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Authors: Harry Bowling

Gaslight in Page Street (65 page)

BOOK: Gaslight in Page Street
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Charlie was completely out of breath by the time he reached the third floor and knocked on the door of number 9. When Carrie threw her arms around him, he grinned sheepishly. ‘So this is where we’re livin’ now, is it?’

 

She took him by the arm. ‘Look who’s ’ere, Ma,’ she called out.

 

Nellie came hurrying out from the scullery, her face flushed with the heat. She embraced Charlie, smiling, and stood back, still holding on to his arms.

 

‘Yer’ve lost weight, son,’ she said, looking him up and down. ‘Sit yerself down by the fire an’ I’ll get yer a nice cuppa. Dinner won’t be long.’

 

‘Where’s Dad?’ he asked.

 

‘’E’s gone off ter work,’ Nellie told him, and saw his puzzled look. ‘Yer farvver’s workin’ as a nightwatchman fer the borough council. It’s only fer the time bein’. There’s nothing else about at this time o’ year, he lined up fer hours at the labour exchange. ’E’ll get somefink better soon, I ’ope. Trouble is, ’is age. ’E’s sixty next birthday.’

 

Nellie went back into the scullery and Carrie sat down in the chair facing her brother. ‘Are yer prop’ly better, Charlie?’ she asked.

 

He nodded. ‘Just a bit breathless at times, but the doctor tells me it’ll pass.’

 

‘Tell yer bruvver the good news, Carrie,’ her mother called out.

 

‘I’m gettin’ married in April,’ she said, smiling.

 

‘Who’s the lucky man?’ Charlie asked with a look of surprise.

 

‘It’s Fred Bradley.’

 

‘’E’s a bit older than you. Yer not worried?’ he asked her.

 

‘Fred’s a good man. I’m gonna be ’appy wiv ’im, Charlie,’ she said, pulling her legs up under her.

 

‘Well, that’s all that counts, Sis,’ he said, smiling.

 

Carrie gazed at him as he looked slowly around the room. He had lost weight and his face had grown thinner. He looked much older, she thought.

 

‘This isn’t a bit like our old ’ouse, is it?’ he remarked.

 

‘Florrie Axford an’ some o’ the women cleaned it all out fer us,’ Carrie told him. ‘Mum was really surprised. It was very nice of ’em, wasn’t it? The people round ’ere ’ave bin really good. Yer remember Sharkey an’ Soapy who used ter work at the yard? Well, they borrowed a cart ter move us. They got the bedroom furniture out frew the upstairs winder an’ Soapy smashed one o’ the panes o’ glass. Mum was a bit worried but ’e said if Galloway ses anyfink about it, tell ’im the removal men done it an’ ’e’ll ’ave ter claim orf o’ them.’

 

Nellie came into the room carrying a large pot and started to serve up the mutton stew. ‘I’ve bin keepin’ this ’ot. I ’ad ter do it earlier ’cos o’ yer farvver,’ she said, holding her head back from the steam. When he had wiped his plate clean with a piece of bread, Charlie leant back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. ‘I’ve bin missin’ yer cookin’, Ma,’ he grinned. ‘It’s a lot better than the muck we got in France.’

 

Nellie smiled at him and then her eyes strayed over to the shrouded photograph of James on the wall and the photos lining the mantelshelf. ‘I wonder ’ow young Danny is?’ she said anxiously. ‘It’s bin a long time since we’ve ’eard from ’im.’

 

‘’E’ll be all right. The war won’t last much longer,’ Charlie replied encouragingly. ‘I should fink Danny’ll be in a rest camp by now. ’E’s done ’is time in the line.’

 

The two women started to clear the table while Charlie made himself comfortable by the fire. He had been thinking about telling his family that he had spent a few days with Josephine in Ramsgate after leaving the hospital but had decided against it. Now that his father had lost his job and the family had had to leave the old house, they would naturally be bitter towards the Galloways. It made Charlie sad to think about his father and how he must feel ending up as a nightwatchman. He was skilful and experienced with horses, but men like him were a dying breed now. In a few years’ time the roads would be full of lorries.

 

Charlie could hear the clatter of crockery coming from the scullery and the women’s voices chattering, and he thought about Carrie’s forthcoming marriage to Fred Bradley. She had often talked about him and said what a decent man he was, but she had also said he was a bit set in his ways and old-fashioned. What had made her suddenly agree to marry him? he wondered. Maybe she wanted to put herself in a position where she would be able to take care of their parents. It was just the sort of thing Carrie would do. Well, Fred Bradley had better take good care of her, he told himself, or he would have her two brothers to answer to.

 

Nellie and Carrie joined Charlie around the fire and began chatting about everything that had been happening. They talked of the fire at the yard and the body that was found in the ashes, and Nellie spoke about the trial of Sammy Jackson which had taken place the previous week.

 

‘Accordin’ ter what yer farvver ’eard, the police didn’t fink Sammy Jackson would go ter trial,’ she explained. ‘They reckoned ’e’d be unfit ter plead but the doctor who examined ’im said ’e was sane as the next man. It was in all the papers. It seemed strange reading about yer own street an’ people yer know. Anyway ’e got sentenced ter death. Apparently there’s an appeal but yer farvver reckons ’e’ll ’ang. Mus’ be terrible standin’ there an’ seein’ the judge put on that black cap.’

 

‘P’raps Sammy Jackson played it straight instead of actin’ mad,’ Charlie said. ‘Maybe ’e knew the alternative was ter spend the rest of ’is life in a lunatic asylum.’

 

Nellie nodded. ‘Well, the papers said it was a deliberate attempt ter kill Jack Oxford. We all thought it was ’im in that fire. I’ll never ferget the look on yer dad’s face when ’e come back an’ told us Jack was alive an’ well. ’E always ’ad a soft spot fer ole Jack. Mind yer, ’e’s doin’ well now, by all accounts. I was talkin’ wiv ’is lan’lady an’ she said Jack’s got a cushy job at the tannery. ’E’s smartened ’imself up too. ’E wears a nice suit an’ ’e goes out wiv ’er ter the pub an’ the music ’alls. I reckon the next fing we’ll ’ear is that ’er an’ Jack’s got spliced.’

 

‘Galloway done Jack a favour givin’ ’im the sack, but ’e didn’t do Dad any favours, did ’e?’ Carrie said bitterly. ‘After savin’ all ’is ’orses too.’

 

‘Yer can bet yer life ’e blamed yer farvver fer the fire. The way Galloway sees it yer farvver should ’ave made sure nobody could get in the yard,’ Nellie remarked.

 

‘I was terrified when I see Dad pullin’ them ’orses out,’ Carrie recalled with a shudder.

 

‘So was I when I see yer strugglin’ wiv that geldin’. I thought the pair of yer was gonna get trampled under its ’ooves,’ Nellie said, shaking her head.

 

‘Yer was sayin’ that lodger o’ Florrie’s ’elped Dad ter get the ’orses out,’ Charlie said.

 

‘Yeah, Joe Maitland,’ Nellie replied. ‘Florrie told me George Galloway gave ’er a letter fer ’im an’ there was a five-pound note in it. Florrie said that when she gave ’im it ’e made ’er take the money an’ ’e chucked the letter on the fire. She said she couldn’t understand why ’e done it. Florrie told me ’e’s a bit of a mystery. ’E’s got no time fer Galloway an’ ’e was really angry when ’e got that letter. P’raps ’e’s got good reason ter be the way ’e is.’

 

‘Is ’e from round ’ere?’ asked Charlie.

 

‘No, I don’t fink so. Florrie reckons ’e comes from over the water,’ Nellie told him. ‘’E’s ’ad a few letters wiv a Stepney postmark an’ a few from Poplar. She can’t get much out of ’im, but yer know ’ow shrewd Florrie is. One day she’ll get ter the bottom of it.’

 

‘What does ’e do fer a livin’?’

 

‘There again, it’s a mystery,’ Nellie said. ‘Florrie said ’e goes out in the mornin’ an’ don’t come in till six or seven. She reckons ’e’s got a business o’ some sort. Always got a few bob in ’is pocket ’e ’as, an’ now an’ again ’e treats ’er on top of ’is lodgin’ money. Very nice bloke by all accounts.’

 

Charlie spread out his legs and yawned. ‘I’m ready fer an early night,’ he sighed.

 

‘Yer’d better use the over bedroom,’ Nellie told him. ‘Yer’ll ’ave ter share the bed wiv Danny when ’e comes ’ome. Carrie can use the chair-bed in this room. It ain’t very nice but we can’t do nuffing else wiv only two bedrooms.’

 

‘Well, I’ll be goin’ back when this is ’ealed,’ Charlie said, rubbing his chest.

 

‘Yer mean they ain’t gonna discharge yer?’ his mother asked in a shocked voice.

 

‘Yer need ter be a little bit worse off than me ter get a discharge,’ he laughed. ‘It’s all right though, I won’t be goin’ back ter France. They told me I’m gonna be made up ter sergeant an’ be posted ter one o’ the trainin’ camps. It’ll suit me till the war’s over.’

 

Nellie felt guilty for her feeling of relief at the news. She had been expecting Charlie to be discharged and then take up with Galloway’s daughter. At least now he wouldn’t be able to see the girl. Maybe it would all come to nothing and the girl would find another young man, she prayed.

 

 

Nora Flynn was deep in thought as she prepared the table for the evening meal. Since Josephine had the confrontation with her father she had become withdrawn and unhappy. She was rarely in the house now, and the evening meal had become a quiet and strained affair. George ate his food in silence, and Nora would sit opposite him, trying to make conversation and draw him out of his moodiness, but it always proved impossible. She had come to realise that she was just wasting her time. The large gloomy house was becoming like a mausoleum now that Josephine’s infectious laughter could no longer be heard and Nora had the urge to throw open all the windows and all the doors and tear down the musty drapes. The place needed sunlight, young spirits, laughter and noise, but there was just her and George now, an ageing man, bitter and cynical, and his middle-aged housekeeper. Why should I stay with him? she asked herself. There was nothing to keep her here apart from Josephine, and it seemed very likely that she would soon leave.

 

The evening meal passed as usual with George hardly speaking. As Nora pushed back her plate she looked hard at him across the table. This had gone on long enough, she decided. She had to try to make him see the unhappiness he was causing his daughter, and her too. He would have to listen to her, and if he refused then she would leave the house and let him fend fer himself.

 

George had become aware of her looking at him and leaned back in his chair and stared back. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked testily.

 

‘I was just finkin’ ’ow quiet the ’ouse is wivout Josie,’ Nora remarked, looking down at her teacup.

 

‘Well, if she’s decided she don’t like our company, there’s not a lot we can do about it, is there?’ he said sarcastically.

 

‘If yer ’adn’t bin so ’ard on the gel she’d be sittin’ ’ere wiv us now,’ Nora rebuked him.

 

George sighed irritably as he rolled a cigar between his thick fingers. ‘Look, Nora, this is a family matter,’ he said sharply. ‘If I choose to criticise the young men my daughter associates wiv, I’ll do so. It’s fer ’er benefit. If I didn’t care about ’er welfare I’d let ’er walk out wiv any ole Tom, Dick or ’Arry. It’s not fer you ter say what I should or shouldn’t do.’

 

Nora pursed her lips in anger and took a deep breath. ‘Now you jus’ listen ter me fer a minute,’ she began in a cool voice. ‘Yer asked me ter be yer ’ousekeeper when Martha died, an’ ever since I’ve looked after yer children, especially Josie. I fink I’ve a right ter let yer know ’ow I feel about the way yer treatin’ the gel. If I was an outsider I’d say yer was right, but I’m not an outsider, George. Yer’ve taken me inter the family an’ I’ve played me part. I’ve kept a good clean ’ouse. Yer food’s always bin on the table ready an’ I’ve bin there when the children needed me. I was there too when yer needed comfortin’, but it seems ter me yer’ve used me the way yer use everybody. Well, I’m gonna tell yer this, George - yer’ve got no compassion or feelin’ in yer soul. Yer an ’ard, inconsiderate man, especially where yer daughter’s concerned. Yer jus’ can’t see the un’appiness yer’ve brought that child. She’s a lovely gel, an’ yer destroyin’ ’er. Don’t try ter run ’er life fer ’er. Let ’er make ’er own choice in young men. After all, she’s a grown woman now, not a kid.’

 

Galloway had sat in silence while Nora berated him, his face set firm and his dark, moody eyes never leaving her face. As soon as she stopped for breath, he leaned forward over the table. ‘Now listen ter me, woman,’ he said in a low husky voice. ‘Yer say I’m inconsiderate where Josie’s concerned. Well, I’ll tell yer this-I love that child even though I ’aven’t always shown it. It’s there inside me,’ he said, tapping his chest. ‘There’s plenty o’ young men around ’ere wivout ’er takin’ up wiv the Tanner lad. I’m not gonna let ’er ruin ’er life an’ I’ve ferbidden ’er ter see ’im. On that score I won’t be swayed, whatever yer say.’

 

‘I can’t understand what yer’ve got against the lad,’ Nora persisted, shaking her head. ‘’Is farvver’s worked fer yer fer years. Josie’s in love wiv the lad, she’s told me often enough.’

 

‘Love?’ George said, his face flushing as he clenched his fists on the table. He seemed to pause for a moment, then he stared hard at Nora and grimaced. ‘All right, yer won’t be satisfied until yer know the trufe, so I’m gonna tell yer. P’raps then yer’ll understand.’

 

The light from the glowing coals flickered on the high ceiling and around the walls and lit up the old framed prints as George Galloway spoke slowly and deliberately. His housekeeper sat silently throughout, and when he finally slumped back in his chair Nora stood up and left the room without saying a word.

 

 

During the bitter cold winter of 1918 there was little news from the Western Front, and at the beginning of February the morning newspapers were able to report on the front page that Sammy Jackson’s sentence had been commuted to life imprisonment. In the early spring, however, large headlines told of a new German offensive on the Western Front and once again the Red Cross trains were returning thousands of casualties. In March, Corporal Charles Tanner was passed fully fit and posted to a training unit on the Isle of Sheppey with the rank of sergeant. Private Danny Tanner was one of the few survivors of his regiment, which had borne the brunt of the new offensive, and along with the others he was sent to a rest camp behind the lines.

BOOK: Gaslight in Page Street
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