The Street (2 page)

Alice immediately turned her head to stare through the gloom at her sister. ‘You don’t want to let Mum hear you say that. She won’t half have yer hide if she knows you’ve been pinching off her clients.’

‘What she don’t know don’t hurt. ’Sides, it were ages ago now.’ Sophy was quiet for a moment. ‘Don’t you let on, right, ’cos I still got a little put by and she’ll want it. And she won’t stop till she finds it, neither.’

‘’Course I won’t say,’ Alice snorted. Should their mother find out any of them had a few bob saved she’d turn the place upside down looking for it. Alice had known her dad, who was a painter and decorator by trade, hide a half a crown in a tin of paint in the hope it would be safe from his wife till he got home. Alice squirrelled further into the bed but there was no warm spot lower down on the freezing mattress. Quickly she drew her knees back to her chest. ‘Well, what else d’you know?’ she asked after a few minutes of trying to get off to sleep.

‘Lots of things,’ Sophy insisted. ‘Know about boys too.’

‘Well, you can keep that to yourself,’ Alice said with genuine lack of interest.

‘You’ll change yer mind soon enough,’ Sophy chuckled. ‘Once you start using the jam rags you’ll know what I mean.’

‘Oh, shut up, will you,’ Alice groaned, disgusted. She knew what her sister meant and she had no wish to ever get involved with all that messy stuff every month. It made her feel quite queasy to think about it.

‘I reckon Tommy Greenfield is soft on me. He keeps watching me all the time. His sister said she reckons he likes me too.’

‘He got Maisie Brookes into trouble,’ Alice hissed. She turned slowly to widen her eyes expressively. ‘You want to watch yourself. Mum’ll kill you if she finds out you’ve been knockin’ around with him.’

‘Ain’t been knockin’ about with him,’ Sophy muttered defensively. ‘Just said he’d been looking at me, that’s all.’ Sophy lay her head back down for a second. Then she leaned close to Alice to add, ‘Anyhow, everyone knows that Maisie’s a slag. Weren’t the first time she’d dropped her drawers.’

Alice grunted noncommittally in response and closed her eyes. A moment later they flicked open and she groaned.

‘What now?’ Sophy asked.

‘She’s wet,’ Alice said. She felt for the rag that served as Lucy’s nappy and her fingers encountered the warm, soggy cloth.

‘Hope that’s all it is,’ Sophy garbled in real alarm.

Alice climbed out of bed and, shivering in her underwear, quickly unwrapped the wet cloth whilst trying to keep little Lucy’s damp bottom protected from the frosty air with a coat. She searched by touch in the gloom and finally located a fresh rag at the foot of the bed. Carefully she wiped the baby dry with it then she turned it, shaped it, and skilfully secured it about Lucy’s fragile pelvis.

Speedily she jumped back into bed and moved Lucy between herself and Sophy. ‘Quick, keep her warm or she’ll wake up and start yelling. Then we’ll know it. We’ll not have a wink of shut-eye.’

Sophy grunted and made room. ‘’Spose we’ll all stink of piss again tomorrer.’ It was her final comment before she fell asleep.

‘Where’s the money?’

An apprehensive look slipped between Alice and Sophy. They each picked up a slab of bread from the plate on the table and started to chew. Bethany slipped down from her chair, murmuring about needing the privy.

‘I said, where’s me bacca money?’ their father suddenly roared. He shook the empty tin in his hand and glared at his wife. With an almighty crash he slammed the tin onto the mantelshelf.

Tilly Keiver settled baby Lucy more firmly on her jutting hip. ‘What bleedin’ money? Weren’t no money in the tin. You had it out Monday. I saw you.’ She swivelled her hips from side to side, rocking the baby, even though little Lucy seemed unconcerned by her father’s fury.

Jack Keiver approached his wife. He was a well-built man in his early thirties. His features were regular and the only blemish on his handsome face was a small, odd-shaped area of freckled skin that ran along his jaw. Presently the birth-mark was stretched by the grim thrust of his chin. ‘You lyin’ cow. I wouldn’t take money out when you was around to see where it was hid. You think I don’t know you by now?’ He stared angrily at the empty tin as though he might get his three shillings back if he wished hard enough for it. ‘You’ve had it, ain’t yer?’ Suddenly enlightenment erased the weariness from his rugged features. ‘You was out boozing again last night, wasn’t you?’

‘Ain’t been nowhere,’ Tilly snapped back. She turned to squarely face her husband, her figure stiff with belligerence. She’d fought with him before and would do so again if necessary. ‘I’ve been stuck in this dump, ain’t I,’ she lied without a flicker of guilt altering her wide blue gaze. Her eyes darted to her two eldest daughters, settled fiercely on Alice. Both girls kept their heads bowed and sipped at their lukewarm tea.

‘I’m warning yer, gel, don’t drag them into it.’ Jack’s lips were rimmed white with wrath. ‘Soon as me back’s turned you’re thievin’ and off out.’ He thrust his hands deep into his pockets and paced to and fro. ‘Well, if you think I’m working nights again for old man Cooke for a pittance so’s you can tip me takings down yer neck . . .’

‘If you get yourself some proper work you won’t need to be Cookie’s sidekick for a measly few bob.’ Tilly blocked his path and shoved her face up to his. ‘I told you that Mr Keane wants one of his houses in Playford painted out.’

‘And I told you that I’ll not knuckle under for him . . . or you.

‘You selfish git. You sit around moaning you ain’t got no work then don’t want a good job when I find it for you.’

‘I can get me own.’

‘Yeah, I noticed. You’re fuckin’ useless, you are.’

‘You keep a civil tongue in front of the kids.’ Jack Keiver’s dark brown eyes narrowed coldly on his wife.

The warning had been issued in a voice that Alice strained to hear yet it made a shiver slip down her spine. She looked at her father from beneath her lashes, watching him swing away and pick up his coat and hat. He’d been in barely fifteen minutes and he was not intending to stay. A sorrowful sob was stifled in her chest. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms about him, tell him she had a little bit put by and he was welcome to it to spend on whatever he liked. But she sat still and simply watched as he opened the door.

‘I’m off out.’ He looked back at his sullen-faced wife. ‘I know you’ve been boozing, Tilly,’ he said dully. ‘You reek of it.’

‘Yeah, well maybe I wouldn’t need it if I had a man bringin’ in proper wages and helping out now ‘n’ again.’ That was muttered at the door Jack had banged shut behind him. Tilly shook back her tangled fiery hair and spat out a curse to hurry him on his way. Then she turned about with her chin up to face her daughters.

‘Come on . . . what you two waiting for? Christmas? You should’ve been out from under me feet by now. Get off to school and quick about it.’ Tilly deposited Lucy on the bed, and started gathering up the crockery on the table. It needed rinsing under the tap on the landing so they could use it at dinnertime. She shoved the little pile of plates and cups towards Alice. ‘Here, get this done ’fore you disappear. I’ve got to nip downstairs and see your aunt Fran about some work I’ve found her.’

As Tilly sped down the stairs she thought about Jack. Regret was writhing in the pit of her stomach, making her irritable. She could have owned up and said she’d taken his money for her boots. He might not have minded that so much; it was his belief that she’d stolen it for whiskey that made him mad. Yesterday, when she’d got the boots off Billy the Totter, she’d meant to show Jack what a bargain she’d found. But he’d come in and gone out to work down the market without seeing her. She hadn’t intended to go to the Duke at all. She’d had no money for a start. Then a friend had called by and offered to stand her a drink. It’d been Kitty Drew’s treat for she’d been promoted to supervisor at the Star Brush factory. It was a celebration . . . a time for a bit of fun. Gawd knows there was little enough of that to be had round here!

Tilly loved Jack and she knew he loved her. She knew she did things she shouldn’t. She said things she shouldn’t. And as for that temper of hers . . . it was a bitter consolation reminding herself that he was far from perfect. If he’d taken on that job for Mr Keane it would have seen them straight for several weeks. He’d let his blooming pride get in the way of a bit of decent grub on the table.

With a savagery born of frustration Tilly hammered loudly on a door. She got no response to that so, after a moment or two, made to walk in unannounced. The door was locked. ‘You in, Fran?’ She rattled the handle. Still no one came to open it so she gave the panels another thump. ‘Fran? Jimmy? Anyone home?’

‘Saw him go out,’ a voice behind Tilly informed her.

Tilly turned to see Mr Prewett locking his door. He had the room in front of her sister Fran’s. Tucking his walking stick beneath his arm he began to limp down the stairs. He hopped down a step at a time with the aid of a rickety banister that seemed to hang in space. Over time the spindles had been prised free and used as firewood by tenants desperate to keep warm. ‘Surprised I was, I can tell you, to see either of ’em walkin’ after the bleeding commotion coming out of there last night.’ Having made his complaint, Mr Prewett hopped down another tread.

‘They was at it last night?’ Tilly demanded, frowning down at the top of his shiny head.

‘Thought the whole road must’ve known what went on, the row they was making.’ Bill Prewett settled himself firmly on one foot and looked up at her. ‘Banged on their door meself, I did. You gorn deaf or summat?’

‘I was out for a while . . .’ Tilly explained.

‘Oh . . . out, was yer?’

The knowing tone made Tilly itch to run down and slap his smug face for him. She knew that it was common knowledge around here that she liked a drink. So what? So did most people struggling to survive in this shit hole.

‘Anyoldhow,’ Bill went on quickly, having recognised the dangerous glint in Tilly’s eyes, ‘I saw Jimmy slope off around seven this morning. He looked alright, as far as I could tell, but that don’t mean nuthin’.’ With that he eased himself forward and carried on his slow descent of the stairs.

Tilly turned back to the locked door and renewed her efforts with both hands. Her concern for her younger sister’s welfare had put a fire in her belly. ‘Fran? Open the door if you’re in there.’ Her fists were raised to recommence the assault when her sister finally opened the door a crack. ‘Let me in, you silly cow.’

‘Only if you promise not to go mad and start shouting. Me head’s fit to explode as it is.’

Tilly gave an impatient sigh and shoved past Fran into a room as dingy and depressing as the one she’d just left on the floor above. She turned about and gave her sister’s appearance a thorough inspection. Her back teeth began to grind but she fought down her anger and simply continued to stare at the sorry sight before her. The light was poor but even so Tilly could see blood spatters on Fran’s blouse and her bruised and battered face. Calmly she asked, ‘What the fuck started him off this time?’

‘He’s a bastard.’

‘Yeah, I know that.’ Tilly waited, hoping to hear a better explanation for Jimmy’s savagery. None was forthcoming. ‘Look at the state of you, fer Gawd’s sake,’ she burst out. ‘Didn’t you try and belt him back?’

‘Just makes him worse.’ Fran grimaced in pain. ‘Besides, me arms hurt too much. Felt as though he’d twisted them out of their sockets. He had them right up behind me back.’ She tried to ease her shoulders but even small movements made her gasp. ‘I’ll get him one o’ these days,’ she vowed shakily. ‘I’ll creep up on him with a knife when he ain’t expecting it. You see if I don’t.’ Her bravado flagged and she slumped against the wall. ‘We’re finished this time, in any case.’

‘You said that last time.’

‘Now I mean it ’cos he’s give me no wages in over a week. I know where the money’s gone, too. I know for sure he’s got a fancy piece.’

‘You said you was finished last time when you found out he had a fancy piece,’ Tilly reminded her a mite too sarcastically.

‘It’s alright for you,’ Fran shrieked, stretching her cut lips. ‘We ain’t all lucky enough to have a decent man like Jack.’ Gingerly she raised her fingers to her face as she felt the warm wetness on her chin. ‘Me mouth’s started to bleed again,’ she wailed and bent her head to a cuff to staunch the flow.

‘Where’s the boys?’ Tilly asked after her two young nephews.

‘Got them off to school somehow. Bobbie’s gone off bawling fit to burst. Stevie’s wet the bed. I gotta get that cleaned up before Jimmy turns up. If he finds out he’ll give him such a hiding.’

‘I’ll change the sheet,’ Tilly promised. ‘And if Jimmy turns up, I’ll see to him too,’ she vowed grimly. ‘First, let’s see to you.’

‘I’m alright,’ Fran muttered and again brought her cuff up to her face. ‘Nothing I ain’t dealt with before.’

‘Come upstairs.’ Tilly got hold of her sister’s arm but, hearing Fran cry out in pain, she instead slipped a hand about her waist. ‘Come on,’ she urged and tugged her gently towards the door. ‘Let’s get some tea on the go and we’ll sort it out.’

‘I reckon he’s got a woman round here this time. That’s where he’s spending his money.’ Fran dipped her head to hide her weeping eyes.

‘We’ll sort it out,’ Tilly repeated firmly. She opened the door and propelled her sister out onto the landing.

Alice and Bethany were sharing the job of wiping the crockery dry and stacking it on the battered old dining table. Sophy had said she’d done her stint washing up yesterday and had got going to school. When their mother reappeared with Fran in tow both girls stopped what they were doing to gawp at the state of their aunt’s face. One of her eyes was puffed to a slit, her lips looked gigantic and her jaw was red and grazed from chin to ear. She greeted her nieces quite jovially even though her eyes were suspiciously wet.

‘You two still here? Bobbie ‘n’ Stevie been gone to school a quarter of an hour or more. You’ll be late, y’know.’

Having heard their cousins had already left, the girls looked at one another. It was not unheard of to get a blackboard rubber aimed at your head by Rotten Rogers if you were last in for registration.

‘We’re just going,’ Alice said and dropped the towel she’d been using to dry up. Bethany followed suit.

Both girls knew that big trouble was afoot, and the two women would want to discuss in private a plan of how to put right whatever had now gone wrong between Aunt Fran and Uncle Jimmy.

‘Where’s Sophy?’

‘Gone to school,’ the sisters chorused in reply.

Moments later Tilly surprised them by saying, ‘You’ll have to stop home.’ She caught one of Alice’s elbows in a strong grip. ‘You get going.’ Tilly tipped her head at the door indicating that Bethany should immediately use it.

With a quick, sympathetic look at her sister Bethany did as she was bid. School was a pain, but at least you could have a laugh with friends on the way there and back. Staying home and caring for Lucy was, to Bethany’s mind, utterly boring. And she knew that was why Alice was being kept off school.

‘Do I have to, Mum?’ Alice asked plaintively. Usually when they had women’s talk they liked to be alone. But there had been one other time Alice had been kept home to act as nursemaid to Bethany when Aunt Fran had problems; it had been years ago before Lucy had been born. On that particular day the whole house had seemed to shake with the commotion that’d gone on.

Uncle Jimmy and her dad had come to blows because Jimmy had accused Tilly of poking her nose in his business. Naturally, her dad had backed her mum although Alice had sensed he thought Jimmy had a point.

Alice was glad her dad had gone out now. At least he would be spared any nastiness that might occur if Jimmy turned up hollering for his missus as he had last time. Not that her mum was unable to stick up for herself. She’d witnessed her fighting in the street with men and women. She’d seen her put a poker over the head of Bart Walsh when he’d refused to pay his rent and had spat at her. Her mum had looked big as a house on that occasion. It’d been only a day or so after that Lucy had been born.

‘Yeah, you do have to stay home today,’ Tilly told Alice. ‘Me ‘n’ your aunt Fran have got to go out a bit later and you’ve got to take care of Lucy ’cos we can’t drag her round with us.’ Tilly sweetened the dictate with a promise. ‘Tell yer what, Al; if you’re a good gel I’ll get you some chips dinnertime. There, how’s that?’

Alice gave a faint smile. In fact it was a nice bribe. They’d had very little to eat yesterday. Dinner had been bread and a scrape of jam. There’d been no jam left for this morning and a slab each of bread with the mould cut off the crust had been their breakfast.

‘I’ve got a couple o’ coppers for you too,’ Aunt Fran said and attempted a smile. The small movement made her wince and moan and hold her jaw.

Alice knew things must be serious if she was getting treats. She didn’t know where her mum and Aunt Fran were heading but guessed it would be to locate Uncle Jimmy. A dingdong was sure to ensue. Alice went to the bed and looked down at Lucy. The baby was gurgling quite con tentedly, her thin legs kicking energetically. Alice gave her little sister a tickle then put a finger onto one of her curled palms. Immediately Lucy gripped it, still giving her a gummy smile. Soon the baby would want a feed and become fractious and her mum was bound to be busy elsewhere. ‘Did Dad bring in any milk?’