The Fight for Lizzie Flowers (20 page)

Bill placed a hand on his son’s arm. ‘You’re a good man, Daniel. Take care of your brother.’ He gave another deep sigh. With Danny’s aid, he pulled himself to his
feet. His arms went around his son in a grateful embrace.

‘Be a good girl for your teacher.’ Lizzie kissed Polly at the school gate.

‘Will Uncle Frank be there when I get home?’

‘Yes. Like I told you last night, Uncle Danny and Bert are going to fetch him from Granda’s.’

Polly frowned, looking thoughtful. ‘Which bed is he going to sleep in?’

‘Mine. And I’m going to share yours. That is, if you don’t mind.’

Polly clapped her hands. ‘I can stop up late, like you.’

‘Cheeky!’ Lizzie tucked Polly’s long plait behind her shoulder. ‘Now go along in.’

‘Will I see Tom?’

‘No, he’ll be at school, like you.’

‘Can he come over soon?’

‘Polly, you’re going to be late.’ She gave her niece a gentle push. ‘Now run in, the bell’s gone.’

Polly skipped off in her blue cotton dress. As Lizzie began to walk home, she sighed. Polly, like Bill and Gertie, had accepted Frank’s change in character. She had forgotten the
frightening events of last year when Frank had tried to blow up the shop. The children at school had stopped teasing her. There were no more ‘Commie’ insults from Georgie March. But
Polly was only a six-year-old. She saw everything with innocent eyes. If only Frank really had changed his ways, Lizzie thought, then, when Polly learned one day that she was his daughter, the
truth wouldn’t be so hard to take.

A customer was waiting outside the shop when she arrived back.

‘Where’s your men this morning?’ the woman asked.

Lizzie unlocked the door. ‘I gave them the morning off.’

‘They’re not bad blokes when you get to know them.’

Lizzie smiled as she weighed the vegetables and packed them in the shopping bag.

‘Ah, your van’s just arrived,’ the woman said, glancing over her shoulder. ‘Bert been out on a delivery, has he?’

Lizzie shut the till drawer. She wanted to close up while Danny and Bert brought Frank in. ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’

‘I wouldn’t mind some cakes.’

‘I’ll have some tomorrow,’ Lizzie replied, guessing her customer knew this already.

‘See you tomorrow.’

‘Ain’t that Danny Flowers too?’

‘Yes. I must help them unload.’ Lizzie waited until the woman had gone, then signalled Bert.

He climbed out of the van and joined Danny. They opened the back doors and pulled out a piece of wood. Lying on top of it was Frank.

Lizzie put the kettle on as Danny walked, tall and broad-shouldered, into her kitchen. Now that Frank was safely in bed, she had sent Bert downstairs to the shop.

It had taken a lot of huffing and puffing to carry the home-made stretcher up the stairs. ‘When we tried to get him out of bed at Bill’s he screamed like a stuck pig,’ Bert had
told her. ‘So Bill gave us this old door to carry him on.’

Danny sat down at the table and took out his tobacco tin from his overall pocket. ‘You were right. They did a good job on him.’

‘So you believe me now?’ she said, placing a steaming mug of tea on the table.

‘What’s he got himself into?’ Danny asked.

Lizzie sat down. ‘I told you, he said he was just going in to the hospital to start his shift.’

‘Did he nick all those pills?’ Danny drew on his cigarette, narrowing his eyes. ‘You could sink a battleship with that lot.’

‘Some are for the pain. Others are to stop the voices.’

Danny frowned. ‘What voices?’

‘The ones he heard in his head, telling him to do bad things.’

Danny raised his eyebrows as he smoked. ‘So he’s finally got you believing his tall story.’

‘Danny, your brother is here because he’s sick. If you have any other ideas on what we should do with him, then I’d be happy to hear them.’ She felt the heat of anger in
her face. ‘If not, do me and yourself a favour and drop the subject.’

He ground his cigarette out in the ashtray. ‘What’s all this about Fowler and Elmo?’

‘They’re on the shop’s books now.’

‘So they tell me.’

‘I don’t expect you to pay my bills.’

‘Same old Lizzie.’ He smiled, throwing back his head. ‘As stubborn as they come.’

‘I want things done my way.’

‘Are you sure you can handle this?’

‘I pay their wages, that should be enough.’

Danny nodded slowly, turning the mug on the table. ‘I had a visit from Savage.’

Lizzie’s heart skipped a beat. ‘What did he want?’

‘He wants my pitch.’

Suddenly she felt afraid. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘You know the answer to that one.’ He drank his tea and stood up. ‘He’s trying to move in on the island. He started with you, then lifted my tools. Little touches here
and there. It’s an old trick, and he thought he might get lucky. But so far he hasn’t. I’m warning you, Lizzie, don’t underestimate the enemy.’

She looked into his eyes and nodded. ‘Thanks.’

‘What for?’ He came to stand close to her.

‘Everything. Today—’

‘You’re right. I’ve damn well got no suggestions. I wish I had.’

She felt his warmth, his presence. Once they would have been in each other’s arms, taking comfort from sharing. Once, before Frank, before Savage . . .

Bert called from downstairs and Danny touched her cheek. ‘Take care of yourself.’

When he’d gone, she gazed at his empty mug, missing the closeness they had once shared.

‘Your Flo is solid child-bearing stock,’ the Missus assured Lizzie as they watched Flo and Syd walk out of the Friends’ Hall. ‘You can see that a mile
off. Me old mum used to say that wide hips birthed the best babies. She’s carrying low, so it’s guaranteed this one is a boy.’

Lizzie smiled at Syd’s mother who was dressed in bright tangerine and a saucer-shaped navy hat. ‘Ain’t that an old wives’ tale?’

‘Yes, but with my brood, it’s never been wrong so far.’ Her large round face was wreathed in smiles as she waved to Flo and Syd with an orange glove. ‘Come on, gel,
let’s get outside for a breather.’

Lizzie followed the impressive figure as the congregation filed out of the hall. Doug had volunteered to take photos and had assembled the family around the bride and groom.

The Missus, still glued to Lizzie’s side, wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Where’s my old man gone? Down the boozer, I expect.’ She gulped air. ‘Your Pol looks lovely,
don’t she? Did you say she was your sister’s kid?’ The Missus, who didn’t seem to expect a reply, slapped a hand on her ample stomach. ‘Where’s the lav?
I’ve got a touch of the collywobbles. Back in a tick, dear.’

Lizzie seized her chance to find a quiet corner. Moving to the edge of the crowd, she gazed across at the bride and groom. She wanted to remember this moment as Flo and Syd stood together as man
and wife for the first time. Flo’s long dress of white silk satin with its high-shaped waist was beautiful. Mrs Davies had sewn pearls over the delicate points of the sleeves and around the
edges of the short white veil. Her smile was so joyful as she looked into Syd’s eyes that Lizzie felt close to tears.

When Flo caught hold of Polly’s hand, Lizzie’s chest swelled with pride. If only Babs could see her daughter now! Polly wore an ankle-length dress of pale lemon silk and organdie. A
white satin band was tied around her waist. Her white shoes and socks peeped out from under the hem of her skirt. That morning Lizzie had plaited her long auburn hair, pinning the plaits up onto
her head with small lemon roses and matching lace.

Lizzie knew she would remember this day forever. Her little sister was a wife and expectant mother. Would they, as sisters, grow closer as the years passed? Through all the ups and downs of
life? Would the baby be a girl? Or a boy, as the Missus predicted?

Just then, Danny’s tall figure appeared. Dressed in a dark suit and pale grey tie, he was tying white ribbons to the windscreen of a car. Flo had told her that Danny had bought the beige
four-seater roadster, intending to start a wedding car service. With its two wheels mounted at the rear, folded-down hood and long, low chassis it looked the part. A cheer went up as Syd led his
wife towards it and Danny opened the vehicle’s rear door. Flo shook away the confetti as she climbed in.

Lizzie smiled when she saw Bert. He was bending low, trying, unsuccessfully, to tie one of Syd’s boots to the rear of the car.

‘If there’s one person who don’t blend in with the scenery it’s your Bert,’ a familiar voice chuckled. Lizzie turned to find Ethel and Richard standing behind her.
Her friend wore a pretty beige dress and chocolate-coloured cloche hat over her fair hair. Richard, whom Lizzie had only ever seen wearing a grey suit, was dressed in formal dark blue, a white,
triangular-shaped handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket. His light brown hair was parted on the crown and cut evenly around his ears. A pair of pale hazel eyes stared out from behind his
spectacles. Lizzie went on her toes to kiss his cheek. ‘It’s lovely to see you, Richard. Did you enjoy the service?’

‘I’m not one for this sort of thing.’ He glanced quickly at Ethel. ‘I hope you think I’ve done my bit.’

Ethel looked at Lizzie. ‘Richard means he’s not joining us at the reception. There’s a lot to do at home.’

‘The garden won’t tidy itself,’ Richard replied tartly, shoving his spectacles along the bridge of his nose. ‘Or the house.’ He threw Ethel a frown which Lizzie
politely ignored.

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Richard. Can’t I twist your arm? The party might be fun.’

‘Thank you, but no,’ Richard answered dismissively. Frowning at the noisy crowds, he tightened his shoulders. ‘I’ll catch the bus back, Ethel. Have you left supper? I
don’t want to waste valuable time messing about in the kitchen. Not with the front flower beds needing weeding.’

Ethel bit her lip. ‘There’s cold meat and pickles. But if you want spuds, you’ll have to fry yesterday’s potatoes.’

Richard opened his mouth then, seeming to think better of it, he closed it. ‘I’ll be off then. Goodbye, Lizzie.’

‘Goodbye, Richard.’

Without a word more, he turned and, deliberately avoiding the Missus who was engaged in conversation with the bride and groom, he disappeared.

Lizzie looked at Ethel, who suddenly burst into laughter. Soon Lizzie was laughing too, and although she felt sorry for Richard, clearly a fish out of water in unfamiliar company, she was
relieved to see that Ethel was far from upset.

‘That’s my husband for you,’ sighed Ethel as she composed herself, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘The original action man.’

Lizzie chuckled. ‘You do have a nice garden.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Ethel. ‘But the weeds ain’t going to grow that big in one day, are they?’ She looked Lizzie up and down. ‘Your outfit’s stunning.’
Ethel indicated Lizzie’s pale green calf-length frock and new high-heeled shoes. ‘Crêpe de Chine, is it? We used to stock that material in Rickard’s.’

‘Me and Pol went up to Aldgate as a special treat. I took an afternoon off and left Bert and Fowler in charge of the shop
and
Frank,’ she added ruefully.

Ethel rolled her eyes. ‘They didn’t kill each other, then?’

‘Not quite.’

Ethel looked down at her beige dress. ‘I couldn’t really afford this outfit either. Richard hasn’t stopped complaining. He says I’m extravagant. And you’d think
I’d asked for the Crown Jewels when I told him I wanted to buy this dress.’

‘But he must have thought it looked nice.’

‘Didn’t say so. The kids did though, bless ’em. They said I only looked about thirty-five, which I am in a few weeks’ time.’

They both smiled, but Ethel’s happy expression vanished when Lizzie asked how things were at home.

‘Same old story,’ she answered wearily. ‘Honestly, we had such a row about him coming today. Dunno how I managed to get him this far. Now I’m paying the penalty and have
got this splitting headache.’

‘Your mum will be disappointed he’s not with you.’

‘It seems mixing with my family and friends is a step too far for Richard.’

Suddenly Danny tooted the horn and the wedding car drove by. Flo waved excitedly and blew them a kiss.

‘They look happy, don’t they?’ Lizzie sighed wistfully.

‘Marriage, eh?’ Ethel murmured. ‘Wonderful on the day. It’s just the thirty years after.’

Lizzie laughed, but she knew Ethel was serious. ‘Don’t tell Flo that when you see her.’

‘I won’t. But you know something? If Richard and me ever split up, I’d never marry again.’

‘Not even Cal?’ Lizzie asked.

‘
Especially
Cal. I reckon real happiness is too good to last.’

‘Is that what you really believe?’

Ethel looked away. ‘Per’aps. I don’t know.’

Lizzie linked her arm with her friend’s. ‘You and me, we ain’t got normal marriages, it’s true. But on the other hand, we do know what love is.’

‘Yes, but not with our husbands. I miss that, Lizzie, don’t you?’

‘Ethel, it’s not like you to be down.’

‘It’s weddings. They bring out the grumpy me.’

‘Come on, grumpy. Let’s move closer to the car.’ Lizzie felt sad for her friend. Ethel wanted to be in love with Richard. The man she had married. The father of her children.
But the reality was, Cal was the man who fulfilled her.

As the car passed, Flo threw her bouquet. Lizzie saw one of the young Miller girls run to catch it. She blushed as she looked proudly at her friends and family.

‘The next bride,’ Ethel remarked thoughtfully.

They watched the rumpus the bouquet-throwing had caused. Squeaks of delight from the girls and teasing from the men. ‘One thing’s for sure,’ Lizzie decided, ‘now Flo is a
Miller, life will never be boring.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘The Missus told me she thinks Flo’s first will be a boy.’

Ethel grinned. ‘Another little scallywag to add to the clan. Talking of which, how’s Frank?’

Lizzie knew that, unlike most people, Ethel was asking out of genuine concern.

‘Bert’s found him a walking stick. And though the pain of getting out of bed nearly kills him, he can hobble to the end of the landing.’