Lizzie of Langley Street (36 page)

Bert pulled Benji slowly along as the rain beat hard against them. The old horse could only just move one hoof in front of the other. Bert murmured consolingly, his hand going
up to urge him on. They were both drenched. Bert looked helplessly up and down the street, shivering under his jacket. The sky was as dark as night, the rain relentless. He knew Benji wanted to
stop. If only they could get to shelter. The warehouse would provide some warmth at least.

When Bert saw the warehouse, he sighed with relief. The rain lashed his face as he led the horse towards it. Beyond the wasteland was a large black car, an unusual sight in this district. Inside
the warehouse, Bert found a corner. Tying the rein loosely to a wooden strut and wiping off what wet he could with an old sack, he patted the horse’s head. ‘At least yer in the dry now,
old son. Looks like yer travellin’ days are over for a bit.’ He took out the nosebag that he had stuffed under his coat and tied it round the horse’s head. Benji began to eat.
Bert smiled. That was a good sign.

Bert turned away. His mind was on the horse as he walked down to the workshop to find Danny. He tried to accustom his eyes to the gloom. Danny would have to fix himself up with better lights,
Bert thought distractedly.

Suddenly he stood still. The blood froze in his veins. Frank was standing by the lorry. What was he doing here? Then Bert saw Vinnie at the bottom of the staircase. Moving slowly towards them,
Bert stared at the floor. There was something lying there. It looked like a body. He stopped, his mind confused. What had happened? Was it Lizzie? He moved forward again as a wave of disbelief went
through him. It was Danny lying there, motionless.

Then Bert heard a noise, a loud wail, a banshee cry; it was both roar and scream. He was surprised to find the noise pouring from his own mouth. The two figures in front of him were turning,
attempting to run, but Bert ran after them; as big and clumsy as he was, he ran fast, the anger inside propelling him.

He lunged at Frank and knew a moment’s deep hatred for the man squirming in his grasp. He jerked back his head and smashed it into Frank’s face. There was an explosion of blood.
Frank fell to his knees, screaming loudly.

Bert stared pitilessly down at his wretch of a brother-in-law. He had witnessed the degradation that Frank had brought to his family, the disregard shown for his own kith and kin. He was an evil
man, a coward and a bully. Bert linked his big hands round Frank’s neck, increasing the pressure. Frank’s fists waved uselessly. Bert was in a kind of trance. At the back of his mind,
he knew that he was killing Frank. Nothing could bring back the years that Frank had poisoned, but this felt right, as though there was some justice for animals like him. Not even a piece of wood
that crashed against Bert’s head, sending his hair flying up in a spurt of red, made him stop. Bert merely turned, untroubled by the pain that only angered him more.

Astonished that his action had no effect, Vinnie ran off.

Bert looked back at Frank, oblivious to Vinnie’s departure. Frank’s life was draining away, his face turning blue, his lips quivering. Bert tightened his fingers, the ease with which
he was snuffing out a life surprising him.

‘Bert . . . no . . . don’t!’ Lizzie stood at the top of the staircase, screaming, her trembling hands covering her mouth.

Bert looked up. For a moment he wondered where he was. Suddenly he realized what he was doing. He dropped Frank like a dead weight. Hurrying to the staircase, Lizzie ran into his arms. He hugged
her tightly.

‘They . . . they tried to kill him . . . oh, Bert, what have they done?’ She swayed.

Bert held her. ‘You all right?’ he muttered in a thick, shocked voice.

She nodded. ‘Yes . . . yes.’ They both looked at the door as it swung on its hinges. Frank had run off.

‘I nearly did him in,’ Bert said as Lizzie gathered herself. ‘If you hadn’t screamed . . .’

She took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I know, I know. But you didn’t.’ Together they went and kneeled beside Danny. Blood trickled from his head and ran down his cheek.

‘Danny, Danny?’ Lizzie whispered, her voice broken by sobs as she bent over him. Bert watched as she gently pushed back the blood-soaked hair. But nothing she did could wake him
up.

‘D
anny . . . Danny . . . ?’ Even his lashes had blood in them. She tried to wipe it away with her handkerchief. Her voice shook as she
cradled his head in her arms.

Suddenly he gave a little moan and came awake slowly. The skin around his eyes was bruised and swollen. Blood was still coming from his head. She wiped it gently away. He struggled to sit up,
peering from swollen eyes. ‘Lizzie . . . what. . . what happened? Did they hurt you?’

‘No. I locked myself in the office.’

‘Why . . . why did you come back?’

‘Benji went lame. You’ve got a big wound on your head. It was that iron bar.’ Her fingers felt the stickiness.

Bert handed her a rag. ‘’Ere, gel, mop him up with that.’

She held the rag up and gently dabbed at the wound.

‘The ’orse is what done it, mate. We had to come back. I put him up the other end of the warehouse. Then I came down looking for you and I saw Frank and you on the
floor—’

‘They tried to kill you,’ Lizzie interrupted. ‘We should tell the police.’

‘No,’ Danny muttered, ‘. . . no police.’

‘Well, it’s the ’ospital, then,’ Bert said firmly. ‘You’ve got a blooming great chunk out of yer head.’

Danny looked at Bert. ‘No . . . I’m worried about Tom. He’ll wonder where I am.’

‘But you need to have this seen to.’ Lizzie didn’t know what to do. He should go to hospital. And what about Frank? If they went to the police would they take action against
him? Frank would deny it all.

‘The car’s outside.’ Danny gripped Bert’s arm. ‘Out the back . . . by the jetty . . . key’s in it . . . drive it round the front, Bert. Do like I taught you.
Crank it with the starting handle, rev it up and put it into first gear, then second.’

‘I dunno, Danny. I ain’t never done it without you,’ Bert protested, gently restraining him.

‘You’ll do it. You got to, Bert. Take me to Napier Road . . . my lodgings . . . Tom will have gone home—’ Danny was trying to stand up. Bert helped him. Lizzie slipped an
arm round his waist.

‘There’s some bales of hay behind the lorry,’ Danny said muzzily. ‘I use them to spread over the grease on the floor. Give a couple to the horse on your way
out.’

Bert nodded and looked at Lizzie. ‘I’ll give a toot on the horn, right?’

She nodded. ‘Hurry up, Bert, please.’

Whilst Bert was getting the car, Lizzie helped Danny to the small door at the front. He leaned against her, groaning softly, the blood still running down his face.

‘I wish you’d go to hospital, Danny.’

He held on to one of the wooden struts of the warehouse. ‘I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.’

‘You can’t be on your own like this. You and Tom can come back with us.’ The cold air whipped across them as she opened the door. Lizzie looked out but there was no sign of
Bert. Would he really be able to drive a motor vehicle on his own? Just as she was about to step back in there was a loud backfire. From round the side of the warehouse came a large grey car. Bert
was driving it, his large head right up to the windscreen.

‘I done it!’ Bert yelled through the window as he pulled up with a screech of brakes. The engine shuddered and spluttered. Bert climbed out.

Lizzie opened the back door. Bert lowered Danny on to the seat and pressed the rag against his head. Lizzie slid in beside him. ‘Do you know where Napier Road is, Bert?’

‘Yeah,’ nodded Bert as he jumped into the front once more. ‘It ain’t far. You’d better ’old tight, though.’

Danny closed his eyes. His head fell back on the seat. It was the worst journey Lizzie had ever experienced. Bert crunched his way through the gears and they went up on to the pavement with a
huge bump. Luckily, as it was Sunday, no one was about. It was getting dark and Bert lost his way twice. When they arrived at Napier Road, Lizzie let out a sigh of relief. She looked at Danny. He
seemed to have fallen asleep. Was he unconscious, she wondered?

‘Go in and get Tom,’ she told her brother hurriedly. ‘Tell him his dad’s had a bit of an accident, so he’s coming home with us.’

‘Right you are, gel.’ Bert pulled on the hand brake and jumped out to knock on the door of the small terraced house. A few moments later, Tom was sitting safely in the front with
Bert as he drove them back to Ebondale Street.

His brow furrowed in a deep frown, Dr Tapper wound the bandages tightly around Danny’s chest. ‘Fractured ribs will heal in time,’ he muttered grimly,
‘but as for that wound on your head – you were lucky it wasn’t any lower, young man. You would have lost the eye.’

Danny sat on the bed in his old room, now occupied by Flo. She had moved her things into the glory hole as soon as Bert and Lizzie had brought Danny in. There was a chest of drawers and a maple
wardrobe, but Lizzie had never discovered what Frank had done with all Danny’s maps, books and other possessions. Certainly they weren’t in the house. Danny hadn’t yet asked after
them and she was glad.

‘I’ll mend,’ Danny murmured. ‘Thanks for the stitching up, Dr Tap.’

‘The scar it will leave won’t improve your looks, young man.’

‘That’s the least of me worries.’

Dr Tapper cleared away his things and rolled down his shirtsleeves. ‘Remember, no exertion for the next few days. The more you rest the quicker those ribs will heal.’

Lizzie picked up a clean shirt that she had found in one of Frank’s drawers. She had also given one to Bert to change into. Her wet and bloody coat was awaiting a scrub and the soiled rags
had been disposed of. Carefully she helped Danny put on the shirt. His movements were slow and painful.

‘I don’t suppose any of you are going to tell me what happened?’ Dr Tapper drew on his black coat. His hair was now pure white, his old shoulders drooping with age. He no
longer used a carriage but drove a small black car to visit his patients.

Danny said quietly, ‘It’s personal, Doc’

The old man hesitated. ‘You know, with injuries such as those, the police should be informed.’ He snapped his bag shut. ‘I’m an old man, but I’m no fool. My
professional advice is to go to the police. Report the incident. But knowing this community as I do, I’m well aware that you’ll deal with this amongst yourselves.’ His eyes went
slowly to each of them. ‘As a friend of the family, I would simply say, be careful. You were fortunate today. Next time . . . well . . . you may not be so lucky.’ His gaze rested on
them a few moments more.

Lizzie glanced at Danny, then followed the doctor to the front room. Flo, Bert and the children were waiting there.

‘Is Dad going to get better?’ Tom ran across from the table.

‘Yes, he’s going to be fine.’ Dr Tapper patted Tom’s fair head. ‘But don’t pester him. Let him rest.’ He looked up. ‘And you, Bert, remember
I’ve put several stitches into that cut on the back of your head.’

Bert went red. ‘Dunno what done that.’

Dr Tapper had a wry smile on his face. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’

‘I’ll see you out, Doctor.’ Lizzie led the way.

‘Call me if you need me.’

Lizzie knew he had his suspicions. She also knew he would keep them to himself. On the island, everyone accepted that rough justice was the only law that counted.

For Tom and Polly’s benefit, the story was that Danny had been injured by the engine hoist. Tom had seen his father working with the big chain and hook. If it
wasn’t secured properly, it could swing perilously in all directions. Polly knew better than to ask too many questions. She was thrilled that Tom and Danny were staying there.

Whilst Danny, Bert, Flo and Lizzie sat in the kitchen, the two children curled up by the fire, drawing.

Flo and Bert lit up their cigarettes. Danny sat stiffly, his face cleaner but the big white patch over the top of his forehead showing the blood beneath. His eyes were still puffy and his
knuckles grazed.

‘I don’t think you should be on yer feet,’ Flo said as Lizzie set a pot of tea on the table. ‘You must feel rotten.’

Danny smiled crookedly. ‘You shouldn’t go by appearances.’

Flo laughed. ‘You can say that again.’

‘How are you, Bert?’ Danny asked. ‘You got a bit of a wallop too.’

‘Didn’t feel a thing,’ he shrugged.

‘Yeah, well, that stands to reason. No sense, no feeling,’ joked Flo, nudging Bert in the arm. Everyone laughed again, but the laughter was forced.

‘Does Dad know about this?’ Danny asked suddenly.

‘I went and told him whilst Dr Tapper was stitching you up,’ Flo said, looking quickly at Lizzie. ‘We thought he’d better know –just in case. He said he’d
come down and see you later. I didn’t say what happened, only that you’d had a bit of an up and downer with Frank.’ Flo turned to Danny. ‘I still can’t believe yer
brother would do this.’

Lizzie sat down at the table. ‘What do you think he’ll do now?’

‘Try again,’ said Danny humourlessly.

‘He won’t stop until he sees you off this island,’ Bert sighed. He balanced his thin cigarette on the glass ashtray. His big, drooping eyes blinked several times.
‘I’d like to get me hands on Vinnie, too.’

Lizzie shuddered. She hadn’t said what had happened at the top of those stairs. She still couldn’t believe Vinnie would attack her. There had never been any love lost between them,
but doing what he had done today, standing by whilst Frank tried to kill Danny and then coming after her, it was not the act of a man in his right senses. Perhaps Vinnie was sick or mad. She
shivered again.

‘This time I’ll be ready for them,’ Danny said. His hand unconsciously went up to the wound.

‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie stared at him.

‘I mean, that’s the last time anyone ever threatens me or mine and gets away with it. And that includes everyone under this roof.’

‘I’m right with you on that, mate,’ said Bert loyally.

‘And you can count on Syd,’ Flo burst out angrily. ‘Frank’s a bloody coward, always has been. I just wish Syd and his brothers could meet him in a dark alley one of these
nights. Trouble is, Frank wouldn’t go up a dark alley, he’s too afraid of his own shadow.’