Lizzie of Langley Street (7 page)

Vinnie wanted to throttle Bert. Now he would look a right amateur.

‘Hark at it,’ laughed the little man. ‘He thinks it’s
china
!’ There was a chorus of loud laughter. Directed at him, it made Vinnie cringe. He had been made
a laughing stock and it was all Bert’s fault.

‘You thick ’eaded numbskull, Bert.’ Vinnie turned angrily. ‘I told you to keep that bleedin’ big gob of yours shut, you silly bastard.’

‘You told me it was china,’ Bert said again. His big lapdog eyes stared forlornly at his brother.

‘Course it’s not bloody china.’ Vinnie pulled his lapels back into shape. ‘Don’t you see I’m trying to do a deal here? Don’t you understand we’re
on to a winner? And all you can do is stand there and look at me like a—’ But Vinnie never finished his sentence because Bert was turning and walking away.

Vinnie couldn’t believe his eyes. What was Bert doing? He gulped down his shock. Bert was leaving him. Dependable, trustworthy, thick as two planks Bert was abandoning him. But Vinnie
realized Bert wasn’t going very far. The two other men had stopped laughing and were blocking Bert’s path.

Vinnie knew then they were trapped. They weren’t going anywhere, either of them. Something made him turn. A crowbar was poised above his head. The iron claw came down. It sank into the
fabric of his hat, missing his skull by a fraction.

‘Bastard!’ he screamed as he fell back, unharmed but shocked. The crowbar came down again. He dodged it. This time it lodged in the wood. Vinnie looked into the small man’s
surprised eyes. He lifted his boot and kicked hard. It was a real pleasure to see the agony; he continued the kicking, enjoying every moment of it.

Without his muscle, the little tosser was nothing. It was he, Vinnie, who would call the tune. When he’d taught him a lesson, he’d make him open up the crates. He’d return to
Mik triumphant. Either way, booze or no booze, he’d have followed instructions and saved Mik an embarrassment.

Then suddenly everything went black. Vinnie stared, bewildered, into the darkness. He kicked out, but his boot found only thin air. There was a lot of shuffling and Vinnie stumbled back against
the woodpile. He kicked out again, but this time in self-defence. He swung his arms violently, his knuckles grazing the wood. The darkness was pitch. He could hear his own breathing and things
going on around him. Movement. Hushed voices. And smells.

Where was everyone? Where was Bert? His heart felt as though it was trying to get out of his chest. He felt his way along the wood, sweat dripping from his forehead. His wet palms found a wall.
Why hadn’t they come after him?

He flattened his back to it, his eyes searching the darkness. There were outlines shapes, noises. Where the fuck was everyone?

He soon got his answer.

A flicker of light broke the darkness. A thin tongue of orange licked upward, caressing the wood gently. Vinnie stared at it, not understanding at first. Then a cold terror filled him. The
inside of the warehouse flickered into light.

They had torched the place. The bastards. They intended to burn them alive. They would die here. This stinking yard was to be their tomb. Nothing would ever be found of them. The warehouse was a
perfect incinerator.

He panicked. Coughing and spluttering, his lungs filled with thick grey smoke. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He stumbled along blindly, grabbing at anything he could find. He was going to die
here. A slow and terrible death. He was sobbing like a baby and he didn’t care.

Suddenly his vision cleared. The smoke parted like a curtain and he rubbed his eyes. He blinked and blinked once more. In front of him was the door they had entered by. He couldn’t believe
his luck.

For one brief second he thought he heard Bert’s voice. But he convinced himself he hadn’t. There was nothing that would persuade him to retrace his steps. And it was Bert’s
bloody fault anyway. He thought he heard the voice again and ignored it. He stumbled towards the door and wrenched it open. A gust of air poured in. He fell out into the night, not stopping to look
back at the burning warehouse as he ran as fast as his shaking legs would carry him.

‘L
ook at this, bread pudding, still warm from Lil’s oven,’ Kate told Lizzie as she came in the back door carrying an enamel dish.
‘Ain’t she a good mate? You smell that mixed spice. Me mouth is watering already. Oh, what a treat!’ Carefully, Kate lowered the pudding to the table.

‘It looks smashing.’ Lizzie went to the table. ‘Ma, there’s something—’

‘Babs’ll be in soon,’ Kate continued as she filled the kettle with water. ‘I told her she could have ten minutes more. Ethel and her two kids are over from Blackheath, so
we had to be polite and stay for a bit.’

‘That’s nice, but—’

‘Them two kids are lovely,’ Kate sighed, taking off her coat and hanging it on the peg behind the door. ‘Really growing up quick. Rosie’s just like her mother, all blonde
hair and big blue eyes, and for two she’s ever so bright.’ She turned to Lizzie, her face flushed and smiling. ‘Flo all right, love?’

Lizzie nodded. ‘She’s asleep.’

‘And young Timmy!’ Kate exclaimed as she put on her pinny. ‘What a little monkey! Into everything he is, but lovable with it. Dunno where he got his blue eyes from, though.
Now, go and tell yer brothers I’m doing supper. I’ll slice this up thinly. It’ll be just like old times, all sitting round the table together having supper.’

‘Ma,’ Lizzie said, waiting for the eruption when she broke the news, ‘Bert and Vinnie went out.’

Kate turned to stare at her. ‘Went out? When?’

‘Just after you went to Lil’s.’ Lizzie added quickly, ‘Bert said they wouldn’t be long.’

Kate stood still, her thin body stiffening. ‘Did he say where they were going?’

Lizzie shook her head. She didn’t want to tell Kate they had gone down the pub, even though it was obvious to one and all that they had.

Kate walked slowly to the rocker and sank down. ‘I should have known better than to go out. I might have guessed the buggers would ’op it the moment I turned me back.’

‘Don’t worry, Ma.’ Lizzie sat on one of the wooden chairs. ‘Bert said he’d keep an eye on Vinnie.’

Kate laughed mirthlessly. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard that one before an’ all. He can’t keep an eye on himself, let alone his brother.’

‘Would you like me to cut you a nice piece of Lil’s bread pudding?’

‘No thanks, ducks.’ Kate gazed into space. All the colour had drained from her face.

Silently Lizzie rose and took the boiling kettle from the hob. Automatically she went through the motions of making tea, trying to think of a way to distract Kate. When she’d poured the
hot brown liquid into two mugs, she sat down again, passing one mug to her mother.

‘Thanks, love.’

‘Shall I take one in to Pa?’

Kate glanced at her. ‘No, I hope he’ll be asleep by now. If he isn’t, he’ll let us know all right.’

‘Tell me one of yer stories, Ma.’ Lizzie pulled her skirt over her knees and tucked her feet up under her bottom. ‘The one about poor Granny Allen.’

Kate did smile then. ‘Lizzie Allen, you’ve heard all those stories before. Fact is, I reckon you could tell them to me.’

‘No I couldn’t.’ Lizzie sipped her tea. ‘You always make them sound different each time you tell them.’

Kate laughed. ‘I do, do I? Oh well, I’ll have to remember me lies, won’t I?

They both laughed, then Kate sighed. ‘Well, Granny Allen was a beauty and famed for it. But Grandfather Allen was a drunk, I’m sorry to say. Yer father saw ’is mother dragged
down the stairs by her hair, and yer grandfather let her lie in her own blood. It wasn’t the first beating she ever took in drink, and it wasn’t the last. When we started to walk out,
your father promised me that I’d never have a drunkard for a husband. He kept his promise and never touched a drop since.’ For a moment Kate paused, then she glanced at Lizzie.
‘You sure Bert gave no indication of where they was going?’

Lizzie shook her head, trying to think of another distraction.

Kate reclined in the chair.

‘Tell me about when Pa was at sea and you was in service with that rich lady,’ Lizzie said quickly.

‘You just told it yerself, you silly moo,’ Kate sighed. ‘You know the story word for word by now.’

‘Not the way you tell it, I don’t.’ Lizzie really did love hearing all the old family stories. There was only Kate to learn from.

Kate looked down at her mug of tea. After a while she sat back, smiling to herself. ‘I met your father whilst I was in service – as you well know. He was at sea and, like hundreds of
young women of my time, I was in the employ of a very wealthy family. Occasionally, I got a weekend off from Lord and Lady Arnott’s. Then I would come back to the island from Surrey to visit
yer gran.

‘And that’s when you met Pa?’ Lizzie prompted, eager for the flow to continue

Kate looked at Lizzie with a frown. ‘I dunno why I’m repeating meself like this. I must have told you a hundred times before.’ Lizzie was relieved to hear her mother continue
despite raising her eyebrows and sighing again. ‘Anyway, Granny Watts knew Granny Allen, who lived at the back of this house on March Street, so it was only natural I should bump into yer
father when he was home on leave. Well, I left the Arnotts at the same time as yer father come off the merchant boats and transferred to the Port of London Authority. That was when he asked me ter
marry ’im.’

‘And you said yes.’

‘And I said yes.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘Blimey, gel, I’ll get an ’oarse throat at this rate!’

‘I’ll pour you another cuppa—’

Kate reached out and took her arm. ‘Sit down, gel. I ain’t finished this one yet.’ Kate took a long slow gulp of tea and licked her lips. ‘We lived with Granny Watts, who
was a widow – me dad died whilst I was in service. I had a bit of training that ’elped me to keep a clean house and yer father worked hard, never losing sight of ’is promise not
to drink.’

‘He must have loved you, Ma.’

Kate nodded slowly. ‘Yes, my love, he did. And I loved him too.’ The smile slowly faded and was replaced by an expression of sadness. ‘Anyway, the war came along and knocked
all the romance out of our ’eads.’

Kate closed her eyes and rested her head against the high wooden back of the rocking chair.

‘Why don’t you go to bed, Ma?’ Lizzie whispered. ‘I’ll wait up for the boys.’

Kate opened her weary eyes. ‘I dunno. The buggers might roll in pissed. I don’t want yer father disturbed again.’ She rubbed her chest slowly. ‘But me indigestion is
playing up a bit. I could do with an early night.’

‘I’ll wait up for them,’ Lizzie assured her mother.

‘You’re a good girl, Lizzie Allen. A real treasure.’ Kate kissed her on the forehead. ‘Tell those two when they come in, if they make so much as a squeak I’ll have
their guts for garters in the morning.’

Lizzie watched her mother go slowly along the passage. The door of the front room opened and closed gently.

It was half an hour later when Babs came in. Lizzie put a finger to her mouth. ‘Shh! Ma’s gone to bed.’

‘Shush yerself,’ said Babs with a scowl. ‘I got eyes in me head, ain’t I?’

‘You’d better get upstairs to bed.’

‘You ain’t me mother.’ Babs swept out of the kitchen, tossing back her auburn curls. Lizzie sighed. Babs was getting worse. One day, it wouldn’t stop at words.

Lizzie sat up in the rocking chair. She must have fallen asleep. The wooden clock on the kitchen shelf said it was almost eleven. She heard a noise at the front door and got up
to see who it was. A hand came through the letterbox and pulled up the string. Two figures entered. She thought she was dreaming when she saw who was with Bert.

‘Danny! What are you doing here?’

They all went into the kitchen. Danny shut the passage door behind him.

His voice was hushed. ‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’

Bert asked anxiously, ‘Vinnie back yet?’

‘No, he ain’t. I thought he was with you. You said you were going up the pub.’

‘Is everyone in bed?’ Danny asked.

She nodded, looking from one to the other. ‘Bert, you’re filthy! What’s that over your jacket?’

Danny nudged him. ‘You’d better go and wash yer hands and face, Bert. I’ll have a word with yer sister.’ His big shoulders drooping, Bert walked out into the yard.
‘Don’t be too hard on him,’ Danny said quietly. ‘He ain’t quite himself.’

‘I can see that, Danny. What’s going on?’

‘You’d better sit down. I’ll tell you all I know. But it ain’t very much, I’m afraid.’

They pulled out the chairs and sat next to each other. ‘There was a fire at a timber yard up at Limehouse tonight,’ Danny told her. ‘As far as I can make out, Bert and Vinnie
was in it.’

‘Oh, no!’ Lizzie jumped up again, her hand clamped to her mouth.

Danny pulled her down gently. ‘Hold your horses, gel. Bert thinks Vinnie must have got out.’

‘He
thinks?’
Lizzie closed her eyes. When she opened them, Danny was squeezing her arm. ‘You all right, gel?’

She nodded. ‘I don’t understand. What were they doing at a timber yard?’

‘Beats me. I found Bert up Poplar. I’d done a few late deliveries for me dad. It was dark, and when I spotted Bert. . . thought he’d had one over the eight. He was sort of
stumbling along. I told him to hop up on the cart. He looked bloody awful, all dazed, like. And he stunk of smoke. He kept saying there had been a fire at this timber yard, that he couldn’t
find Vin.’

Bert came back in, then. His face and hands were cleaner, but his clothes were still filthy. ‘Well, whatever your excuse is, Bert Allen, you’d better not let Ma see that
jacket,’ Lizzie said, her voice shaky. Why couldn’t Bert stay out of trouble? She had warned him enough times. And where was Vinnie? If he had got out of the fire, why hadn’t he
come home?

Bert slowly took off his jacket and rolled it up. ‘I’ll give it a scrub in a minute.’

Lizzie couldn’t be angry with him for long. He did look in a state. ‘Sit down,’ she told him, ‘and I’ll make you a cup of tea. You’d better tell me what
happened.’