Goodnight Lady (40 page)

Joshua jumped from his seat.

‘Will you shut up! For once in your life, shut that great big gob of yours! If it hadn’t have been for you, I’d have married Eileen fair and square. But no, you didn’t want me married, not to her or anyone. Well, she was a slut like her bloody sister. Can’t you see, I can get us enough money with this knowledge to set us up anywhere we want to go?’

For the first time ever Elizabeth O’Malley was lost for words. This great big son of hers really thought he could get away with threatening Briony Cavanagh.

‘You’re mad, son, stark staring mad if you honestly believe that. Briony Cavanagh will tear London apart looking for us. You have nothing on her, nothing at all. Because she’ll see you don’t live long enough even to breathe a word of what you know.’

Tommy Lane walked into the tiny cabin then and said: ‘I couldn’t agree with you more, love.’

Joshua felt a sinking sensation in his bowels as he looked at Tommy Lane’s smiling face.

Elizabeth O’Malley took her son’s arm, pulling him to try and get him to move.

‘Come on, Joshua. At least walk out of here under your own steam.’

He allowed himself to be led from the cabin. Tommy walked beside them, his hand on Elizabeth’s arm. The vicious-tongued old woman beside him looked very small all of a sudden, and very vulnerable.

Gritting his teeth, he helped her into his car. This one was for Briony. He owed her this much at least.

 

‘Who’s at the door?’

Cissy marched across the hallway in her dressing gown. ‘How the bleeding hell do I know? See through solid wood, can I?’ She opened the door wide and gasped.

‘Hello, Tommy... Briony’s in bed.’

Mrs Horlock smiled as he walked into the entrance hall. ‘I’ll go up to her then.’

As he disappeared up the stairs, Cissy and Mrs Horlock clasped one another in glee.

‘He’s back then, I knew he would be!’

The two women smiled conspiratorially.

‘Briony will be sleeping in, I’ll bet!’

Cissy pushed Mrs Horlock in the shoulder gently. ‘Oh, you’re terrible you are!’

Tommy walked into Briony’s bedroom, shutting the door gently behind him. Briony lay asleep, her hair around her head like a deep red halo. She had on a small night light which flickered as the door opened and closed, giving her milky skin a luminous glow. She turned on to her side, giving him a tantalising glimpse of breast, then as she began to burrow under the covers, she froze. Opening her eyes in alarm, she realised someone was there.

‘All right, Bri, calm down, it’s only me.’

She lay on her back once more, staring up at him in wonderment.

‘Tommy?’ She blinked her eyes a couple of times as if unsure what she was seeing was real.

Sitting up in the bed, her face glowing, she hugged her knees through the blankets.

‘You came back? Oh, Tommy, it’s good to see you.’

She flung her arms around his neck, pushing her body against his and feeling the comforting warmth as he hugged her back.

Tommy remembered the love he had had for her, felt the pull of her. He disengaged himself from her arms with difficulty.

‘I’m not back for good, Bri, let’s get that straight now.’

Her face darkened. ‘What do you mean?’ He could hear the confusion in her voice.

‘What I say, Bri. We’re old news, love. I came to tell you something important, something that has to be said face to face. Joshua and his mother are gone. They won’t be back again. What he knew about you and Eileen is as safe as houses.’

‘How did you know... How did you know he’d found out? No one knew, no one except me and me mum and our Eileen...’ She was stammering.

‘I found them tonight, and heard everything they said. At least his mother had the sense to know he’d gone too far. Well, I’ve shut the pair of them up, permanently.’

Briony’s face dropped. Her whole countenance seemed to crumple before his eyes.

‘You don’t mean...’

He nodded.

‘You didn’t have to do that! I could have shut them up. Fear would have shut them up, Tommy, plain and simple fear. I wanted to kill them myself, but I know I never would have. It was just temper. I could have shut them up by myself!’ She pushed him away from her then. Getting out of the bed, she pulled on a wrapper and began pacing the bedroom floor as she tried to comprehend what Tommy had done.

‘My God, Tommy, you’d kill anyone, wouldn’t you? Without another thought? I admit I could have wrung his bloody neck, and a good hiding would have been compulsory, but I’d never have topped them. They weren’t worth topping. They were nothings, no ones. Shit on my fucking shoes! How dare you do that without telling me? How dare you take something like that on yourself and expect me to be grateful!’

‘Well, that’s rich, Briony, I must say. Here’s me trying to help...’

‘Don’t give me that old bollocks, Lane. You wanted an out. Well, you’ve achieved what you set out to do, you’ve got your out, and your big fucking finale into the bargain. Only don’t expect me to drop to me knees with thankfulness. It ain’t gonna happen.’

Tommy stood up.

‘Before I go - about the businesses. I’m staying as a sleeping partner. I’ll send you details of where to bank me money.’

Briony cut him off. ‘Sleeping partner? More like a fucking coma victim! You never ran the houses or the clubs-
I
did. And I didn’t feel the urge to kill all and sundry while I did it. You know something, Tommy Lane? One day you’ll go too far. You always did before. It was me who was the sensible one, the voice of reason. Remember that next time you feel the urge to batter someone’s brains out.’

‘Well, then. We know where we stand, don’t we? I’m off.’

Tommy walked to the bedroom door.

‘Goodbye, Briony.’

She watched him leave the room, then sat on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands, tears forcing their way through her fingers.

Tommy was gone, she was really alone. Empty at last of any real feeling, she dried her eyes. She herself was the only person she could ever rely on from this day forward. It was Briony Cavanagh against the world, and this Briony was a harder, sleeker version than the previous one. Because she had no one at all now except herself.

 

Tommy drove himself home, his heart light inside his chest. He had achieved what he had set out to do. Briony would be fuming with him for what she thought he’d done. But her mind would be at rest with the thought that her secrets were safe. She had broken with him, and so he would try and make a life of sorts without her. His need for her was as strong as ever, but he had to try and live without her.

As he parked outside his house he glanced at his watch. At this moment Kevin Carter was driving Elizabeth O’Malley and her son to Liverpool. They were frightened out of their wits, and both knew better than ever to open their mouths about Briony.

Tommy opened his front door, frowning. It annoyed him that she thought him capable of killing an old woman, even if the old woman was Elizabeth O’Malley!

As he climbed his staircase though, he felt a sort of lightness come over him. He was young, he was unattached, and he was a man of substance.

He had severed his ties with Briony, even though they were still partners. He would still look out for her, no one would hurt her while he breathed, but now he’d look out for her from afar. Her status in the East End wouldn’t change. Briony would still be the force she had always been, only now she would be on her own.

Delilah Glasworthy was fifty-five years old and looked good on it. Her hair was still thick and dark, with only a sprinkling of grey, her eyebrows lustrous and finely shaped and her deep-set brown eyes were humorous. She was tall and slim with long shapely legs which she did not try to hide. A widow for over twenty years, she owned a house in Stepney, in East Street, and let it out to boarders - gentlemen of good standing, civil servants, engineers, and others of that ilk.

She looked down her nose at the people around her, watched young mothers giving their windowsills what she called a ‘cat’s lick’, tutted over children with dirty knees and snotty noses. But in general she kept herself to herself. Today, though, she was sitting in Molly Cavanagh’s kitchen drinking a cup of tea and trying her hardest to pluck up courage to talk frankly to the woman in front of her.

‘You look great, Delilah, your hair is beautiful still. You always had the hair, even as a child.’

Delilah smiled tremulously. She had known Molly Cavanagh from childhood. Their mothers had known each other in Cork; their fathers had both been seamen, then dockers. Of an age, the two women found it easy to pick up exactly where they left off, even though they might not see one another from one year to the next.

‘I still board, Molly. I have some lovely gentlemen at present. Refined types, you know.’

Molly stifled a grin. Refined my arse! she thought, but she nodded pleasantly anyway.

‘But East Street! Molly, it’s gone downhill, I tell you. We have some horrible characters there now. The young women of today. Make-up in the middle of the afternoon! Tally men banging their doors down at all hours, men coming home to ructions and fighting. It’s a disgrace, I tell you. And over the road to me, well, they take blacks now. Nanny Carpenter lets to blacks!’

Molly looked suitably scandalised.

‘Nanny Carpenter! Why she was always the one for respectability!’

Delilah raised her plucked eyebrows and said: ‘You can charge them double, see? It’s a terrible thing really because the poor people have no choice, do they? It’s robbery. And the men seem quite refined and well dressed. In fact, I heard they work in your Briony’s club. Must be her band, eh?’

She gave a tinkling little laugh that she thought sounded very ladylike, and which she practised when she was alone.

Molly’s face dropped now. If they worked for her daughter they were her property, so to speak. Briony was responsible for them. Her eyes narrowed and she said, ‘Charging the poor buggers double, is she? Why, them boys of Briony’s are cleaner than most whites, my Kerry told me that herself! Works with them, doesn’t she? She should know, it stands to reason. Can’t stomach the buggers meself.’

‘I’ve seen Kerry there, actually, Moll. A few times, in fact. That’s what brought me here today. I don’t want to gossip or cause any trouble, you know, but a girl’s reputation is her greatest asset...’ She foundered under Molly’s direct gaze.

‘Go on then, Delilah, spit it out.’

‘Well, people have noticed. Look, Molly, I’m here as a friend so will you stop staring at me like that? You’re making me nervous!’

‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That my Kerry’s black man’s meat. Is that what you dolled yourself up for today, to come and bring lies and filth into my home?’

Delilah stood up abruptly.

‘I’m sorry, Molly, I thought you’d want to know. If it was my daughter... I mean, I’m not saying that anything’s going on, but she picks him up from there in a car, they chat and talk like ... well, like people who are more than friends. I’m telling you before anyone else does.’

Molly chewed on her bottom lip, her face a mask of dismay.

‘I’ll see myself out, Moll. ’Bye, Rosalee love.’

She kissed Rosalee and left hurriedly, rushing up the lane as fast as she could. Sorry now for interfering.

‘They chat and talk like people who are more than friends...’

Kerry had no place being friends with blackies, that was what was bothering Molly. True, she was a singer, a bit bohemian, but that was Kerry. But Molly uneasily remembered her sitting in this kitchen one day and arguing the toss about black people when her mother had made some disparaging comments. She’d been defending her man, the big mysterious man they’d all assumed was married or, as Molly had thought, a man of substance, gentry, a lord. When all the time he was a black man, a dirty stinking black man!

Her disgust knew no bounds. That Kerry, her talented, beautiful Kerry, could sink to that level, broke her heart. Jumping from her seat, she pushed and pulled poor Rosalee roughly as she got her coat on her, dragging the protesting girl from the house on their way to Briony’s.

She would know what to do.

 

Andrew McLawson held Eileen’s hand. He had taken her pulse, checked her over physically, and now he sat looking at her, puzzled.

‘Are you going to talk to me, Eileen?’

She opened her eyes and smiled tremulously.

‘Come on, tell me about yourself.’

He watched the changing expressions on her face and sighed. He had seen people like her before though not many times, he admitted. But he had seen the same haunted look, the same fathomless eyes, the same symptoms. Yet this wasn’t a family who would terrorise a child, or at least they didn’t give that impression. He had a girl at his nursing home, Sea View, who was the product of a very Victorian father and a weak-kneed mother. The girl had had all the life drained from her. The lust for life, the wanting of it, had been gradually beaten from her. Oh, not with fists, though this girl was still carrying the remainder of bruising on her arms and back, but with words and harsh behaviour. She’d been told she was worthless, and now she believed it. Quiet as a church mouse, she sat out her days, looking at the sea and drinking tea, constantly drinking tea, her hands clumsy and shaking. McLawson would lay money that the father had sexually abused the girl, he knew she wasn’t a virgin. But the father was a man of wealth and position, and the doctor was employed to hide people’s mistakes. ‘Bad nerves’ had become a catchall phrase for all the illness of the mind. At Sea View he had men, young virile men, who were still shell shocked from the war. He also cared for old spinster aunts or eccentrics without the private means to keep themselves who were shunted into homes like his by their uncaring relatives. Now he was to have this girl. The Cavanaghs were working-class, the voices betrayed that. But Briony Cavanagh seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of money, judging from this house. He shrugged. How she’d come about it was her business, but her concern for her sister was genuine enough. It was that concern which had prompted him to leave Sea View and travel up to this house to see Eileen O’Malley. Now he knew he would take her. She was like a poor broken bird. He’d take her to the home and try to look after her, but there was something her sister should know first.