Lizzie of Langley Street (41 page)

‘What we gonna do?’ screamed Flo. ‘They’ll kill each other!’

There was a thud and Frank went down. Danny’s fist was still clenched after delivering the blow. He’s not holding the hammer, Lizzie thought in relief as she saw blood streaming down
Frank’s face. It was the punch that had landed him on the ground. He kneeled on the pavement, staring at the blood over his hands, his nose streaming. Lizzie watched as he seemed to sway,
then topple over.

Danny moved forward.

‘Don’t, Danny, no!’ Lizzie screamed. She was terrified he would kill Frank.

Just then a car swept into the kerb, a large black shiny one. It was the biggest Lizzie had ever seen. All four doors opened at once. Slowly, but impressively, a short, thin man climbed out. He
looked around at the mess. His hair hung down on the collar of his expensive looking camel overcoat. He was smoking a cigar. Other men followed, their faces shielded under the brims of their hats.
Lizzie recognized him as the bookie, and this was his gang. He stared down at Frank, who was holding his face in his hands and groaning.

‘What do you want?’ Danny muttered, pulling the hammer from the waistband of his trousers.

‘You won’t need that,’ growled Ferreter. ‘Put it away.’

‘Why should I?’ Danny held the hammer in both hands. ‘The odds ain’t in my favour. They weren’t last time either.’

‘I heard,’ Mik Ferreter nodded. ‘Nasty business, that.’

‘You heard all right,’ Danny snarled nodding at his brother. ‘First hand.’

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. I was a bit put out meself when I got a whisper of what happened.’

‘It’s your turf,’ Danny challenged. ‘Or so I’m led to believe.’

The bookie stared coldly into Danny’s angry gaze before replying. ‘Your not wrong there, son. And anyone disputing that has to answer to me. There ain’t a dog that pisses on
this island without me knowing.’ He looked slowly down at Frank. ‘Is there, Frank, me lad?’

Frank moaned, trying to stem the blood that poured from his broken nose.

Ferreter laughed nastily. ‘Yer making a mess on the pavement, cocker. As a matter of fact, I’m having a little spring clean of me own. Don’t do any harm every now and then.
Pick him, lads, before he shits in his pants as well.’ He nodded to his burly escorts; two men blocked Danny’s path as the others bent down, pulled Frank from the ground and dragged him
into the car.

‘Your old man has pushed his luck once too often,’ the bookie told Lizzie as his eyes went curiously down to her hand. He raised his black eyebrows. ‘That’s a nice bit of
jewellery you’ve got there, love.’

Lizzie looked down at her ring. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, yer gonna have the rozzers round here soon about yer window. Before they come I’d get rid of it if I were you. That is, if you value yer freedom.’

‘But it’s my wedding ring.’

Mik Ferreter laughed. ‘Yeah, course it is. And you know who give it to you.’

Lizzie stared in disbelief at Frank’s guilt-ridden face in the back of the car. Again, the years melted away and she recalled the day he had given it to her. She had told him it was a
Dearest ring and he had replied, in surprise, that she knew more than he did. Why hadn’t she realized then that such a valuable item was not Frank’s to give?

She looked at Mik Ferreter, his dark eyes coolly studying her finger. ‘It was stolen,’ she breathed, not asking a question but telling herself. As she looked questioningly at Frank
he turned away, unable to meet her gaze.

The ring was the only thing of value that Frank had ever given her; the symbol of their marriage and commitment to one another. The value had been in that, not in how much it was worth. She
would never have betrayed Frank, even though she had not loved him. As long as the ring was on her finger, she was his wife.

Lizzie slid the ring slowly over her knuckle. She stepped forward and held it out towards the bookie. Ferreter stared at her, a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes. She looked at Frank, then
opened her fingers.

The ring fell, catching the light as it tumbled. The little splash from the drain was all that she heard. Like her marriage to Frank, the ring was gone for ever.

‘W
hat’s Bill going to do?’ Ethel asked as she swept the last shards of glass into the pan.

Lizzie secured the sack she was
holding, tying a firm knot. ‘Dunno. I think he’ll retire now. Gertie wants him to go and live with her.’ She placed the sack beside the others, ready for disposal.

‘What? You mean, they’ll tie the knot after all these years?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘They just never got round to it with Bill working so hard.’ She smiled. ‘You wait till Pol knows. It’ll be all round the school that her grandma and
grandpa are getting married.’

Sitting back on her heels, Ethel laughed. ‘Just shows it’s not too late even in your dotage.’

Lizzie sat down on a wooden crate with a sigh. ‘I don’t know how Bill’s going to take it if Danny identifies the body.’

Ethel laid the brush and pan down. Both women had turbans on and wore trousers, their shirtsleeves rolled up over their forearms. The empty shop was filled with dust and the door was open to let
it out.

‘Do you really think it’s Frank?’

‘From the description, yes.’ Wisps of dark hair curled out from Lizzie’s turban. Distractedly, she pushed one of them back under the cloth, recalling the shock last night when
a policeman had brought the news. A week after the explosion a body had been recovered from the river. A formal identification was necessary. It was Danny who had gone to Limehouse to fulfil the
duty.

‘Would the bookie really have – you know?’ Ethel began uncertainly.

Lizzie shrugged but felt certain Mik Ferreter would have no qualms about meting out his own form of justice to anyone who betrayed him. ‘He said Frank had pushed his luck once too often
– so unless Frank talked his way out of it . . .’ Her voice tailed off.

‘Did you tell the police that?’

‘We had to. I mean, with the shop in the state it was, they wanted to know all the ins and outs. With all the unrest in the country lately they seemed to think that Frank was involved in
some kind of political uprising.’

Ethel burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, but that’s daft, knowing Frank as I do.’

Lizzie agreed with Ethel. Anyone who knew Frank realized his sympathies were directed entirely towards himself. But, had his plan succeeded to set fire to the building, everyone in the place
could have been killed. Had Frank hated them all so much?

‘Thank Gawd it was a bodge job,’ Ethel sighed, ‘and just made a mess. Think what would have happened if Danny hadn’t arrived in the time to stop him.’

They had managed to clear the debris but all the windows were still boarded. Only the open door let in the daylight. ‘The police said it was a crude incendiary device that
backfired,’ Lizzie explained. ‘And they came to the conclusion Frank was in with the political agitators.’

‘What about the business of the ring?’ Ethel asked curiously. ‘Did you tell the police about it?’

‘No, I left that bit out.’

‘No wonder, if it was stolen.’

‘I was lucky no one noticed before. It was a lovely ring.’

Lizzie felt for the vacant space on her left hand. Her heart gave a little flutter as she thought of what she had done. But throwing the ring away had been an outward sign of her inner
determination to start again.

‘I’m really sorry,’ Ethel said quietly. ‘You loved that ring.’

‘I love me life more, Ethel. And I intend to get on with it.’

‘You sound different, you know.’

Lizzie knew what Ethel meant. She felt different inside, more sure of herself and less uncertain of her future, which was odd in a way. She didn’t know what she was going to do about the
shop – her livelihood. Bill was going to retire, although he had told her he wanted her to start again, that he would even let her have money to put new windows in and buy stock. But she
wasn’t rushing into it. She wanted to make the right decision for her and Polly. ‘Well, I’ve done a lot of thinking in the last week,’ she said quietly. ‘With Babs
disappearing it’s down to me to decide what’s best for Polly.’

‘Do you know where Babs is?’

‘No. Someone told me they thought they saw her at the train station but couldn’t say for definite.’

‘Poor old Pol,’ Ethel sighed. ‘How is she?’

‘I think she understands a lot more than she lets on.’ Lizzie’s overriding worry was that if Frank really was Polly’s father and if it was him lying dead on that mortuary
slab, how would they all feel then?

‘What about Danny?’ Ethel asked with a curious frown.

‘What about him?’

‘You know what I mean,’ grinned Ethel.

Lizzie smiled. ‘You sound like your mum.’

The two girls burst into laughter. Ethel’s eyes opened wide. ‘Tell you what, you and Pol and Danny and Tom could all move back to Langley Street. Number eighty-two is empty now.
After all the police raids on the knocking houses, old Symons would be only too pleased for you to take it over again.’

Lizzie sighed. ‘I don’t even know if I’m a widow yet.’

‘You’ve been one for five years,’ Ethel answered drily, ‘the amount you saw of Frank.’

Lizzie’s green eyes were far away. ‘I couldn’t go back to Langley Street.’

‘Why not? Mum and Dad would love it. It’d be just like old times.’

‘But it’s not old times, is it? It’s the here and now.’

‘Crikey, you have changed.’

Lizzie nodded slowly. ‘I don’t want to live with ghosts, Ethel.’

‘You’re not afraid of ghosts are you?’ Ethel chuckled. ‘’Cos I can tell you right here and now, ghosts won’t last long round Langley Street, not with old Vi
on the loose. It’s supposed to be ghosts that do the haunting not the neighbours.’

They laughed again until Lizzie stood up, stretched her back and glanced round the shop. ‘I think we’ve just about finished in here. Ethel, I really appreciate you coming over to
help on your day off.’

Ethel smirked. ‘I’ve enjoyed meself, really. All this excitement.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth, her blue eyes wide.
‘Fancy saying that when Danny is out looking at a dead body.’ She went pink. ‘What time d’you think he’ll be back? Wonder what
happened?’

Lizzie nodded to the small green Singer car that was pulling into the pavement outside the front door. A tall figure in a grey suit climbed out. ‘Here he is now. We’ll soon find
out.’

Half an hour later, after a cup of tea in the kitchen, Lizzie stood at the door of the airey, hugging her friend goodbye. A soft April breeze swirled down the concrete steps.
‘Thanks for everything, Ethel. You sure you won’t have a lift?’

‘No thanks. I’m off up the market while I’ve got the chance.’ She added in a soft voice, ‘I really am sorry, Lizzie. I know what a bugger Frank was, but it must
have been a shock all the same.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘It was, even though I was expecting it.’ She cleared her throat. It hadn’t sunk in yet that it really was Frank’s body they’d found.

‘I expect it’ll be in the papers,’ Ethel sighed.

‘Yes. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Gossip only lasts till the next bit.’

‘See you over at Mum’s soon then, like old times.’

Lizzie watched her friend climb the airey steps. She didn’t know if it was possible to return to old times. She certainly wouldn’t move back to Langley Street. She wasn’t sure
she wanted to stay here either. She had saved a little money and put it by for a rainy day. Had the rainy day arrived, she wondered?

She closed the door. There was half an hour before collecting Polly from school. Enough time to talk to Danny on their own for a while. He stood by the fire, his elbow resting on the
mantelpiece. For all Frank had done, neither of them wanted him dead.

Without a word, he took her in his arms.

She leaned her head on his chest. ‘Do they know how he died?’

‘He drowned, the police said. And there’s no evidence to suggest foul play, but. . .’ Danny held her gently away from him. ‘You’d better sit down. I’ve got
something else to tell you.’

‘What?’ Lizzie clutched his arms. ‘What’s wrong?’

Danny pushed her gently into the armchair. ‘The police were going to arrest Frank. He had set up a house at Whitechapel.’

‘You mean a brothel?’

Danny nodded. ‘And it was with Babs.’

She stared at him. Her voice shook as she asked, ‘How do you know?’

‘The police inspector said they had a tip-off. Because of all the unrest in the city, they’re having a crackdown.’

‘So that’s why they wanted to know if we’d seen Babs?’

Danny nodded. ‘She faces arrest too if she’s found.’

With difficulty, Lizzie composed herself. If she was honest it was no longer the fact that Babs had no love for her as a sister that hurt, but it was hard to accept that Babs and Frank had
formed a relationship that seemed to have endured. She looked up at Danny. ‘And Vinnie?’

‘He’s at Bow Street. Nothing to do with the brothels, but for receiving stolen goods. Some of the charges, including a West End burglary, go back years. Like Frank, Vinnie must have
upset a few people in his time.’

Lizzie felt tears of anger spring to her eyes. ‘What’s so unjust is that the bookie won’t answer for his crimes,’ she said bitterly. ‘If it wasn’t for
him—’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Danny interrupted. ‘The police have found new evidence against him and closed down his businesses. He was the last person to see Frank
alive, but the police have no proof of murder. It’s my feeling they’re going to make another charge stick.’ He looked back into the fire. For a moment he stood there deep in
thought. He had loved his brother, if Frank had never loved him. That was the tragedy, Lizzie thought sadly. It could have been so different.

Lizzie stood up. She laid her hand on his shoulder. As he turned round she saw the grief in his eyes. He drew her into his arms. A warmth flowed slowly back into her body, a love that was
immeasurable.

‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Marry me—’ She put her hand up to his lips. ‘Don’t ask me yet.’ He gazed into her eyes, sighing heavily.
‘I’ve waited twelve years to say that, I suppose I can wait a bit longer.’ His arms folded tightly round her. ‘Just don’t forget that as each day goes by, it
won’t come again. I want to wake up with you beside me each morning. I want to look after you and the kids. I want us to be a family.’