Gilding the lilly, p.10
Gilding the Lilly, page 10
John didn’t comment. Wilf might look after his own, but he and Ralph were doing more and more business after dark with the ne’er do wells who ran the network of criminal activities which were rife in the East End. Look how Ralph had furnished his house; you couldn’t rise to that even if you took all the overtime on offer and then some. He knew his da had cottoned on, but his mam seemed to accept Ralph’s explanation of doing extra shifts happily enough.
He turned and began to walk, raising his hand but not looking behind him as Ralph called, ‘Tell Wilf from me to keep his pecker up. I’ll see him all right till he’s back on his feet.’
John didn’t know exactly what had happened, but his brother had said enough to indicate that Wilf had met with a mishap whilst on one of their nightly excursions. The docks could be dangerous places at the best of times but when you were working quickly and in the dark, safety went out of the window.
It wasn’t far to Blue Anchor Yard. He passed the rotting remains of a dead cat lying in the gutter and the stench made him swallow hard. All the East End was grim but this area was the worst.
When he reached the steep steps leading to the hotchpotch of housing in Blue Anchor Yard, a group of children were sitting huddled together in a corner. The oldest couldn’t have been more than seven, and none of them were wearing coats, their bare feet showing evidence of smears of blood where their chapped skin had split. John spoke to the eldest lad whose hair was white-streaked with nits: ‘Wilf Wright, which is his house?’
A pair of bright eyes weighed him up. ‘What’s it worth?’
‘I only want to know where he lives.’
‘Aye, I know.’ The child wiped his runny nose on the back of his raggedy sleeve. ‘What’s it worth?’
John’s gaze moved over the children. All had scabs round their mouths and a couple had styes on their eyes. Without letting his pity show, he said shortly, ‘Penny each.’
‘I’ll show you.’ The lad stood up, holding out his hand.
John stifled a smile as he deposited a penny in five little grubby paws that had shot out as their leader had spoken.
The child led him into the nearest doorway and thick darkness. ‘Wilf lives at the top of the stairs.’
‘Right, thanks.’
‘You the new rent man?’
‘What? Oh no, no, I’m not. I’m . . . a friend.’
‘The old rent man was found with his head bashed in a few days ago.’
‘Was he? Well, I’m not a rent man.’
The child disappeared outside again and John climbed the stairs that creaked and rocked ominously. Now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he could see great holes in the skirting boards where rats clearly lurked and the rotten wall was crawling with lice. Dear gussy, the sooner he was out of here, the better.
On reaching the first-floor landing, which was filthy and strewn with rodent droppings, he saw the stairs continued upwards.Taking the child at his word he climbed to the next floor which he saw was the top of the building. There was an air of brooding decay but the floor showed evidence of being cleaned here. He could see two doors but one had a stack of crates piled against it. Stepping forward, he knocked on the other one.
It was opened immediately. ‘Ralph, come in. Oh, you’re not Ralph.’ The woman in front of him peered at John. ‘You look just like him. You his brother?’
‘Aye, I’m John.’
‘We were expecting Ralph, he said he’d call the night.’
‘Something came up so he sent me instead.’
The woman had stood aside and now John entered the room. To his surprise it was spotlessly clean. It was clearly the living area, holding a table with two benches underneath upon which several children were sitting eating their evening meal. In the far corner of the room to one side of the fireplace, which had a crossbar jutting out from which hung a big black pot suspended from a thick chain, John saw a single bed. An elderly couple were sitting side by side eating bowls of soup. ‘That’s Wilf’s mam an’ da. I’m Maggie, his wife.’
John nodded. Propped against the wall in the other recess was a pallet bed with several blankets draped over it. He presumed this was where the children, or some of them at least, slept. Shelves holding pots and pans and crockery and items of food stretched along the wall above the old couple’s bed, next to the one small high window in the room. A gnarled old wardrobe stood against the wall opposite Wilf’s parents’ bed, and now Wilf’s wife stepped forward and drew aside a thick curtain which had been nailed to the wall beside the wardrobe. ‘You’ll want to talk to Wilf.’
John saw an entrance which was little more than a large rough hole which had been chiselled out between the two rooms. He had to bend almost double to scramble through. On straightening, he found himself in a smaller room but one which was again neat and clean.Wilf was lying in a brass bed which although being only three-quarter size took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for the cot beside it in which two young babies were lying fast asleep. ‘The twins,’ Maggie said as she joined him.
Wilf had been asleep but now he opened his eyes. ‘John.’ He looked behind him. ‘Where’s Ralph? Is owt wrong?’
‘No, nothing’s wrong. Ralph had a spot of business to do and so he asked me to come instead.’ John was trying to hide his amazement that Wilf’s wife had managed to create such a homely environment in such dreadful surroundings. ‘He asked me to give you this.’ He delved in his pocket and passed over the brown packet.
Wilf opened it, his fingers flicking the notes inside. John saw him visibly relax. ‘By, your brother’s a good ’un. Here, lass.’ He threw the packet to Maggie who tucked it in the pocket of her voluminous skirt and, after smiling at John, disappeared through the opening into the other room. ‘Ralph tell you I’ve done me back in?’
‘He said there’d been some sort of accident.’ John didn’t want to stay and discuss things as though he agreed with what Wilf and Ralph were doing, but it would have been rude to leave immediately.
Wilf nodded. ‘Me own fault. Still, the quack says it’s nowt but torn muscles an’ that as long as I stay in bed for a week or so I’ll be as right as rain.’
‘That’s good.’ John was feeling uncomfortable.
‘Course it’s made things a bit awkward for your Ralph, me being laid up.’ As John opened his mouth to speak,Wilf held up his hand. ‘Oh I know you don’t want nowt to do with it, lad. Ralph’s explained. An’ that’s your call, every man to his own. I only know that without your brother we’d have been in queer street a long time ago. With eight bairns we’d never be able to manage on what I earn at the docks. Me poor old mam and da would have been for the workhouse without your brother, that’s for sure.’
John cleared his throat. ‘What will happen to your family if you and Ralph get collared by the law,Wilf ? You ever thought of that?’
‘I’d be lying if I said no, lad, but the way I look at it it’s needs must. Anyway, the rich merchants and the shipping lines can afford to lose a bit, it’s not like thieving from your own, is it?’
Maggie saved him the necessity of a reply by sticking her head through the hole and saying, ‘I’ve just made a pot of tea, John.You want a cup?’
‘No, thanks all the same, I need to get home for my dinner else my mam’ll have my guts for garters.’
‘Well, thanks for bringing it, and tell Ralph I’ll be back at the docks as soon as I can.’ Wilf moved very carefully on his pillows, wincing as he did so.
‘I’ll do that.’ John just wanted to get away.
Once on the landing, he made his way down the shaky staircase. Two small girls were sitting on the gloomy stinking floor of the landing below and they both showed signs of suffering from St Vitus’s dance, their jerky limbs stick thin and pitiful. He stared into the small pinched faces which were in stark contrast to those of Wilf’s children.
Feeling he didn’t know which end of him was up, John continued down the stairs and out of the building. The drizzle of earlier had given way to hard driving rain and the group of children had disappeared. Walking swiftly, he turned into Prospect Row and then cut along by the side of the almshouses and orphan asylum at the side of the old town moor. He often caught a tram home when the weather was bad, but tonight he felt he needed to walk to clear his head.
He was soaked through by the time he reached the back lane of Canon Cockin Street. The mud was thick and he picked his way carefully, his cap pulled low over his eyes. As he passed Ralph’s backyard he heard a voice call his name and he turned round. Lily was standing at the scullery door, beckoning him. He hadn’t seen her since the wedding and as he opened the gate into the yard his heart began to thud. The last time he’d seen her he had been dressed in his suit and tie, what would she think when she saw him in his old working clothes? And then he berated himself. It didn’t matter what Sarah’s sister thought. She was nowt to him.
As he reached the back door he could see Lily was all of a flutter. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Ralph’s not home yet. Do you know where he is or how long he’ll be?’
As she stepped back for him to enter the scullery he stared at her in the dim light. Aware he was dripping on the floor, he rubbed his feet on the mat. Tendrils of hair had escaped the bun at the nape of her neck and curled round her head like a halo. Clearing his throat, he said, ‘Ralph’s doing a spot of overtime.’
‘Overtime,’ she repeated.Then, her voice conspiratorial, she whispered, ‘Your mam’s upstairs with the midwife; the baby’s coming. This . . . overtime, how long is it likely to last?’
She knew. He supposed Sarah had told her about Ralph’s nocturnal activities. ‘I’ve no idea.’
The look on her face told him he had been too curt. Intensely irritated at the position he had been put in, John said, ‘I’m sorry.’ Taking off his sodden cap he ran his hand through his damp hair. ‘Look, it’s been a bad day. The truth is I don’t get involved in Ralph’s carry-ons. I don’t know where he is or how long he’ll be, only that he’s got a bit of business to see to.’
Lily nodded. ‘Sarah said your mam doesn’t know anything about the nature of his overtime.’
‘No, she doesn’t, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for her peace of mind.’
‘It was your mam who asked me to watch out for you when Ralph was late and Sarah said he’d likely be working an extra shift.’
John thought quickly. ‘Tell her he’s working on a boat that came in late but I don’t know what one.’
She nodded again. ‘I only intended to pop in for a minute or two on my way home, but apparently she’s been having pains all day and didn’t tell anyone. The midwife thinks it won’t be long. Your mam’s left the dinner in the oven and I said I’d come and dish it up once you were back. Shall - shall I come now?’
He was painfully conscious of his dirty jacket, his old muffler and trousers and his big hobnailed boots. He couldn’t explain to himself why he didn’t want her to see him like this and that annoyed him still more. Breaking the unwritten rule which said a man never got involved in domestic difficulties, he said shortly, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to it. I’ll get Hannah to help.’
Lily looked at him. ‘Your mam wouldn’t have that. She said your sister’s all fingers and thumbs.’
She was right. His sister was as skittish as a young pony. Knowing he was being unreasonable, John said stiffly,‘I didn’t want to trouble you, that’s all. Won’t they be waiting for you at home?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not like that in my house.’
She didn’t elaborate, but the tinge of pink in her cheeks deepened. John knew he was staring but her face fascinated him. As her eyes dropped away from his he felt she was embarrassed, or maybe annoyed. Likely both. Calling himself every kind of fool, he said, ‘Go and tell my mother Ralph’ll be back once the job’s done and that’s all I know.’
‘Yes, all right.’
‘If you’re coming round will you have a bite with us?’
‘Thank you but I don’t want to leave Sarah for too long.’
He could understand that. ‘Have you contacted your mother?’
Lily hesitated. ‘Sarah doesn’t want my mother here. She can be - I mean she’s not—’ She stared at him helplessly.
Her discomfiture restored his equilibrium. ‘Not everyone can cope with these sorts of things,’ he said diplomatically. ‘We’re all made different. Round these streets neighbours often tend neighbours so my mother’s had plenty of experience, besides having nine bairns herself. Likely Sarah finds that reassuring.’
Lily nodded. ‘Sarah loves your mam.’
He had noticed the slight catch of huskiness in her voice before, it was very attractive and added to her charm.The thought alarmed him. He did not find Lily Brown charming, he told himself with something approaching panic.Where the hell had that come from? This was the hoity-toity little madam who thought herself the cat’s whiskers. ‘Tell my mother I’ll see the bairns get to bed on time if she’s not back.’ He stuffed his wet cap on his head. ‘And give Sarah my best wishes.’
‘Yes, all right. I’ll see you in a minute.’
Their eyes held for a moment longer and then he turned and stepped into the yard, shutting the door behind him.
Ralph whistled to himself as he walked towards the dock gates. Tonight should be a nice little earner, he couldn’t have let it pass him by.You only had to do that once or twice and the word was out you couldn’t be relied on. It was a bit awkward with Wilf being laid up but nothing he couldn’t handle, and maybe one of the blokes would give him a hand if he made it worth their while.
He was almost at the dock gates and just passing the yard of the sawmill when a dark figure stepped out of the shadows.
‘Ralph? You by yourself ?’
‘Aye, Wilf’s not too good the night.’
They walked together to the gates where the night watchman silently held out his hand. Ralph’s companion reached in his pocket and notes changed hands.
‘Mr Shawe wants a word with you before you start.’
Ralph stared at the other man. ‘Owt wrong?’
‘No, nothing’s wrong. He’ll tell you.’
Ralph felt prickles of unease in the pit of his stomach as he followed his companion into a large warehouse. Art Shawe was well known in the East End and further afield, having had his fingers in many pies for a number of years. The man at his side was one of Art’s henchman and he had quite a few, great bruisers of fellows who were loyal to a man to their boss. Art never did any of his dirty work himself, but more than one body found floating in the murky waters of the docks had done something to offend him.
At the back of the warehouse a set of narrow stairs led to a small office. Several men were sitting at a table playing cards, an open bottle of whisky in front of them. The air was thick with cigarette smoke.
‘Ralph, lad.’ A thin foxy-looking man glanced up as they entered. ‘Sit yourself down. I won’t be a minute.’
Ralph sat. One or two of the men looked disinterestedly at him before concentrating on the game in hand. Five minutes crept by. Then ten. Ralph knew better than to interrupt or show any impatience.
It was fifteen minutes before Art finished the game by increasing the pile of sovereigns and silver in front of him. Ralph had the feeling he wouldn’t lose too often.
‘So . . .’ Art sat back in his seat, his thumbs in the tiny pockets of his pearl-buttoned waistcoat. ‘How goes it, Ralph?’
Ralph swallowed. ‘Aye, good, Mr Shawe.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Art motioned to the henchman who had taken up residence behind Ralph’s chair. ‘Get Ralph a glass, man. Where’re your manners?’
There were guffaws around the table as though Art had said something particularly witty, and Ralph smiled sickly. When the whisky was put in front of him he helped himself to a good measure. He felt he needed it.
Art watched him drink.Then said softly,‘Likely you’re wondering what this is all about?’
Ralph nodded, replacing his glass on the table with a shaky hand. ‘Aye, Mr Shawe. I hope everything’s all right?’
‘How long has it been since we first started doing business, Ralph? Six years? Seven?’
‘Over seven.’
‘Aye, I thought so. And in all that time you’ve not put a foot wrong. Unlike some.’ The gimlet-hard eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve been disappointed recently, Ralph. Very disappointed.’
‘Oh aye?’ He licked his dry lips.
‘Let down. Now that’s not a nice feeling, being let down. Especially when you thought you could trust someone. Still, there’s no accounting for greed. I don’t like greedy men. Do you, Ralph?’
Ralph shook his head. He could feel the sweat running down him despite the cold night.
‘So I had to take measures.’The men at the table were completely silent, it was clear they knew what these measures had been. Ralph didn’t doubt there would be a body floating in the murky water come morning. ‘Measures to protect my own interests and that of my organisation. I have plenty of men looking to me for their livelihood, Ralph. Families to support. You know what I mean? Aye, course you do.You’re a family man yourself. So, I’m left with a vacancy, as it were. And whose name popped into my mind?’
‘M - mine?’
‘Aye, yours, Ralph. Have another drink.’
This time he knocked it back in one. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Shawe?’
‘No, lad. It’s what I can do for you. I’ve watched you over the last few years and like I said, you haven’t put a foot wrong. Not taken on more than you could chew or got careless. You’d be surprised how many men in your position get careless. Or greedy. So, as far as the law’s concerned, your nose is clean. You’ve got a steady job, a family. You’re respectable, Ralph. Get my drift?’
He didn’t think he did but he nodded anyway.
‘And men like you are useful to me.Your predecessor owned a tidy little boatyard near the wharf brewery. On paper at least. In actual fact, he never put up a penny for it. But as far as the authorities are concerned, it’s a respectable establishment and that’s what matters. Nice big warehouse, it is. Know the one? Sort of place that can hold a lot more than the odd boat, and no one’s any the wiser as long as a bit of work is done out front.’
