by Cathy Sharp
‘He’ll have to work a bit harder at school if he’s to pass the exams he’ll need. I like the boy myself, but there’s no doubting that he’s been taught the wrong values. He never had the love he needed and it isn’t easy to break down the barrier he’s built inside. Once people set their minds a certain way, it isn’t easy to change them …’ Nan sounded weary for some reason and Angela thought she saw a flicker of sadness in her face. What was Nan’s secret? Angela guessed she had one, but didn’t feel she should press for details.
TWENTY-THREE
‘We need someone to keep cavey when we do the boot factory,’ Jack said and Arthur Baggins nodded agreement. ‘There’s a night watchman and he ain’t one of them that goes to sleep on the job, so we need to make sure we aren’t disturbed.’
‘Yeah, I reckon I know someone we can trust.’
‘Who?’ Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He and Arthur worked well together but he didn’t trust anybody and this job was important. ‘I don’t want to cut anyone else in on this. Both of us are on borrowed time, Arthur. I need the money to get away, and you’ll go too if you’ve got any sense. Since we did that safe in the lawyer’s office I’ve been sweating about Butcher finding out it was us. All that expensive jewellery was stuff Butcher fenced and he needed to keep it safe until the heat died down and he could sell it. Nearly as bloody priceless as the jewels at the flamin’ royal weddin’ yesterday.’
‘We didn’t know it was Butcher’s,’ Arthur said gruffly. ‘I wouldn’t have bleedin’ touched the stuff if I’d known.’
‘Well, we did and we can’t sell it in London, any of it. I need money quick, Arthur, and there’s bound to be loads of cash at the factory on Thursday night, ready for the wages on Friday. I’ve been watchin’ what goes on and I know the boss fetches it regular three o’clock on Thursday and his secretary makes up the wage packets ready for the next day.’
‘I’ll get me bruvver,’ Arthur said. ‘He’s a stroppy little devil, but he’ll do what I tell him, and we don’t ’ave ter give ’im anythin’ but a bag of chips sometimes. If he plays up I’ll give ’im a slap or two to quieten ’im.’
‘Give the lad a couple of bob now and then, keep him sweet,’ Jack said. ‘Right, we’d better be careful for the next few days. We don’t want anyone to know what we’re plannin’. If Butcher got wind of it, he’d kill us both …’
Arthur’s eyes moved restlessly from side to side; he was sweating and obviously scared. Jack cursed inwardly. Arthur was more of a liability than an asset. If Butcher got to work on him, he’d scream like a stuck pig. He was a bully and like all bullies he couldn’t take it.
Jack would have blown the safe at the factory on his own if he could manage it, but it was a two-man job. He preferred easier targets, but he needed enough money to take both himself and Alice to America. It wasn’t often that Jack bothered about girls after he’d got what he wanted, but there was something about Alice that made him want her; perhaps because when he’d been a ragged-arsed urchin with bare feet, Alice had always had a smile and good word for him.
He was going soft in the head. Jack scowled at his thoughts. He was a fool if he bothered to take her with him; he would travel lighter and faster without her … and yet he still wanted her, still thought about the softness of her skin and the way her mouth tasted sweet when he kissed her …
‘Get your brother to help, then,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to do. Keep yer nose clean, Arthur. Don’t go gettin’ up Big Harry’s nose or the deal’s off. I want to keep Butcher and Harry sweet until I’m ready.’
Billy was running home after school the next afternoon, eager to tell Mary Ellen what had happened at football that afternoon, because for the first time he’d been picked for the school’s first eleven and was going to play for the team that Saturday. He was excited, because if there was one thing he enjoyed at school it was football practice.
‘Where do yer fink yer goin’, young’un?’
Finding himself grabbed from behind by a strong arm, Billy kicked out and had the satisfaction of hearing his attacker yell. He looked round and then his grin faded as he saw his brother seconds before Arthur’s fist struck out and caught him on the ear, nearly knocking him off his feet.
‘What did yer do that fer?’ Billy demanded, rubbing at his ear.
‘You kicked me,’ Arthur growled. ‘I’ll have respect from yer, Billy lad, or you’ll feel me fists more than yer want.’
‘You’re just like Pa,’ Billy was resentful. ‘Why did you grab me like that? You startled me. There’s some rum coves round ’ere and I thought you was after … well, you know what.’
‘I ain’t one of them,’ his brother growled, pushing his face close to Billy’s. ‘I’ve bin lookin’ fer yer, Billy. Where yer bin hidin’ yerself?’
‘I’m livin’ at St Saviour’s,’ Billy said reluctantly. Once he would have been glad to see his brother but now he was suspicious, apprehensive. ‘What do you want? I ain’t seen nuthin’ of yer for months, why now?’
‘I’ve bin keepin’ me ’ead down,’ Arthur said. ‘The coppers were after me so I hopped it up North for a while, see, but now I’m back – and you can leave that place and come with me. I’ve got a use for yer. You behave yerself and I’ll give yer a few bob; you’ll like that, I reckon.’
‘Nah, I’m all right where I am.’
Arthur cuffed him round the ear. ‘You’ll do what I tell yer or I’ll make yer sorry yer were born,’ he grunted, and there was a vicious gleam in his eyes that made Billy shiver. ‘I ain’t found a place to stay yet. I went to Nanna’s old house thinkin’ you would be there, but they told me she’s in a home and won’t come out. Someone else has her house now – and no one seemed to know for sure where you were so I came lookin’ fer yer.’
‘I want to stay at St Saviour’s. I’ve got friends there now and I like it.’ Billy looked at him defiantly and dodged the next blow. ‘I’m no use to you.’
‘Hoity-toity, speakin’ posh now, ain’t we? There’s lots of times when a young’un like you could be useful,’ Arthur said tersely. ‘You can get in windows where we can’t – and you can keep watch. I’ll treat yer right and give yer a share of the money we get from robbin’ houses – and shops too, if we get the chance. Come on, Billy, me and you – for old times’ sake?’
Billy eyed him uncertainly. If Arthur had come for him when his father died, he would have gone with him without a murmur, but he was beginning to like his life. He’d managed to get seven out of ten of his spellings right and he was going to be in the school football team. Living rough with Arthur in a derelict house with no heat and only rags to lie on wouldn’t be much fun, and he was used to having enough to eat at St Saviour’s. Besides, there was Mary Ellen …
‘I’ve got a football match at school this week on Saturday afternoon. I ain’t coming with you before that,’ he said, backing out of reach.
‘I shall come for yer to the home on Saturday evening,’ Arthur told him, lifting his fist. ‘You’d better come out to me or I’ll have to come in and get yer – and if some of your friends get hurt that will be your fault.’
‘All right, Saturday night after dark.’
‘I’ll be there at ten,’ Arthur said. ‘We can’t start work until then anyway, too many people about. Jack is working on a good crib for us – but we got to find somewhere to hide the stash first, see. We shan’t be ready to start until Saturday. But remember, if yer ain’t there when I come, I shall make you sorry – and them people at the home. I might set fire to it when they’re all in their beds.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Billy cried in horror and then knew he’d made a mistake as his brother’s eyes lit up. Now that Arthur knew he cared about St Saviour’s, he would hold that threat over him even if he had no intention of doing any such thing. Knowing him, he was just mean enough to do it if Billy defied him.
‘Clear orf, then,’ Arthur muttered. ‘Go to your football match if yer want – won’t have no time fer sc
hool once I put yer to work …’
Arthur turned and strode off through the market, which was packing up for the day, the debris of rotten fruit and vegetables lying in stinking piles in the gutters until the man came to sweep it all up before the morning. Billy looked about for a policeman, wild thoughts of informing on his brother flitting through his head, but even as he sought and didn’t find one, he realised it was useless. As far as he knew Arthur hadn’t done anything they could arrest him for yet, and threats meant nothing unless they were carried out. Besides, where he came from the worst sin of all was to be a copper’s nark. He didn’t want to go with his brother, but he couldn’t shop him to the police.
Wiping his dripping nose with the sleeve of his coat, Billy walked slowly back to the home. He’d got a blooming cold again, but he wasn’t going to report sick, because he would lose the chance of playing football if he stopped off school too much.
The shadow of his brother’s threats hung over him, because he knew his days of living in safety at St Saviour’s were almost over – and there was no one he could tell. No one who could stop his brother forcing him into a life of crime. Even if he went against his upbringing and told the police they probably wouldn’t believe him; they all thought he was a troublemaker and none of them knew what he’d suffered at the hands of both his father and brother. He dreaded the thought of being hungry all the time, in fear of his brother’s temper and reduced to living on the streets again. At St Saviour’s he’d begun to think there might be more to life than he’d ever dreamed, even for a boy like Billy Baggins. He’d even tried to correct his speech, wanting to sound like Mary Ellen, and he meant to learn all he could at school, to do something with his life – but now it wouldn’t happen. He’d probably end up like one of them shifty spivs, hanging about street corners selling rubbish nylons to girls daft enough to buy them, and running for his life every time a copper turned up.
He sniffed, holding back the silly tears that stung his eyes. Boys didn’t cry. That was only for girls – and Mary Ellen wouldn’t cry whatever anyone did to her. He wanted to tell her he would be leaving St Saviour’s on Saturday, but if he did she would be sure to tell someone. And if the police went after Arthur he would get away and then they would all be burned in their beds …
‘What’s wrong, Billy?’ Mary Ellen asked when she saw her friend moodily kicking a ball at the wall in the schoolroom after tea, because if Sister had caught him he would be in trouble again. ‘Are you worried about something?’
He shook his head, but Mary Ellen guessed he was lying. She knew by the way he avoided looking at her.
‘Is it Sister Beatrice? Has she been at you again?’
‘Nah, I ain’t scared of her …’
‘But you are scared of something.’ Mary Ellen saw the answer in his eyes even though he didn’t speak. She knew that not much scared her friend and stared at him hard. ‘What’s wrong?
‘It’s Arthur. He wants me to go with him … to leave St Saviour’s and help him.’
‘Billy, you mustn’t go,’ Mary Ellen said, aghast. ‘He’s rotten through and through. He’ll get you in trouble and you’ll end up just like him.’
Billy seemed on the edge of telling her something but then he shook his head. ‘You don’t understand, Mary Ellen. You don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t go with him.’
‘Tell someone,’ Mary Ellen urged. ‘The police are after him. If they knew they would arrest him and put him in prison.’
‘I can’t do that.’ Billy looked miserable. ‘Leave it alone, Mary Ellen. You can’t do anything to help me.’
Mary Ellen watched as he ran off. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk to her so she decided not to follow him. She was frightened for her friend, but she didn’t know what to do. If she told one of the carers they would speak to the police – or Sister Beatrice would. Yet she couldn’t just stand by and see him ruin his life. She would just have to wait and see what she could do to stop Billy getting into the worst trouble of his life.
Billy had sought desperately for an answer to his problem, but he could find none. If he told on his brother Arthur would know and he was a mean, spiteful man. He would disappear until the police stopped hunting for him and then he would come back and set fire to St Saviour’s. No one could stop him, because he was sly and clever and Billy was afraid of him, though he would never have admitted it to anyone else.
The weather was bright and crisp, just right for playing football that afternoon. The excitement had been mounting in Billy all the previous day, because despite his fear of Arthur, he was looking forward to playing for his school; it was an honour and one he hadn’t expected.
He ate his lunch in the dining room with Mary Ellen, though he couldn’t bring himself to munch more than a cheese and pickle sandwich and an apple. Mary Ellen looked at him in surprise.
‘Why didn’t you want one of Nan’s jam tarts?’ she asked. ‘She’s doing the cooking today because it is Cook’s day off.’
‘I mustn’t eat too much,’ Billy said and drank a big gulp of his orange juice. ‘I’ve got a lot of runnin’ to do this afternoon, because I’m the centre half.’
‘You’re playing football?’ Mary Ellen looked puzzled. ‘But didn’t Sister Beatrice stop all your privileges for another week?’
Billy stared at her, stunned as he realised it was true. He was grounded for all pleasure outings and it would be just like the old witch to class playing football for his school as pleasure.
‘I’ve got to go, it’s for the school and it’s an honour,’ Billy said. ‘She won’t know if I sneak out the back way. I’m going whatever she thinks – you won’t tell her if she asks, will you?’
‘Of course I shan’t,’ Mary Ellen promised. ‘I wish I could come with you, but I’d have to get special permission, and if I asked they would know where you’d gone.’
‘Never mind,’ he comforted her. ‘I’ll tell you all about it this evening – and perhaps if I do well …’ He broke off as he remembered there would be no next time. It felt as if he’d been stabbed in the chest and he nearly choked as he realised that after today there would be no more St Saviour’s – no more sitting with Mary Ellen and sharing his problems, no more football. He would be on the streets with Arthur and forced into a life of crime.
It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, but what else could he do? If Arthur had threatened to break his bones, he would have defied him, but he couldn’t risk his spiteful brother carrying out his threat against St Saviour’s, and all the friends Billy had made.
‘I’m going to slip away now,’ he whispered to Mary Ellen. ‘You’re me best mate, don’t ever forget that.’
She gave him a puzzled look and Billy’s heart felt as if it would break but he got up and left. Just as he was exiting the dining hall to go out the back way, he caught a glimpse of Sister Beatrice coming down the hall. She called out to him by name but he ignored her and slipped out of the side door and into the garden, stopping to pick up his football boots, which he’d hidden under a bush earlier.
Sister Beatrice would be on the warpath when she discovered he’d missed the detention she’d set him, but what could she do to him? Billy had always been more afraid of his brother than the stern nurse, whom he suspected of having a softer heart than she let on. He would face what came when he returned from his game, but after that evening it wouldn’t matter what she thought, because he was going to have to do as Arthur told him.
TWENTY-FOUR
Mary Ellen left the dining hall and made her way to the schoolroom. She was supposed to be in detention this afternoon, too, which was why she’d remembered about Billy. Finding the room empty, she sat down at the table and began to write out the lines: I must not run in school. I must obey the rules. She wrote them over and over again. Sister had told them they must do one hundred lines each, which was quite a task for Mary Ellen as she carefully inscribed each letter, but after some perseverance she had finished her lines.
About to
leave the schoolroom, she realised that a little extra effort on her part would accomplish another one hundred lines, which she could print Billy’s name on at the top. If Sister found both sets of lines here she would not know that he had played truant for the afternoon, and he might escape further punishment. It was so unfair that he should be punished just for running in the corridor Billy thought Sister had it in for him, and Mary Ellen believed him.
She put Billy’s name at the top of a second sheet, printing it carefully so that it looked different to her own, then she began to write the lines he had been given, slowly and painstakingly printing every letter so that no one could be sure who had done it. It took twice as long as her own lines, and by the time she’d finished her hand hurt and her shoulders ached from crouching over the table, but she was able to place both lists neatly on the desk. She was just about to leave when the door opened and Sister Beatrice entered, looking stern.
‘Have you finished your lines, Mary Ellen?’
‘Yes, Sister,’ she answered in a scared whisper. ‘I left them on the desk.’
‘And where is Billy Baggins?’
Mary Ellen swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know, Sister.’
‘Well, you may not, but I do. A little bird told me that he is playing football for his school team this afternoon – it is considered an honour, I understand.’
Mary Ellen stared hard at the floor, wishing it might open and swallow her up. She wished she hadn’t written those lines and put Billy’s name on them now, because Sister would know what she had done and be angry with her. There was a sick feeling in her stomach as Sister walked past her to the desk and she bolted quickly out of the door and fled along the hall, heading upstairs to the dorm.
It was empty at this time in the afternoon, but Mary Ellen didn’t want the company of other girls. Billy was her best friend and she was very much afraid that she might have made things worse for him. Sister would think Billy had asked her to do it, and it was all Mary Ellen’s fault.