East End Angel Part 22

'Had four of me own so know all about teething.' Matilda nodded at the black-haired baby. 'Probably, he'll get a bit of bronchitis with it,' she added knowledgeably. 'My gels all had chests on 'em while cutting their teeth.'

'He has been snuffling ...' Ruby agreed.

'Heard the poor little mite coughing last night,' Matilda confirmed. She glanced again at the tiny boy. Peter and Pansy had dark brown hair but their features were not Oriental. Matilda realised that Ruby might have had more than one husband and an earlier partner had fathered the older two.

'Is your husband Chinese?' If Matilda felt awkward asking there was no hint of it in her tone.

'The baby's not Charlie's ...' Ruby answered after a quiet moment.

'Right' Matilda said. 'So that set him off on a rampage then, did it?'

Ruby snorted a laugh. 'He was a vicious git long before Paul came along. Shame he kept his true character well hid before we got married. I'd've run a mile if I'd known what he's really like.'

'Bein' honest ain't the way men like that carry on,' Matilda returned flatly. 'All charm, ain't they, till they get a woman hooked? My sister, Fran, G.o.d rest her, could've told you about their sly ways.'

They walked on quietly for a few minutes.

'Got no family to help you out?' Matilda enquired.

Oddly, Ruby felt no inclination to tell Matilda to mind her own business, and not simply because homelessness might be the consequence of upsetting her. She glanced at the middle-aged woman, her coa.r.s.e hair pinned in a greying plait on top of her head, her features looking roughened by work and weather. Ruby sensed Matilda Keiver was a person who, in her time, had battled through more bad experiences than most. She felt drawn to Matilda's strength and courage, and it seemed natural to Ruby to want to entrust personal troubles to Mrs Keiver for sharp a.n.a.lysis.

'Got two older sisters,' Ruby answered on a sigh. 'They're both married and live Middles.e.x way but they keep to themselves.' Ruby turned her warm face away. Her sisters had cut her off when they found out she'd been a working girl at various times during her life. When Charlie went inside Ruby had written to them both to ask for a loan to pay the rent. She'd not heard back. But they were quick enough to send letters calling her a disgrace for showing them up when the news leaked out how she'd managed without their help. 'Mum's been dead for a few years. I was about eight when Dad pa.s.sed away. He was a lot older than Mum and had been married before. Funny how we follow in our parents' footsteps even though we don't want to. Charlie's a lot older than me and was a widower when I met him.'

'How about your in-laws? Any decent folk amongst 'em?'

Ruby hooted in genuine amus.e.m.e.nt. 'His mother's a horrible old witch. She's as bad as he is. I lent her me rent one week 'cos she was giving me a hard-luck story. When I called round to ask fer it back 'cos I was bra.s.sic she went for me.' Ruby sighed. 'You'd think she'd give a hand keeping her grandchildren clothed and fed but she don't give a toss about anybody but herself and her own kids.'

Matilda could tell that mention of the Potters had agitated the younger woman. 'Your little 'uns are safe and out of harm's way now.' She patted Ruby's arm in comfort.

'Yeah ...' Ruby croaked. 'Sod the lot of 'em over the East End. I'm here now.'

Matilda noticed Ruby darting glances at her neighbour. Margaret Lovat had come to a halt by Beattie Evans's house and the two women were having a natter leaning on the railings fronting the row of tenements.

'Come on then, we'll have a word with me friend before she disappears.' Matilda gave Ruby an encouraging smile. 'Me eldest daughter, Sophy, is married to Margaret's son, Danny. So we're almost related and go back a very long way. No need to fret; I'm sure the job's yours, if you want it.'

Matilda took hold of Pansy's hand, swinging it playfully. 'Bet your little legs can run faster than my big ones. Have a race, shall we?' Matilda shuffled forwards a few yards then puffed to a halt while the little girl streaked ahead shrieking with laughter, long dark mane flying out behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

'I've been expecting you.'

'I bet you have.' Charlie had been spying on Nick Raven for days, hoping to catch him on his own, somewhere deserted. Following their last run-in, when Nick had easily floored him, Charlie had reckoned he might need a bit of an advantage with the younger man. He fingered the blade in his pocket, hoping it would persuade Nick to cough up Ruby's whereabouts before he striped him for good measure.

'So ... a little bird tells me you've been pokin' yer nose into me business.' Charlie had hoped to unsettle Raven but his opponent was continuing drawing down the shutter on his lock-up, barely glancing at him. The row of warehouses were situated close to the river bank and more than half were disused, due to dilapidations.

'Little bird, eh?' Nick slammed a heavy iron padlock onto a hasp but left it dangling open as he turned about to face Charlie. He knew that Potter was carrying a weapon of some sort. The dip in his right pocket wasn't just from the weight of his hand. He knew, too, that this time, Charlie would have made sure he was sober and in shape for a fight before confronting him.

'Where's me wife gone?' Charlie withdrew the knife and held it out, swaying it slowly to and fro at arm's length. He drew back his lips in a savage smile. 'Been looking forward to this Raven ... long overdue ...' He came closer, circling, bobbing his head to and fro on his stubby neck.

Nick stayed where he was.

'Gonna tell me where Ruby is? Make it easier for yerself. Won't need so many st.i.tches in yer pretty face if you act reasonable. C'mon ...' Charlie made a sudden running lunge but his opponent nipped sideways, the iron padlock in a fist.

'Got nuthin' to say?' Charlie was enjoying himself. He knew that his surprise attack with a knife left Nick at a serious disadvantage. 'C'mon ... tell me where you took the cow. You'd sooner I ask you than Nurse Finch, wouldn't yer now, Raven?' Finally, Charlie got the flicker of emotion he'd hoped for from his adversary. 'Ah ... like that, is it?' He nodded his greasy head in satisfaction, stalking the younger man to and fro against the wooden shutters of the warehouses. 'Don't blame yer, son ... I'd like a go at her too. When you're out of action, I might have a piece of Nurse Finch. Reckon she'd tell me anything I wanted to know once I'd done with her ...' He growled a laugh, scratched at his b.a.l.l.s for effect. With a roar, he suddenly dived forward.

Nick brought up his hand and with split-second aim hurled the iron padlock at Charlie's head. It hit his cheek rather than his forehead but it was enough to make the older man stagger and gave Nick time to nip past him. He grabbed a piece of pallet leaning against a wall and brought it whistling through air onto Charlie's back.

Charlie staggered against the shutters, the knife still gripped in his sweaty fingers. 'That yer best shot?' he panted.

'Nah ... this is,' Nick swung the battered lump of wood against Charlie's arm just as his opponent came for him again. This time, Charlie's numbed fingers dropped the knife and Nick darted in to kick it away. He dropped the timber, beckoned Charlie closer. 'You wanted a sc.r.a.p, so let's have one.' He sneered a laugh as Charlie wiped spittle from his lips and s.h.i.+fted from foot to foot. 'What's up, Charlie? Lost yer bottle now it's fisticuffs?'

Nick's jeer was a red rag to a bull. Despite the pain down his right side, Charlie lumbered forward, head down, hoping to knock Nick over using his weight alone.

Nick sidestepped at the last moment, letting Charlie stumble past to nut the wall. As the older man came upright, looking dazed, Nick gave him a hefty jab and cross that put Charlie onto his knees. A kick under the chin put him on his back.

Nick crouched over Charlie, using his forearm on the older man's windpipe. 'You're too old and too out of condition, mate. Give it a rest ... give Ruby a rest. And don't ever mention Nurse Finch, let alone go near her,' he added softly. 'Understand?'

Charlie was bubbling at the mouth, squirming and trying to breath but he managed to nod as Nick viciously increased pressure.

'Right ... things to do ... sorry to love yer and leave yer ...' Brus.h.i.+ng down his clothes, Nick turned to go. As an afterthought, because of the threat to Kathy, Nick gave Charlie a hefty boot in the guts just as he was crawling onto his knees.

Charlie collapsed onto concrete. 'I'll f.u.c.kin' have you back, Raven!' he screamed.

Nick walked off, sticking two fingers up in farewell.

'So ... how you been then, Pol?'

Polly Wright stuck her wet hands on her hips, running a jaundiced eye over her podgy balding husband. She'd been scrubbing celery in a tin bowl, preparing it to sell door to door off her barrow, when Stan turned up, smiling like a Ches.h.i.+re cat. They might not have lived together for a long while but Polly remembered that crafty tone of voice he favoured when he was after something. The only time she wanted to see him now was when he was peeling a note out of his wallet for her. Polly reckoned she'd sacrificed the best years of her life struggling to raise his sons alone while he was off gallivanting. Stan ought to show his appreciation with hard cash, not smarmy smiles. She wasn't interested in any of his weasel words either, so if he'd come for any reason other than to weigh her out he could p.i.s.s off.

'Davy ain't in,' Polly announced. 'He was heading over your way as usual this morning.'

'Didn't come to see him,' Stan said. 'I'm here for you, gel.' He treated her to another soppy smile. 'Keeping all right, are yer?'

'I'm all right ... so what you up to then?' Polly said briskly. 'Making up for lost time, and brung me some wages over, have yer? Better late than never, I suppose,' she added sourly.

Stan stepped further into the room, choosing to ignore her sarcasm and her outstretched palm. 'How about we have a brew and a chat about things, eh, Pol?'

'There it is ...' Polly nodded at the dented metal kettle on the table, letting him know if he wanted tea he could make it himself. 'Needs filling.' She jerked her head at the door. Stan knew where the sink and tap were situated out on the landing.

Stan sighed beneath his breath, turning his back on his wife. But he kept up an air of casual jollity, swinging the empty vessel in a hand as he went onto the landing to get the water for tea. Once out of sight, his expression drooped. He forced on the squeaking tap, letting water splash into the stained sink. He could tell that his idea of returning to live in Islington wasn't going to be all plain sailing. He'd got very little cash with him to sweeten her up. He decided to plump for using his concern about Davy's future to win Polly over.

Having sauntered back into the room with the heavy kettle he stuck it on the hob to boil. 'We ought to have a little talk about what Davy's getting up to.' Stan sucked his teeth. 'Don't want to worry you but I reckon the boy could be heading fer bad trouble if he don't wise up-'

'I know he's joined the Blacks.h.i.+rts,' Polly interrupted.

Stan felt deflated. 'Bet you don't know he's terrorising people for his guvnor, though, do you?'

'And who put him in touch with his guvnor?' Polly immediately accused. 'I know Davy's guvnor is the son of that sc.u.mmy old bag you run off with.'

'Yeah ... well ... we all make mistakes, Pol, I'd be the first to admit it.'

'Taken you a f.u.c.king long time to say so, though, ain't it?' Polly crowed. 'You've been gawn ten years.'

Stan started clattering cups and saucers together, his mask of bonhomie slipping, revealing a scowl. 'Charlie Potter's roped Davy and one of his pals into collecting funds for Mosley whether the shopkeepers want to cough up or not. I reckon it's protection money's by any other name. I'm warning you it'll end in tears, if it ain't stopped.'

Polly hooted a laugh. 'That's a bit rich coming from you, Stan,' she scoffed. 'Never had a minute for any of yer sons, did you? Even when two of them went inside fer housebreaking you didn't show yer face. Now you've come over on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon to drink tea and tell me you're worried Davy and his mate might get their knuckles rapped fer being nasty to folk.' Polly uncrossed her arms and jutted her chin. 'I'll tell you what I know: Davy's earning wages and paying me his keep, which is more'n you ever done. That's good enough fer now. Cross them other bridges when we come to 'em.' Polly s.n.a.t.c.hed the kettle off the hob before it could boil. 'So if you ain't got no money to give me you can sling yer hook. Go back to the East End and put the kettle on for that maggot you set up home with. And make sure you close the door on the way out,' Polly snarled, picking up a head of celery and a scrubbing brush and setting to work.

Stan mooched out from the grim hallway into autumn sunlight, his expression dejected. He stopped by the railings and dug in a pocket for his tin of tobacco, then started on a rollup. He'd got nowhere with Polly, even after emptying most of his change onto the table to tempt her to calm down. All he had left was his bus fare back to the East End.

His wife had made it clear she was in no mood to talk about him moving back in. Even when he'd offered to scrub celery and sell it off the barrow that afternoon, she'd not been swayed to share a pot of tea with him.

Stan stuck a hand on the iron railings, blowing smoke and gazing to and fro at the bustling crowds. Campbell Road never slept; in particular it was a hive of activity on a Sat.u.r.day when the weather was fine, as today. He could see a small gambling school was in progress: men were crouching on the pavement, or leaning against walls at the junction with Paddington Street. He ambled closer and for a while watched dice being thrown and cards being dealt. It never ceased to amuse Stan that people around here who were often facing eviction for rent arrears could raise serious stake money without too much trouble.

The dealer was middle-aged, but a few kids were hanging around acting as lookouts to warn of police approaching. The coppers patrolled in pairs because no local constable, acquainted with the Bunk's dire reputation, would set foot unaccompanied in the street. As Stan eyed the mounds of coins on the floor he understood why Davy had felt bitter about being elbowed out of his job as croupier.

About to stroll on towards Seven Sisters Road, Stan came to a shocked standstill at the sight of somebody he recognised from the East End. Ruby Potter, rocking a pram and holding her daughter by the hand, was just up ahead with a group of local women.

Stan knew Matilda Keiver from way back, and Margaret Lovat and Beattie Evans were two other Campbell Road residents of longstanding who were having a chat with Vi's daughter-in-law. But it was Ruby who recaptured Stan's frowning gaze. It was a very odd turn-up for the books to stumble across Charlie's wife when the fellow had been out searching for her and the kids to drag them home. Stan slunk back against a wall, drawing deeply on the limp cigarette. He reckoned the discovery was worthy of some serious consideration before he carried on to the bus stop. Charlie and Vi too, for that matter would be very glad to hear about Ruby's whereabouts. Of course, Vi wouldn't be so happy to know what he had been doing over in Islington, visiting his wife ...

'I will be different from now on, Mum. I know I've been a disgrace but I can't stand no more of living me life the way it was. I'm finished with men, I swear, so please let me stay 'cos I'm sorry for what I did and it'll never happen again.' Blanche was seated at the kitchen table and she bit into her breakfast toast, gazing up beseechingly at her mother.

'Heard it all before, miss, and you've never stuck to your word for longer than a few days.' Gladys found it hard to look her daughter in the face since she'd come upon her stark naked in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning last week. When she'd discovered from her husband what Blanche had been up to out in their shed, with a local villain old enough to be her father, Gladys had felt physically sick. Blanche had always been a handful, chasing after the boys from when she turned thirteen. Even so, Gladys would never have imagined her daughter would end up acting like a cheap wh.o.r.e for any fellow.

Ever since Tony caught them at it, he had been avoiding coming home at times when he knew Blanche was about. He was so nauseated by his daughter's behaviour he'd sooner eat in the pub than sit across from her at the table.

'I'm off to work,' Blanche muttered, pus.h.i.+ng to her feet. She knew her mother didn't believe her when she said she was done with men. But she meant it. She'd had nothing but heartache off her husband because of the divorce, and nothing but trouble off Charlie. She'd never wanted to do it with him in the shed in the first place and felt ashamed at how low she'd sunk. If Nick or Wes ever found out how she'd been caught out with Charlie Potter, they'd think she was some sort of lowlife s.l.u.t. Not that her father would mention it to a soul, but Blanche couldn't be certain Charlie wouldn't turn vindictive. Blanche knew it would suit her if she never clapped eyes on the creep ever again.

Gladys darted a look at Blanche, noticing her quiet dejection. Her daughter had seemed different lately. She was wearing less makeup and going to work regularly, without moaning. It was far too soon to think Blanche had turned over a new leaf, but the signs were encouraging. 'I'll speak to yer father. Ain't promising nothing 'cos in his eyes you're beyond the pale.' Gladys gave a crisp nod. 'Ain't saying he's wrong, neither. I don't know how he coped with the shock of seeing his own daughter like ... that.' Gladys's face was a study of revulsion. 'But if you're being honest about changing your ways I'll have a word ...'

'I am! I'm sick of men! They're all selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.ds only after one thing!' Blanche burst out.

'Yeah ... well ...' Gladys cleared her throat, turning back to the was.h.i.+ng-up bowl. There was nothing in that bitter statement she could challenge following twenty-eight years of marriage. She'd had to elbow her husband away in bed when he'd tried to climb on top of her the night of the fracas in the garden. If Gladys really thought Tony had been turned on by what he'd seen Blanche and Charlie doing, she'd have screamed blue murder ...

Blanche set off up the road towards work, hands digging into her pockets, head lowered. She avoided looking at a group of women on the opposite pavement. She knew some of the neighbours had questioned her mother about the reason for the commotion in the garden that night. She'd heard Gladys giving short shrift to the old biddy next door, explaining it all away as somebody trying to steal the new mower. The woman had been complaining about getting woken up by Tony's shouting.

'Yer old man calmed down by now, has he?'

Blanche nearly jumped out of her skin as Charlie stepped out from his hiding place and came up quietly behind her. She clapped a hand to her heart, trying to steady its erratic thumping. 'You frightened the bleedin' life outta me!'

Charlie rubbed a hand over her rump, wedging her skirt between her legs. 'Missed this, gel, like mad. But thought I'd stay clear fer a little while till you sorted things out at home. Bet you've put up with some stick off your mum 'n' dad, ain't yer?'

Blanche sprang away from his touch, wondering why she hadn't realised before just how disrespectfully he treated her. She darted a glance back the way she'd come. The last thing she wanted was her mother turning the corner and spotting him. Gladys would straight away think she'd been lying about leaving the past behind.

'It's all over with us, Charlie,' Blanche announced. She saw at once the spitefulness in his eyes. But she was determined to cut free of him and was, in a way, glad he'd turned up so she could tell him so. If it hadn't been for Joyce Groves giving Charlie the eye, Blanche knew she'd have finished with him ages ago. Well, Joyce was welcome to him.

'You don't mean that,' Charlie lilted, giving her arm a stroke. 'You're just listening to yer old man. I know we got caught out and it was embarra.s.sing. You're a grown woman and can do what you want without asking yer parents' permission.'

'What I want is to keep a roof over me head and not get chucked out. For that I do need me parents' permission.' Blanche crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her chin. 'You've got a wife and kids; it weren't ever gonna work out between us, and you know it.'

'I'm done with Ruby; you're the one I want,' Charlie lied. 'Swear that's true, and I'll prove it to yer. I've come over to tell you we can move in together now I've kicked her out.' Charlie was hedging his bets in case he couldn't find Ruby and drag her back. He needed a woman indoors, providing home comforts when he finished work, more than he'd realised. His preference would be for his wife because she'd grown used to his ways. Charlie reckoned Blanche could end up being a pain in the backside with her demands, and unlike Ruby she had family around her who'd be sticking an oar in if he kept her in line with a slap.

Blanche's jaw dropped; she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The idea that Charlie seriously believed she'd consider moving in with him was as horrifying as it was astonis.h.i.+ng. 'It's over, Charlie,' she said hoa.r.s.ely. 'Ain't moving in with you ever, so you'd be best off taking your wife back. I'm stopping with me parents. Don't come round here no more after me 'cos if you do me dad's gonna get the law on you.' She hurried past, praying he'd get the message and go quietly without following her.

Jennifer smoothed a hand over her pregnant b.u.mp, gazing at it with a mixture of wonder and loathing. She'd got knocked up before, about three years ago. She'd suspected on that occasion Bill had been responsible and had told him so. He'd known there was a fair chance it was his so had sorted her out some money, and the address of a woman who'd get rid of it. Bill hadn't been around in months and Jenny knew even if he had he wouldn't sh.e.l.l out to dislodge another man's b.a.s.t.a.r.d from her belly. Bill would tell her it was the culprit's responsibility to come up with the necessary. Jennifer agreed; she was desperate enough now to go and knock on the Jewish b.a.s.t.a.r.d's door and demand some support, as Bill wasn't around to hound him for her. Bill would have confronted David if he'd still been coming over on his visits. She should have kept herself prettier for Bill, she realised. She missed him; he'd looked after her in his own way ... far better than any other man ever had, even her own father.

Jenny stood up from the sofa, feeling restless. She'd not seen David Goldstein in a while and that made her think he'd got wind of her condition from her sister and was keeping his distance. Her mouth slanted angrily. She'd go and nab him in Leman Street police station, if necessary, and show him up in front of all his colleagues. But first, she'd give him a chance to do the right thing and quietly support her and the kid because she didn't want Kathy to know what a horrible, mean cow she'd been. She'd hooked Kathy's boyfriend on purpose, wanting to get one over on her nice, beautiful sister. She'd never intended it to continue after that first time. But after the first time she'd wanted it to, and she knew to her shame that if David turned up again she'd end up in bed with him.

As Kathy came in from the yard, carrying the mat she'd been shaking out, Jenny bit her lip thoughtfully. 'Been out anywhere nice with that boyfriend of yours?'

Kathy let the mat fall by the back door. 'I'm not seeing David any more.'

Jenny's ears p.r.i.c.ked up. 'Oh? Had a bust-up with him?'

'Not really,' Kathy said, rinsing her hands under the tap and flicking them dry. 'We just decided we'd grown apart. Want me to give you a quick examination while I'm here?'

Jenny turned her back. 'No ... I'm all right ... don't need no poking around, thanks all the same.'

'What are you knitting?' Kathy indicated the small pale lemon sc.r.a.p hanging off needles discarded on the settee. 'Is it something for the baby?'

Jenny threw a cus.h.i.+on on top of the tiny cardigan, hiding it. 'Don't know why I'm bothering,' she muttered. 'Social can have it for adoption. I ain't keeping it.'

'You'll feel differently when the baby's born,' Kathy said gently. 'Have you stopped being sick?'

Jennifer nodded, keen to resume their conversation about David. 'The copper's found himself another girl, has he?'

'I think so; but from the way he spoke it didn't sound very serious.' Kathy frowned at her sister. Usually her twin only seemed eager to quiz her over their parents and Tom.

'Typical man, he's thrown you over to go off with somebody else.' Jenny's amus.e.m.e.nt sounded shrill. 'Give us his address, Kathy, and I'll go round and sort him out for you.'

'Won't do you much good; you won't find him there,' Kathy chuckled, still puzzled by her sister's sudden interest in her social life.

'Where will I find him then?'

'Spain.'

'What?' Jenny croaked.

'David's given up his job and gone to fight in the civil war. He was travelling to France first, then on to Spain. He sailed earlier in the week, with his cousin, Sam.'

Jenny dropped back down to the sofa. 'Made sure he got himself well away then ...'