by June Tate
Forbes looked him up and down and frowned. ‘Why are you not dressed as usual?’
‘It’s so hot in the cafe, sir, that my stiff collar nearly choked me by the end of the day. Mrs McGonigall suggested I dress more comfortably because she had no time to look after me if I passed out.’
Trying to hide a smile, Forbes said, ‘Yes, that sounds just like her. How was business?’
‘Brisk! The customers start coming at eight o’clock and sometimes she has a queue outside at midday waiting for a table.’
His employer raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Really?’
‘She’s an amazing woman, Mr Forbes. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard and so efficiently. Here are the takings for the last two days.’ He handed over a slip of paper.
Forbes was impressed when he read it. ‘This is better than I thought. Thank you, Marshall, you may go.’
Henry hesitated. ‘Could you tell me how much longer I’ll be working there?’
The other man’s eyes narrowed. ‘As long as I need you.’
The young man heard the steel in Forbes’s voice and knew better than to argue.
‘Thank you, sir.’ He turned and walked out of the room. He didn’t know who the tougher boss was, the man he’d just left or the lady he’d been sent to assist.
Larry Forbes sat back in his chair and chuckled softly. Jessie McGonigall was quite a woman. He liked a female with spirit and she had plenty of that, but she had to learn her place. He lit a cigarette and, as he puffed away on it, he could picture Jessie McGonigall berating his young man. It might be interesting trying to tame such a woman.
Back in Union Street, the new arrivals had moved into Iris Jones’s council house after it had been cleaned and decorated. The Williams family, Maisie, Percy and their two boys, Jack and Tommy, seemed harmless enough. The boys were five and seven and the husband worked as a porter at the Great Western Hotel. They arrived with furniture piled on a handcart with suitcases on the top. It was very clear to those who watched that they didn’t have a great deal, but they were friendly and quiet. The inhabitants breathed a sigh of relief after the previous owner who had done nothing but cause trouble.
Maisie would take the boys to school in the morning after her husband left for work and spent her day cooking and cleaning. They soon became a familiar part of the street and everybody settled down once again.
Jessie would stop and talk to the boys who would be playing outside after she came home in the afternoons, and sometimes she’d play hoops with them or, to their delight, hopscotch. She soon became their favourite and for her they were a delight, and went some way to fill the gap in her life. The family were soon accepted by their neighbours and settled in.
Chapter Eleven
Conor was having a bad day. His gang were loading a cargo ship and his leg was aching, making him limp a little. Jennings noted this and how it slowed Conor’s progress.
‘You need to speed up, McGonigall! You’re not on a fucking holiday!’
Conor froze, his temper rising. The other men fell silent as they worked, wondering what would happen at this tirade, remembering how Conor used to be a stevedore, giving orders and knowing his reputation for getting the job done, but, more importantly, how well he treated his men, and the respect with which he was held.
Swallowing his anger, Conor glared at Jennings. ‘Don’t worry, the job will get done and you will still get your ten per cent!’
Jennings was puce with rage and quickly looked around to see if anyone other than his gang was within earshot. ‘You watch that Irish temper of yours, or you will be out on your ear!’ He walked away.
Bill Brown wandered over to his neighbour and quietly had a word. ‘Be careful, Conor, he’s a wicked bugger and doesn’t like to be crossed.’
‘I don’t care, but he had better keep off my back. I will not be spoken to like that by anybody.’
Bill went back to work, but he was worried for his friend.
During the rest of the day, Jennings continued to pick on Conor, who ignored him and just carried on working, knowing if he let the man get to him he’d end up thumping him and that wouldn’t do at all. It would play right into his hands. But when he finished work, he glared at Jennings as he left, vowing to get even with him at the first opportunity.
Two days later, the opportunity arose. The crane was lifting a net full of cargo into the hold and Conor saw that Jennings hadn’t seen it swinging towards him, as he had his back to the load as it came over. As the net was lowered, Conor grabbed Jennings and threw him onto the deck on his back as the load passed over their heads.
Jennings paled as he saw how close he’d been to being injured, or worse. Conor knelt astride him and clutching his hook by its wooden handle, pressed the steel against Jennings’ throat. The man’s eyes widened in horror.
Conor smiled softly ‘You need to keep a sharper eye out – you’re not on a fucking holiday! You could have been killed if I hadn’t had my wits about me. If I had a mind to finish the job, I could do so right now!’
Jennings spluttered in fear, but Conor shut him up. ‘I would say that saving a life – twice – would entitle me to collect all my wages in future – wouldn’t you agree?’
The man, unable to speak, had no option and nodded. Conor pulled him up onto his feet. ‘Good, now we understand each other,’ and he climbed out of the hold, leaving Jennings shaken to the core, his throat bruised from the pressure of the hook.
Conor continued to work without any more trouble for the rest of the day, which gave him great satisfaction. But he knew he’d made an enemy of Dave Jennings.
At the next payday, Conor took his pay packet from Jennings and quickly read the front to see if all his wages were inside. When he saw there had been no ten per cent stoppage, he looked at Jennings and grinned. ‘Looks fine, just as it should be.’
As he walked away whistling, he could feel the hostility oozing from the gang boss, but as Bill joined him on his walk home, he didn’t mention what had happened. That was not to be common knowledge.
That night in Canal Walk, Maggie took Dave Jennings to her room, where he vented his anger on her as he roughly abused her body, leaving her sore and bruised. When she complained afterwards, he slapped her face with considerable force, then threw his money on her bed and left.
The next day when Maggie went to Daisy’s house to collect a gown, Daisy was shocked at the bruises on Maggie’s face. ‘What on earth has happened to you?’ she asked.
Maggie lowered her aching body into a chair, tears brimming her eyes. ‘It was that Dave Jennings; he’s one of my punters. He was in a vile temper and was rough with me. He slapped me just before he left, when I complained about his treatment.’
‘Oh, Maggie!’ She didn’t know what else to say. But later that day she confided in Jessie.
‘You should have seen that poor girl! Bill works for Jennings, as does Conor. Bill said he was a dreadful man. He’s a bully. He needs a good sorting out, to my mind. How would he feel to be set upon, I wonder?’
When Jessie told her husband that night, he wasn’t surprised, but he was angry.
‘The man’s a bully. He has no regard for anyone but himself!’
‘Well, you be careful of him, Conor. A man like that is dangerous.’
It was now February and bitterly cold. But as Jessie read the papers and saw that the body of Captain Scott and his party of climbers had been found dead in the Antarctic, she wondered whatever made them contemplate such a journey. It was cold enough here, she couldn’t imagine how anybody would go to such an inhospitable place of their own free will. But she was more sympathetic when reading about the suffragettes, she was all for women’s rights. She said as much to Conor that evening.
He looked at her in astonishment. ‘Bloody hell, Jessie! As if you don’t already have that. Look at you, running your own business and, if I recall, the very first day I met you, you were your own woman.’
‘But don’t you see, darlin’, not all
women had the chance that I had, and for those poor souls, I welcome the likes of Emmeline Pankhurst.’
‘Maybe so, but she’s trouble and so are her band of followers, you see if I’m not right.’
Jessie remembered his words as she read about Mrs Pankhurst’s trial after the explosion at Lloyd George’s golf villa. Fortunately, no one was hurt, but Pankhurst accepted full responsibility. Jessie didn’t agree with this. She thought it foolhardy and dangerous. Perhaps Conor was right about the woman.
Things were running smoothly for Jessie in the cafe. Henry Marshall had eventually settled into his job and began to lose his autocratic ways as the weeks passed. He began to enjoy the banter of the men and was now no longer embarrassed about their teasing. Jessie began to warm to him and now made sure he had a meal after the lunchtime rush, before he cashed up for the day.
As he relaxed, he would chat about his boss whenever Jessie gently probed him for information. It seemed that Forbes, unmarried, was a shrewd businessman who’d worked hard to achieve his status. He now had several business interests, which paid well. Jessie could admire anyone with a work ethic. But she still didn’t trust him.
At the end of the month, Forbes paid her a visit just before closing time. When Jessie saw who had walked in, she was immediately on her mettle.
‘Mr Forbes! What brings you here?’
‘I thought we could have a chat over a cup of coffee to discuss business.’
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. What was this bastard up to now? She went into the kitchen and returned with two mugs of coffee and sat opposite him. ‘Well?’
He grinned at her. ‘There’s no need to be so hostile, Mrs McGonigall. I’ve only come in to say how well you’ve been doing. The figures that Marshall has given me have been very satisfactory.’
‘Don’t even think of asking for a bigger percentage because I’d rather close the cafe!’
He sipped his coffee and stared at her over the rim of the mug. ‘I have no intention of doing so, but I thought as things are working out so well, we might have dinner together to go over the figures, maybe find a better agreement for when your contract finishes.’
This was so unexpected that Jessie was speechless for a moment. Then she started to laugh. ‘You are joking, of course.’
‘No, I’m serious. I admire the way you run this place. I like successes – and in a woman, what you’ve achieved is extraordinary, especially in this day and age.’
‘Good heavens, are you paying me a compliment? Be very careful, this is very much against your nature.’
‘You have no idea as to who I am or my nature.’ He looked at her, a challenge in his voice. ‘Perhaps it’s time you found out.’
‘No, thanks, I’m not that interested. I’m happy with things as they stand. Now if you would kindly drink up, I want to close. It’s been a long day.’ She rose from her chair and waited for him to move, fingering her shop keys as she did so.
Getting to his feet, he said, ‘One day you might change your mind.’
‘I wouldn’t put money on it if I were you.’ She opened the door wide. ‘Good day to you, Mr Forbes.’
Walking into the kitchen, she looked at Nancy. ‘That bugger only invited me out to dinner!’
Nancy looked astonished. ‘No!’
‘Yes. He wants to discuss our next contract, or so he says. Whatever it is, he’s wasting his time.’
Larry Forbes walked along Oxford Street, a set expression on his face. That woman is so sure of herself. He wondered what had given her such strength to be able to stand on her own two feet so well. But he didn’t take kindly to anyone who challenged his position, especially a female; nevertheless, she intrigued him. His invitation to dinner had been a ploy to try and get behind that hostility. She must have a weak spot somewhere. There had to be a way of bringing her to heel and he was determined to find it.
Although the men who worked the docks were used to working outside in all kinds of weather, the cold made their jobs more difficult. They were forced to wear heavier jackets to keep warm, but it made moving the cargo a cumbersome job and if the ground was slippery from either rain or ice, it became hazardous. Like today.
The previous night had been so cold that the quayside was icy and slippery underfoot. The men were aware of the danger and walked with care in their hobnailed boots, but, nevertheless, one or two ended up on their backs as they tried to move the cargo.
Jennings railed at them as they fell. ‘Watch your bloody feet; you should be used to these conditions. Now get a move on or we’ll be behind. If you can’t keep up, I’ll get a crew who can!’
The men muttered beneath their breath. The atmosphere was charged with their anger.
‘Speed things up, McGonigall! You of all people should be able to cope with this, once having been a stevedore!’ He said this with such derision that Conor felt his hackles rise.
The men were standing on the quayside waiting for another load to be moved and Conor turned to Jennings. ‘I was a better boss than you’ll ever be!’ He glared at the other man. ‘You have no idea how to handle your men and you haven’t the intelligence to learn, either. You’re an ignorant bully, but you haven’t the guts to face up to a man, you only take out your frustration on a poor helpless woman. Paying a prostitute doesn’t give you the right to beat her up!’
The other men stopped work and listened.
Jennings was stunned into silence and, looking around, saw that all of the men were listening to the angry exchange. This enraged him and, with a cry of anger, he threw a punch at Conor, sending him flying onto his back.
Conor was back on his feet in a flash, his Irish temper, which he’d managed to keep in check, now unfettered. He landed a punch on Jennings’ chin, sending him reeling. He pounced on Jennings again, throwing another punch, putting him on his back, cheered on by his workmates who were enjoying the fact that their boss was getting what they considered to be his just deserts.
It was Bill Brown who put a stop to it by pinning Conor’s arms to his side. ‘Enough! You don’t want to kill the bugger; you’re in enough trouble as it is.’ He hauled Conor off Jennings.
Conor had no choice but to stop. The gang boss scrambled to his feet. He glared at Conor. ‘Get off the dock. You are no longer working for me. Now get out of here, and you other men get back to work – now!’
There was muttering as the men did as they were told, but all of them had enjoyed the fracas and a few had secretly hoped to see Jennings end up in the water.
Conor collected his tools, but when he picked up his metal hook, Jennings took a few steps backwards, remembering how the steel had felt on his throat once before.
Conor walked out of the dock gates and made for the nearest pub for a pint and a cigarette to calm down. Later he’d have to tell Jessie he’d been fired, and he wasn’t looking forward to that one bit.
Chapter Twelve
Jessie was surprised to see Conor sitting in his chair drinking a cup of tea when she arrived home that afternoon. ‘What are you doing here? Are you sick?’
‘No, I’ve been fired.’
‘You what? How did that happen? I thought you were settled in the gang.’
‘Jennings and I had a falling-out.’
She sat in a chair opposite him, glaring. ‘You lost your temper, that’s it, isn’t it?’
‘He pushed me too far Jessie. I won’t be treated like dirt by anyone, least of all by a man such as him. The man’s an ignorant pig, so he is!’ He then told her what had transpired.
Listening to Conor, she could see why he’d lost control, and when she heard how Conor had brought up Maggie the prostitute and her treatment at Jennings’ hand, she could understand why blows were exchanged.
With a sigh, she said, ‘Well that’s that! You’ve not heard any more of going back as a stevedore, then?’
‘No, I’ll go along in the morning and see John Irving. He said I was top of the list, but that was ages ago. I can’t understand why he’
s not been in touch.’
But the following morning Conor discovered that John Irving had retired and a new man had taken his place, someone he didn’t know. He was told to go into the office where a Mr Brian Gates would see him.
The man behind the desk looked at Conor over his glasses. ‘What can I do for you, Mr McGonigall?’
‘I wondered when my job as a stevedore would be vacant again. Mr Irving had me at the top of his list, but I’ve not heard anything.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr McGonigall, I don’t understand. Can you explain?’
Conor told him about the accident and how his place had been filled and he was told he would be called as soon as a place came vacant.
‘You are now fully recovered?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve been working in a gang until yesterday, waiting to be recalled.’
‘Yesterday? Why yesterday?’
Taking a deep breath, Conor said, ‘I was fired by the gang boss.’
The man sat back in his chair and stared hard at Conor. ‘What was the reason for your dismissal?’
‘I’m afraid Dave Jennings and me had a falling-out.’
‘Please explain what you mean.’
Conor knew there was no way out for him. ‘We came to blows and he fired me!’
‘You hit your boss?’ Gates looked appalled.
‘I know it sounds bad, sir, but Jennings is a bully; he’s also a crook. He takes ten per cent of every man’s pay for his own pocket and no one dares refuse or they’ll be back to the call-on again. I was a good stevedore; I looked after my men. I have a good reputation – ask anybody. I admit, I lost my rag, but he had it coming!’
The man frowned. ‘I see. How long has Jennings been taking this money?’
‘I don’t know when it began, but ever since I’ve been working for him and before that, I know for a fact.’