The Fight for Lizzie Flowers (6 page)

‘Come in and I’ll tell you.’ Now in her mid-sixties, she looked it. Lizzie knew Gertie had always been strong as an ox. But this morning her eyes were tired and her grey hair
hurriedly pinned away from her lined face. Lizzie knew Gertie had not had an easy life. She had been Bill’s right-hand man at the shop, and had helped to raise Frank and Danny after Daisy
Flowers’s death.

‘Hello, rascals.’ Gertie took each child’s forehead and kissed it. ‘You two are growing by the minute.’ She pushed the two children into the narrow passage thick
with the smells of camphor and cabbage. ‘Granda is upstairs, Pol. Take Tom with you to say hello and cheer him up.’ Gertie shooed the children up the roughly boarded staircase. Turning
back to Lizzie and Bert, she asked at once, ‘Where’s Danny?’

‘Can we go in the front room and I’ll tell you?’

‘Course. I ain’t had time to tidy, but sit yourselves down.’

Lizzie and Bert made their way into the house; a three-storey Poplar terrace left to Gertie by her parents. It seemed a large and lonely house to Lizzie, but Gertie loved it. And had finally
persuaded Bill to move from Ebondale Street to live with her at Gap End.

The smells of cooking coming from the downstairs kitchen were blown along the passage together with a trace of Sunlight soap.

‘Don’t trouble to take off your boots, Bert,’ Gertie threw over her shoulder. ‘I ain’t house-proud, as you well know.’

Lizzie had to adjust her eyes in the dim, cluttered front room that was always darkened by heavy drapes. There was just enough space on the button-backed leather sofa stuffed with cushions to
sit down.

Gertie took her place on the armchair by the black-leaded grate. The mantel was filled with small china knick-knacks. A dusty gooseberry-green curtain hung from the dark wood in front of the
fireplace. Gertie folded her hands in her lap. ‘I’ll make no bones about it, Lizzie,’ Gertie began before Lizzie could explain about Danny. ‘I’m heartsore sorry to
hear you and Danny aren’t wed.’

‘You know about that?’ Lizzie said in surprise.

‘A visitor landed on the doorstep yesterday.’ Gertie shifted uncomfortably. ‘Just as we were about to leave for Lil’s. Needless to say, it was a shock to match no
other.’

Lizzie took a sharp breath. ‘Was it Frank?’

Gertie nodded. ‘It took the wind from Bill’s sails.’

‘If Frank laid a finger on him—’ Bert began, jumping to his feet.

Gertie was already shaking her head. ‘Sit down, Bert. Frank never touched him.’

‘But how did he know Bill was here?’ Lizzie asked.

Gertie shrugged. ‘He worked it out. Knew his dad was moving in with me once he retired.’

‘So what sob story did he give you?’ Bert boomed, still angry.

‘He said he’s been in a hospital.’

‘Do you believe him?’

‘Dunno. But if Frank thought that tale up, it’s an unlikely one.’

Bert nodded. ‘That’s what we all think.’

‘But on the other hand,’ said Gertie, raising a palm as Bert was going to speak, ‘he came with an apology. And saying sorry ain’t in Frank’s nature. Nor is the fact
that he freely admits to all the wrong he done you, Lizzie. And his father.’

Lizzie wanted to say that, wherever Frank had been, apologies had come too late, but she didn’t want to upset Gertie. She knew that Gertie had a soft spot for Frank, always had. And the
bond between them had never broken. ‘What else did he say?’ Lizzie asked.

‘That he wants to make amends.’

‘A bit late for that, on Lizzie’s wedding day, ain’t it?’ Bert demanded.

Gertie ignored this. ‘Bill heard him out, listened to every word Frank said, but then he took poorly. And Frank went for the doctor.’

‘The doctor?’ Lizzie sat up. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing that don’t happen to someone who’s led the hard life Bill has. The old workhorse is wearing out. Doctor told him to rest. But will he? Your father-in-law don’t
know the meaning of the word, Lizzie. He’s still up at the crack of dawn. Works like a navvy in the back yard, digging up all me garden. Insists he needs the exercise. That his legs
won’t work if he don’t move ’em.’

Bert thumped his hands on his knees. ‘Frank should know better than to give the old man such a fright.’

Gertie fixed Bert with a sharp stare. ‘What else was the boy supposed to do?’ she asked. ‘I ain’t defending Frank, no. But when all is said and done, he is Daisy’s
boy. And when he was said to have drowned, Bill grieved more than his pride would allow him to show. Why do you think Bill gave in to moving here from the shop? It was the memories of his sons and
the life they had shared, for better or worse, that tore him apart.’

‘But he wants to live with you, Gertie,’ Bert said innocently. ‘All them years slogging at the shop. Now this is your time together.’

‘Don’t you believe it!’ Gertie waved her hand dismissively. ‘And don’t look at me like that, my lad. Me and Bill are good friends, but living under the same roof
ain’t paradise.’

Lizzie stared at this tiny, frail-looking lady who had been the backbone of the Flowers family, yet had never taken the name. She was Gertie Spooner, always had been and probably always would
be. She equalled Bill in his efforts to raise two motherless boys and run a business. The shop had seen them all through the lean and hungry years of the depression. They had always planned to end
their days together. But was she was telling them that Bill wasn’t happy?

‘So where is our Danny?’ Gertie said in a hard voice.

‘The law came for him last night,’ Bert told her. ‘We was standing in the road having a smoke and they just drove up. Said something about him helping them with their
enquiries.’

‘What enquiries?’ Gertie frowned.

‘Dunno. But we reckon it’s to do with Frank turning up.’

‘They’ve taken him to Limehouse where Danny identified the corpse,’ Lizzie explained. ‘Me and Bert are driving over there now. But I wanted to call here first. Can we go
up and see Bill?’

‘Course.’ Gertie stood up. ‘You know I am sorry, love, don’t you? About the wedding.’

‘Yes, I know, Gertie. Did Frank say what he was going to do now?’

‘You know the score there, girl. More than I do.’

Lizzie knew she wouldn’t get more out of Gertie. Though Frank didn’t have any friends on the island and certainly had more than enough enemies, he did have Gertie to turn to.

Lizzie guessed, as she and Bert climbed the stairs, that for all the unhappiness Frank had caused in the family, he knew that he’d be forgiven here.

‘Shh. Granda’s asleep,’ Polly whispered as Lizzie walked into the bedroom.

Lizzie sat down on the wicker chair beside the large double bed where the two children stood. She took hold of Polly’s cold hand. Bill seemed to be sleeping peacefully under the eiderdown.
Two thin pillows supported his white head and Lizzie thought of the man who had worked tirelessly all his years as a costermonger. Bill had supported her throughout her turbulent marriage to Frank.
And now as she looked at him, she saw the toll that the worry had taken.

She couldn’t help wondering if things would have turned out differently if Danny had followed his dad into the business. Frank would never have had the chance to bully Bill, not while
Danny was around. And the shop would have thrived under Danny’s care and become the expanding business Bill had worked so hard for it to be.

Lizzie leaned forward, touching Bill’s cheek. He took a breath and she let her hand drop away. She didn’t recognize this man. He seemed to have shrunk in the few weeks since
she’d last seen him. Was it Frank’s bombing of his beloved shop that had broken Bill’s spirit? Or was the discovery of that Limehouse corpse to blame? Or perhaps, Lizzie wondered,
it was as Gertie suggested: Bill was just getting old.

‘Is Granda going to wake up soon?’ Polly asked.

‘I hope so.’

‘Yer, he’ll be back on his feet in no time,’ Bert agreed, turning his cap in his hands.

A movement from the doorway caused them all to turn round. Gertie motioned to the children. ‘Go downstairs, you kids, and we’ll get out the cards.’

‘Can we play patience, Grandma?’ Polly asked excitedly.

‘We’ll play whatever you like, ducks. You two know where the cards are. Then later, after we’ve had tea, your Granda will be awake.’

When Tom and Polly had gone, Gertie looked at Lizzie. ‘The doctor gave Bill something to make him rest. Looks like it’s doing the job.’

Lizzie sniffed. ‘He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’

‘As right as rain.’ Gertie patted her shoulder.

‘We’d better go. You sure you want the kids to stay?’

Lizzie gazed down at her father-in-law. She bent to kiss him. The skin of his cheek felt very thin.

‘Off you go now,’ Gertie told her. ‘And tell the bobbies from me, they’ll have Gertie Spooner to answer to if they don’t send Danny back to his father.’

Lizzie smiled. She knew Gertie loved Daisy’s boys as her own and meant every word she said.

‘Take a closer look, Mrs Flowers,’ said the policeman as he placed the dog-eared black-and-white photograph in front of her. He bore a faint resemblance to Frank as
he stood in the sleazy type of clothes that Frank liked to wear. ‘Have you ever seen him before?’

Lizzie knew he was studying her closely. The same plain-clothes copper who had arrived at the house last night and bundled Danny in the car now wanted her help. She raised her eyes slowly and
shook her head. ‘I told you. The answer is no.’

‘Would you like to know who he is?’

‘No. Why should I? Where’s Danny?’ She pushed the photograph away, towards the filthy ashtray.

‘This is the late Duncan King,’ Bray continued, drawing the photograph back with nicotine-stained fingers. ‘He’s a South London crook and the man your brother-in-law
identified as your husband at the morgue in May.’ He looked at Bert. ‘And you, Mr Allen. Do you recognize this man?’

Lizzie glanced at Bert who had refused to cooperate from the moment they had walked into the station. After a scuffle with two of the policemen who had intended to lead Lizzie away from him and
into an interview room, the senior policeman had called off his watchdogs. Lizzie had taken Bert’s arm and they had been led along the sour-smelling corridor to a dim, windowless room. It was
no bigger than the storeroom at home. From that moment on, Bert had glared belligerently ahead and refused to speak.

‘I advise you to answer,’ the policeman threatened. ‘Unless you have no objection to occupying that chair for the foreseeable future. I am sure Mrs Flowers has better things to
do with her time.’

‘Don’t know him,’ Bert grunted. ‘Never seen him before in my life.’

Detective Inspector Bray smoothed his thumbs together. ‘The burning question in my mind is how come your husband walked large as life into Poplar registry office yesterday morning, when he
was supposed to be six foot under?’

Lizzie’s jaw dropped. How did he know about that?

‘Yes, I can see you’re wondering how we got the information.’ He smiled, showing uneven brown teeth. ‘We had a telephone call from the registrar. Not often he finds
himself compromised, having almost aided and abetted bigamy.’

‘It wasn’t bigamy.’ Lizzie stared into the sunken eyes of the man questioning her. ‘I believed I was a widow.’

‘A widow?’

‘Yes. I thought Frank was dead.’

‘Because the man you wanted to marry told you so?’

She looked up at him. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘True, isn’t it?’

‘Danny thought it was Frank in the morgue.’

‘So he led us all to believe. But you see my problem, don’t you?’ The policeman’s foul breath on her face made her wince. ‘I am left with Duncan King’s missus
giving me grief over the disappearance of her dear departed who was identified as none other than Frank Flowers before he was sunk down six feet and buried.’

Lizzie studied the image that the policeman refused to take away. ‘I don’t have any idea who Duncan King is. But this man does look a bit like Frank, and I expect it was an easy
mistake to make.’

‘So you’re saying your brother-in-law genuinely made a cock-up?’

‘Yes, of course it was a mistake.’

‘But a man must know his own brother.’

‘He was in the water a long time.’ Lizzie refused to be browbeaten even though she knew the policeman, for some reason, was trying to get her to admit that Danny had deliberately
misidentified Frank.

Bray smiled without humour. ‘The body wasn’t a pleasant sight, that’s true. Although you didn’t see it, did you? Why not, Mrs Flowers?’

‘I . . . I didn’t want to.’

‘I’ll ask again, why not?’

‘Because it would be upsetting, of course.’

‘A puzzling sentiment . . .’ The policeman crooked an eyebrow. ‘Since you hated the sight of him.’

Lizzie sat up. ‘Who told you that?’

He tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’s my job to know these things.’

‘Well, you’re wrong. I didn’t hate Frank. I was frightened of him. Of what he might do.’

‘If he found out you were carrying on with another man?’

‘No!’ Lizzie was about to jump to her feet. But Bert was there before her.

‘You ain’t talking to my sister like that—’

‘Sit down, or else I’ll have you removed,’ the detective growled as Bert loomed over him.

‘Do as he says, Bert.’ Lizzie tugged her brother’s arm.

‘My version is,’ continued Bray as Bert slumped back to the chair, ‘you and your boyfriend cooked up a scheme to get rid of him. With your husband out of the way, there was
nothing to stop you tying the knot.’

‘That’s not true.’ Lizzie tried to respond calmly. ‘As you know Frank isn’t dead.’

‘So your plan went adrift.’ Bray shrugged. ‘And when a body conveniently washed up, you hit on plan B.’

Lizzie felt her stomach turn. ‘That’s ridiculous. Danny and me weren’t doing anything wrong when we decided to get married.’

‘Well, it now seems you were.’ Bray gazed at her with hard eyes. ‘Let’s go over this again. There’s you and there’s your –
estranged
–
husband. Then there’s you and Danny Flowers, his brother and your intended. I have a floater from the other side of the river, with no clue as to why he met his end. If we’d looked into
his demise a few months earlier you might not be sitting here now.’ He paused, scratching the side of his unshaven jaw. ‘I have more questions than I have answers. Though Duncan King
won’t be much lamented, his end is still unaccounted for.’