Gaslight In Page Street Part 33

'An only child gets spoilt, 'specially if it's a gel,' the old man commented. 'Yer wanna 'ave a few boys. It shouldn't be no trouble fer Bella, she's wide in the girth.'

Frank nodded, thinking that the old man was getting her mixed up with one of his horses. 'She'll be wanting to get back to the stage as soon as she can,' he told his father.

'I wouldn't be in too much of an 'urry ter let 'er get back if I was you, Frank,' George said sternly. 'She'll 'ave ovver responsibilities now. Yer muvver never left you an' young Geoff. She was a good woman.'

Frank nodded sadly and clenched his hands under the table. It was always the same when his father had too much drink inside him. He pushed back his chair. 'I'd better be off if I'm going to get the last train,' he said quickly.

George did not look up as his son bade him goodnight. The whisky was beginning to depress him and his mind was already dwelling on an unpleasant matter.

Christmas came and went. There was little festivity in the Tanner household. Nellie had been very quiet and moody. As she sat in the parlour her eyes would constantly stray to the photograph of James, which she had shrouded with a piece of black velvet, and the Christmas card which Danny had sent from his rest camp. William had gone to the Kings Arms on Christmas morning to sit with Daniel Sullivan and Fred Dougall, their thoughts far removed from Yuletide revelry. The piano player sipped his beer and played in subdued fas.h.i.+on, while around the bar eyes glanced furtively in the direction of the three sad men. Alec and Grace Crossley served up pints and chatted quietly with their customers, aware of the silent grief prevailing in the little bar. There was no bawdy laughter, and unlike other Christmas mornings no one stood beside the piano and sang in a strident voice.

Carrie felt it had been the most miserable Christmas she had ever known and was glad to get to work once more. She had been hoping that Charlie would be home in time for Christmas but he had been too ill, and with her vivacious younger brother away as well the house had seemed deathly quiet. Her mother's strange behaviour had been puzzling her, and as she served teas and took the orders for food on her first morning back Carrie was lost in thought. She continually served up the wrong food and forgot to relay orders to Fred, receiving more than a few frosty looks from the impatient customers. Fred had not failed to notice how distracted she was, and when the cafe emptied took her quietly to one side.

'Yer seem miles away, Carrie. Is everyfing all right?' he asked her gently.

She nodded and forced a smile. 'It's jus' bin a miserable Christmas,' she said. 'I'll be all right termorrer.'

William was busy in the newly built small stable, replacing a bandage on one of the Clydesdales. The ma.s.sive horse had kicked out while in the shafts the previous day and had damaged a back tendon, causing the yard foreman an awkward problem. The two Clydesdales pulled a heavy dray which hauled rum kegs from the London Dock to Tooley Street, and they always worked as a team. He had to choose whether to pair the other horse with one of the Welsh cobs or else send it out with a single-horse cart. William had decided that it might be wiser to give it a rest from heavy hauling until its partner had recovered and so the Clydesdale was harnessed into the small van.

All day long the ma.s.sive horse trudged around unfamiliar streets, driven by a carman who was more used to the sprightly cob and who became increasingly impatient with the heavy horse's constant plod. Neither the whip nor the carman's blasphemous tongue intimidated the animal which trudged on in its usual way, missing its partner and the smell of rum as the dray was loaded on the quay. The small cart it was tethered to now was hired daily to transport treated leather from a Long Lane tannery to various leather workers, and the ma.s.sive horse was hardly aware of the two-ton load it was pulling. The impatient carman did not appreciate that the Clydesdale was built for power and not speed. Normally he would hurry around his regular deliveries, picking up a few coppers in tips on the way, and then spend a spare hour in a local coffee shop before returning to the yard. With the Clydesdale there was no spare time left at the end of the day, and it was almost five o'clock by the time he drove the van into Jamaica Road.

There was one more stop the carman always made before driving into the yard and that was to buy a paper from Solly Green and exchange a few words with the grizzled ex-boxer who always stood at the top end of Page Street. The carman normally slung the reins across the back of the Welsh cob, and it would not set off until it felt him stepping on to the shafts as he climbed into the d.i.c.ky-seat. He had never used the wheel-chain with the cob, and did not think to anchor the wheel on this occasion. The Clydesdale was not used to waiting with slack reins and it leaned forward to test the resistance from the chain. The carman realised his mistake too late. The horse had smelt the stable and it set off, eager to dip its nose into the water trough and settle down in fresh straw.

William had finished parking the carts and as he crossed the yard he suddenly saw the Clydesdale clopping down the turning with its reins trailing on the cobbles and the carman running behind, trying to catch it up. The yard foreman's first thought was to grab hold of the reins and slow the animal in case anyone got in its way. He raced from the yard and reached the beast just as the carman grabbed at the reins, making the horse veer towards the kerb. The nearside shaft caught William full in the chest and he was thrown violently on to the pavement. The carman quickly managed to stop the cart and rushed over to the gasping foreman.

'I'm sorry, Will. It took off on its own,' he said fearfully as he bent over him.

Florrie Axford had heard the commotion and was outside in a flash. 'Don't touch 'im!' she shouted at the frightened carman. 'I fink 'e's broke 'is ribs.'

William was ashen-faced as he staggered to his feet, holding his chest. 'I'm all right,' he gasped, racked with a knife-like pain as he breathed. ''Elp me indoors, Flo.'

The carman was sent to fetch Doctor Kelly. Meanwhile Nellie and Florrie eased the injured foreman into a chair and removed his s.h.i.+rt with difficulty. The elderly doctor soon arrived and looked stern as he gently prodded and pushed.

'You're a lucky man, Tanner,' he announced as he finally stood up straight. 'You've got a couple of cracked ribs. It could have been much worse. I'll put a tight strapping on. It'll ease the pain, but you'll need to lie up for a couple of weeks.'

That evening Frank Galloway looked in on his way home and seemed sympathetic as he chatted with William. 'Don't worry, we'll get Mitch.e.l.l to take over for a couple of weeks. You just take it easy,' he said as he left.

The fire had burned low and the ticking of the clock sounded loudly in the quiet room. William had been helped up to bed earlier and was sleeping fitfully, propped up with pillows. Carrie had finished the ironing, cleared out the copper grate and laid it ready for the morning before going off to bed herself, leaving her mother sitting beside the dying fire. Nellie frowned and chewed her lip as she stared at the glowing embers. It seemed strange seeing Galloway in the house, she thought. In all the years her husband had worked at the yard, this was only the second occasion a Galloway had graced the house with his presence. The first time had been many years ago now and it was the memory of that visit which filled Nellie with loathing for George Galloway. Fate had decreed that the lives of the two families would be interwoven from the very beginning, and now the threatened union between Charlie and the Galloway girl felt like a cord tightening around her neck to choke the life out of her. She could never allow it to happen, whatever the cost.

At eleven o'clock the following morning George Galloway made his second visit to the Tanner household. He looked tense in his heavy worsted overcoat with the astrakhan collar pulled up close around his ears. His face was flushed, and he leaned on a cane walking-stick as he removed his trilby and ran a hand over his grey sleeked-back hair. He refused the offer of a seat and stood beside the table instead, looking down at William as he reclined in an armchair.

''Ow's the ribs?' he asked, frowning.

'Painful,' William replied, knowing instinctively that the time had come.

'I'm sorry ter 'ave ter tell yer, Will, but I've got ter put yer off,' Galloway said. 'We're finally gettin' the lorries, an' the 'orses'll 'ave ter go. I'm givin' yer two weeks' wages an' a little bonus.' He put a sealed envelope down on the table.

Nellie looked at her husband and saw the blank expression on his pale face, then she stared up at Galloway, her eyes hardening. 'Couldn't yer wait till Will was on 'is feet before tellin' 'im?' she said cuttingly.

Galloway returned her hard stare. 'I would 'ave done, Nell, but I need the 'ouse. I've got a motor mechanic startin' in two weeks' time an' 'e'll need a place ter live.'

William looked up dejectedly at the bulky figure which seemed to fill the tiny room. 'Yer not givin' us much time,' he said.

Nellie was shocked by her husband's quiet manner and felt cold anger rising in her own stomach. 'Is that all yer've got ter say, Will?' she complained. 'Yer've bin a good servant fer more than firty years an' now yer bein' chucked out o' yer job an' yer ouse, an' all yer can say is, "Yer not givin' us much time." Christ, I can't believe yer can be so calm!'

William looked appealingly at his wife. 'We knew it was gonna come,' he told her. 'What d'yer expect me ter do, beg fer me job?'

Nellie turned her back on her husband and glared at Galloway. 'Two weeks. Two weeks ter clear orf after 'e's done a lifetime's work fer yer,' she said bitterly. 'Years of lookin' after those 'orses an' keepin' yer business goin', an' that's all the time 'e gets. Yer a cruel, unfeelin' man, Galloway. Yer jus' use people. Yer taint everyfing yer come near. I'll be glad ter be done wiv yer, by Christ, an' I'm glad my Will won't 'ave ter be at yer beck an' call any longer. Yer not welcome 'ere, so I'd be obliged if yer left.'

Galloway walked to the door and turned suddenly. 'It'll be fer the best,' he said, a dark glitter in his eye. 'I wish yer good luck, Will.'

Nellie turned away as Galloway walked out, and closed the front door behind him. She flopped down in the chair facing her husband and lowered her head, covering her falling tears with her hands.

'It's not fair,' she groaned. 'Yer should 'ave told 'im, Will. It's jus' not fair.'

'Life's not fair, Nell,' he said quietly. 'I've always done me best an' I couldn't do more. I wasn't goin' ter plead fer me job, it'd make no difference anyway. 'E's always bin 'ard. I dunno, p'raps it's the life 'e's 'ad. There's jus' no compa.s.sion in the man.'

'But yer 'ad no start in life yerself,' she reminded him. 'Yer was a waif the same as 'e was. At least yer didn't turn out like 'im, fank Gawd.'

Her body shook as she sobbed bitterly. She knelt down by her husband's chair and dropped her head into his lap. 'What'll we do now, Will? Where can we go?' she sobbed.

He winced as the pain started up again in his chest. 'Don't worry, gel. We'll get a place,' he said softly. 'I'll go an' see 'em at the estate office in Jamaica Road in a day or two. They'll 'ave somefink fer us, I'm certain.'

'What's Carrie gonna say?' Nellie asked, looking up at him. 'An' what about the boys? Charlie's gonna be 'ome soon, an' young Danny, please Gawd. This is the only place they've ever known.'

William did not answer. He stroked his wife's head as he looked around the tiny room, feeling as though the floor had fallen away from him. It wouldn't be easy to get a job at his age, he realised, and there wouldn't be many empty houses like the one they were living in at the moment. The alternative was too bad to think about. He sighed deeply as he stroked Nellie's long fair hair, unaware of the secret anguish she was suffering.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

Ten days later William Tanner walked slowly back along Page Street, his chest still heavily strapped and his head hanging down. He had tried all the local estate offices and the only choice he had been given was a two-bedroomed flat in Bacon Street Buildings. It would have to do for the time being, he told himself. Nellie and Carrie were not going to be very pleased but the only alternative was the workhouse and that was unthinkable. It might not be too bad once the women put some curtains up and cleaned the place. Nellie knew a few of the people who lived in the buildings and it was only around the corner from Page Street. It could be worse, he thought.

Nellie was standing at the door, and as he approached her knew by the look on his face that her worst fears had been realised. Her eyes met his and his answering nod needed no clarification. She could see how dejected and tired he was and her heart went out to him.

'Sit yerself down, Will. I'll get yer a nice cuppa,' she said consolingly. 'It won't be so bad. It'll do us fer a while, anyway. We'll get somewhere better before long, you'll see.'

She had just poured the tea when there was a loud knock. She heard a deep chuckle as William opened the door and then Sharkey Morris walked into the room.

''Ello, gel. 'Ow the b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell are yer?' he asked, his thin, mournful face breaking into a wide grin.

Nellie poured him a cup of tea as he made himself comfortable. The irrepressible carman looked enquiringly from one to the other. 'I 'eard the news from one o' Galloway's carmen,' he told them. 'What a b.l.o.o.d.y dirty trick! I 'ope the 'oreson chokes on 'is dinner ternight. After all those years yer bin wiv 'im. I'm glad I got out when I did.'

William smiled and stretched out his legs in front of the fire. 'It's nice o' yer ter call round,' he said.

'I was pa.s.sin' by an' thought I'd drop in. I've gotta pick up a load o' corned beef from Chambers Wharf so I left the cart at the top o' the turnin',' Sharkey explained. He paused for a moment. 'I was very sorry ter 'ear about Jimmy. I understand young Charlie's on the mend though,' he added quickly, seeing the sad look on both their faces. 'I expect Danny'll be 'ome soon as well, please Gawd. Anyway, the reason I called round was, I thought yer might like a bit of 'elp wiv yer removals. I can use the cart, long as I let ole Sammy Sparrer know.'

'Well, that's very nice of yer, Sharkey,' Nellie said, patting his shoulder fondly. 'We're movin' inter Bacon Street Buildin's on Friday.'

William noticed the carman's faint grimace and smiled briefly. 'Yeah well, there was nuffink else goin'. It was eivver the buildin's or the work'ouse,' he said, sipping his tea.

'I'll be round about four o'clock then, all bein' well,' Sharkey informed them. 'I'll get ole Soapy ter give me an 'and. 'E won't mind.'

''Ow is 'e?' William asked. 'Still makin' a nuisance of 'imself, I s'pose.'

Sharkey put down his cup and took out his cigarette tin. ''Ere, I gotta tell yer. Soapy's got 'isself in trouble again,' he said, grinning. 'It all started the ovver week when Scatty Jim told the blokes 'e was gonna get married.'

'Who's Scatty Jim?' Nellie asked with a chuckle.

''E's one o' the carmen,' Sharkey replied. ''E's mad as a March 'are. Anyway, when Scatty told the blokes 'e was gonna get spliced, our Soapy decided ter get a collection up. So when all the carmen got their wages on the Friday, Soapy's standin' outside the office shakin' this bag. All 'e's got in there is nuts an' bolts an' a few washers. "C'mon, lads, chip in fer Jimbo," 'e's callin' out. Anyway, all the carmen make a show o' puttin' a few bob in, an' Scatty's standin' back rubbin' 'is 'ands tergevver. Yer can imagine what it looked like. The bag's gettin' 'eavier an' Soapy keeps winkin' at Scatty. "There'll be a nice few bob 'ere when I'm finished, Jimbo," 'e tells 'im. One o' the carmen pretended ter put a ten-s.h.i.+llin' note in the bag an' Scatty's eyes nearly popped out of 'is 'ead. Now on top of all this palaver, Soapy managed ter get 'old of an accordion case. There was no accordion inside it but as far as Scatty was concerned it was kosher. Well, Soapy cleaned up the case an' tied a bit o' ribbon round it an' over the top o' the lid, an' all week it was on show in the office. Now Scatty's waitin' fer the collection, yer see, but Soapy tells 'im that before 'e can 'ave it an' the accordion 'e's gotta bring 'is marriage lines in ter show the blokes on Monday mornin'. None o' the carmen believe 'e's really gettin' married an' they wanna prolong the poor sod's agony.

'Now ter cut a long story short, come Monday mornin' Scatty walks into the yard wiv a b.l.o.o.d.y great suitcase. 'E told the blokes that 'is young lady's muvver who 'e was lodgin' wiv chucked 'im out after 'er daughter give 'im the elbow. Poor sod looked really upset. The blokes was all laughin' an' one put an axe frew the "accordion" in front o' Scatty, an' ter crown it all Soapy was shakin' the bag an' tellin' everybody ter line up and get their money back.'

Nellie was holding her hand up to her mouth as she listened, her face changing expression as the story unfolded. 'Ah, fancy 'avin' the poor bloke on like that. Yer should be ashamed o' yerselves,' she said with mock seriousness.

Sharkey finally finished rolling his cigarette. 'That wasn't the end o' the story,' he went on with a big grin. 'When Scatty got back ter the yard that evenin' 'e picked up' is suitcase from the office an' walked out o' the place wiv a face as long as a kite. All the blokes were clappin' 'im an' givin' 'im a right ribbin', an' ter crown it all Soapy follers 'im ter the tram-stop an' stands there tryin' ter cheer 'im up. Well, when the tram pulls up there's no more room, an' as it pulls away from the stop Soapy chucks the poor bleeder's suitcase on. Scatty goes chasin' after it, 'ollerin' an' 'ootin' - it was so bleedin' funny. Anyway, when it pulls up an' the conductor jumps down ter change the points, Scatty climbs aboard ter get 'is case and now the conductor finks 'e's tryin' ter pinch it an' grabs 'im. Somebody fetched a copper an' they run the poor sod in. Mind yer, 'e finally convinced 'em it was 'is case an' they let 'im go.

'By this time Scatty's just about 'ad enough. Anyway, next mornin' 'e come ter work wiv a chopper under 'is coat an' soon as 'e claps eyes on Soapy 'e goes fer 'im, swearin' 'e's gonna put the chopper in 'is bonce. The blokes managed ter calm 'im down but every time Scatty sets eyes on Soapy 'e leers at 'im an' points to 'is 'ead. Soapy's scared out of 'is life. 'E's convinced 'e's gonna get choppered when 'e's not lookin'.'

The house was filled with laughter and Nellie wiped her eyes on the edge of her pinafore. 'Well, all I can say is, if Soapy does get choppered, 'e thoroughly deserves it,' she gasped.

Sharkey got up and dusted tobacco from his coat. 'Well, I'd better be orf,' he announced. 'I'll see the pair o' yer Friday, an' if Soapy's still breavin' I'll bring 'im along as well. So if yer see a chopper stickin' out of 'is bonce, take no notice.'

When the word got around the little turning that the Tanners were leaving, Nellie's old friends gathered together in Florrie Axford's parlour.

'Now we all know Nellie's bein' kicked out,' Florrie said, tapping on her snuff-box. 'I fink us ladies should try an' do somefink ter show Nellie we're still 'er friends.'

'Nellie knows that already,' Maisie cut in. 'She's known us long enough.'

'Well, I fink this is a time when we need ter prove it,' Florrie told her. 'I reckon we should put our 'eads tergevver an' try ter fink o' somefink really nice.'

'We should go in the yard an' cut Galloway's froat,' Sadie suggested.

Aggie was stirring her tea thoughtfully. 'Why don't we club tergevver an' get 'er a little present?' she said suddenly.

'I'm not tryin' ter be funny, Aggie, but I don't fink we've got more than a few coppers between the lot of us,' Florrie said, placing a pinch of snuff on the back of her hand. 'All we're gonna get 'er wiv that is somefing orf Cheap Jack's stall. No, we've gotta fink o' somefing really nice.'

'I've got a nice pair o' green curtains I bin keepin'. She could 'ave them,' Maudie said.

'An' I've got a lace tablecloth in me chest o drawers,' Maggie Jones added.

Florrie sneezed loudly and dabbed at her watering eyes. 'Nellie wouldn't be 'appy takin' our bits an' pieces,' she remarked. 'C'mon, gels, we can do better than that. Let's get our finkin' caps on.'

'I know somefing we could do, somefink very nice,' Ida Bromsgrove said suddenly.

All the women stared at her and Florrie got out her snuff-box once more as Ida paused for effect. 'Well, go on then, Ida, put us out of our misery,' she said impatiently.

Ida looked around at the a.s.sembled women. 'Why don't we go ter Bacon Street Buildin's an' give Nellie's flat a good doin' out before she gets there?'

'What a good idea!' Florrie exclaimed. 'We could give the floorboards a good scrubbin'.'

'An' we could clean 'er winders an' put a bit o' net up,' Aggie said quickly.

'We could wash the paintwork down wiv Manger's soap an' run a taper roun' the skirtin',' Maisie added.

'We could clean the closet wiv some o' that carbolic acid. It brings them stained p.i.s.s'oles up a treat,' Maggie remarked.

'Right then,' Florrie said loudly. 'Are we all agreed?' Voices were raised in unison and she held up her hands. 'Now we gotta plan this prop'ly. We know the Tanners are movin' on Friday afternoon. What we gotta do is get in that flat first fing Friday mornin'. One of us will 'ave ter collect the key.'

'Will they give it ter one of us?' Maisie asked.

'S'posin' Nellie goes round 'erself in the mornin'?' Aggie suggested.

The women all ended up looking enquiringly at Florrie who pulled on her chin thoughtfully for a few moments.

'Look, I'll 'andle that side of it,' she told them finally. 'You lot be outside the buildin's at nine sharp, all right? An' don't ferget ter bring the cleanin' stuff. I'll make us anuvver cup o' tea while yer decide who's bringin' what.'

Carrie left the house on Friday morning feeling very sad. Her few personal belongings had been parcelled up and left alongside those of her brothers. The bundle did not amount to very much, though one letter had evoked such emotion that Carrie tucked it into her handbag and carried it to work with her. It was a childish note from Sara Knight which had been pa.s.sed from desk to desk, via the Gordon brothers who had both managed to get to school that morning. The thank-you letter said how much Sara had enjoyed the day at the farm and the lovely trip on top of the hay cart. It also said that Carrie would be her best friend for ever and ever. How much had happened since those happy, carefree days, Carrie thought, remembering the trips with her father, the smell of fresh straw and the noises in the dark upper stable as she went with her father to see the animals. She clenched her fists tightly as she walked along to the dining rooms, and thought about the vow she had taken as she looked around the house for the last time. One day she would pay George Galloway back for the way he had treated her father. And one day she would have enough money to look after both her parents and take them away from the squalor of Bacon Street Buildings.

On Friday morning Florrie Axford got up very early, and as soon as she returned from her cleaning job knocked at Nellie Tanner's front door.

'Is there anyfink yer want me ter do, Nell? I could 'elp yer wiv the packin' if yer like?'

Nellie shook her head. 'Fanks fer the offer, Flo, but it's near enough all done. I'm jus' waitin' fer the van ter call.'

'When yer collectin' the key?' Florrie asked as casually as she could.

'There's no rush. Sharkey won't be 'ere till this afternoon. Will said 'e's gonna call in the office after dinner.'

'Well, I'll let yer get on then,' Florrie said.

The Page Street women's deputy made her second call of the morning and was angered by the young man who stood facing her over the counter.

'I'm terribly sorry, Mrs Axley, but ...'

'Axford,' she corrected him.

'Well, I'm sorry Mrs Axford but I can't give the key to anyone but the person who signed the tenancy forms,' the young man informed her, looking awkward. 'It's the rules, you see.'

'Sod yer rules,' Florrie said in a strident tone. 'I live in Page Street an' I'm sodded if I'm gonna walk all the way back there ter tell Mrs Tanner that yer won't let me 'ave the key. Like I said, she's got 'er ole man down wiv the flu an' she can't get up 'ere' erself. She said yer was a very nice young man an' yer'd be only too glad ter let me 'ave the key. I'm beginnin' ter fink she made a mistake. Yer not very nice at all. Yer don't care that 'er' 'usband's very poorly an' she don't know which way ter turn. Movin's a very nasty business, 'specially when yer movin' inter a poxy 'ole like Bacon Street Buildin's. Still, if yer won't budge, I'll jus' 'ave ter speak ter yer manager. I'm sure 'e'll be a little more understandin'. Will yer go an' get 'im, if yer please?'

The young man scratched his head, feeling very embarra.s.sed. It was only his first week at the office. He recalled the advice the manager had given him: be helpful and don't be afraid to use your own initiative. Well, the manager was out of the office and he had been left in charge. Mrs Axford seemed a genuine enough lady, even if her tongue was rather sharp. He would have to make a decision.