Gaslight In Page Street Part 18

'See the way 'e keeps on lookin' at 'er?' another said. 'I've never seen the bloke lookin' so smart.'

Sharkey Morris had noticed the change in Fred, and feeling in a way responsible for Carrie's well-being he made a point of speaking to the young girl when he got the chance. 'Are yer all right, luv?' he asked her one day with a pointed look of concern. 'What I mean ter say is, n.o.body's tryin' ter take liberties, are they?'

Fred had been careful not to let Carrie see him watching her and she was oblivious to her employer's growing interest in her. She was a little puzzled at Sharkey's sudden curiosity. 'They're all friendly, an' they don't mind if they 'ave ter wait fer their grub,' she replied.

He grinned at her innocence. 'No, what I mean is, luv, n.o.body's givin' yer any ole lip or comin' the ole soldier,' he said by way of explanation.

Carrie was still unsure exactly what Sharkey was hinting at and shook her head. 'Everyfing's fine.'

'If yer do get pestered, jus' let yer ole mate Sharkey know an' I'll put 'em ter rights,' he said firmly.

Sharkey Morris would have been more concerned had he known that Carrie had been making some discreet enquiries about a certain young man with a Romany appearance. He had only come into the dining rooms on a few occasions since the first time but always at a busy period, and Carrie had not been able to talk at length to him. Nevertheless, she had learned that he worked for a grain merchant and his job meant he had to shovel hot grain mash from the brewery into his cart and transport it to farms in the outskirts of London. She had been able to tell from Tommy Allen's powerful build and muscular arms that the work was very hard, and the elderly carman who knew him explained to her that it was a job only for fit young men. Carrie found herself hoping Tommy would come into the dining rooms again.

It was one Friday morning that Tommy made one of his rare appearances, and on this particular day he picked a quiet period. Carrie tried to suppress a feeling of excitement as she brought over his tea and took his order for a cheese sandwich.

'I'aven't seen yer fer some time. I thought yer'd changed yer cafe,' she said, surprised at her boldness.

He smiled. 'I wasn't in the area. I've bin wonderin' 'ow yer bin. 'Ave yer missed me?'

Carrie's cheeks glowed. 'I bin too busy ter notice,' she said quickly.

Tommy sipped his tea while she went for his order. When she returned and put the plate down in front of him, he looked into her eyes. 'I've missed comin' in 'ere, ter tell yer the trufe,' he remarked, biting on the sandwich.

Carrie turned away in embarra.s.sment and he grinned as she got on with stacking the clean mugs. Customers were starting to come in and suddenly Tommy was at the counter.

'I've gotta get goin',' he said. 'Would yer fancy comin' ter see a show at the South London Music 'All on Sat.u.r.day evenin'?'

Carrie felt her heart leap but stifled her excitement. 'I dunno,' she replied, wis.h.i.+ng she had said yes.

Tommy was not to be put off. 'Look, it's a good show. I'll come knockin' if yer like. Tell me where yer live an' I'll call round about six o'clock.'

'Go on, Carrie, tell 'im where yer live,' one of the carmen joked.

'Can't yer see the young man's waitin'?' his friend said, laughing.

Carrie felt her cheeks growing hot. 'Twenty-four Page Street. Next door ter the stable,' she rattled off.

Tommy grinned widely. 'See yer at six,' he said as he walked out of the dining rooms.

The conversation had been overheard by Fred and he felt suddenly angry with himself. He had wanted to ask Carrie out for some time but had not been able to muster enough courage to approach her. Now it looked as though he had left it too late. He had begun to think that Carrie was showing a little interest in him. She had seemed to get over her initial shyness and chat to him a little more whenever there was a quiet spell. She had told him she was very happy in the job and once or twice she had actually commented favourably about his appearance. Maybe he was too old for her anyway, he told himself. She was only twenty-one and he was in his mid-thirties. Why should she be interested in him? She hadn't noticed how much he had smartened himself up, or if she had noticed she hadn't mentioned it to him. Fred carried on with the cooking, feeling depressed.

It had been a few weeks now since the theft of the watch and Jack Oxford was biding his time. He had denied ever bringing anyone back into the yard and when William had confronted him about the planking being loosened from the inside Jack merely shrugged his shoulders and hoped the yard foreman would let the matter rest, but it was not to be.

'As long as I don't know I couldn't care a sod if yer decide ter kip in the yard,' William told him, 'but when fings go missin' I do care. I'm responsible fer the place an' I'm not gonna stan' by an' let yer drop me in the s.h.i.+te. If yer know who nicked that watch, I suggest yer get it back off 'im.'

Jack had thought hard about which one of his friends could have taken the watch. He had known them for some time and had never had reason to suspect that any of them might take advantage of a good turn. Charlie was the only one he did not know prior to that night. He would be the most likely one to have filched the watch, Jack reasoned.

Working on that a.s.sumption he had visited the arches on a few occasions, pretending that he was just turning up for a chat, but Charlie was never there. Harold, Mois.h.i.+e and the eccentric Bernie did not seem to be hiding anything, and when Jack asked after Charlie on his last visit he was rewarded with a shrug of the shoulders.

'We ain't seen 'air nor 'ide of 'im since that night we all went ter the stables,' Harold told him. 'Funny bloke 'e was. 'E Jus' showed up 'ere one cold night an' asked if 'e could 'ave a warm by the fire. 'E told us 'e'd bin chucked out by 'is missus a few years ago an' 'e was livin' rough. 'E ain't a Londoner by all accounts. I fink 'e told me 'e come from Manchester, or was it Newcastle? Somewhere like that anyway.'

'Cornwall,' Bernie piped in. 'Charlie come from Bodmin in Cornwall.'

'Oh, well, I knew it was somewhere like that,' Harold said.

Mois.h.i.+e poked at the flaring brazier. 'I never trusted the bloke meself,' he said. 'I woke up one night an' saw 'im rummagin' frew 'Arold's bundle. 'E said 'e was lookin' fer a match ter get the fire goin' agin.'

Jack came away from the arches that night convinced that Charlie was his man and determined that he would find him eventually.

On Friday evening Florrie Axford took her old friends to the Kings Arms for a drink. As they sat chatting amiably in the snug bar, Florrie was in a happy frame of mind. She had 'come into a few bob' as she put it, and her friends were more than a little surprised at her att.i.tude.

'Yer could 'ave knocked me down wiv a feavver,' she was saying. 'I was up ter me eyes in was.h.i.+n' an' this bloke knocks at me door wiv the news. Five guineas 'e give me. Apparently it was a policy in my name an' 'e told me I'd bin payin' it in wiv the insurance. It was only fourpence a week but it'd bin paid in fer years. I couldn't work it out fer a moment, then I suddenly tumbled it. It was from that second 'usband o' mine. The ole goat took 'is policies when 'e walked out on me an' I didn't fink any more of it. From what I can gavver 'e was livin' wiv 'is married sister when 'e pegged it. Choked on a chicken bone by all accounts.'

Maisie shook her head. 'What a way ter go.'

Florrie shrugged her shoulders. 'Least 'e was eatin'. Could 'ave bin worse. 'E could 'ave starved ter death.'

'Don't be wicked, Flo,' Nellie said, stifling a chuckle.

Florrie sipped her milk stout. 'Why should I be upset over 'is pa.s.sin'? 'E left me in the lurch years ago an' I ain't laid eyes on 'im since. I ain't losin' no sleep over 'im.'

'Still 'e was yer 'usband, fer better or fer worse,' Aggie piped in.

'It was all worse where 'e was concerned,' Florrie retorted. 'I've got more money orf the bleeder since 'e's bin gorn than I ever did when 'e was alive.'

Grace Crossley was leaning on the counter and her wide ruddy face split into a grin. 'Yer wanna be careful talking like that o' the dead, Florrie. Yer ole man might come back an' 'aunt yer,' she said.

'I don't fink so,' Florrie replied, downing the last of her drink. ''E never spent much time in our 'ouse when 'e was livin'. I don't s'pose 'e'd be too anxious ter pay me a visit now 'e's dead.'

Aggie was getting a little frightened by the way the conversation was going. She got up and leaned on the bar counter. 'Give us all the same again, Grace,' she said, fis.h.i.+ng in her leather purse. 'Talkin' o' ghosts 'as made me come over all s.h.i.+very.'

The buxom landlady laughed aloud as she poured the drinks. 'Yer don't believe in them sort o' fings, do yer, Aggie?' she asked in a mocking tone of voice.

The slim woman pulled the fur trim of her coat down over her wrists and leaned forward over the counter. 'My 'Arold reckons 'e see a ghost one night when 'e was lightin' the lamps. It floated across the street large as life,' she whispered. 'My ole man said it frightened the life out of 'im. Come out of one o' the 'ouses in Cotton Lane it did.'

Grace frowned in disbelief. 'It must 'ave bin a bit o' fog swirlin' around,' she replied as she put the drinks down on the counter.

Aggie shook her head vigorously. 'No, it was a clear night, so my 'Arold said. This fing floated over the cobbles and then it jus' evaporated. That wasn't the end of it neivver. A couple o' weeks later 'Arold was lightin' the lamps in the street an' this ole man come up to 'im an' asked 'im if 'e 'ad change of a tanner. 'E said 'e wanted some coppers fer the gas meter an' when 'Arold give 'im the change, the ole man went in the 'ouse where the ghost come out of. Anyway, a couple o' nights later the gas board dug the turnin' up outside the same 'ouse an' my ole man got talkin' ter the night-watchman. 'E told 'im that they was mendin' a gas leak an' they was puttin' new pipes inter the 'ouse at the same time. When my 'Arold told 'im about the bloke askin' 'im fer change fer the gas the watchman laughed at 'im. 'E good as called 'im a liar. Apparently the place 'ad been empty fer years an' the gas 'ad been cut off fer ages.'

Grace pulled a face and hurried away to serve in the public bar, leaving Florrie grinning over the counter.

'I've 'eard 'Arold tell that story a dozen times,' she whispered to Maisie and Nellie. 'Each time it's a different street.'

As the women friends settled down to enjoy fresh drinks in the tiny snug bar, the conversation turned to more mundane topics.

''Ow's your Carrie gettin' on at that dinin' rooms, Nell?' Maisie asked.

'She's doin' fine,' Nellie replied. 'She likes it better than the factory. Mind yer, she's kept on the go most o' the day. Still, the gel's 'appy there, which is more than I can say fer the boys. James is fed up at the sawmills an' 'e's tryin' ter get anuvver job. Young Danny's workin' in the shop now. I'm glad 'e don't 'ave ter run around on the errand bike but 'e don't like it. 'E said 'e'd like ter go on the barges. Trouble is it's 'ard ter get a job on the river. It's all farvvers an' sons. The only one who's 'appy is young Charlie. 'E's doin' well in that office. They've give 'im a rise an' 'e's in charge o' the mail by all accounts.'

Maisie nodded. 'It's nice ter see yer kids get on. My two's doin' well,' she said. 'Ronnie's in a s.h.i.+ppin' office an' Albert's workin' in Tooley Street fer a provision merchant's. I'm glad they never went in the factories. That's no life fer kids slavin' away in those places.'

Florrie leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. 'I 'eard Galloway's younger son got married. Sid Bristow's wife told me. She said the girl sings in the music 'alls. 'E's done well fer 'imself.'

'That's all right if they like that life,' Aggie remarked. 'Those music-'all people travel all over the country. I don't s'pose the boy's gonna like 'er gallivantin' all over the place. I wouldn't like it if my ole man was never 'ome.'

'I can't see your ole man singin' on the stage,' Nellie laughed. 'Jus' imagine, 'Arold the singin' lamplighter.'

The friends' conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Betty Argent and Maudie Mycorft who nodded to the group as they walked up to the counter and ordered their drinks. Maisie noticed that the two looked rather quiet and leaned across the table. 'Yer look a bit upset,' she remarked. 'Everyfing all right?'

Maudie pinched her chin with her thumb and forefinger. 'It's Betty's 'usband,' she said gravely.

'Ain't 'is bronchitis no better?' Maisie asked.

Betty shook her head. 'It ain't that. 'E went back ter work last week an' now 'e's orf sick again.'

'What's the matter wiv 'im this time?' Maisie rejoined.

''E's come out all over in a rash. The doctor told 'im it's the shock comin' out,' Mrs Argent told her.

'What, the shock o' goin' back ter work?' Florrie joked.

Betty pulled a face. ''Im an' 'is gang was layin' track down by Bermondsey Junction on Wednesday night an' they come across this body. It'd bin 'it by a train by all accounts. Terrible mess it was in. My Dougie said it was prob'ly an ole tramp by the look of 'is clothes. 'E said the strangest fing was, although the clothes was in rags there was a watch-an'-chain on the body. Seems strange fer a tramp ter be wearin' a watch-an'chain. '

Late on Friday evening Jack Oxford left the little pub in Abbey Street and walked slowly towards the lodging-house near the spice wharves in Dockhead. The beds were tuppence dearer than those in Tooley Street but at least he could be a.s.sured of a reasonable night's sleep, he told himself. The owner there did not allow gambling and noisy behaviour, and he had already barred Fatty Arbuckle from staying there after the incident of attempted boot-stealing. Jack had enjoyed a quiet few hours at the pub and had eaten a good supper.

Now he was feeling quite content as he made his way past the shadowy, deserted wharves. As he reached the lodging-house he saw a policeman standing outside the entrance and his heart missed a beat. There was no turning back now, he decided, trying to maintain a steady pace. Better to sweat it out.

Inside the lodging-house owner was talking earnestly with two men, and when he saw Jack called him into his office. 'These two gentlemen are from the police. They wanna talk ter all my regular customers,' he said.

The larger of the two detectives motioned towards a chair. 'Sit yerself down,' he said, taking a notepad from his inside pocket.

Jack struggled to keep calm as he settled his lanky frame on the seat. 'What's the trouble?' he asked, feeling his mouth going dry.

'Can we have your name first?' the detective asked, eyeing him closely.

When Jack had told him, the other detective took over. 'Do you lodge here regularly?' he began. 'Do you know any of the tramps who have been using this neighbourhood during the past few months?'

Jack nodded to the first question and shook his head to the second.

'We're trying to establish the ident.i.ty of a tramp who was killed by a train at Bermondsey Junction,' the officer told him. 'The body was too mangled for us to get a picture done of him but we've got a description to go on. The man was about five foot seven and in his mid-thirties. He was dark-skinned and brown-eyed. His clothes were ragged and he wore a long black overcoat with a rotted flower in the b.u.t.tonhole. The most unusual thing was that he was wearing a silver watch-and-chain. Have you ever seen anyone who looked like that, Mr Oxford?'

Jack shook his head. 'I've never seen anybody like that,' he said quickly. 'I don't know anyfing about a watch-an'-chain. It's nuffink ter do wiv me.'

The detective brought his face closer to the worried man's. 'Tell me, Mr Oxford, why are you getting so excited over a watch-and-chain? All I said was, the tramp was wearing a watch-and-chain. You seem nervous. Should you be?'

Jack looked around him in an attempt to gather his thoughts. 'I'm tryin' ter fink if I did see a tramp walkin' about round 'ere,' he faltered.

The detective glanced at his colleague. 'Is there anything else you want to ask Mr Oxford?'

'There is one thing puzzling me,' the other officer remarked, and turned to Jack. 'Why did you say it was nothing to do with you when the watch-and-chain was mentioned?'

'I, er, I dunno. I thought yer might fink I give the watch ter the tramp,' Jack stammered.

'No, Mr Oxford. All we want to do is try to identify the victim. Put a name to him, that's all - for the moment.'

Jack lowered his eyes and jumped noticeably as he felt the hand on his shoulder.

'Thank you, Mr Oxford. We're finished with the questions,' the officer said.

After Jack had left the room the senior of the two officers turned to the lodging-house owner. 'What do you know of him?' he said, nodding towards the door.

''E's 'armless enough,' the owner told him. 'Bin comin' 'ere on an' off fer years. 'E was stayin' at a place in Tooley Street until it got a bit too noisy fer 'im an' 'e started comin' back 'ere. Noise upsets 'im, yer see. 'E got kicked in the 'ead by an 'orse an' 'e's bin a bit dopey ever since.'

Jack sat on his bed and tried to stop himself from shaking. Charlie was dead, he told himself, and it was his fault. If only he hadn't chased him when he spotted him in St James's Road. He should have left him when he ran up on to that railway embankment. The poor sod never stood a chance.

Jack shuddered as he recalled looking down on the mangled body. Miraculously the watch-and-chain was undamaged but he had not been able to bring himself to pick it up. It had caused Charlie to get killed and suddenly it no longer seemed important to return it to Mr Galloway. As he stood there in the cold staring at the watch-and-chain Jack had felt a sudden horrible fear, as if the thing might be alive.

He undressed and climbed into the cold bed, and for the first time in years did not bother to stand the legs of the bed over his boots.

Chapter Twenty-one.

Carrie sat in the quietness of her tiny back bedroom and studied herself in the dressing-table mirror. She had scrubbed her face until it was glowing and then brushed out her long fair hair and set it up on top of her head, firmly securing it with pins and a wide tortoise-sh.e.l.l comb. She was wearing her best white linen blouse which b.u.t.toned high in the neck with a ruched turn-up collar, and had put on the long black satin skirt that her mother had made for her twenty-first birthday. It was cut tight at the waist and flared slightly from the knee down. Her shoes were of patent leather and canvas, b.u.t.toned up at the side and with small heels. Her mother had told her she should be wearing a stay bodice and Carrie had tried one on but could not endure the feeling of being squeezed breathless. She turned sideways and looked over her shoulder at her reflection. Her bosom did protrude. She smiled to herself as she pulled back her shoulders even more.

It had been an irritating time since she announced to her family that a young man was going to call on her. Her mother had questioned her about the lad and offered advice on the dos and don'ts and the pitfalls of letting a young man go too far. James had leaned back in the chair with his thumbs hooked into his braces and embarra.s.sed her with his mocking smile and his comment about the likelihood of her beau having horse dung on his boots when he called. Charlie had had little to say apart from being curious about what the young man looked like, and Danny, who was preoccupied with the local boys' club, had said even less. Her father had looked worried when she told him she was going to the South London Music Hall and warned her that the Elephant and Castle could be a rough place on a Sat.u.r.day night.

Carrie glanced at the loudly ticking alarm clock on the chair beside the bed and adjusted the collar of her blouse. Tommy would be calling soon. Her stomach turned over as she gathered up her cape and white gloves. At least the boys were out of the house, Carrie thought as she took a last look at herself in the mirror before going out into the parlour.

Her parents looked up as she entered the room and Nellie got up from her chair. 'Twirl round, let's see 'ow that skirt's 'angin',' she said.

William put down his paper and watched them fussing over the hem of the skirt and the tiny strand of cotton that was hanging down. How alike they were, he thought. They were both endowed with well-rounded figures and long fair hair that reminded him of new straw. They both had pale blue eyes and lips that traced a saucy curve, and when Carrie twirled around with her hands held out and her face flushed with excitement William felt a lump rising in his throat. She was a pretty thing, he owned with a bittersweet feeling. She was young and full of vitality, ready to be courted and eager to make her way in life, but how soon would it be before she was bowed beneath the burden of children and prematurely aged by the constant struggle to make ends meet? Nellie had been fortunate in that he had been in regular work over the years. She still had her looks and beauty. Would Carrie fare as well?

The loud knock on the front door roused William from his troubled thoughts and he smiled at his daughter's reaction as she gathered up her cape and gloves and hurried from the room.

The air was mild and the evening sky suffused with a glorious shade of gold as the two young people walked quickly along Page Street. Tommy wore a brown single-breasted suit with the b.u.t.tons undone to show off his waistcoat and silver chain, and his brown boots were brightly polished. Her wore bra.s.s and enamel cufflinks in his turnback s.h.i.+rt-cuffs, and the white, starched collar of his s.h.i.+rt had rounded peaks which smartly set off the wide-knotted grey tie that was secured in place with a small pin. His dark wavy hair was neatly combed into a quiff over one eye and he walked along proudly, rolling his shoulders in a confident manner, his lips curled in a smile as he offered Carrie his arm. She laid her hand lightly on his jacket and looked directly ahead as she spotted Florrie Axford at her front door. People were talking on their doorsteps, and as they cast glances in her direction Carrie felt her face redden. Tommy was looking about him as though enjoying the casual curiosity and smiled at the women as he pa.s.sed them.

It was after they had left the street and turned into Jamaica Road that he turned to her. 'Yer look very nice,' he said.

Carrie let her eyes glance quickly up and down to appraise him and gave him a big smile in return. 'Yer look very smart too,' she replied demurely.

Tommy's face became serious as he leaned his head towards her slightly. 'If yer smell a funny pong don't worry, it's the moth-b.a.l.l.s,' he said with a grave expression. 'My ole mum always puts 'em in me suit when she p.a.w.ns it.' His face suddenly broke into a wide grin. 'It's all right, I'm only jossin' yer. It's bin weeks since she p.a.w.ned it.'