The Urchin's Song (51 page)

‘You could stop it, you know you could. Patrick listens to you.’

‘Not over this, believe me. ’Sides,’ Jimmy straightened and Hubert’s hand fell to his side, ‘I owe it to Da to get even.’

‘It wasn’t
her
.’

‘Aye, so you say.’ And now Jimmy thrust his face close again but this time his voice carried a grim warning when he said, ‘Don’t you poke your nose into this, Hubert. I mean it, else it won’t just be Patrick you’ll answer to. You understand me? An’ you might be workin’ for old Foster but that don’t mean Patrick don’t know where you are every minute of the night an’ day. Who you talk to, where you go; you can’t as much as blow your nose an’ he don’t see what colour it is.’

‘Aye, well
you
understand
this
. I don’t reckon the sun shines out of his backside like you do, and maybe I can see things a mite clearer because of it. You chew on that awhile.’

It wasn’t often Hubert talked back and Jimmy’s face reflected his anger in the moment before he turned away and stalked out of the pub.

Well, that had done a lot of good. Hubert sat quietly finishing his ale but he felt anything but quiet inside. After a while he stood up and walked out into the sunshine, and it was then two small thickset men appeared either side of him. ‘Hello, Hubert.’ The one who spoke had a bloated stomach due to his liking for beer and a mean little face.

Hubert nodded but said nothing. He knew these two from old.

‘Been havin’ a drink with your brother then? That’s nice. I like it when brothers get on.’

Hubert still said nothing. Whatever Patrick’s lackeys had been told to say you could bet it wasn’t sentimental observations about brotherly love.

‘Patrick said Jimmy might be havin’ a little word in your ear sometime tonight, but he wanted to make sure you understood what was what. He hasn’t got Jimmy’s faith in you, that’s the thing, but you can understand that, lad, can’t you? Patrick bein’ no relation of yours.’

The man’s voice had been quiet and reasonable, and Hubert’s was quiet and reasonable in reply when he said, ‘Does my brother know you are threatening me?’

‘Threatenin’ you? By, lad, where’s that come from? Threatenin’ him, he says.’ The man appealed to his comrade who merely continued eying Hubert up and down. ‘No, lad, Jimmy don’t know about this friendly little talk, an’ if you’ve any sense you’ll keep it that way, all reet? See, them as open their mouths when they oughtn’t sometimes find ’em full of dock water one night, know what I mean? Might not be next week or next month or even next year, but sure as eggs are eggs they find ’emselves fish food one dark night. An’ that applies to that upstart sister of yours an’ all. You stay away from her if you know what’s good for you. Patrick don’t want no family reunions.’ The last words were ominous.

Hubert hated himself for the trembling in his stomach that was shaking his bowels to water, but his fear didn’t show in his voice when he said, ‘Is that it? Is that the message?’

‘Aye.’

‘Well, you can go back now and say you’ve delivered it, can’t you.’

He saw the two men exchange a glance but they said no more, turning as one and disappearing into the general throng on the corner of Crowtree Road and High Street West. Hubert stood for a moment more outside the pub. He was so sick of the shadow of Patrick Duffy hanging over him. Always,
always
it was there in the background. Patrick had given him some rope for Jimmy’s sake, but the little Irishman was forever hoping he’d hang himself with it. And Jimmy couldn’t see it. Patrick controlled him like he controlled the rest of his seedy empire that was full of dead men’s bones and rotten to the core.

He hunched his shoulders, shutting his eyes for a moment as though to blot out all the darkness in his head, and then opened them and began to make his way home.

Josie opened at the Palace in the middle of August to excellent reviews and packed houses; her popularity being enhanced still more by the fact that she had brought her three sisters with her to Sunderland. It was a kind of family pilgrimage, she told the newspapers who were delighted to print such an unusual story. Her three sisters and herself, along with two brothers, were all that was left of her family as far as she knew, and it would be wonderful if her brothers would contact her now she was here. She had only recently been reunited with two of her sisters whom she hadn’t seen for over ten years; if the lads got in touch as well that would be absolutely wonderful. She wasn’t going to give their names for fear of embarrassing them, but they knew who they were and she just wanted them to know she was waiting for a call.

It was a great story, and when added to her beauty and magnificent voice Josie Burns was the editors’ darling and newspaper sales soared.

It had been two days after she had first taken Oliver to meet Ada and Dora - and that had been the day after their reconciliation - that her two elder sisters had let her know they were coming with her to Sunderland. ‘Lass, if you can treat a lady of the realm the way you did and tell ’em all what’s what, I reckon the least me an’ Dora can do is show the same amount of pluck.’ That had been the way Ada had put it when she had told Josie she and Dora were coming, and Josie hadn’t argued with her.

Oliver had swallowed hard when she had told him of her two elder sisters’ decision, much the same as he had when she had told him of the reappearance of the two women in her life, but in view of recent events he made no objection, either to their presence or to the proposed trip to Sunderland. He had, however, made it clear that regrettably he would have to stay in London for at least the first two weeks due to business, and Josie hadn’t objected to this. All in all he had taken her disclosure about Ada and Dora and her declaration of intent concerning the proposed trip to Sunderland very well, and she knew he was trying hard regarding his gambling too. If two weeks of her sisters and the provinces was all he could manage, then so be it.

Gertie, delighted that all was well with Josie and Oliver again, which couldn’t help but reflect on Anthony and herself, was all encouragement and approval. Josie understood how her youngest sister’s mind worked and could even sympathise to an extent, but Gertie’s attitude during the difficult days of her estrangement from Oliver had taught her a valuable lesson. Their relationship of the past was over - it was on a different footing now - and maybe that was no bad thing, Josie reflected honestly. In the early days Gertie had immersed herself in her sister’s career and life to the exclusion of everything else, and that wasn’t healthy. No, it was better she had found Anthony and the apron strings had been cut. Nevertheless, Gertie’s lack of support at such a crucial time had been a bitter pill to swallow.

The four women were staying at the Grand in two rooms - Ada and Dora in one, and Josie and Gertie in another - and her sisters accompanied her each night to the theatre, which made for some riotous evenings in Josie’s dressing room. Ada and Dora were fascinated by the music hall and some of the eccentric characters it boasted, a couple of whom were at present playing at the Palace. Dora being a born mimic could imitate ‘Lulu and Her Amazing Talking Chimpanzee’ and ‘Cinquevalli, The Human Billiard Table’ to the point where she had the others crying with laughter.

Oliver was due to join Josie in Sunderland the afternoon of her first performance at the Royal, and after she had moved out of the room she had shared with Gertie for two weeks and into one on the floor above which would be hers and Oliver’s, she sat quietly in the reception area of the hotel reading a book and awaiting his arrival. She had thoroughly enjoyed the last fortnight with her sisters; she hadn’t laughed so much in years, not even when she had been working with Lily and then later Nellie, she reflected as her mind wandered from the written page. The late Samuel Butler’s novel
The Way of All Flesh
was a savage exposure of the oppressions of Victorian family life which Winifred had recommended to her that fateful weekend, but it made for depressing reading in parts and she could only take it in small doses.

The four of them had been so happy but each one of them had had Hubert and Jimmy at the back of their minds, from the number of times the lads’ names had cropped up. Josie knew her sisters had been anxious for her in view of the warning Hubert had given her the last time she had seen him, and she made sure the four of them were always escorted to and from the theatre in the evening, and during the day they went everywhere together on the premise that there was safety in numbers. Not that she thought Duffy would try anything after all this time if she was being truthful.

The four of them had visited Vera a few times, and as Prudence had been at work there had been no awkward moments once the initial introductions had been dealt with. Josie had seen Betty at Vera’s during the middle weekend of the first two weeks, but she hadn’t called in at Betty’s herself in spite of receiving an open invitation. She would not allow herself to dwell on why she didn’t feel able to go and see Barney’s stepmother; she would just not allow her mind to ask questions linked in any way with the man who haunted her dreams night after night.

When Oliver walked through the doors of the hotel she rose immediately and went to his side, and as he kissed her and whispered, ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she smiled her reply.

They had tea at four o’clock with Ada, Dora and Gertie, but her sisters had tactfully said they were tired and wished to stay at the hotel that evening, so Oliver escorted Josie to the Royal and they spent the time in her dressing room together. There was one tricky moment at the beginning of the evening when, after escorting Josie and Oliver to her dressing room which was filled with flowers, the manager asked if she would be prepared to stay on in Sunderland for a few more weeks after she’d finished at the Royal and play the Avenue. The same proprietor owned both theatres. Josie declined, putting forward prior commitments as her excuse, and after he’d left she sent Oliver out to the front of the theatre to buy roast potatoes from the hot potato man, who sold his wares from a funny little contraption that looked like a small steam engine to the queues outside the Royal every evening. They ate the potatoes sprinkled with salt with Josie sitting on Oliver’s knee, burning their fingers in the process, and for the first time in a long while Josie felt everything was going to work out with Oliver. He was trying so hard, she thought fondly as she watched him licking his salty fingers and pretending he had enjoyed the experience.

Josie finished her second performance of the evening with two hits of a few years ago, ‘Mighty Lak’a Rose’ and ‘Just A-wearyin’ for You’, and as she walked off the stage Oliver was waiting for her in the wings like he had done in the old days, and she found her heart gave a little leap at the sight of him.

They walked to the dressing room arm in arm, and once she had changed and was taking off her heavy stage make-up, Oliver came up behind her and gently kissed the nape of her neck.

She turned from their reflection in the mirror, lifting up her lips to him as she whispered, ‘I love you,’ and he held her for a long moment as he kissed her, before murmuring, ‘And I you, my love. I, you. Am I truly forgiven?’

For answer she took his face between her hands and kissed him, something she did rarely. Normally the physical overtures were all on Oliver’s side.

‘I’ll go and make sure the carriage is waiting.’ He grinned at her as he straightened. ‘Come out when you are ready, and don’t worry about doing your hair again; it’s going to be very rumpled before long.’

‘Oh, Oliver.’ She blushed as she dimpled at him, and after she had removed every trace of make-up with cold cream and washed her face, she sat looking at herself for a few seconds before she rose from the stool. Was she wicked, loving two men at the same time, or did lots of women have similar secrets they kept locked in their hearts? Her life could have been different if there had been no Pearl. She and Barney might have married if he hadn’t met someone else before she was old enough, and she could be a mother by now. Her singing would have been kept for bairns’ lullabies and she would never have set foot on a stage. The thought produced a funny little pang in her heart and she jumped to her feet, angry with herself for the momentary weakness after the last days of keeping her mind fully under control.

She walked quickly towards the stage door, answering the ‘good nights’ from other performers with ones of her own, and after Mickey, the young stagehand, opened it for her and pointed to the carriage waiting on the cobbles, she waved to the silhouette of Oliver - resplendent in top hat and tails - inside. ‘Good night, Mickey.’

‘Good night, Miss Burns, an’ thanks for that autograph for me mam. Thinks you’re the tops, she does.’

Josie was still smiling as she climbed into the cab, the horse neighing softly as it flicked its mane in the soft warm August night, and then, as it moved away even before the door was properly shut and she took in the slumped form in a corner of the carriage, she opened her mouth to scream. The man who had been wearing Oliver’s hat had his hand across her mouth and nose before she’d uttered so much as a squeak, however, and as the horse paused further along the street and another dark outline climbed into the carriage, a voice said, ‘I said no undue violence, Harry.’

‘I only hit ’im.’ The voice above Josie’s head was reproachful. ‘He wasn’t about to sit there quietly an’ let her walk into it, not even with a knife to his ribs, so I hit ’im an’ put on his hat.’ This was said in the tone of someone expecting praise, and when none was forthcoming, the voice said again, full of righteous indignation now, ‘I only hit ’im.’

‘All right, all right, you only hit him.’ There was a rustling and then the voice said again, still with the irritable note paramount, ‘Move your hand a fraction, for cryin’ out loud.’

‘Aw, Jimmy man, I’m doin’ me best.’

In the second before the pad of sweet-smelling liquid was pressed over her nose, Josie knew her eyes were staring wide in the blackness. The man holding her was built like a brick wall and there was no hope of even struggling, but at that precise moment she couldn’t have anyway. She was frozen with shock. Jimmy, he had said Jimmy . . . And then, as the fumes from the pad seemed to fill her head she was aware that the carriage had stopped again, and that the driver had climbed down and was saying, ‘You take over the horse now, Harry. I’ll sit inside,’ and as she spiralled into unconsciousness the scream which said
‘Patrick Duffy!’
was only in her mind.