The Fight for Lizzie Flowers (28 page)

‘Thanks,’ Ethel said as Lizzie climbed in beside her. ‘Sorry to be a nuisance.’

Lizzie started the van. It rattled noisily. ‘I was coming over to yours anyway.’ She drove down Ebondale Street and turned the corner. A fresh whiff of morning air blew in through
the window, bringing Lizzie back to the moment. ‘Did you tell your mum about the— ?’

‘No.’

‘You’ll have to soon.’

‘I’m not showing yet.’ Ethel stared at Lizzie. ‘So is it – he – gone?’

‘If you mean Albert, yes.’

‘It’s worse when you know a name.’

‘Listen, Ethel. You have to put it all out of your mind.’

Ethel gave out a pitiful whine. ‘If only!’

Lizzie managed to drive through the morning traffic without getting held up by the inevitable queues to the docks that began around noon. She parked in the alley that led up to the
traders’ stalls and pointed to the opening through a narrow brick tunnel. ‘I’ll just pick up my stuff. I won’t be long if I can find one of the young lads to help
me.’

‘Don’t worry about asking them. I’ll help you.’

‘You’re in no state to go heaving boxes.’ Lizzie looked down at Ethel’s stomach.

‘I’ll take the lighter ones.’ Ethel was already climbing out of the van. It was as if she didn’t want to be left on her own with her thoughts. And Lizzie could understand
why.

Finally they had all the fruit and vegetables stowed in the back of the van. Lizzie felt better for the company of the traders and she knew Ethel did too. From where they were
parked they could hear the welcome noise of the market, voices echoing through the alley. They could see the red-and-white-striped awnings and the crowds of people listening to the patter of the
stallholders.

‘It was nice to see all your friends,’ Ethel said quietly.

‘Yes, life goes on as normal.’

‘Will it ever be normal for us?’ Ethel asked. ‘How long will we have to wait for something to happen?’ She looked depressed again.

‘Nothing might ever happen. Not if the body doesn’t turn up.’

‘Meanwhile we have to wait.’ Ethel pushed her fair hair from her eyes. ‘Last night I had a nightmare again. This time I was shot. I was afraid the bullet went in the
baby.’

‘Oh Ethel, that’s awful. No wonder you look pale this morning.’

‘It was like the dream was trying to tell me something.’

‘You’re not going to be shot, Ethel.’

‘I know. But all the same . . .’ Ethel’s voice tailed off. She slumped back against the seat. ‘I’m fed up with listening to meself.’ She tried to smile.
‘Let’s talk about you. Have you seen Flo yet?’

‘No, I haven’t called round.’

‘So you don’t know if their honeymoon went all right?’

‘Danny said he dropped them off at their hotel near Marble Arch. It must have cost quite a bit.’

‘I didn’t know Syd earned a lot.’

‘He didn’t use to as a porter, but it was regular money.’ Lizzie thought of the watch on Walter’s arm. She still didn’t know what to do about it. And she
couldn’t put more troubles on Ethel’s shoulders.

‘Oh well, I’m sure they had a good time.’ Ethel smiled. ‘I wouldn’t mind a couple of nights up West in a classy hotel.’

Lizzie grinned. ‘Me neither.’

Ethel said suddenly, ‘Lizzie, I need a favour.’

‘What?’

‘I’m going to tell Cal it’s all over.’

Lizzie gave a soft gasp. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

Lizzie knew this decision was a heartbreaker for Ethel, either way.

‘But I’m weak,’ Ethel continued. ‘If I’m alone, he’ll change my mind. But if you’re there, he won’t be able to say anything. Will you drive me to
the garage?’

‘What, now?’

‘Have you got time?’

‘Yes, but are you really sure this is what you want?’

Ethel nodded firmly. ‘The kids break up soon. Richard, for the first time ever, said he’d arrange a holiday this year. It wouldn’t be easy to get away over the summer even if I
wanted to.’

‘And you don’t?’

‘I’m going to try to make my marriage work.’

They sat in silence, each with their own thoughts. Lizzie looked at her friend, then sighed. ‘All right, we’ll drive over now.’

‘Thanks.’ Ethel fiddled with her fingers in her lap. ‘You’ll stay with me, won’t you?’

‘If that’s what you want.’

Lizzie wondered, as she reversed out of the alley, just how strong Ethel’s resolution would be when she came face to face with Cal.

Richard stared at the long-haired individual wearing a leather apron, and shovelling potatoes from a sack into a woman’s open shopping bag. Inside the shop was another
man, similarly dressed in working clothes and a dirty cloth cap. Richard studied him closely. Then, with a jolt of recognition, he realized he was looking at Bert Allen, brother to Lizzie Flowers.
Time certainly hadn’t improved his coarsened features, nor his labouring gait, as he hauled a sack on his shoulders and carried it outside to the pavement.

Richard held fast to his bicycle, deciding to keep his distance. He couldn’t see the Flowers woman – or his wife – as his gaze travelled up to the windows above the shop. Could
they be there? he wondered. He seemed to remember Ethel mentioning the living quarters above the shop and an airey below. One of those cold, dark basements that were notoriously damp.

Was this where his wife spent her time? he asked himself incredulously. It was unbelievable that she should prefer squalor to the clean and decent middle-class home he had provided for her.

His eyes travelled to the noisy young children playing in the street. Urchins by the looks of them, shabbily dressed and some even without shoes! There wasn’t a clean shirt between them
and their language was appalling.

Richard smelled something unpleasant. He looked back at the shop as the breeze blew softly in his direction. The long-haired man walked round to a wooden crate on the pavement. He began to strip
leaves from the cauliflowers, most of which, Richard noted, were brown and soggy. This problem was solved by a knife shaved over their surfaces. The smell of rot they emitted was overpowering.

Richard pushed his bike a few feet along, craning his neck up to the windows. Was Ethel up there? If so, how was he to attract her attention?

A horse-drawn wagon came clattering up the road. Richard was forced to move aside once more. He positioned himself by the gas lamp opposite, turning his attention to his bicycle clip on his left
ankle so that he wouldn’t be noticed.

He shuddered at the smell of overripe vegetables. He flinched at the noise and bustle on the street. Appalling, thought Richard. The East End held no attraction for him. He couldn’t see
how it did for Ethel either. His mother’s words sprang to mind. ‘The island breeds dockers and costermongers.’ And she had never been more right than now.

‘You look as if yer just lost a quid and found a tanner,’ a deep voice said and Richard nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t realized that a figure had approached. He was
shocked to find himself looking up into the lantern jaw of Bert Allen.

‘What?’ Richard stammered, clutching his bike as if it was a life raft in a rough sea.

‘Richard, ain’t it? Ethel’s other half? Saw you at Flo’s wedding.’

‘Erm . . .’ Richard faltered, trying not to make eye contact through his spectacles. He hadn’t thought he’d be recognized, at least not by this individual. Stepping back,
he positioned his bicycle between him and the towering figure. ‘I’m looking for my wife. Is she here?’

‘Ethel?’ The idiot stared at him as if he’d spoken in a foreign language.

‘Yes, Ethel Ryde, my wife,’ Richard repeated officiously. ‘I called at the Sharpes’ in Langley Street and no one is at home. That’s why I’ve come here,’
he added as if talking to someone hard of hearing.

‘Yer, Ethel called this morning,’ Bert Allen replied. ‘But she ain’t here now.’

‘Where is she then?’ Richard’s annoyance grew.

‘With Lizzie. Took the van and gorn to the market.’

‘Market?’ Richard repeated. ‘Where’s that?’

The man grinned foolishly. ‘Cox Street, up the road. We get our goods cheap for the weekend, see. Caulis, Brussels, beans, spuds, all knock-down prices for Saturday. Bit ripe some of
’em, but with a tidy trim, they do nicely out front.’

Richard didn’t doubt that. He’d seen with his own eyes the other man wielding his knife. ‘And Ethel went with her?’ Richard asked again, making doubly sure.

‘Yeah, but that was a good couple of hours back. Lizzie usually ain’t gone that long. They must be gassing somewhere.’

‘Gassing?’ Richard frowned.

‘Gorn off for a chat, like women do.’

‘But where would they go?’ Richard felt like yelling at this numbskull.

‘Couldn’t tell you, mate.’

‘Mr Allen, I really must find my wife. I’ve tried her family. I’ve tried here. And I’ll try the market. Is there anywhere else on the island they would go?’ Richard
asked impatiently. ‘What about this garage that I’ve heard Ethel speak of? Would they have driven there?’

Bert Allen frowned vaguely, and scratched his head.

‘Never mind,’ Richard dismissed. ‘I’ll find it myself.’

‘They wouldn’t go there.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s all motors, ain’t it? Nothing that appeals to females. Listen, best way is to come inside and wait. Park yer bike down the side and I’ll make you a nice cup of
Rosie.’

Appalled at the suggestion, Richard shook his head firmly. ‘No thank you. I’ll be off now.’ He mounted his bike and began to pedal off, feeling extremely put out. There was no
way he was going to idle away his valuable time, trying to make conversation with a man who was clearly unhinged. Casting a swift look behind him, he saw Bert Allen still standing gormlessly in the
road. With a shudder Richard continued on his way. In his haste to pedal faster he narrowly missed a child not more than two or three years of age who appeared to be urinating in the gutter.

Richard shook his head, puzzled and dismayed. He was relieved to be away from what he could only term a slum. He was simply at a loss to understand Ethel. What on earth could she find to attract
her in associating with these people?

He drew in a long breath as he reached Westferry Road. He was still in enemy territory. But the market wasn’t far. And if he couldn’t find Ethel there, he’d make his own
enquiries as to where this garage might be.

Lizzie stopped the van on the gravel forecourt and peered out of the window at the garage. For a Friday she thought the place looked very quiet, until she saw the bulbous frame
of a lorry emerge from the open doors. Danny sat in the driver’s seat. When he saw them he gave a toot of the horn.

‘Can you see Cal?’ Ethel asked, craning her neck.

‘No. He’s probably inside.’ Lizzie sat back in her seat. ‘Ethel, are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Yes, but I need your help.’

‘What can I do? It’s a private matter.’

‘Stay with me,’ Ethel pleaded, her pale skin going ashen. ‘Tell Danny why I’m here.’

Lizzie was afraid Ethel would regret this decision. She would be lonely again without Cal in her life. But she nodded all the same and got out of the van. Danny climbed down from the cab of the
lorry as she walked towards him. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, glancing back at the van. ‘Has Savage shown up?’

‘It’s Ethel. She wants to see Cal.’

Danny frowned, slowly nodding. ‘So it’s finally come to that.’

‘She’s very upset. But she says she wants to make a go of her marriage.’

‘What brought that on?’ Danny asked as he wiped his hands on a cloth.

‘She hasn’t been right since Albert was killed.’

‘Cal wasn’t responsible for that.’

‘I know.’

Danny sighed. ‘We’d better make ourselves scarce, then.’

‘I think she wants us to stay around. She’s worried that Cal won’t take no for an answer.’

Danny shrugged. ‘There’s nothing we can do about that. Cal’s my mate. I can’t help Ethel with her personal life.’

‘I know. But I had to bring her. I didn’t know what else to do.’

Danny’s blue eyes softened. ‘Tell her to come in, then. They can talk in the office. Cal’s in the workshop fixing an engine for a motor that the council is using for the new
landing stage at Tilbury.’ He went to walk away then stopped. ‘He thinks a lot of her, you know.’

‘Yes, which makes it even harder.’ Lizzie went back to the van. Ethel was waiting, her hands held tightly in her lap. ‘Is Cal there?’

‘Yes, Danny’s calling him up from the workshop,’ Lizzie replied through the open window. ‘You can use the office.’

Ethel pushed back her long wavy fair hair and got out. She stood, straightening her floral cotton dress and looking uncertain. Tears filled her eyes. ‘I don’t want to do this, but I
must find the strength.’

When they arrived at the garage, Lizzie stopped. ‘I’ll wait here.’

‘Can’t you come with me?’

‘No, that wouldn’t be fair on any of us.’

Ethel nodded and slowly made her way up the stairs.

Unforeseen circumstances were forcing Leonard Savage to rethink his strategy. The sayings of his deprived childhood were going through his mind. ‘When in doubt, do
nowt.’ Or – and this was more likely in the case of his whore of a mother – ‘Strike while the iron’s hot.’

Savage shifted restlessly on the lack-lustre back seat of the stolen vehicle. Its battered seats niffed. The engine was rattling like a leper’s chest. But there was no sense in using the
Daimler. Not for this job anyway. There was a remote chance some nosy river copper might be on the prowl and recognize his motor. Morley’s Wharf was a desolate spot, yet not five minutes
after his driver had parked by the dock wall a beat-up old van had arrived.

‘Do you know who it is, Mr S?’ his driver enquired as a female had climbed out and a few minutes later was joined by another.

‘One of them is the Flowers woman,’ Savage replied irritably.

‘Do we go in anyway?’

Savage glared at the back of the man’s head. ‘No, we sit tight. Give the thumbs-down to the boys.’ He watched as the driver lowered the window and stuck out his hand, giving
the signal to the car behind where six of his best men were waiting to follow their lead.