The Cockney Angel (22 page)

Irene was tired after the long walk from Shoreditch to Wood Street. The cold smoky smell of the city filled her nostrils and clogged her lungs in sharp contrast to the fresh country air that she had left just a few hours previously. It was almost dark by the time she reached the shop and she fumbled in her pocket for the key, but when she tried to insert it in the lock she found to her horror that it
did
not fit. A notice had been pasted to the inside of the door, and she moved closer to read the spidery scrawl.
Under new management. Shop closed until further notice
. She took a step backwards and was horrified to see that the window was boarded up. She tried the lock again but to no avail.

She stood on the pavement, clutching the bag containing her few possessions and staring helplessly at her former home. It was as if she had awakened from a nightmare only to find that it was actually happening. She looked around, hoping to spot a familiar face, someone who might know what had been going on in her absence, and on the far side of the street she saw a constable patrolling his beat. Her first thought was to run from the law, but then she recognised the friendly face of Constable Burton. She ran across the road, dodging in and out between horse-drawn vehicles and only narrowly avoided being run down by a messenger on horseback. ‘Constable Burton, stop.’

He paused, glancing over his shoulder, and a gleam of recognition lit his eyes with a warm smile. ‘Miss Angel, is it you?’

She hurried to his side. ‘Yes, it’s me. I need your help.’

He puffed out his chest and the buttons on his uniform glinted in the light of the gas lamp. ‘Happy to oblige, miss. What can I do for you?’

‘Do you know what’s happened to my shop? Why is it shuttered and under new management? I never agreed to such a thing.’

‘Don’t you know, miss?’

‘I wouldn’t be asking you if I did.’ Irene hesitated, seeing his face fall at her sharp tone. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been in the country for a few days and now I’ve come back to find I’m locked out of my own home.’

‘I’d like to help you, but it’s not my place to say. Perhaps you’d best speak to the guvner about it.’

‘If you know anything, please tell me.’

‘I can’t tell you much, but Billy – I mean, Mr Angel – was arrested last week. Like I said, miss, you’ll have to see Inspector Kent if you want to know more.’

Irene stared at him in horror. ‘My pa’s been arrested?’

Burton ran his finger round the inside of his collar and his brow puckered with consternation. ‘Like I said, miss, it’s not up to me to give you that information. Is there somewhere you can go for the present? A relative or a close friend who could put you up for a while?’

‘No. I mean, yes. But that doesn’t matter. I must find out what’s happened to my father.’

‘They might be able to tell you at the police station,’ Burton said reluctantly. ‘I’d take you there myself but I can’t leave my beat.’

Despite her agitation, Irene could not help but be touched by his obvious concern for her. She patted him on the sleeve. ‘Don’t worry about me, Constable. I know me way to Old Jewry.’

He looked as though he would like to say more, but he saluted her and strode off at a measured pace with his hands clasped behind his back.

Irene stared after him, stunned by the shocking news. Her father’s parting words came back to her like a hammer blow and she could only hazard a guess that he had been caught red-handed doing a job with the Sykes gang. If that were true, he was in terrible trouble. As Constable Burton had said, there was only one person who could put her straight. She did not relish the thought of seeing Inspector Kent, but she had no choice. She made her way along Cheapside to the police station in Old Jewry.

The desk sergeant raised his eyebrows when she demanded to see his superior. ‘I’m afraid that’s impossible, miss.’

‘But I must see him,’ Irene insisted. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’

A grim smile flickered across the officer’s craggy features. ‘I don’t think so, miss. Tell me what the problem is and I’ll see if I can help you.’

‘Please, Sergeant,’ Irene said with what she hoped was a persuasive smile. ‘I really do need to see Inspector Kent. If you would just tell him that Miss Irene Angel is here and must see him urgently.’

‘Even if I was so inclined I couldn’t do that. The inspector ain’t here. Put your question in writing if you must, but that’s all I have to say to you.’

‘But I’ve got to speak to him today. Please tell me where to find him.’

‘I’ve already told you that it’s out of the question, miss.’

Irene had never had hysterics in her life, but now she could feel a bubble rising in her throat which threatened to erupt into a scream. With difficulty, she forced herself to remain calm, and she fluttered her eyelashes. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important. Just tell me where he lives and I’ll put a note through his door. He won’t mind, honest! We’re working together, you might say. He relies on me for information.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing a flicker of uncertainty in the sergeant’s grey eyes.

‘I’d lose my job if I gave out such information, miss.’

Irene moved a little closer to the desk. ‘I won’t tell and it really is urgent.’

He shook his head as he scribbled something
on
a sheet torn from his notebook. ‘I can see I won’t get rid of you until you get what you want, but if you breathe a word of this to anyone …’

‘I won’t, I promise,’ Irene said, snatching the paper from his hand. ‘Cross me heart and hope to die.’ She reached across the counter and kissed his whiskery cheek. ‘Ta, ever so. You’re a darling.’ She did not wait to see his reaction and she left the police station at a run, just in case he should change his mind and send one of his constables chasing after her. She did not stop until she was certain that no one was following her, and she leaned against a lamppost, peering at the scrawled note.
6 Robin Hood Court, Robin Hood Passage, Milk Street
. She breathed a sigh of relief; it was not far away. She quickened her step with a burst of energy borne out of desperation. Kent was the only person who knew where her father was and why he had been arrested. She wouldn’t put it past the ambitious police inspector to set Pa up if only to get closer to the Sykes gang. She was angry now as well as worried, and her dismay on finding the shop closed was as nothing compared to her fear for her hapless father.

She knew Milk Street well, and although she must have passed the narrow entrance to Robin Hood Passage many times before, she
had
never noticed it until now. The dark alleyway opened out into Robin Hood Court, which proved to be a small square surrounded on three sides by modest red-brick houses. These were the type of dwellings that might be inhabited by respectable persons of limited means such as bank clerks, printers and junior lawyers. Irene found number six easily enough and rapped on the door knocker. At first she thought that there was no one in, but as she stepped aside to peer through the window she could see the glow of a coal fire burning in the grate and there appeared to be a small figure lying on the sofa. She knocked again.

‘Come in.’

The voice was faint but Irene needed no second bidding and she stepped into a narrow hallway. A steep flight of stairs rose immediately opposite the front entrance and to her left the door to the front parlour was ajar. She did not like to barge in and she tapped on the wooden panel, waiting for a reply.

‘Come in.’

It was a girl’s voice, light and slightly tremulous, and Irene entered cautiously, wondering if she had been given the wrong address. She found herself in a moderate-sized room with a high ceiling and one tall window overlooking the court. It was simply furnished with a dresser set against the far wall, a table and
four
chairs beneath the window, and a sofa drawn up close to the fireplace. Reclining on it was a fair-haired girl with a pale, heart-shaped face and bright blue eyes. She smiled apologetically. ‘I am afraid I cannot get up to greet you.’

Irene cleared her throat nervously. ‘I – I’m sorry to disturb you. I think I may have come to the wrong house.’

The girl’s smile faded. ‘Oh, I do hope not. I was longing for company and then you appeared as if by magic. Won’t you sit down for a moment and tell me who you have come to see? If it is my brother, I am afraid he is not at home.’

‘Your brother?’

‘Yes, Edward, or rather Inspector Kent of the City of London Police. I’m his sister Alice, and you are?’

‘Irene Angel.’ Irene sat down rather more abruptly than she had intended on the nearest chair and she put her canvas bag on the floor, flexing her cramped fingers. ‘Inspector Kent is your brother?’

‘Yes, indeed he is,’ Alice said, chuckling. ‘Beneath that stern exterior there is a real human being, I can assure you.’

Virtually speechless, Irene could only nod her head and murmur an apology. ‘I – mean I didn’t …’

Alice threw back her head and her laughter filled the gloomy room. ‘Don’t apologise. I know what people think when they meet Edward but he is a dear really, and he is so good to me. As you see I am a cripple – there is no denying the fact. I cannot walk more than a few steps, and then only with the aid of crutches. I am always falling over but he picks me up without ever saying a harsh word. He is the best of brothers. I just wish he was not quite so dedicated to his job, but then he has to support us both. I am such a burden to him.’

‘I’m sure you are not, and he is lucky to have a sister who thinks so highly of him. I doubt if my brother would speak so well of me. In fact, I don’t suppose he would even recognise me if we met in the street.’

‘Really?’ Alice’s face was alight with curiosity. ‘That is sad indeed. Do tell me about it. I rely on people to bring me news of the outside world. But perhaps you ought to start by telling me why you need to see Edward.’

‘It’s a long story,’ Irene said hesitantly.

‘I have all the time in the world. Won’t you take off your bonnet and shawl and make yourself comfortable? He shouldn’t be too long now, and you can tell me all about yourself while you wait.’

‘I do need to see him urgently. Are you sure he will return soon?’

Alice nodded her head emphatically. ‘Oh, yes. He comes home in time to give me my supper, but if he should be delayed by work he sends word to our neighbour, Mrs Priest, who has been like a second mother to me. It’s amazing how kind people are to someone in my circumstances.’

‘Were you always …’ Irene hesitated. She did not want to upset Alice, but now she had started she simply had to go on. ‘I mean, how did this happen?’

‘It was a stupid riding accident. We grew up on a farm in Essex. Our mother died when I was seven and I am afraid I ran wild, doing much as I pleased. One day I took Edward’s horse although I had been told not to ride him because he was too mettlesome for me. Anyway, I disobeyed my father and Edward and I was thrown, injuring myself seriously. The doctor said I had broken my back. They thought I would die, but I’m made of much stronger stuff than they reckoned with, and I recovered, but my legs wouldn’t work.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Irene murmured. ‘But living here in London is a far cry from being brought up on a farm. Is there no one at home who could look after you?’

Alice shook her head and her ringlets glinted gold in the firelight. ‘Father remarried when I was eight and everything changed. Edward is
ten
years older than me and his heart was never in farming, so he went away to London to join the police. Our stepmother was kind enough, but she never quite regained her strength after the birth of her baby boy, and I’m afraid I was of little use to her. I pined for Edward, and when he came home one day and saw how unhappy I was he brought me to London and has looked after me ever since. He is so good to me, and I am so fortunate to have such a brother. Now tell me about yourself, Irene.’

After hearing Alice’s story it was impossible to refuse her request, and Irene found herself relating her life history from the moment Jim had stormed out of the house to the present day.

Alice listened wide-eyed, and when Irene had finished she clapped her hands. ‘Oh, my! What a tale you have to tell. I can’t believe that you actually dressed like a boy and went searching for your friend Arthur. And he loves you.’ Alice’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Poor young man, he must be so sad to have lost you.’

‘I’m sure he’ll get over it,’ Irene said dismissively. ‘Don’t waste your pity on Artie; he brought most of his troubles on himself by gambling and getting involved with one of the worst street gangs in London. However,
I
would like to ask your brother if he still intends to have Artie arrested, and I am desperate to find out what happened to my pa.’

Twin dimples played on either side of Alice’s pretty mouth, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘This is so exciting. It’s like being in one of the penny dreadfuls that I so love to read. Mrs Priest smuggles them in for me beneath her apron. Edward wouldn’t like it if he knew that I read such frivolous tales, but they are such a wonderful escape from boredom and loneliness.’ She reached across to lay her hand on Irene’s arm. ‘And that isn’t a plea for sympathy. It’s merely a statement of fact, and I have so enjoyed our chat, Irene. Would it be too much to ask you to come again to see me? Your life sounds so very exciting, and I wish I could visit the pickle shop and meet Gentle Annie and Fiery Nan. They seem such colourful characters.’

Irene shook her head. ‘It might be best if you don’t mention them to your brother. I don’t think he’d approve of your knowing about that sort of woman.’

‘No, I suppose you’re right. Edward is quite strait-laced, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You can tell me all about the Sykes brothers and gambling and street women, and it will be our secret.’

Irene was about to demur when a footstep
in
the hallway made them both turn with a guilty start as Inspector Kent entered the room.

‘Edward, look who’s come to see you,’ Alice said, with an adoring smile. ‘We’ve had such an interesting chat.’