The Bells of Bow (40 page)

‘No, you’re right, she don’t wanna know about Betty.’

‘You still doing everything?’

‘Just about. And, I can tell you, Blanche, it’s tiring me out, but what choice have I got? I’ve gotta keep going, get on with it.’

‘And hide it all from Ringer?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What a pair we are,’ Blanche said. ‘Come on, we’d better get going or we’ll never get to work.’ She linked arms with Babs.

They had only taken a couple of steps when this time Babs stopped dead. Her head jerked round and she glared across the street to where Alice was pretending to clean her doorstep. Nobby was standing next to her, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, sucking on his pipe.

‘What did you say, Alice?’ Babs asked, striding across the street, arms swinging menacingly.

Blanche followed her.

Alice grabbed hold of the door frame and dragged herself to her feet. She folded her arms and looked contemptuously from Babs to Blanche. ‘I was saying to my Nobby how I thought there was shocking goings on down this turning lately, what with young girls coming home at all hours, pissed as farts, when they should be indoors minding their kiddies. Neglect, that’s what it is.’ She turned to Nobby. ‘Her old man should be in the forces and all,’ she said.

Nobby knew his place, and he knew the price of disloyalty. He nodded his agreement, his stumpy pipe bobbing up and down in his mouth.

Babs went to speak, to give the vicious old bag a piece of her mind, but in that moment she knew she couldn’t find the words that would silence Alice without bursting into tears and making a fool of herself. Because, deep down, she had to admit that Alice, cruel as she was, was right.

Blanche, however, didn’t have any such problem. She shook her head, an expression of loathing darkening her usually generous, open face. ‘There’s a sodding war on, Alice.’ She pointed angrily at the pile of rubble at the end of the street that had once been the Jenners’s home. ‘Innocent people are getting killed and maimed. Brave men are fighting to protect the likes of you. And all you can do with yer time is run young girls down when it’s nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.’ She prodded Alice in the chest. ‘So why don’t you just shut that trap of your’n, you interfering, miserable old bastard, and let things alone that are none of your business?’

With that, Blanche took Babs by the arm and dragged her away.

‘Charming!’ snapped Alice. Then she shoved her scrubbing brush into the bewildered Nobby’s hand and yelled furiously, ‘Now get that bloody step finished. And do it right.’

Babs felt someone pushing her. ‘What, what’s up?’

‘I’m so tired, Babs,’ Evie moaned pathetically. ‘You get up and feed her this morning. Please. I can’t. Go on, it’s Saturday, so you ain’t even gotta go to work.’

Betty was crying softly in the brand new cot that, since yesterday afternoon, had stood at the bottom of the bed in place of the dressing table drawer.

‘I never got a wink of sleep last night. I was so upset about that old cow coming round here yesterday. She must’ve known I’d be here by meself.’

As she lay there in the dark, Babs could just visualise Evie’s lip trembling dramatically.

‘I dunno what all the fuss is about. Queenie only come round to bring all that gear for Betty. I thought yer’d be pleased.’

Evie’s tone immediately hardened to one of complaint. ‘Well, she took her time coming round with it, didn’t she? Fancy letting yer granddaughter kip in a drawer when yer’ve got all her money.’

‘You hypocrite! It was you what didn’t wanna see her.’

Evie returned to her whining. ‘How can yer talk to me like that, Babs? Yer know all she really come round for was to have a go at me. Reckons I should be at home in that flat with her precious bloody Albie. If only she knew the half of it, it’d be him she was having a go at, not me.’

‘I can imagine Queenie having a go at Albie. She thinks the sun shines out of his backside.’ Babs paused, then added, ‘Just like you used to.’

‘Aw, shut up, Babs.’

Betty’s whimpering started to get louder, closer to an all-out bawl, as she demanded her breakfast.

Babs sighed loudly. She knew she would be wasting her breath arguing with Eve; she’d still wind up feeding Betty even after they’d been rowing for half an hour, and by then Betty would have worked herself up into a real state and wouldn’t be able to take her feed anyway. Babs threw back the covers, crawled out of bed and got on with it.

‘This is the last time I do this today, Eve. And I mean it.’

Evie smiled to herself as she turned over and pulled the blankets up over her head.

As Babs sat with Betty suckling at her bottle contentedly on her lap in the peace of the little kitchen, she stared up at the sky though the window over the sink. It was a lovely spring morning, clear, bright and full of hope. And it was a Saturday.

She sighed, happily this time, as she looked down into the baby’s wide blue eyes – she looked so much like her and Evie it was difficult to take in at times. Betty’s little face puckered into a smile of recognition round the rubber teat that filled her tiny rosebud mouth.

‘I dunno if that’s wind or a real smile,’ Babs said to her, as she put her over her shoulder and rubbed her back, ‘but I reckon it makes yer look pretty as a little princess. Tell yer what, it’s a nice day, I think we’ll go for a walk down the Roman and show you off. You ain’t been out much yet, have yer? Then we’ll have a little turn round the park. How would that be?’

When Babs went upstairs to get herself and Betty dressed for their outing, Evie was still sound asleep.

As Babs wheeled Betty past the baker’s on the corner, Rita came running out of her shop to have a peep at the baby, but her face fell when she saw the gleaming new, elegant black coach-built pram with its cream leather lining and satin coverlet.

‘Morning, Reet.’

‘Morning, Babs. That’s a flash old get-up,’ she said, nodding at the pram. ‘Must have cost a bit.’

Babs blushed. ‘Yeah. Don’t think we ain’t grateful for the one you give her, but Queenie, you know, Albie’s mum, brought it round for her yesterday. Laden down like bloody Father Christmas, she was, according to Evie. This baby’s got everything she’s gonna need till she goes to school, I reckon.’

Rita wiped her hands down the front of her white, flour-sprinkled overall, leant over the pram and pulled down the edge of the cover to get a better look at the baby. ‘Who can blame her for wanting the best for that little angel,’ she smiled. ‘I know I’d wanna give her everything if she was my granddaughter.’ She straightened up. ‘Evie having a rest, is she? It might be a long time ago but I still remember what it was like having to look after a new baby. I’ll bet she’s whacked out, ain’t she, Babs?’

‘Yer could say that, Reet.’ Babs released the pram’s brake and smiled. ‘Gotta get on, we’re off down the Roman.’

‘But I ain’t had a chance to tell you how well my Bill’s doing,’ Rita called after her. ‘Right hero, he is.’

‘Sorry,’ Babs said over her shoulder. ‘Tell me later.’

Babs had only got as far as looking over the first couple of stalls when she bumped into Percy Bennett.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What’s all this? I know I’ve been away a while, but you with a nipper?’

‘She’s Evie’s.’

‘Blimey!’ Percy took off his forage cap and scratched his head. ‘I always thought it’d be you first.’

‘Yer know, Perce, so did I.’

Percy moved closer to Babs and said quietly out of the corner of his mouth, ‘Fancy a night out with a soldier, toots?’

Babs grinned at him. ‘Yeah, why not. I’d love to.’

‘Tonight?’

Babs waggled her hand from side to side. ‘Maybe. I’ll have to make sure that I can get someone to mind the baby first.’

Percy looked baffled. ‘How about Evie?’

Babs widened her eyes. ‘Evie?’

‘Still a bit of a girl, is she?’

Babs laughed. ‘Just a bit.’

‘Tell yer what, I’m just off round me gran’s to show meself off in me uniform …’

‘’Cos yer mum said?’

Perce grinned. ‘Course. And so’s Gran can feed me till I’m sick. But when she’s finished with me, I’ll pop into your’n to see if yer’ve sorted something out for tonight. How’s that?’

‘It should be all right.’

‘Good, ’cos I wanna hear the full story of this little chavy. See yer about, what, six?’

‘Sounds good to me, Perce.’

‘Smashing.’

It was gone midnight when Percy walked Babs back home through the dark East End streets, but she didn’t feel the least bit tired; in fact, she felt she could have stayed out all night.

‘Yer know, Perce, in that pub, when we was dancing with all them people in that big circle, and with our arms all wrapped round each other and singing at the tops of our voices, I felt all the weariness and bad feeling that I moaned to you about just drain out of me.’

Percy laughed. ‘So you enjoyed yerself then?’

She laughed back. ‘Yeah, I had a really nice time, ta. It was just what I needed.’ She glanced sideways and shone the pale gleam of her torch at him. ‘And I don’t even care that Evie’s gonna be sulking when I get in.’

‘I’m glad yer happy.’ Percy put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Yer know I’ve always fancied yer, don’t yer, Babs?’

Babs cuddled close to him. ‘Yeah, I know, Perce.’

‘I’ve been thinking. Can I write to yer when I go back?’

‘If yer like.’

Percy stopped walking and turned her to face him. ‘Don’t yer want me to, Babs?’

‘Course I do. I’d love to know how yer getting on, Perce, but I don’t want yer to get the wrong idea or nothing. It wouldn’t be fair.’ Babs bowed her head; even though it was pitch dark, she still couldn’t face him. ‘Yer know how fond I am of yer, I always have been, but I’ve always thought of yer as me mate, Perce.’

‘Yeah, I know, worse luck. Ne’mind. Perhaps next time I come back I’ll be a sergeant and yer’ll be right impressed with me, eh? Tell yer what, I’ll send yer a postcard letting yer know when I get me first medal!’

Babs lifted her head. She concentrated hard, trying to make out his features in the darkness. Then she took his kind, trusting face between her hands and kissed him tenderly on the lips. ‘Yeah, Perce, you do that, and who knows, yer might turn me head yet.’

‘Stranger things have happened, Babs.’

Queenie sat in the stiflingly hot, grimy jumble of her front room studying one of the little black notebooks that she kept on her overcrowded table; the notebooks didn’t actually hold much useful information, but Queenie knew that they made her look efficient, impressed the punters, and this particular customer owed her plenty; she wanted him impressed. Albie served a similar purpose as he stood there, almost filling the doorway, cleaning his nails with his pocket knife while he leant casually against the chipped paint of the frame. She swept her eyes slowly up and down the nervous-looking specimen before her. He was a fair size but, compared to her Albie, she knew there wasn’t much chance that he’d be stupid enough to try and leave without paying his dues. But Queenie always thought it was a good idea to remind the punters who was in charge – and anyway, she enjoyed intimidating people.

‘Well, Ronnie boy,’ she said with a smile that cracked the thick layer of orange-tinged pancake make-up she applied at regular intervals throughout the day in the mistaken impression that it hid her wrinkles. ‘You got it all?’

Ronnie nodded.

Queenie held out her hand. The lines on her palm were ingrained with dirt. ‘Give it over then.’

Ronnie dropped his head and glanced sideways at Albie. He had been thinking of maybe trying to sweet talk the old cow into giving him a bit more time, but with her bully boy of a son standing there like a bloody mountainside he knew he might as well save his breath. He reached inside his jacket and took out a wad of notes and began peeling them off slowly, one by one.

Albie levered himself away from the door. ‘Good to see yer doing so well, Ron. I thought yer said something about times being hard.’

Ronnie felt the sweat break out on his top lip as Albie moved towards him. But he couldn’t back away; he couldn’t do anything, not with Albie looming over him.

Albie reached out and gently plucked the whole wad from Ronnie’s clammy hand. He kept his eyes on Ronnie but held up the money so Queenie could see. ‘That do yer, Mum?’

‘I reckon,’ Queenie said.

‘Good. Now, don’t be late with the next payment, will yer, Ron, ’cos yer know how I hate to see Mum upset and I know she’d be heartbroken if anything happened to them kids of your’n.’

Queenie sniggered, and her huge bosom wobbled like a badly constructed trifle. ‘Yeah, heartbroken I’d be if anything happened to them little angels of your’n, and accidents do happen, Ron, don’t they?’

Ronnie flashed a look of hatred at Queenie. Threaten his kids? How could she even call herself a woman? He felt like grabbing the old bastard by the throat and choking the life out of her. His breath was coming in short, fast bursts; he knew he stood no chance fighting her animal of a son but he could hurt him in other ways, could belittle him in front of his precious mother.

Ron walked over to the door and stood there for a moment, silently judging whether he had given himself enough of a start to have it away on his toes before Albie recovered from what he was about to say. He went to speak but his mouth was so dry he had to swallow a couple of times before any sound came out at all.

‘Your missus is enjoying herself,’ he said eventually. He wiped the back of his hand across his parched lips, his heart racing so fast he thought his chest might explode.

Albie cocked his head slightly and narrowed his eyes as though he was having trouble understanding.

‘Lovely voice, she’s got. All the geezers in the boozers round Whitechapel say so. She might have looked a bit the worse for wear when she left with a couple of fellers the other night. But she is one very popular lady. Yer must be very proud.’

Queenie heaved herself to her feet. Grasping the sides of the table for support, she ignored the pile of papers that fluttered onto the already littered floor. ‘That blonde-haired little whore.’

She had said it very quietly but her venom made the hairs on Ron’s neck prickle.