave told ’im, Will. It’s jus’ not fair.’

‘Life’s not fair, Nell,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve always done me best an’ I couldn’t do more. I wasn’t goin’ ter plead fer me job, it’d make no difference anyway. ’E’s always bin ’ard. I dunno, p’raps it’s the life ’e’s ’ad. There’s jus’ no compassion in the man.’

‘But yer ’ad no start in life yerself,’ she reminded him. ‘Yer was a waif the same as ’e was. At least yer didn’t turn out like ’im, fank Gawd.’

Her body shook as she sobbed bitterly. She knelt down by her husband’s chair and dropped her head into his lap. ‘What’ll we do now, Will? Where can we go?’ she sobbed.

He winced as the pain started up again in his chest. ‘Don’t worry, gel. We’ll get a place,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll go an’ see ’em at the estate office in Jamaica Road in a day or two. They’ll ’ave somefink fer us, I’m certain.’

‘What’s Carrie gonna say?’ Nellie asked, looking up at him. ‘An’ what about the boys? Charlie’s gonna be ’ome soon, an’ young Danny, please Gawd. This is the only place they’ve ever known.’

William did not answer. He stroked his wife’s head as he looked around the tiny room, feeling as though the floor had fallen away from him. It wouldn’t be easy to get a job at his age, he realised, and there wouldn’t be many empty houses like the one they were living in at the moment. The alternative was too bad to think about. He sighed deeply as he stroked Nellie’s long fair hair, unaware of the secret anguish she was suffering.

Chapter Thirty-seven

Ten days later William Tanner walked slowly back along Page Street, his chest still heavily strapped and his head hanging down. He had tried all the local estate offices and the only choice he had been given was a two-bedroomed flat in Bacon Street Buildings. It would have to do for the time being, he told himself. Nellie and Carrie were not going to be very pleased but the only alternative was the workhouse and that was unthinkable. It might not be too bad once the women put some curtains up and cleaned the place. Nellie knew a few of the people who lived in the buildings and it was only around the corner from Page Street. It could be worse, he thought.

Nellie was standing at the door, and as he approached her knew by the look on his face that her worst fears had been realised. Her eyes met his and his answering nod needed no clarification. She could see how dejected and tired he was and her heart went out to him.

‘Sit yerself down, Will. I’ll get yer a nice cuppa,’ she said consolingly. ‘It won’t be so bad. It’ll do us fer a while, anyway. We’ll get somewhere better before long, you’ll see.’

She had just poured the tea when there was a loud knock. She heard a deep chuckle as William opened the door and then Sharkey Morris walked into the room.

‘’Ello, gel. ’Ow the bloody ’ell are yer?’ he asked, his thin, mournful face breaking into a wide grin.

Nellie poured him a cup of tea as he made himself comfortable. The irrepressible carman looked enquiringly from one to the other. ‘I ’eard the news from one o’ Galloway’s carmen,’ he told them. ‘What a bloody dirty trick! I ’ope the ’oreson chokes on ’is dinner ternight. After all those years yer bin wiv ’im. I’m glad I got out when I did.’

William smiled and stretched out his legs in front of the fire. ‘It’s nice o’ yer ter call round,’ he said.

‘I was passin’ by an’ thought I’d drop in. I’ve gotta pick up a load o’ corned beef from Chambers Wharf so I left the cart at the top o’ the turnin’,’ Sharkey explained. He paused for a moment. ‘I was very sorry ter ’ear about Jimmy. I understand young Charlie’s on the mend though,’ he added quickly, seeing the sad look on both their faces. ‘I expect Danny’ll be ’ome soon as well, please Gawd. Anyway, the reason I called round was, I thought yer might like a bit of ’elp wiv yer removals. I can use the cart, long as I let ole Sammy Sparrer know.’

‘Well, that’s very nice of yer, Sharkey,’ Nellie said, patting his shoulder fondly. ‘We’re movin’ inter Bacon Street Buildin’s on Friday.’

William noticed the carman’s faint grimace and smiled briefly. ‘Yeah well, there was nuffink else goin’. It was eivver the buildin’s or the work’ouse,’ he said, sipping his tea.

‘I’ll be round about four o’clock then, all bein’ well,’ Sharkey informed them. ‘I’ll get ole Soapy ter give me an ’and. ’E won’t mind.’

‘’Ow is ’e?’ William asked. ‘Still makin’ a nuisance of ’imself, I s’pose.’

Sharkey put down his cup and took out his cigarette tin. ‘’Ere, I gotta tell yer. Soapy’s got ’isself in trouble again,’ he said, grinning. ‘It all started the ovver week when Scatty Jim told the blokes ’e was gonna get married.’

‘Who’s Scatty Jim?’ Nellie asked with a chuckle.

‘’E’s one o’ the carmen,’ Sharkey replied. ‘’E’s mad as a March ’are. Anyway, when Scatty told the blokes ’e was gonna get spliced, our Soapy decided ter get a collection up. So when all the carmen got their wages on the Friday, Soapy’s standin’ outside the office shakin’ this bag. All ’e’s got in there is nuts an’ bolts an’ a few washers. “C’mon, lads, chip in fer Jimbo,” ’e’s callin’ out. Anyway, all the carmen make a show o’ puttin’ a few bob in, an’ Scatty’s standin’ back rubbin’ ’is ’ands tergevver. Yer can imagine what it looked like. The bag’s gettin’ ’eavier an’ Soapy keeps winkin’ at Scatty. “There’ll be a nice few bob ’ere when I’m finished, Jimbo,” ’e tells ’im. One o’ the carmen pretended ter put a ten-shillin’ note in the bag an’ Scatty’s eyes nearly popped out of ’is ’ead. Now on top of all this palaver, Soapy managed ter get ’old of an accordion case. There was no accordion inside it but as far as Scatty was concerned it was kosher. Well, Soapy cleaned up the case an’ tied a bit o’ ribbon round it an’ over the top o’ the lid, an’ all week it was on show in the office. Now Scatty’s waitin’ fer the collection, yer see, but Soapy tells ’im that before ’e can ’ave it an’ the accordion ’e’s gotta bring ’is marriage lines in ter show the blokes on Monday mornin’. None o’ the carmen believe ’e’s really gettin’ married an’ they wanna prolong the poor sod’s agony.

‘Now ter cut a long story short, come Monday mornin’ Scatty walks into the yard wiv a bloody great suitcase. ’E told the blokes that ’is young lady’s muvver who ’e was lodgin’ wiv chucked ’im out after ’er daughter give ’im the elbow. Poor sod looked really upset. The blokes was all laughin’ an’ one put an axe frew the “accordion” in front o’ Scatty, an’ ter crown it all Soapy was shakin’ the bag an’ tellin’ everybody ter line up and get their money back.’

Nellie was holding her hand up to her mouth as she listened, her face changing expression as the story unfolded. ‘Ah, fancy ’avin’ the poor bloke on like that. Yer should be ashamed o’ yerselves,’ she said with mock seriousness.

Sharkey finally finished rolling his cigarette. ‘That wasn’t the end o’ the story,’ he went on with a big grin. ‘When Scatty got back ter the yard that evenin’ ’e picked up’ is suitcase from the office an’ walked out o’ the place wiv a face as long as a kite. All the blokes were clappin’ ’im an’ givin’ ’im a right ribbin’, an’ ter crown it all Soapy follers ’im ter the tram-stop an’ stands there tryin’ ter cheer ’im up. Well, when the tram pulls up there’s no more room, an’ as it pulls away from the stop Soapy chucks the poor bleeder’s suitcase on. Scatty goes chasin’ after it, ’ollerin’ an’ ’ootin’ - it was so bleedin’ funny. Anyway, when it pulls up an’ the conductor jumps down ter change the points, Scatty climbs aboard ter get ’is case and now the conductor finks ’e’s tryin’ ter pinch it an’ grabs ’im. Somebody fetched a copper an’ they run the poor sod in. Mind yer, ’e finally convinced ’em it was ’is case an’ they let ’im go.

‘By this time Scatty’s just about ’ad enough. Anyway, next mornin’ ’e come ter work wiv a chopper under ’is coat an’ soon as ’e claps eyes on Soapy ’e goes fer ’im, swearin’ ’e’s gonna put the chopper in ’is bonce. The blokes managed ter calm ’im down but every time Scatty sets eyes on Soapy ’e leers at ’im an’ points to ’is ’ead. Soapy’s scared out of ’is life. ’E’s convinced ’e’s gonna get choppered when ’e’s not lookin’.’

The house was filled with laughter and Nellie wiped her eyes on the edge of her pinafore. ‘Well, all I can say is, if Soapy does get choppered, ’e thoroughly deserves it,’ she gasped.

Sharkey got up and dusted tobacco from his coat. ‘Well, I’d better be orf,’ he announced. ‘I’ll see the pair o’ yer Friday, an’ if Soapy’s still breavin’ I’ll bring ’im along as well. So if yer see a chopper stickin’ out of ’is bonce, take no notice.’

When the word got around the little turning that the Tanners were leaving, Nellie’s old friends gathered together in Florrie Axford’s parlour.

‘Now we all know Nellie’s bein’ kicked out,’ Florrie said, tapping on her snuff-box. ‘I fink us ladies should try an’ do somefink ter show Nellie we’re still ’er friends.’

‘Nellie knows that already,’ Maisie cut in. ‘She’s known us long enough.’

‘Well, I fink this is a time when we need ter prove it,’ Florrie told her. ‘I reckon we should put our ’eads tergevver an’ try ter fink o’ somefink really nice.’

‘We should go in the yard an’ cut Galloway’s froat,’ Sadie suggested.

Aggie was stirring her tea thoughtfully. ‘Why don’t we club tergevver an’ get ’er a little present?’ she said suddenly.

‘I’m not tryin’ ter be funny, Aggie, but I don’t fink we’ve got more than a few coppers between the lot of us,’ Florrie said, placing a pinch of snuff on the back of her hand. ‘All we’re gonna get ’er wiv that is somefing orf Cheap Jack’s stall. No, we’ve gotta fink o’ somefing really nice.’

‘I’ve got a nice pair o’ green curtains I bin keepin’. She could ’ave them,’ Maudie said.

‘An’ I’ve got a lace tablecloth in me chest o drawers,’ Maggie Jones added.

Florrie sneezed loudly and dabbed at her watering eyes. ‘Nellie wouldn’t be ’appy takin’ our bits an’ pieces,’ she remarked. ‘C’mon, gels, we can do better than that. Let’s get our finkin’ caps on.’

‘I know somefing we could do, somefink very nice,’ Ida Bromsgrove said suddenly.

All the women stared at her and Florrie got out her snuff-box once more as Ida paused for effect. ‘Well, go on then, Ida, put us out of our misery,’ she said impatiently.

Ida looked around at the assembled women. ‘Why don’t we go ter Bacon Street Buildin’s an’ give Nellie’s flat a good doin’ out before she gets there?’

‘What a good idea!’ Florrie exclaimed. ‘We could give the floorboards a good scrubbin’.’

‘An’ we could clean ’er winders an’ put a bit o’ net up,’ Aggie said quickly.

‘We could wash the paintwork down wiv Manger’s soap an’ run a taper roun’ the skirtin’,’ Maisie added.

‘We could clean the closet wiv some o’ that carbolic acid. It brings them stained piss’oles up a treat,’ Maggie remarked.

‘Right then,’ Florrie said loudly. ‘Are we all agreed?’ Voices were raised in unison and she held up her hands. ‘Now we gotta plan this prop’ly. We know the Tanners are movin’ on Friday afternoon. What we gotta do is get in that flat first fing Friday mornin’. One of us will ’ave ter collect the key.’

‘Will they give it ter one of us?’ Maisie asked.

‘S’posin’ Nellie goes round ’erself in the mornin’?’ Aggie suggested.

The women all ended up looking enquiringly at Florrie who pulled on her chin thoughtfully for a few moments.

‘Look, I’ll ’andle that side of it,’ she told them finally. ‘You lot be outside the buildin’s at nine sharp, all right? An’ don’t ferget ter bring the cleanin’ stuff. I’ll make us anuvver cup o’ tea while yer decide who’s bringin’ what.’

Carrie left the house on Friday morning feeling very sad. Her few personal belongings had been parcelled up and left alongside those of her brothers. The bundle did not amount to very much, though one letter had evoked such emotion that Carrie tucked it into her handbag and carried it to work with her. It was a childish note from Sara Knight which had been passed from desk to desk, via the Gordon brothers who had both managed to get to school that morning. The thank-you letter said how much Sara had enjoyed the day at the farm and the lovely trip on top of the hay cart. It also said that Carrie would be her best friend for ever and ever. How much had happened since those happy, carefree days, Carrie thought, remembering the trips with her father, the smell of fresh straw and the noises in the dark upper stable as she went with her father to see the animals. She clenched her fists tightly as she walked along to the dining rooms, and thought about the vow she had taken as she looked around the house for the last time. One day she would pay George Galloway back for the way he had treated her father. And one day she would have enough money to look after both her parents and take them away from the squalor of Bacon Street Buildings.