The Cockney Angel (3 page)

‘Would you, ducks?’

Her mother’s voice broke into Irene’s thoughts, dragging her back to the present. ‘Of course, Ma. I’ll find him and bring him home safe and sound.’

‘Don’t go too far then. Just take a walk around the courts and alleys where he goes at night, and if you see any of his mates you might ask them if they know where he might be found.’ Clara’s voice broke on a sob and she clutched her hand to her throat. ‘I’m afraid he might have been set upon by thieves and left for dead in the gutter somewhere. My poor Billy.’ Tears welled in her eyes and she raised her apron to cover her face.

Irene hurried round the counter to hook her arm around her mother’s shoulders and she led her to a bentwood chair that was normally reserved for privileged customers. She pressed her gently down onto its hard seat. ‘Don’t upset yourself, Ma. It’s just your imagination taking over. Pa can look after hisself. I expect he’s just lost track of time. You know how he is when his luck is in.’

‘I know I’m probably worrying over nothing, but I just can’t get these thoughts out of me head.’

Irene snatched up her shawl. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, and you mustn’t worry or you’ll make yourself ill. Trade’s slow today, so you shouldn’t be too busy while I’m gone.’

‘You’re such a thoughtful girl,’ Clara said, wiping her eyes. ‘I dunno what I’d do without you.’

‘I’ll be back in two shakes of a cat’s tail, and I’ll bring Pa home with me.’

Irene stepped outside into the warm sunshine of a late September afternoon. Wood Street was now thronged with horse-drawn vehicles both private and commercial. Hansom cabs, brewers’ drays and wagons laden with sacks of hay or crates filled with everything from tea to cow horns clattered over the cobbles, jostling each other for space. Bare-footed street urchins stood on street corners
selling
matches or bootlaces, and others, too young or too poor even to afford small amounts of goods to trade, begged for money to buy food. Office clerks, merchants, law writers, housewives going to market and servants running errands crowded the pavements, making Irene’s progress slow and difficult.

She headed for Goldsmith Street and the rabbit warren of dark alleys and courts that led off Gutter Lane. Opium dens and gambling hells were tucked away behind respectable city offices, banks, small shops and businesses. She knew them all by heart. As her recurring nightmares reminded her, she had stood on street corners from the age of five, acting as lookout while her father worked as a bookie’s runner, risking arrest by taking illegal bets. She had been too young to know what she was doing, but she had been instructed to watch out for the copper on his beat, and to warn her father if she saw one so that he had time to pocket the cash and run. They would slip into the shadows and disappear down the very alleyways that she was searching now. It had been terrifying at times but there had also been an element of fun, like playing a game of hide and seek. Pa could make the dullest day turn into an adventure, especially when they were escaping the clutches of the law, which Pa said
was
designed for the benefit of the rich toffs and not for the likes of them. Irene had been indoctrinated at an early age to be wary of anyone wearing a uniform and above all to distrust the police. On the other hand, Ma had taught her the difference between right and wrong, and insisted that the cops were only doing their duty and should be respected. It had been very confusing.

As her search progressed with no sign of her father, Irene was beginning to fear the worst. By late afternoon she was tired and hungry. Her feet were sore, her legs ached and she was just about to give up and go home when she heard a man’s voice raised in song. There was no mistaking the melodious notes of Pa’s pure baritone, and she had heard that particular ditty often enough to know that it was one of his favourites, only sung when he was well oiled. The sound was coming from the depths of a narrow alley in the shadow of Newgate prison. Without thinking of her own safety, Irene entered the twilight world between the grim buildings with soot-blackened windows peering blindly into the gloom. Men lounged in doorways smoking strange-smelling substances. She could tell by the other-worldly look on their faces that they were drugged with opium, but they paid her scant attention as she hurried towards a patch of light where the
tenements
and warehouses formed a square open to the sky. Sprawled on a pile of old sacks, she saw the familiar figure of her father who lay flat on his back singing loudly and interspersing the risqué words with loud guffaws of laughter. But he was not alone, and she skidded to a halt at the sight of a man dressed in black bending over her father. Her heart gave an uncomfortable thud against her ribcage. Was he robbing Pa? Or was he attempting to help him to his feet? She ran at the stranger and grabbed him by the arm. ‘Leave him be, mister. Don’t hurt my pa.’

He straightened up, flicking free of her grasp as if she were a small and irritating insect. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I mean him no harm.’

He was much taller than she had at first supposed, and this man was no common thief. His dark suit was well cut and his shirt collar and cuffs were starched and dazzling in their whiteness. From the crown of his black bowler hat to the tips of his shiny black leather shoes he had the appearance of a City gentleman, but the piercing gaze of his startlingly blue eyes set beneath straight dark eyebrows seemed to bore into her soul. She was unused to such scrutiny and she backed away, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Unless she was very much mistaken, this bloke was
a
copper. She had been trained to spot one a mile off. ‘I’m sorry, mister. My mistake.’

He inclined his head in a brief acknowledgement of her apology. ‘If this man is your father, I suggest you take him home before he gets into real trouble.’

She bent down to tug at her father’s hand in a vain attempt to drag him to his feet. ‘Get up, Pa.’

Billy opened his eyes, grinning foolishly. ‘Hello, Irene my duck.’

‘Please get up, Pa. I’ve come to take you home.’

‘I’m nice and comfy here, girl,’ Billy said, closing his eyes again and snuggling into the pile of dirty sacks as though it were a feather mattress. ‘I’ll just have forty winks …’ His voice trailed off into a loud snore.

Irene knelt down on the filthy cobblestones. ‘Wake up or you’ll get done for being drunk and disorderly.’ She shook him by the shoulders, but Billy did not respond. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the stranger was about to walk away. ‘Excuse me, mister,’ she called. ‘Could you give me a hand, please?’

He turned his head and regarded her with raised brows. ‘I have more important things to do right now.’

‘I don’t think I can lift him on me own,’ Irene said, attempting to heave Billy to a sitting
position
. The alleyway had suddenly cleared of the men who were previously hanging about, but she knew they would reappear the moment that the officer of the law departed, and she was afraid that if her father had any of his winnings left in his pockets they would fall on them and take his money by force. She met the police officer’s cynical gaze with a straight look. ‘I’d be obliged, mister. Since it’s you who wants him moved on.’

He was at her side in two long strides and he hoisted Billy to his feet. ‘Can you stand on your own, man?’

‘Shall we dance, cully?’ Billy asked with a tipsy grin, throwing an arm around the police officer’s neck.

‘Behave yourself, Pa,’ Irene said, blushing with embarrassment. She took her father’s free arm and hooked it around her shoulders. ‘I think I can manage him now, mister,’ she murmured.

‘Are you sure of that?’ He allowed her to take Billy’s full weight for a second or two but her knees buckled beneath her and she almost fell to the ground.

‘It’s obvious that you cannot,’ the officer said, relieving her of her burden and signalling to two uniformed constables who came hurrying towards them.

‘I’m afraid we lost them, Inspector Kent,’ the
elder
of the two said, eyeing Billy suspiciously. ‘Is this one of the gang, guv?’

‘That’s my pa,’ Irene said hastily. ‘He’s a bit swipey but he’s no criminal.’

‘Take him, Burton.’ Kent thrust Billy’s swaying frame into the arms of the fresh-faced younger officer. ‘He might have been involved but he’s too drunk to give us any useful information.’

Irene plucked at Kent’s sleeve. ‘My pa don’t have nothing to do with the street gangs, mister – I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

His lips twitched and a glimmer of humour lit his eyes. He inclined his head in a formal bow. ‘Inspector Edward Kent of the City of London Police – and you are?’

‘I’m Irene Angel, and this here is my pa, Billy Angel. We’re respectable folk. My mother has a pickle shop on the corner of Wood Street and Cheapside. Pa likes a drink occasionally but he’s not a bad man.’

‘We all know Billy Angel, sir,’ Constable Burton said in a low voice. ‘He’s a professional gambler, and he’s known to frequent illegal gaming houses. He’s also suspected of having dealings with the Sykes gang.’

‘Now that’s a big black lie,’ Billy said, shaking his fist. ‘I’ve never been near Blue Boar Court in me whole life. It’s a case of mistaken identity.’

‘I never mentioned Blue Boar Court,’ Constable Burton said with a triumphant grin. ‘See, guv, he’s convicted hisself out of his own stupid mouth.’

Irene rounded on him. ‘Here, you watch your tongue, young man. You can see that my pa ain’t quite hisself. He don’t know what he’s saying.’ She turned to Inspector Kent. ‘You wouldn’t hold what a drunken man says against him, would you?’

‘I’m afraid I haven’t got time for this. Take him home, Miss Angel, or I will arrest your father for being drunk and disorderly.’ Kent dismissed her with a wave of his hand and he turned to the more senior officer. ‘I’ve business to attend to in Newgate, Davies. You’d best get back to the station and write up a report.’

The constable saluted smartly and marched off towards the main road.

Billy watched him go with a mocking laugh. ‘That’s right, Officer. Go away and leave a fellow in peace.’

‘Come along, Pa,’ Irene said, tugging urgently at his arm. ‘Let’s get you home.’

He pulled free from her, and grinning stupidly he tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’m on to a certainty, ducks. You go home and I’ll follow later.’

Constable Burton seized Billy by the scruff
of
the neck. ‘You heard the guvner, Billy. Do as he says or I’ll clap the cuffs on you and you can sober up in the cells until the magistrate’s court tomorrow morning.’

‘Come quietly, Pa,’ Irene pleaded. ‘Ma’s out of her mind with worry and you know that always makes her rheumatics worse.’ She turned to Kent. ‘I promise I’ll keep an eye on him in future.’

‘All right,’ he said coldly, ‘but if I come across Billy Angel in similar circumstances I won’t be so lenient. Burton, you’d best help Miss Angel get her father home.’

‘Yes, guv.’

A floodtide of relief surged through Irene and she reached out impulsively and shook Kent’s hand. ‘Thank you, Inspector. You’re a toff. I won’t forget this in a hurry.’

He drew his hand away and his expression remained impassive. ‘Take my advice and keep away from your father’s cronies, Miss Angel, or we might meet again in even less fortunate circumstances.’ He turned on his heel and strode off into the dark alleyway.

‘Let’s get your pa home, miss,’ Burton said, struggling to keep Billy on his feet.

Irene took her father’s free arm once again, and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Come on, Pa. Please be a good boy and do as the constable says.’

‘Damn coppers!’ Billy muttered, changing in a moment from tipsily happy to belligerent. ‘Never trust a cop, Renie. Don’t have nothing to do with ’em, that’s my advice.’

Irene cast an apologetic glance at Burton, who was looking distinctly wary at Billy’s sudden change in temper. ‘He don’t mean it, Constable. It’s just his way.’

‘Don’t you talk to him, my girl,’ Billy said, slurring his words. ‘Remember what I’ve always taught you. Coppers are bad news. If I ever catch you stepping out with one of ’em, I’ll have to disown you, even though I loves you.’

Chapter Two

CLARA WAS NOT
alone in the shop when Constable Burton manhandled Billy through the open door. Irene’s heart sank at the sight of her sister Emily sitting on the chair in front of the counter with her gloved hands folded primly in her lap. Clara uttered a cry of relief as she hobbled from behind the counter to fling her arms around her husband’s neck. ‘Billy. Oh, Billy, you bad boy. You had me so worried.’

‘Hold on there, Clara my sweet. You’re strangling me.’

She drew back, eyeing the constable with some alarm. ‘My Billy’s not under arrest is he, Constable?’

‘No, ma’am. Not this time.’ Burton released his grip on Billy, who lurched towards the staircase and sat down heavily on the bottom step.

‘Ta for the help, mate,’ Billy said in a slurred voice. ‘You’re a good ’un, and I can’t say that for most coppers.’

‘Pa!’ Irene cried, feeling the ready blush rise to her cheeks at her father’s tactless words. She glanced nervously at the young policeman.
‘He
don’t mean what he says, and I thank you for helping me to get him home.’

‘Happy to oblige, miss.’ Burton headed for the doorway and then hesitated, beckoning to Irene.

She followed him outside onto the pavement, closing the door behind her so that Emily could not hear whatever it was that he had to say. ‘Yes, Constable, what is it?’

‘A friendly word of warning, miss. You’ll keep Billy away from Blue Boar Court and the Sykes gang if you’ve got any sense. The Sykes brothers are a bad lot and we’re keeping a close watch on them and their doings.’

‘I will,’ Irene promised. ‘But I’m sure that Pa doesn’t have dealings with the likes of them.’

‘I hope not, for his sake and yours, but bear my words in mind, miss.’ With a cheerful salute, Burton strode in the direction of Cheapside. Irene watched him go with mixed feelings. She knew that he had meant well in warning her about Vic and Wally Sykes, but it rankled that he thought her pa had anything to do with a well-known gang of blackguards and bullies. The sun had gone down and a chilly breeze rustled the dying leaves on the plane tree. She shivered and went back inside the shop, bracing herself to face Emily and the inevitable interrogation
which
she knew was hanging over her like an imminent thunderstorm.