Bessie nodded, glad for the chance of making her views known to the young mother, and she quickly flounced off out of the kitchen. Fred sighed to himself as he looked at the rest of the meat lying on the chopping block and at the pile of dough still to be rolled out. She’ll have to go, he told himself, fearful for his sanity while at the mercy of Bessie’s constant chatter. He picked up the sharp knife once more with a frown and growled at the meat as he diced it, imagining that it was Bessie he was carving up.
On Friday evenings Carrie was in the habit of visiting her parents in Bacon Buildings. First she bathed Rachel and gave her a feed before settling her down, then she washed and changed, combing out her long fair hair and setting it on top of her head again. Fred watched his young wife go through her weekly ritual thinking how beautiful she looked. Her body had soon regained its youthful shape and he marvelled how trim she looked. Her breasts had become larger since Rachel was born and the tops of her arms too, he thought. Carrie’s bright blue eyes mirrored her good health and she hummed happily to herself as she brushed down her best coat. She was glad to get away from the shop for a short while and she felt confident about leaving the baby in Fred’s charge. Normally Rachel slept for a few hours after the feed and Carrie had made sure her husband knew what to do should the baby wake up before she got home. Once ready she turned to Fred and he raised his hands quickly in front of him. ‘It’s all right, I know what ter do if she wakes up,’ he reminded her. ‘Pick ’er up an’ bring up ’er wind. Check that the pin ain’t stickin’ in ’er, an’ if she don’t stop cryin’ walk up an’ down wiv ’er till she do.’
Carrie kissed her husband lightly on the cheek and made for the stairs. She turned and was about to say something when Fred held up his hands once more. ‘I know, get Rachel’s next feed ready,’ he said quickly.
Carrie smiled at him and hurried down the stairs. As she stepped out into the dark night she thought of the gloomy squalor of Bacon Buildings and the smile left her face. Her parents, William and Nellie Tanner, had been forced out of the terraced house in Page Street, the home they had brought the family up in, when her father’s employer George Galloway, who owned the house, decided he was going to make changes. Galloway had now installed a motor mechanic there whom he had hired to look after his new motor vehicles. Carrie’s parents and their youngest son Danny had been forced to find alternative accommodation and they ended up in one of the most dilapidated tenement blocks in Bermondsey. Carrie knew how hard it had been for her father, who had spent almost thirty-seven years as a horsekeeper for Galloway, to look for other employment. He had found a job as watchman at the council depot but it had caused him to become morose and ailing. His fortunes had changed, however, when a man who had befriended her father, Joe Maitland, took him on to manage his warehouse in Dockhead. Carrie was very pleased to see the change in her father now that he had settled into his new job, but she still fretted over her parents, and she had not forgotten her vow that one day she would have enough money to buy them a decent house to live in.
The night was clear and the sky full of stars as she walked from the corner shop in Cotton Lane along River Street, then turned left into Bacon Street. The dark tenement block loomed up on her left and through the broken windows she could see the reflection of the naked gas jets that burned on each landing. There were four block entrances and Carrie entered the far one, climbing the rickety wooden stairs to the third floor. Each landing had four flats, two on each side of the landing. The front doors were almost bare of paint and shadows cast by the gas flame took on weird shapes. Carrie shuddered as she walked along the landing to one of the rear front doors. The sour smell from the communal rubbish bins in the alley below drifted up through a broken window and Carrie grimaced as she knocked on the door.
A wind was getting up. It rattled the window frames as Nellie and her daughter sat talking. Despite the difference in their ages, the two women were strikingly alike, with small smooth-skinned faces and high cheekbones.
At fifty Nellie Tanner was still slim and attractive. Her blue eyes were a shade or two deeper than those of her daughter, but her fair hair was exactly the same shade as Carrie’s. Life had been kind to her and there were few lines on her face, except in the corners of her eyes and around her swanlike neck just beneath the chin. She looked serious though as she confided in her daughter: ‘I dunno, Carrie. I was pleased as punch when yer farvver came ’ome an’ told me Joe Maitland ’ad offered ’im that job. Now I’m not so sure. It ain’t what ’e’s bin used to, but then nor was that watchman’s job wiv the council. Yer farvver’s never bin one ter talk much about ’is work but ’e clams up whenever I ask ’im what ’e’s bin doin’. ’E gets very tired too lately. After ’e ’as ’is tea ’e falls asleep in that chair an’ ’e’s like that till it’s time for bed. ’E’s never bin the same since the stables. ’E really loved those ’orses. I get all ’eavy in ’ere when I fink ’ow that ole goat Galloway treated ’im after a lifetime of work fer ’im,’ Nellie said, putting her clenched fist up to her chest.
‘George Galloway ’urt us all, Mum, but yer gotta try an’ put ’im out o’ yer mind,’ Carrie replied, reaching out and squeezing her mother’s hand in hers. ‘Yer won’t ’ave ter stay in this dump fer ever. One day I’ll ’ave enough money ter get yer both a nice place ter live. Danny as well if ’e’s still livin’ wiv yer.’
Nellie laughed. ‘Gawd knows when yer bruvver’s gonna get married. I fink ’e jus’ loves ’em an’ leaves ’em. Still I’m pleased ’e’s got that lighterman’s job. I was worried ’e was gonna take up boxin’ after doin’ it in the army. That’s all Danny talked about when ’e first come ’ome from France. Mind you though, that Billy Sullivan ’ad a lot ter do wiv it. Yer bruvver worshipped ’im.’
‘They still go drinkin’ tergevver, don’t they, Mum?’ Carrie asked.
‘They was out tergevver the ovver night,’ Nellie replied, nodding. ‘Danny met ’im when ’e finished work. ’E come ’ome ’ere drunk as a kite. All I could get out of ’im was this gymnasium Billy was interested in. Danny said Billy Sullivan wants ’im ter ’elp out there. I do ’ope ’e ain’t finkin’ o’ chuckin’ that job in. It was ’ard enough gettin’ it in the first place. It’s a good job too. I know it’s ’ard and awkward hours, but at least it’s regular money comin’ in.’
Carrie was eager to tell her mother how business was picking up at the dining rooms but she was interrupted by footsteps on the stairs outside and a key being inserted in the lock.
‘There’s the two of ’em now. I warned ’em you was comin’ round ternight an’ not ter be late,’ Nellie said.
William Tanner walked into the flat with Danny following behind him and both men bent over in turn to kiss Carrie on the cheek. William looked frail beside his youngest son although both were the same height. Danny was heavier by at least two stone, and his upright stance made him appear the taller of the two. ‘’Ow’s my little granddaughter doin’?’ William asked, a slight slur in his voice.
‘She’s fine,’ Carrie answered with a smile. ‘She’s sleepin’ well an’ she’s put on two pounds.’
Nellie looked peevishly at her husband and Danny in turn. ‘I told yer not ter be late,’ she said quickly.
‘We got waylaid in the Kings Arms, Muvver,’ Danny said smiling. ‘Billy was in there wiv ’is family. ’E’s dead set on gettin’ this gym goin’.’
‘I don’t know where ’e’s gonna get the money from,’ Nellie snorted. ‘Billy Sullivan ain’t done a day’s work since ’e got out o’ the army. ’E’s worryin’ the life out of ’is muvver. Sadie was tellin’ me ’e’s bin ’angin’ around wiv a bad crowd from Rovver’ithe.’
‘The Tunnel Mob,’ Danny explained matter-of-factly. ‘They’re a bunch o’ nuffinks. There ain’t one of ’em could punch their way out of a paper bag.’
William was filling his pipe thoughtfully. ‘The police come in the yard terday,’ he said suddenly. ‘They wanted ter ’ave a word wiv Joe. They was wi
v ’im in the office fer over an hour. Joe looked worried when they left. ’E told me they was askin’ after somebody ’e used ter know. I don’t fink it was that though.’
‘Oh,’ Nellie said, glancing quickly at Carrie as if to signal that her father was being secretive about his work again.
‘I fink there’s bin some dodgy business goin’ on wiv the stuff ’e’s bin ’andlin’ if yer ask me,’ William went on.
‘You won’t get involved in it, will yer?’ Nellie asked in a worried tone of voice.
William laughed. ‘I’m just employed as a yard foreman. I jus’ stow the stuff, I don’t buy it.’
Danny’s eyelids were drooping as he sat in front of the warm fire and Nellie gave him a blinding look. ‘Yer not gonna fall off ter sleep while yer sister’s visitin’ us, are yer?’ she reproached him.
Danny sat up straight in his chair and grinned at Carrie. ‘I ’ad a bad day,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot o’ trade comin’ in an’ the tide was runnin’ fast. The barges don’t dock themselves, yer know.’
‘Yer ain’t finkin’ o’ chuckin’ it fer that ’are-brained scheme o’Billy’s, are yer, Danny?’ his mother asked.
‘Course I ain’t,’ he replied irritably. ‘Billy’s never gonna raise the money ter open a gym. Yer know Billy, it’s all pie in the sky wiv ’im.’
Nellie was not convinced. ‘I dunno so much,’ she persisted. ‘’E might be finkin’ o’ gettin’ the money by knockin’ around wiv that Rovver’ithe mob.’
‘Tunnel Mob,’ Danny corrected her.
‘All right, Mister Know-all,’ Nellie scolded. ‘I bet they’re up ter no good, whatever they call themselves. Sadie was tellin’ me that bloke they ’ung last year fer killin’ that shopkeeper over in Stepney used ter be one o’ the crowd ’er Billy’s gettin’ wiv.’
‘She’s got nuffink ter worry about,’ Danny said, rolling his eyes in Carrie’s direction. ‘Billy wouldn’t touch a fing what didn’t belong to ’im. Trouble wiv Billy is, ’e don’t see no wrong in anybody. All ’e wants ter do is open up a gym club fer the local lads. Yer know ’ow ’e loves boxin’. If it wasn’t fer that bullet wound ’e got, Billy would be defendin’ the championship by now.’
‘Well, the boy’s better orf out o’ the boxin’ business,’ Nellie went on. ‘An’ I’m glad you’ve seen better sense, Danny. Look at poor ole Solly Green who sells the papers at the top o’ Page Street. They took ’im away last week. ’E collapsed as ’e come out the Kings Arms an’ they rushed ’im away ter the ’ospital. ’E’s in a bad way so Maisie Dingle told me. It’s all those punches ter the ’ead ’e’s ’ad in ’is time. ’E was boxin’ fer years.’
William sighed as he reached for the matches to relight his pipe. ‘Solly was pissed. ’E was drinkin’ pints o’ porter,’ he informed Nellie. ‘’E was all right this evenin’ when I bought the paper off ’im.’
Carrie laughed at her mother’s pained expression. ‘C’mon, Mum,’ she said, ‘I’ll ’elp yer do the cheese sandwiches. Then I’ll ’ave ter be goin’, in case Rachel wakes up early.’
William waited until the two women had left the room then he turned to his son. ‘Is Carrie all right?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, I fink so. Why d’yer ask, Dad?’
‘She looks a bit pale, an’ she seems a bit quiet,’ William remarked.
‘I s’pose it’ s the shop,’ Danny answered. ‘It mus’ be a lot fer ’er, what wiv the baby ter care for as well. Yer know what Carrie’s like. She ain’t one ter complain.’
‘I’m wonderin’ if ’er an’ Fred are all right tergevver,’ William went on. ‘There’s a lot o’ difference in their ages, an’ Fred don’t seem the sort o’ bloke who’d be a cheerful soul ter be wiv. P’raps she’s findin’ it a bit melancholy bein’ wiv ’im?’
Danny laughed at his father’s misgivings. ‘She’s ’appy enough,’ he reassured him. ‘Fred’s a diamond, an’ ’e finks the world of ’er. As fer the difference in ages, take you an’ Muvver. You’re quite a bit older than ’er. It ain’t made no difference ter you two, ’as it?’
‘Of course it ain’t,’ William said quickly. ‘But me an’ yer muvver always used ter be goin’ out when we were younger, even if it was only up the Kings Arms on Saturday nights. Our Carrie an’ ’im never seem ter go anywhere. It’s bound ter get a bit miserable fer both of ’em, all work an’ no play.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about Carrie, Dad,’ Danny assured him. ‘She’s done wonders wiv that cafe. They’re buildin’ up the trade an’ Carrie’s got plans. She was tellin’ me the ovver day she wants Fred ter try an’ get that empty ’ouse next door ter make the place bigger. They need the room. The place is packed out as it is.’
‘That’s what I was just on about,’ William said with a sigh. ‘She don’t stop all day. She can’t keep goin’ on like that fer ever. Yer muvver’s worried about ’er as well as me.’
Danny yawned and stretched out his feet towards the fire. ‘Well, I’m orf ter bed soon as I’ve seen Carrie ’ome. I’ve gotta be up at five in the mornin’,’ he said, knowing it was useless to discuss it any further.
Carrie came into the room carrying a plate of cheese sandwiches followed by Nellie who was holding the large enamel teapot in both hands. ‘C’mon, rouse yerselves, supper’s up,’ she grinned.
The late meal was eaten in comparative silence, and then as the clock on the mantelshelf struck ten o’clock Carrie slipped on her coat. ‘Yer don’t ’ave ter see me ’ome, Bruv,’ she said smiling. ‘I’m a big gel now.’
Danny waved away her protest. ‘There’s some funny characters roamin’ the streets at this time o’ night,’ he remarked. ‘It won’t take long - that’s if yer don’t stand around ’ere chattin’ any more.’
They walked down the dark, creaking stairs to the empty street, and as they turned left and walked towards Cotton Lane Carrie slipped her arm through her brother’s, glad of his comforting presence despite her protests. It was a misty night and she could hear the sound of the water lapping against the pilings as they reached the riverside lane. There was no moon showing and the gas lamp opposite the dining rooms flickered and cast frightening shadows down the cobbled lane.
‘You sure yer all right, Carrie?’ her brother asked with concern.
She nodded with a smile. ‘I jus’ need a good night’s sleep,’ she replied. ‘It’s bin a very busy week. Go on, off yer go, I’m all right now.’
Danny planted a kiss on her cheek and waited until she opened the front door before turning on his heel and walking off. Carrie hurried up the stairs to the sound of Rachel’s loud bawling, and with a sigh of resignation she slipped quickly out of her coat and took the baby from a very flustered father.
Chapter Three
Nellie Tanner left the grimy Bacon Buildings on Saturday morning and walked along to Page Street carrying an empty shopping basket. It was quicker to go direct to Jamaica Road and along through the railway arch to Bermondsey Market, but Nellie made the detour purposely. She had spent many years of her adult life in Page Street and most of her old friends still lived there in the row of terraced houses. As she walked briskly along the turning in the cold morning air Nellie spotted Aggie Temple busily whitening her front doorstep and she smiled to herself. Aggie was a spotlessly clean woman who prided herself on her housekeeping. Her modest home sparkled, and her doorstep was the whitest in the street. Even when the lorries coming out of Galloway’s yard at the angle of the street splashed mud across the pavement and their exhaust fumes glazed the windows with an oily film Aggie persevered. Her husband Harold was a lamplighter and when he came home from work he was obliged to take off his boots in the passage and place them on a sheet of newspaper before entering the inner sanctum.
Aggie had mice, Nellie recalled, but the woman could not bear the thought of getting a good mouser. ‘Cats make the place smell an’ they tear yer ’ome ter pieces,’ Aggie had told her.
‘Get some mousetraps then,’ Nellie advised her.
‘Oh, no! I couldn’t stand seein’ the poor fings in those traps,’ Aggie groaned.
‘Well, it’s eivver mousetraps or a good mouser,’ Nellie had said.
Aggie got the mousetraps, and the only thing they caught was her Harold’s big toe one night when he was hurrying down to the lavatory in the backyard. Aggie still would not contemplate getting a mouser and when Harold raised the roof about the lethal traps she threw them out and blocked up the holes in the flooring and the wooden skirting-boards with old newspapers soaked in lavender water. Far from dissuading the rodents, the smell of lavender positively encouraged them and they soon ate through the paper plugs. Aggie had then sought the services of a good ratcatcher.
‘I can put down some poison, missus,’ he told her. ‘It’s gonna smell though.’
Aggie shook her head. ‘Oh, no! I can’t stand bad smells.’
‘Well, get yerself a good mouser,’ he advised her.
‘No fear. I couldn’t stand a smelly cat tearin’ me ’ome ter pieces,’ she told him.
‘Well, there’s not much I can do then,’ replied the exasperated ratcatcher.
Tanner Trilogy 02 - The Girl from Cotton Lane Page 3