The Street (25 page)

Louisa had been told to stay outside the apartment in the corridor. All the rushing about had set her to swearing and sweating and Connie didn’t want her fouling things up in any way.

Already Gilbert Lucas’s eyes had dropped to the bag in Connie’s hand. They then darted to Alice’s exquisitely pretty face before sliding over her body. The fact that he found her attractive was obvious even before he drawled, ‘I see you’ve brought another sweet young lady to see me, Connie. I’m coming to think perhaps you’re not such a bad girl.’

‘I’m coming to think you’re a randy ol’ git who needs to keep his fly buttoned,’ Connie spouted. Again she’d been thoroughly riled on witnessing Mr Lucas’s interest in a girl she considered less attractive than her.

‘Have you something for me, my dear?’ Apart from a look of contempt creasing his face he seemed unperturbed by Connie’s coarse talk and he continued looking at Alice as though he expected her to reply to his question.

‘It’s one of the statues. Got it from the lady I know who bought them both fair ‘n’ square,’ Alice answered clearly.

Mr Lucas’s mouth set in a thin line when he heard he was not to get back both figurines. Connie seemed pleased to witness his annoyance and insolently started swinging the bag in her hand.

‘Mrs Robertson said that she’ll sell you back the other if you like,’ Alice quickly told him. She darted a glance about. The embellished cushions Sarah had liked drew her eyes. The apartment was as beautifully impressive as her friend had said. Nevertheless she wished she’d stayed outside in the cold. Alice understood now what Sarah had meant when she said he gave her the creeps. She felt uneasy in his presence too and wished he’d stop staring at her with his piggy little eyes.

‘You can tell Mrs Robertson that I don’t buy property I already own,’ he purred. ‘So you leave me no choice. I shall need to get the police involved after all.’

‘Don’t think Mrs Robertson would be pleased about that,’ Alice said politely. ‘She not done anything wrong, y’see.’

‘Don’t reckon your wife’ll be too pleased about this neither,’ Connie piped up. She drew from her bag a photo. ‘We got you this. Nice, ain’t it?’ she jeered as she held up the picture for him to see.

The photo of Connie, sitting on a chair holding the statue on her lap, drew Gilbert’s eyes. For a moment he gawped unblinkingly at it while the full significance of its existence began penetrating his mind.

‘I’ll let you have this ’cos I’ve got another copy of it for meself,’ Connie said saucily. She’d noticed straight away the effect the photo had had on him. His complexion had whitened before wrath darkened it. ‘It was nice of you to give them statues to me as a present but now I’m moving out you can have one of ’em back,’ she taunted. ‘Nice things, they are; your wife not missing them?’

Gilbert shot her a poisonous look. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me, my dear?’ he asked exceedingly quietly.

‘Not me . . .’ Connie said with wide-eyed innocence. ‘But I think Ralph might like to get back at you. He never did get over losing his fiancée, y’know.’

‘He called you a fucking whore, as I recall,’ Gilbert said in his quiet, cultured way. ‘He said he never wanted to see you again. I know how he feels.’

‘Yeah, and he called you a few choice names ‘n’ all,’ Connie returned. ‘If he was feeling right nasty I reckon he’d make a point of going ‘n’ seeing your wife and telling her a few things about yer habits.’

‘My wife knows a few things about my habits, as you so charmingly put it,’ Gilbert sneered.

‘Perhaps she does know you’re a randy ol’ sod,’ Connie conceded. ‘But she’s not seen this, has she?’ She waved the photo at him then looked smug when his angry flush returned.

Sarah and Alice exchanged a look. They’d been listening with bated breath to the slanging match. It seemed Connie had edged ahead. It had been an outside chance that the photo might have an impact, but the ploy seemed to have paid off better than they’d hoped. Mr Lucas appeared more annoyed about the photo than only getting back one of his statues.

‘This Mrs Robertson . . . where does she live?’ He fired the question at Alice.

‘She said you can contact her at Blake’s Club in Oxford Street. Johnny Blake is her very good friend, you see.’

Gilbert Lucas seemed momentarily too stunned to speak. His chin was jutted out and he ran a finger inside his collar as though he were perspiring. He turned away to conceal his expression from the three girls.

‘Give me your key,’ he blasted icily over his shoulder at Connie.

She lobbed a piece of metal onto the table.

‘Leave the statue and get out, all of you,’ he commanded.

‘Any chance of getting a few clothes first?’ Connie began cheekily.

‘Get out!’

‘’Ere . . . catch . . .’ Connie called. She drew the shepherd out of the bag and threw it up in the air, laughing as he scrambled forward, arms outstretched.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Sarah gasped out in between chokes of laughter. ‘It might’ve got broke.’

They were all out on the pavement again, trying to subdue their hilarity. It had been quite a sight to see the old fellow tumble over the sofa in his haste to field the china shepherd and save it from smashing. Even Louisa had been guffawing as they’d raced down the stairs, recounting to her what had gone on. For those few minutes they might have been children again, back in Campbell Road, haring about and having fun.

Now the comedy was over. They shivered in their coats, pulling the collars up against the cold.

‘I’m gettin’ off,’ Louisa said. ‘Sonia’s waiting for me in Piccadilly Circus.’

‘’S’pose I might as well come with you,’ Connie said. ‘Can I put up at yours, Lou, for a while till I get me own place? Ain’t going back to Mum’s, that’s fer sure.’

‘’S’alright for me to keep going back there though, ain’t it?’ Sarah shouted angrily, waving her arms. ‘This is what started it all in the first place. All you two ever do is please yourselves and leave me to look after Mum. Ain’t havin’ it no more.’

‘Well, come with me ‘n’ all then,’ Louisa said. ‘I’ll find you something.’

‘Right . . . I will.’

Alice shot a startled glance at her friend. She knew very well why Connie and Louisa were going to meet Sonia in Piccadilly Circus. Sonia and Connie were undoubtedly going to let Louisa find clients for them.

‘You don’t mean that,’ Alice said quickly to Sarah. ‘Come on, we’ve got to catch the bus home.’

‘Had enough . . .’ Sarah choked. ‘Ain’t fair . . .’

‘Yeah; I know,’ Alice said soothingly and put an arm around her shoulders. She drew her determinedly along the pavement. ‘Come on, we’ll talk about it on the way home.’ The idea that Sarah was prepared to go on the game to escape her home life had shocked Alice to the core.

Louisa glared at Alice for interfering. The more girls she had the more she earned. ‘You don’t have to listen to what she says. You coming with us or not?’ she barked at Sarah.

‘No! She ain’t!’ Alice yelled back. ‘She’s coming with me.’ She held on tight to one of Sarah’s arms as though she would forcibly restrain her if she made a move to go with her sisters.

‘Come on, leave them. Let’s go,’ Connie muttered irritably. ‘I need some money. I’m bleeding skint after payin’ out for them photos.’

‘Gonna go potty if I stay around here much longer. Might as well be dead.’

‘Don’t be daft, Sar!’ Alice put a comforting arm about her friend. Sarah had been depressed and tearful most of the way home. They’d just got off the bus close to the top of Campbell Road when Sarah had spouted that out.

‘It were all for nothing,’ Sarah added bitterly. ‘I only went to see Connie to get some help with Mum. Now I’m back where I started and all I done is messed things up for Con. ’Cos of me she’s lost her rich bloke and she’s got nowhere to live.’

‘Louisa’ll let Connie stop with her till she finds somewhere of her own,’ Alice said buoyantly.

‘Yeah; the fat cow’ll get rent off Con by pimping for her like she does for Sonia,’ Sarah said bleakly. ‘Louisa never does nobody no favours. Connie’ll want to kill me over this.’

‘You’ve got nothing to feel bad about,’ Alice stressed and squeezed her friend’s arm in comfort. ‘You’re entitled to a bit of help with your mum off your sisters.’

Sarah nodded but snorted back fresh tears.

As they turned the corner into Campbell Road Alice sensed that, with her detested home in sight, Sarah needed bucking up more than ever. ‘We’ll get away from here, you’ll see,’ she enthused. ‘Just need to wait a bit, ‘n’ work a bit, ‘n’ save a bit.’ A glance at her friend told Alice her encouragement had had no effect. Sarah’s head was bowed in defeat. Sarah was sick and tired of waiting; she earned peanuts packing biscuits; she would never be able to save because she barely made enough to keep her and her mother housed and fed. With every step that took them further into the bowels of Campbell Road Sarah’s dejection seemed to increase. Alice could hear her again softly weeping.

‘You and Herbert will sort things out between you in time,’ Alice said in desperation.

‘He’s worse’n useless,’ Sarah choked. ‘He likes living round here. He’s happy up the corner gambling with his old man. He’s never got no money. He’s got the cheek to ask me to lend him and gets nasty when I won’t.’

Alice was aware that Herbert Banks gambled a lot. He was also a bookie’s runner. She didn’t recall him ever having had a proper job. Unfortunately whatever little amount he earned or won was soon back on the pavement as stake money.

Sarah and Herbert Banks had been walking out for a while but Alice knew that it was no great romance. Sarah was regularly heard to say that she was ready to ditch Banksie because he was a loser. Herbert reckoned all the Whittons, including Sarah, were nuts. But they continued to stick around together while half-heartedly hoping someone better might turn up.

They had reached Sarah’s home and for a moment the two young women stood quietly, facing one another, on the pavement.

‘You wouldn’t really have gone off up west with Louisa today, would you, Sar?’ The question burst from Alice unbidden. It had been niggling in her mind throughout the journey home yet voicing her suspicions seemed like delivering an insult to her friend.

‘Nah . . .’ Sarah mumbled.

‘Sar?’ Alice whispered, aghast.

‘Dunno . . .’ Sarah said dully. ‘Dunno nuthin’ no more.’

‘But you said you never would do that.’

‘I know what I said,’ Sarah hissed, agitated. ‘I know what I done ‘n’ all. I messed everything up for Connie. I’m bleedin’ useless, I am.’

‘You’re not . . .’

‘Goin’ in . . .’ Sarah mumbled and, without another word, disappeared through the open doorway.

‘See you then . . .’ Alice called, trying to sound bright. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and with a sigh carried on down the street towards home.

She found Beth at home looking after Lucy. She took off her coat and lay down next to her little sister, cuddling up close to keep her warm.

‘Where’s Mum?’ she asked Beth.

‘Gone downstairs to see Aunt Fran. She got a few nice bits off Billy the Totter. She reckons the coat might do Bobbie or Stevie a turn. Been a while she has; they’re probably knocking back a few.’

‘Luce been alright today?’

‘She seems a bit brighter. Had a bit o’ bread ‘n’ jam earlier, didn’t you, Luce?’

Lucy nodded her small head against the pillow.

‘Soon be right as ninepence, won’t you?’ Alice leaned towards her sister and planted a kiss on her dark curls.

Again Lucy nodded her head and snuggled against her big sister. Her thin little arms came out from under the blanket to clutch at Alice.

Alice closed her eyes as a strange feeling of contentment settled on her. For what was left of today she’d happily count the few blessings she had. As far as she knew, and please God let it be true, her dad and Geoff were alive and well; her little Lucy was slowly getting over her illness; she had a job and decent wages. What she cherished too was the knowledge that her spirit still thrived. Unlike Sarah she still had hope and determination. She
would
improve her lot.

‘Did Sarah get things all sorted out with Jeannie?’

Alice had been about to head off to work. It had been a few days since she’d gone with the Whittons to see Jeannie about the statues. Her mother’s question therefore came out of the blue and as a bit of a surprise. ‘Yeah; glad to say Jeannie was alright about it all.’

‘She turned out to be a good ’un, did Jeannie,’ Tilly said, pulling on her coat. It was her rent collection day and she too was heading off out. Lucy was still weak and Tilly was taking her downstairs to be cared for by Fran while she was working. ‘Jeannie ain’t a mug though,’ she added significantly whilst gesturing for Lucy to button up her coat. ‘It wouldn’t do for us to get on the wrong side of her, you know that, don’t you, Al? ’Specially not on somebody’s else’s account.’

‘Yeah, I know that,’ Alice confirmed quietly. Never would she forget that the secrets they shared with Jeannie must remain secret. ‘Oh . . . not had a chance to tell you that Jeannie asked to be remembered to you when we said goodbye.’ It was Alice’s way of reassuring her mother that she’d parted from Jeannie on good terms that day. ‘Not had a chance to tell you either that she’s got one of her sons back home from the war.’ The memory of Peter’s frailty caused Alice’s eyes to cloud in pity. Of course, she’d seen on the streets poor souls invalided home, their gaunt faces and crippled limbs testament to the horrors they’d endured. But never before had she been unavoidably close to the human wreckage of the war. For the half an hour or so that they’d spent talking to Jeannie she’d been made conscious that minds were being shattered as badly as bodies. ‘Peter’s got shell-shock. He does look a poor, tormented soul.’ Alice’s voice sounded gruff with sorrow. ‘He just sat there in the chair, fidgeting and mumbling to himself, as though nobody else was in the room. Jeannie said he couldn’t hear us. It were as though he couldn’t see us either.’

Tilly let out a sigh and closed her eyes.

‘And her other son’s been reported missing.’

‘You going to write to your dad for me?’ Tilly hunched into her coat and, having scrubbed at her burning eyes, shoved her hands into the pockets. She’d obviously been affected by the news about Jeannie’s boys. But she continued to grimace at her shoes, unable to express the emotion welling within her.

‘Started a letter to him last night,’ Alice replied gruffly. ‘And one for Geoff too.’ A soft smile shaped her features as she thought of him. After a short pause when they both seemed lost in their own thoughts Alice said briskly, ‘Well I’d better be off or I’m going to be late.’

As she hurried up the road she automatically looked towards Sarah’s house. She hadn’t seen Sarah since they’d travelled home together on the bus. Alice had been doing extra shifts at work and babysitting Lucy while she convalesced. She’d not had an opportunity to pay her friend a call. As she got closer Alice could see a stooped figure in the doorway. Her step faltered as, amazed, she realised Ginny Whitton was up and about. She hadn’t seen the woman in an age. When Alice did call on Sarah she was reluctant to enter the Whittons’ malodorous hovel and usually loitered on the landing talking to her friend.

‘Hello, Mrs Whitton,’ Alice called and speeded up, hoping to whip past.

‘Alice . . . Alice . . . spare a minute?’

Alice hesitated but didn’t move closer. She regretted now not having crossed the road when she saw Ginny huddled there. She had no wish to run errands and she guessed that was what the woman was after. Alice had been caught out before by Ginny when she was out of booze and couldn’t wait till Sarah got home from work for her next tipple. Alice didn’t want to be unneighbourly, but if she didn’t hurry she’d be late for work. She also had no money to lend to get Ginny’s drink for her.

‘Can’t stop, Mrs W,’ Alice called, edging away. ‘I’m late for me shift as it is.’

‘Won’t take you no more’n a minute,’ Ginny whined. ‘Only want you to nip to the corner and back. Got money,’ she wheedled. ‘Look . . . got money . . .’ She let go of the doorframe and tottered forward a few steps, thrusting out an open palm. ‘I’d go meself, you know I would, but me leg’s paining me summat awful.’

‘Sarah’ll be back dinnertime,’ Alice said desperately, determined not to weaken and move closer.

‘Sarah’s fucked off,’ Ginny spat with surprising vigour. ‘Ungrateful little cow’s gawn and left me all on me own. All wot I done for her ‘n’ all.’

That information first shocked Alice into immobility then drew her quickly forward. She retreated again as the stench of mingling body odour and alcohol hit her nostrils. ‘Where’s Sarah gone?’ she demanded.

‘Got a job waitressin’, ain’t she. Her and Connie both got jobs in a fancy place in the West End. Thought she’d of told you, being as you’re best pals. Get us a half bottle o’ gin, will you, Al?’ One of Ginny’s grimy hands opened again to reveal some coins. ‘Whatever’s left over, you can keep it, yer know,’ she said as though the bribe of a penny or two was a great inducement.

‘Don’t want your money, Mrs W,’ Alice replied. She held out a hand and let Ginny tip the coins into it rather than touch her dirty skin. She stared sightlessly as her cupped palm caught the silver and copper. Her mind was in turmoil. She knew why her friend hadn’t told her of her plans to go away: Sarah knew that she would have done her utmost to stop her leaving.

‘I’ll just hang on here and wait for you,’ Ginny said, unsubtly prompting Alice to go and fetch her gin.

As Alice hurried away she saw Beattie Evans approaching her from the opposite pavement. The woman started to walk briskly with her towards the shop. ‘See you got nabbed, Alice,’ Beattie said sympathetically. ‘I crossed over the road to avoid her. Ginny owes me two bob from earlier in the week,’ she huffed. ‘Don’t want to be unkind or nuthin’ but I ain’t got two bob to spare. Fact is I could do with it back. Gawd knows what’ll become of Ginny now they’ve all up ‘n’ left her. Dunno how she’ll take it if she finds out the truth neither. Waitressing my eye!’

Alice slid a look at Beattie; she realised she was hinting heavily that she knew about Sarah’s defection, and the nature of the work that had lured her away. Any lingering uncertainty Alice had about the full extent of Beattie’s knowledge was soon put to flight.

‘I know Ginny ain’t the full ticket,’ Beattie started. ‘I know it must’ve been hard for Sarah putting up with her, but bleedin’ hell, who’d have thought
all
them Whitton gels would end up on the game?’ Beattie suddenly shot Alice a look. ‘When Ginny finds out she’ll be glad they took themselves off. Shame of it! ’Course you was friendly with Sarah, weren’t you, so you’d probably know better’n me about . . .’

‘Yeah, she
is
me friend and always will be,’ Alice harshly interrupted. ‘And I can tell you that Sarah ain’t on the game,’ she added forcefully. ‘If she’s gone to live with Connie ‘n’ Louisa it’s ’cos she got herself a better job and needs a place to stop. She’s said she’s waitressing and that’s what she’s doing.’

‘Yeah . . . ’course . . . ’course,’ Beattie said in a mollifying tone. ‘Just repeating what I heard, that’s all. I ain’t starting no rumours, you understand. Just repeating what I heard.’

‘Who d’you hear it off?’ Alice demanded.

‘Herbert Banks was spouting his mouth off down the Duke. Said some bad things about Louisa, I can tell you. Said she’s a queer ponce.’ Beattie gasped a shocked laugh and her eyebrows disappeared beneath her curly fringe. ‘Well, we all know she’s ugly ‘n’ fat but I reckon Louisa’d put out his lights if she knew he’d said she ain’t a proper brass. Ain’t right to go saying such terrible things about folk.’

‘Changed your tune, ain’t you?’ Alice said. ‘It was good riddance to bad rubbish a moment ago.’ She was angry and frightened that perhaps what Beattie had naturally assumed to be true
was
true, and it had made her agitated and snappy. Was Sarah a waitress, or had she finally become desperate enough at being burdened with her mother to join her sisters in living off vice?

‘No need to get narky wi’ me, Alice Keiver!’ Beattie remonstrated. ‘Like I said, I’m just passing on what I heard.’ With that the woman stomped off, leaving Alice to enter the shop alone.

‘Not a lot more we can do for you here, Private Keiver.’ The doctor suddenly glanced up from writing his notes and gave Jack a penetrating look as though pondering on making too hasty a decision. ‘The wound’s healing quite well, but better to be safe than sorry with a head injury,’ he finally declared. ‘Don’t want you keeling over on your colleagues and making yourself more of a hindrance than a help. I think it’s time you were convalescing down the line.’ He resumed scribbling on Jack’s ticket then strode on to his next patient.

Geoff slanted Jack a subtle, satisfied smile. They were sitting together, Jack in a comfy chair, Geoff perched on a stool, in the smallest of the basement rooms situated in the farmhouse that had been commandeered for service as an aid post. In the background could be heard the dull whines and thuds of mortar fire. But neither man winced as a moment later the building shook from an explosion close by. The welcome news they’d just heard from the doctor reverberated in their minds, drowning out all else. Jack was going down the line. The further he travelled towards the coast of France and a base hospital the more likely it was to be sent to a Blighty one and get sent home to convalesce.