Paradise Court (15 page)

‘Ern, this is Mr Leigh,' Jess said gently as he came and waited at her side. ‘Mr Leigh's just moved in with the Ogdens.'

Maurice shook the boy's hand. ‘Nice to meet you.'

Ernie nodded and looked back at Jess.

‘I better see what Pa's got lined up for him to do,' she said. ‘He ain't feeling himself today. None of us is.'

She linked up with her brother and took him down to the far end of the bar where the old man showed him the tray of dirty glasses to wash.

Maurice sat and studied the family group; the grey-haired landlord once probably strong as an ox, now in decline, but still upright and smart, the salt of the earth. There was the boy, led by the hand, made in the same mould as the father and older brother, but raw and unfinished. And the daughter. Maurice stared for a long time at Jess; not flashy, not even aware of how nice looking she was. She was patience itself with the boy, and gentle. She wore her brown hair high on her head, but little wavy strands escaped and curled against the nape of her neck. She wore a dark-blue blouse, high-necked, with a cream flowered pattern, nipped in at the waist. Finding him watching her, she smiled self-consciously and put a hand to the stray strands of hair. Maurice looked away. If he wasn't careful, she'd get through to him in a serious way and undermine his motto. No complications, he reminded himself. New job; plenty to do, places to go.

Little Katie O'Hagan came up to the corner of the court at six as arranged. Hettie was waiting with a cardboard box full of smocks, trousers, socks and boots; all the assorted belongings that the women of the street had been able to muster. ‘We ain't having them going up before the Officer at a time like this,' Hettie insisted. The Relief Board was notoriously unsympathetic towards people like the O'Hagans, who couldn't join in the panel schemes for those who paid out national insurance contributions and who weren't eligible for any of the benefits so far introduced by liberal governments. So Hettie even persuaded some of the men to dip into their pockets to help save Daisy from a pauper's grave. She
appealed shamelessly to their guilt. ‘C'mon, Walt,' she cajoled Robert's friend. Things ain't as bad as all that if you can pay good money to go down Milo's every other day and beat each other's brains out!' She collected the money, together with the clothes, and brought them down to the waiting girl. ‘Tell your ma I'll be down with a bit of something extra in the morning,' she told her. She planned to go round the market stalls for damaged fruit and veg. ‘And you be a good girl, Katie, and help her all you can.'

The girl nodded, wide-eyed. Daisy used to come home and tell them all about Hettie; how kind she was, and what a nice house she lived in. Cathleen walked off a few steps with the huge box in her arms, turned round and smiled.

Hettie stood on the corner, watching her down the narrow court. Women stood or sat at their doorsteps in the evening sun, following the girl with their eyes. Children stopped playing as she passed. The bright light cast long shadows until, at the bottom of the court, the two black, towering tenement buildings swallowed the sun, and Cathleen stepped into their gloom, her grubby smock ghostly. Then she vanished up the narrow stairs.

Hettie went slowly up to their own comfortable living room, where the sun shone and life followed its natural rhythm. The window was raised for Jess to stand and give Grace a few minutes' fresh air, cradled in her arms.

‘I been thinking, Ett,' she said. She looked out across Duke Street at the row of small shops; Edgars' Tobacconist's advertising Navy Cut and Flaked Virginia, Powells' ironmonger's, Henshaw's eating-house and grocer's shop. ‘Nice as it is, I can't go on like this.'

Hettie looked alarmed. ‘You ain't thinking of leaving us again, are you, Jess?' She was closest to her in age; there was only a year between them, and though their personalities were opposites, a strong bond held them close. Ever since Jess had come home, Hettie had looked to her for company and advice. Besides, there was little Grace to fuss over and adore. ‘What's wrong? Ain't you settled here?' She went across and stood by the open window.

‘That's just it, I'm more than settled.' Jess sighed. ‘Pa's been better with Grace than I ever dreamt. He won't hear a word against her.'

‘And no wonder,' Hettie put in. ‘She's an angel.'

‘And the rest of you, you've been grand too. No, I ain't gonna leave again.' She smiled at Hettie's relieved face. ‘But I gotta do something to get a bit of money coming in. I tried talking to Pa about it, but he don't want to know. I mean it though, Ett, and last night, before this terrible thing with Daisy came along and hit us like a steam engine, I sat here and had an idea.'

Hettie heard the excitement in Jess's voice. Everything was changing for the sisters; Frances seemed to be backing out of the heart of family life after all these years in charge. Jess had mellowed into motherhood overnight. Sadie was all talk of Charlie Ogden, and was growing up fast. And now Hettie herself had chucked her job and stood at a crossroads. ‘Go on then, I can see you bursting to tell me,' she said, breathing in the warm air. ‘How you gonna earn your pot of gold, Jess?'

‘It ain't worth a fortune, don't get me wrong. But it's a start. I want to take in a bit of sewing work; alterations and mending. I'll advertise in Henshaw's window and get people to bring their stuff along here. That way there's no trouble getting Grace seen to. What d'you think?' Jess looked nervously at Hettie. ‘It ain't a stupid idea, is it?'

‘It ain't stupid,' Hettie said slowly. ‘But it ain't exactly the Post Office telephonist or the typewriter Frances had in mind.'

‘Frances is Frances,' Jess said firmly, ‘and I'm me. It's good-hearted of her to look out all these job advertisements for me, but honest to goodness, Ett, I don't feel like going out all day and leaving Grace with someone else. No, I know what I want, and that's to be a proper mother to my baby. She ain't got no father, and that's a fact. All the more reason for me to stay home, I say. So you see, the sewing work suits me down to the ground. I can hand over what I earn to Pa, and I'll feel we can stay here long as we want, Grace and me!'

By the end of the long, heartfelt speech, Hettie found herself smiling broadly. ‘Good for you, girl,' she said, turning with a swing
of her skirt and striding to the middle of the room. ‘Tell you what, Jess, let's be partners, you and me. Business partners. I can come in with you if you like. If two of us take in work, we can get through twice as much and make a name for ourselves twice as quick. “Them Parsons girls do a good, quick piece of work, very neat and tidy!” That's what they'll say. We'll be snowed under with work before we know where we are!'

Jess beamed back at her. ‘You sure, Ett? It's a bleeding big jump from the bright lights to this.'

‘Good thing too,' Hettie said. ‘I'd had enough prancing about up there. What happened to Daisy was the last straw, but how much longer can a girl go on kicking her legs about every night, without landing on the scrap heap?' She stood looking at Jess, challenging her to contradict.

‘Ett, you're not even twenty-six till next birthday! You're in your prime!' Jess laughed.

‘Says you.' Hettie's light-hearted manner subsided again. ‘But honest, what happened to Daisy made me think. It ain't a proper life, Jess. There's gotta be more to it than that, ain't there? As a matter of fact, I think I know what it is!'

‘What?' Jess lay the sleeping baby in her crib and came back.

‘I ain't saying. You'll think it's daft.'

‘No I won't, Ett. Go on, I'm listening.'

‘No, honest. I got something in mind, but I want to keep it to myself. Sorry for dragging it up.' Hettie struggled to change the subject. ‘Listen here, am I in with you on this sewing lark or not? You can be the boss, since it's your idea. I'll be the skivvy. How's that?'

‘Oh no, equal partners!'

‘Right you are!' They shook hands and straight away set about drafting a card to put in Henshaw's window. ‘Ern can take it across for us tomorrow morning,' Hettie suggested. ‘You write it out neat, Jess, with all the charges made up in a proper list.'

They only stopped work when Duke rushed upstairs late in the evening. They raised their heads in surprise at the sound of his steps.

He came into the room, arms raised wide, his face delighted. ‘Girls,' he said, ‘I've got a bit of good news!' Propped against the mantelpiece, he could hardly contain himself. For months he'd been worried about Robert; nor enough work down the docks, too many scraps and bits of bother. Now the problem was solved in the best way he could imagine. Duke's heart swelled with pride. ‘I just been talking to Robert,' he told them. ‘The boy's been keeping something from me, but he just give me the news and it couldn't be better. Tomorrow morning he's going for his papers. You know what that means, don't you, girls? It means he's enlisting. He's going to join in the war effort and fight for the King!'

Later that week, as September rolled steadily on, Charlie Ogden stood staring long and hard at the poster roughly pasted on to the red pillar-box at the top of the court. The initials ‘G.R.' sat either side of the King's coat of arms, above the giant black lettering. ‘Your King and Country Need You!' He read that 100,000 men were needed in the present grave emergency. ‘Lord Kitchener is confident that this appeal will be at once responded to by all those who have the safety of our Empire at heart.' They wanted only men at least five foot three inches tall, with a chest measurement of at least thirty-four inches, both of which qualifications Charlie proudly met. But you had to be nineteen. He was just sixteen. Charlie's heart fell. It would be all over before he got the chance to serve. The army offered him no escape from the present misery at home. Even lying about his age wouldn't work; Charlie had one of those fair, smooth-skinned faces with small features, and his physique, though tall, was slender. The army would have to be desperate before they overlooked his birth certificate and accepted him for duty on the Western Front.
‘Hello there, Charlie!' Sadie threw open the window and leaned out. Downstairs, everyone was hard at work preparing to give Rob a grand send-off. Even Frances had left work early to come and lend a hand. ‘Wait there a sec.' She disappeared from view and soon joined him on the street-corner.
‘You're not thinking of enlisting, are you, Charlie?' she said breezily. ‘Ain't one soldier in the street enough for you, then?' She linked arms and kept him company to his front door.
‘I'd go like a shot if they'd take me.' Moodily he kicked the bottom
doorstep. ‘Fighting in France is better than living in this dump.' Maurice Leigh might suit his mother, with his polite ways and his rent paid in advance, but sleeping in a room with Amy was a terrible indignity for Charlie.

Sadie sighed. ‘And here's me thinking you was studying hard so you could leave home and go to college.' His bad moods unsettled her. For her part, just seeing him pass by or walking with him up to school was enough to lift her spirits for the day, while their Sunday bike rides made the whole of life worthwhile. She never fell into these gloomy spells, and wondered why Charlie couldn't just sail along on her cloud with her.

‘I am,' he said, head down, scuffing the step.

‘Well, then, ain't no point going off to France and getting yourself shot at, is there?'

Charlie looked up with a patient but stern expression. ‘Answering the call to arms is a very fine thing,' he pointed out.

‘I know it, Charlie.'

‘It's terrible being too young to serve.' He sat on the step, hands clasped and resting on his knees. ‘All our best men are going out there, Sadie. And you know what, Mr Donaldson told us at school today that they've shipped more than fifty thousand horses across the English Channel to France. It'll be all over by Christmas.'

She nodded, secretly glad that Robert wouldn't have to see much fighting by the sound of it. He'd signed up and got his uniform, but there were a few weeks' training at his barracks near the south coast before he went off to save Paris for the French. Would you like to come to our Robert's send-off?' she asked. It starts at six tonight.'

‘Maybe.' He shrugged.

Feeling snubbed, Sadie backed off. ‘Well, then, I gotta go.'

No answer from Charlie, who'd resorted to notions of following Tommy O'Hagan's lead and simply vanishing as an answer to domestic problems.

Then Sadie made the common woman's mistake of pressing harder for a small commitment from him when the best tactic was to withdraw. ‘But you'll still come on our bike ride this Sunday,
won't you, Charlie?' There was an edge of panic in her voice. What had happened to him, and all his kisses and promises?

He shook his head, staring down at his hands. ‘Is that all you think of, Sadie Parsons? Cycling out into the countryside when we're at war with Germany, and to cap it ill there's been a terrible murder of someone we've both known ever since we can remember? Is that all you think about?' He got up quickly and flung open the door.

‘No it ain't!' Her retaliation was too slow. Charlie was already halfway down the gloomy corridor. ‘Who d'you think has been taking stuff up to the O'Hagans all week? I been up and down them stairs like a jack-in-the-box, and I tell you something, Charlie Ogden, I ain't never seen you up there offering no help!'

Hot tears sprang to her eyes as she stormed off up the court. For all his reading and studying, Charlie missed the obvious things. It was true, Sadie never saw him reach out to help others. He grumbled and dreamt a lot, but he never put himself out. But neither could she bear to argue and think badly of him. It was like making cuts into her own flesh; painful and disfiguring. Sadly she went back to help her sisters.

‘Cheer up, Sadie!' Jess cried. The bar shone from top to bottom. She put the finishing touches to the bread and butter and pastries that lined the bar top. ‘Put a good face on it for Pa's sate. Don't let him think you're sad to see Rob go. We gotta be happy for him!'

Sadie nodded and pulled herself together. ‘What d'you want me to do, Jess?'

‘Go over to Henshaw's and fetch Ernie, will you. I said I wanted him home early, but it seems like he forgot. And when you find him you can help him spruce himself up a bit for the party.'

Sadie went off to look for her brother while preparations continued. The sisters brought down huge plates of cold pressed beef, veal and ham pie and fruit tarts. Duke fussed with the bungs and chocks under the barrels in the cellar, and even Joxer showed up in collar and tie instead of his usual bare neck and scarf. At
six o'clock, people began to stroll in off the street to a liquid welcome and tables heaped with food.

‘Just like good old Teddy's Coronation feast, ain't it?' Annie Wiggin declared. She was first over the threshold in a new hat and her old boots. As far as Annie was concerned, a parry was an invitation to reminisce. She went up to Duke and settled herself at the bar. ‘You remember that, don't you? We had steak and kidney pie and boiled beef, as much as we could stuff. And we had Bass beer, gallons of it, all paid for by the King himself. I went down the chapel for my dinner that day, and then across to Stepney to see Dan Leno and good old Vesta Tilley. Was you there, Duke?'

He leaned on the bar; the ice with Annie well and truly broken. ‘Not me. I was up to me ears here, serving drinks to the whole of bleeding Southwark it seemed like.'

‘Them was the good old days, wasn't they, Duke?'

‘What was good about them? Your old man had just buggered off and left you, I seem to recall. We was all struggling in them dark days.'

Annie nodded. ‘Well, fancy you remembering that.'

‘What's that?'

She smiled, weighing her words well. ‘The time when my better half departed this life.'

‘Course I remember. He owed me half a crown,' Duke said.

‘Your Pattie had just passed on and all, and that sister of yours, Florrie Searles, was living here. She came to lend a hand in your hour of need, according to her.' Annie took a long draught from her own special pint pot.

Duke smiled at Annie. ‘Florrie ain't that bad, believe me. A bit loud for some people's liking, but her heart's in the right place.'

Annie grunted. ‘A voice like a bleeding foghorn. And she treated them poor kids like they was in the bleeding army and all!'

‘She never meant no harm.'

‘Do this, do that, bleeding parade ground . . .'

The pub was filling up and Duke went off to serve his customers, leaving Annie to bad-mouth his sister to her heart's content. Another strong-minded woman in the street had been one too many for
the likes of Annie and Dolly Ogden. ‘Arthur, come over here!' Annie called. ‘I ain't seen nothing of your Charlie lately.'

Arthur shuffled across, one fist grasping a huge slice of veal and ham pie. ‘Why, what you want him for?'

‘To catch some rats for me. They're all over the bleeding place again, since young Tommy O'Hagan hopped it. As if they didn't have enough on their plates. He ain't been seen for weeks, not since that poor girl was murdered. He was a dab hand at rat-catching, he was.'

Arthur considered the job in terms of family income before he dismissed it out of hand. ‘He's too busy studying,' he replied.

‘La-di-da!' She looked around for someone else to take up her offer, and spotted Ernie, head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. Say what you liked about Ernie, he was twice as reliable as all the other little ikeys put together. There he was, still looking down-in-the-mouth about Daisy, sitting by Walter Davidson. Annie hopped off her stool and went to proposition him for the rat-catching job.

Soon the pub thronged with neighbours and friends, all come to give Robert a good send-off. At last he made his grand entrance, coming downstairs in full uniform, shining from head to foot. Every button sparkled, every lapel and epaulette sat pressed and straight on the khaki jacket. His shiny boots clicked on the stone floor, his flat army cap sat fair and square across his forehead. Duke grinned at him across the room, then carried on serving pints.

Surrounded by friends from the dock, attracting the attention of the girls, Robert was in his element. The uniform made him seem special in his own eyes too, as if he'd been training his body for years to fit its rugged lines like a glove. Less than a week ago joining up had seemed like the best of a bad job; an idea that caught him at a low ebb. Now it began to offer adventure and excitement, and to invest him with a clean-cut courage over and above the tough image he'd adopted on the streets and in the gym. He glanced with contempt at Chalky, Syd and Whitey, who had drifted in for the free drink, and made a disparaging remark about them to Walter Davidson.

Whitey Lewis sat with his arm around Amy Ogden. He'd got well in with her and a couple of her old friends from Coopers'. Chalkey, on the other hand, ignored them. It was the first time he'd been seen out and about since his defeat down at the gym. He sat slumped forward over his beer, collar up, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He'd seen but ignored Robert's entrance. Memory of his disgrace in the boxing ring still seemed to weigh heavy. His stooping look was a new thing, although the bruising Robert had inflicted had almost faded.

‘Bleeding cheek, showing his face round here,' Walter said to Robert. ‘You want me to go over and tell him to push off?'

‘Leave him be. It ain't no skin off my nose.' Robert had risen above Chalky White and his gang. He circulated, glass in hand, enjoying his last hour of freedom.

Charlie Ogden came, and Sadie was happy. Even Frances sat in a corner with some friends from her classes, though she'd been tactful enough not to invite the women from the suffragette meetings. Their table was quiet and respectable, the least rowdy of the lot, discussing the successful case brought against Teddy Cooper by Miss Amelia Jones. Frances herself had stood up in court as a witness and described the accused's actions on the night of the window-smashing. Her evidence had helped bring about a conviction. ‘It ain't right though,' Frances complained. ‘They find him guilty of assault and let him off with a footling little fine. They take Amelia herself to court for smashing a window and they give her six months in Holloway. Call that justice!'

The others agreed. ‘Lucky little swine,' Rosie Cornwell said. She'd just given up her good job as a typewriter in Swan and Edgar's office to train as a nurse for the war effort; a pretty, round-faced girl with light brown hair braided into a coronet around her brow.

‘Hers was a crime against property,' Billy Wray pointed out. ‘His was a crime against the person. It's obvious which one they think is more serious, ain't it? Besides, he's a boss.' He spoke quietly, stating the obvious with deadly effect. ‘They could get away with murder without too much trouble, believe you me.'

Frances shuddered. ‘Don't say that.' She'd heard the rumours,
spreading like wildfire around the streets, fanned by Dolly Ogden. No one had seen much sign of Teddy Cooper since the murder, even at Coopers' Drapery Stores. People there said the police had paid him a visit and questioned him. It was only a matter of time before the arrest.

‘Why not? What did I say?' Billy didn't live locally enough to have heard the rumours. His interests were political, not personal, with his long history in the hunger marches of 1908 and 1911. ‘Starved to Death in a Land of Plenty' was his banner. Tittle-tattle wasn't up his street, but he noticed Frances shake her head and go pale.

‘Nothing. The girl who got murdered up at the Palace lived down our street, that's all. They say Teddy Cooper's a suspect.'

‘Him and five hundred others,' Rosie reminded her, and steered the talk in another direction.

Robert stood at the bar now, grasping his father's hand. ‘Time I was off, Pa.'

Duke gave his son's hand one firm shake. He felt choked with pride. In his uniform, Robert looked the perfect son, the conquering hero. ‘The girls will go and see you off, Rob. Me and Ernie will say goodbye here.' He wouldn't trust his voice to say more.

Robert nodded.

Hettie came downstairs with his trenchcoat over her arm, while Jess went out to hail a cab. She too said goodbye on the doorstep. ‘There's Grace to see to,' she said quietly. ‘The little beggar's hungry again. Look after yourself, Rob. We're proud of you.' She looked up into his face and squeezed his arm.

So Robert set off for Victoria with Hettie, Frances and Sadie, waving farewell to the old life.

‘G'bye, Ern! Look after things here while I'm gone!' he yelled. The horses clipped smartly up the street, the old cab swayed along. Crossing the main thoroughfares in the early autumn evening, they came to the sluggish grey river. They passed high over the water along London Bridge, over the slow barges. Victoria's mighty façade, with its great ribbed awning of iron and glass, greeted them as they spilled from the cab. The station platforms thronged with
uniforms; soldiers with rifles slung across their shoulders, sailors with their kitbags. All the faces looked brisk and hopeful, of young men embarking for battle, making good farewells.