Tanner Trilogy 02 - The Girl from Cotton Lane

by Harry Bowling

  Billy was not so sure. ‘S’posin’ I look like one o’ the ovver blokes,’ he went on. ‘The ole watchman could make a mistake. ’Specially if they was all over ’im when they was doin’ ’im over. Anyway, after what I did ter that silly ole goat at the sawmills the coppers might fink I’m a villain an’ try ter get the ole boy ter say I was there. It could ’appen.’

  Danny grinned. ‘Billy, if pigs could fly.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never mind. Jus’ try ter fink where yer was when they turned the ware’ouse over,’ Danny prompted him. ‘All yer need is somebody ter back yer up.’

  ‘But I dunno when it ’appened,’ Billy said irritably.

  ‘Well, find out. Yer got friends down Rovver’ithe, ain’t yer?’ Danny reminded him. ‘Ask about, or see if there’s any ole newspapers lyin’ about in yer ’ouse. There might be somefink in there about it. I’ll ’ave a look too, an’ I’ll ask about, some o’ my pals on the river might know somefink. Once yer know the date an’ time o’ the job yer can fink back. It’ll all work out right, so don’t worry.’

  Billy looked gloomy and his friend got up and collected the empty mugs. ‘Let’s ’ave anuvver mug o’ tea. I gotta get back ter work soon,’ he said.

  It was nearing two o’clock and Annie McCafferty paused as she put on her coat in the back room of the cafe. She had seen Billy enter the dining rooms in front of her as she returned from the park with Rachel, and the sight of him had sent a little shiver through her body.

  Annie felt angry with herself for dwelling on thoughts of the young man over the weekend. She had been unable to concentrate on her reading, her mind constantly straying to the conversation she had had with him in the rose gardens. He was obviously not very well educated by the way he spoke, and he seemed very troubled and disgruntled by what had happened to him. She had thought at length over what he had told her and she felt truly sorry for him. There were other, more delicate feelings which Annie realised had been awoken inside her by meeting the handsome young man. He had looked at her in a way that frightened and worried her, but looking back she became excited and stirred by his attention. Often in the past she had listened to other women talking about their young men and she had tried not to dwell on what they said. Marriage was not for her, she told herself. Now though she had met a young man and felt strange feelings which she could not quite understand. It had only been a brief talk and nothing improper was intimated. He had been very careful in the way that he spoke to her and was very apologetic when he swore. He had said he was a very good friend of Danny, Carrie’s brother, and it was likely that she would see him sometime in the future. She had not expected to see him so soon, as she returned to the dining rooms.

  Carrie came into the back room to take Rachel up for her afternoon nap and smiled at Annie as the young woman was buttoning up her coat. ‘Did yer ’ave a nice stroll?’ she asked.

  Annie nodded. ‘We went to the swings and fed the ducks, didn’t we, Rachel?’

  The young child was more interested in her father who was busy cutting slabs of meat into small portions for the next day’s pies.

  ‘I met that young man Billy Sullivan in the park the other day,’ Annie said casually, wanting to glean some information about him. ‘He said hello to Rachel and introduced himself to me while we were sitting on the bench. He seems a nice young man.’

  Carrie smiled. ‘Billy Sullivan an’ my Danny are like bruvvers,’ she said. ‘We all grew up tergevver in Page Street. Did ’e tell yer about ’is boxin?’

  Annie nodded. ‘Yes, he did. He also said he was going for a job that morning. I wonder if he got it.’

  Carrie smiled again as she shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t ’ave thought so. Billy an’ work don’t get on very well tergevver. In any case, ’e wouldn’t be in ’ere terday if ’e’d been lucky.’

  Annie tried not to look too concerned. ‘Has he not got a young lady?’ she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but she could feel herself almost blushing.

  Carrie looked at her child’s nurse with renewed interest. Until now she had never thought about Annie being interested in men, she was so reserved and proper, but it seemed to Carrie that Billy might have kindled a spark in the young woman.

  ‘Billy’s never been all that interested in women, Annie,’ she replied. ‘Boxin’ was ’is love, but all that’s over now. Mind yer, Billy’s bin on about openin’ up a gymnasium for the young lads around ’ere. I don’t know if ’e’ll ever do it but yer never can tell wiv Billy.’

  ‘He said you and he walked out once,’ Annie mentioned with a shy grin. ‘He only said it in passing,’ she added quickly.

  Carrie laughed aloud. ‘Yeah, it was only once. Billy kissed me on the cheek an’ I got all silly an’ decided ’e was too forward,’ she said, not divulging to Annie what happened later, when they were walking home and Billy tried to make love to her.

  ‘Billy told me he kissed you in the rose gardens,’ Annie said smiling.

  ‘That’s right, ’e did. Billy’s one o’ the best,’ Carrie told her. ‘The family are Catholics and ’is farvver’s Irish. They’re regular churchgoers an’ Sadie, Billy’s mum, is very nice. It was a terrible shame about what ’appened to ’im. ’E lost two bruvvers in the war too.’

  Annie shook her head sadly. ‘It was terrible, the loss of life. Billy got badly wounded, didn’t he?’

  Carrie nodded. ‘’E was shot in the chest. It finished ’is boxin’. ’E was goin’ ter fight fer a title before ’e went in the army.’ She paused for a moment. ‘If yer want, I’ll tell ’im yer ’ere. P’raps ’e’ll walk yer ’ome,’ she added.

  Annie shook her head quickly. ‘No, it’s all right. I’ve to hurry. There’s a nurses’ meeting at the church this afternoon and I mustn’t be late,’ she said quickly.

  Carrie thought she caught a moment of panic in Annie’s eyes and she held up her hands to reassure her. ‘It’s all right. Maybe you can ’ave anuvver chat wiv ’im when yer’ve more time,’ she said lightly. ‘Billy would be pleased, I’m sure.’

  Annie McCafferty left the Bradley Dining Rooms and walked home feeling cross with herself. She had wanted to meet the young man again, but now the opportunity had been afforded her she had not been confident enough to accept it. Maybe she was being foolish in placing so much importance on those brief few words she and Billy had exchanged in the park. Her life was mapped out for her by providence, she told herself firmly. She was going to stay in her profession and concentrate her energies on what she knew best.

  She reached the busy Jamaica Road and suddenly felt depressed as she hurried across and turned into a quiet backstreet which led to her home. It had occurred to her that by devoting her life to her work she would never have the chance to look after her own babies, and her thoughts turned once more to the young man with the dark wavy hair and the expressive blue eyes.

  William Tanner finished tidying up the small warehouse stock and sat down to await the van which was due. He had sorted the boxes of patent medicines and stacked them in one corner away from the cartons of collar studs and bootlaces. He had repaired damaged boxes with sticky brown paper and stacked the large cartons of cleaning cloths and feather dusters up against a back wall, to make room for the consignment of cottons and wools which was due soon. The warehouse looked neat and tidy with all the stock now sorted and listed and as he looked around William sighed to himself. The job was a steady one, and he was left alone to manage the place. Joe Maitland his boss was very often out buying and selling and he rarely interfered with the running of the store. William realised that he should feel contented with his lot, but he was not. Horses were his love and he had spent the best years of his life working at the Galloway stables.

  William looked around at the stacks of cartons and bundles and felt that he had been wasting his time tidying the stock. Soon the place would be full of various bits and pieces that Joe Maitland bought in bulk from the manufacturers and sold to outlets and stallholders in the markets. The busi
ness seemed to be doing well and all day vans called for items which Joe had listed and William prepared for despatch. It was a never-ending task which offered William little personal satisfaction. He could always get old Benny Robinson, his helper, to sweep the place up and tie up the piles of cardboard, but Benny had already swept up twice that day and he was now busy sorting out bundles of twine which had fallen out of a damaged carton and become unwound. Benny was whistling noisily and he seemed happy in what he was doing so William left him alone. Anyway, the van would be arriving any minute now and Benny would be expected to help in the unloading.

  William glanced down at the list of stock he was cataloguing and sighed. He pushed the sheet of paper away and looked around him, his eyes straying up to the dusty rafters. He had been fortunate in getting the job with Joe Maitland, he had to admit. He had been working at the Council depot as an attendant when Joe offered him the job, and he had been very pleased to make the change. William had not been happy at having to work through the night and at weekends and the tasks he had had to perform were not always pleasant. Sometimes he had to push a heavy barrow through the empty streets full of paraffin lamps which had to be placed around holes in the road. On more than one occasion he had had to remove a dead dog from the highway and take it in his barrow to the incinerator, and there were times when he had to take the place of a night watchman who had been taken ill on one of the larger roadworks and stay there until he could be relieved. It had been a very unhappy time for him, especially since he knew that his advancing years prevented him from getting a job as a carman. That would have been something he was very familiar with, having done it in his early years and worked so long with horses since. The job with Maitland had at least given him his weekends off, and the pay was better. He had a good working relationship with Joe too, having known him quite well when the young trader lodged with Florrie Axford.

  William looked up at the clock and saw that it was nearing four o’clock. The van was late in coming. Benny usually went home around four-thirty unless the boss offered him some overtime, and Joe Maitland had not arrived back from his buying trip. William realised he would have to handle the unloading alone if the van did not arrive in the next few minutes.

  At four-thirty on the dot Benny put on his coat and cap and bade William goodnight. Ten minutes later there was a loud rat-tat on the heavy iron-fronted door of the warehouse. William got up from his chair at the workbench and went over to open up with a puzzled frown. It wasn’t the van arriving for he would have heard the engine, and it couldn’t be Joe Maitland. He always used the side door which led into a small office.

  As William slid the bolts the doors suddenly swung violently outwards, throwing him off balance, and before he could recover two heavily built men pinned him against the office wall. Their faces snarled at him as he struggled vainly against their far superior strength, and a tall, broad-shouldered man came into the warehouse and walked slowly and deliberately towards him. William saw that he was well dressed with a dark, double-breasted suit and polished shoes. He was wearing a homburg and his face was swarthy, thickly browed and with a thin moustache, which gave him the appearance of a continental.

  The man stopped a foot away from him and for a moment or two William stopped struggling. ‘Tell Mr Maitland his old friends have paid him a visit,’ the man said in a cultured voice. ‘And just so you don’t forget . . .’

  William saw the man lean back, one shoulder dropping slightly, then there was a flash of light which seemed to blind him and a searing pain. William felt the floor move from under him, and then blackness.

  Benny Robinson left the warehouse in Herring Street and walked across the road to the tobacconist’s opposite. Benny was turned sixty-five and a widower who lived alone in Abbey Street. He had lived in Stepney for most of his life and had come to South London to work for Joe Maitland when the warehouse opened two years ago. Joe had employed Benny when he was buying and selling in the East End of London and found the elderly man to be a conscientious worker who could be relied on to keep his mouth shut. At the time Joe Maitland was involved in some dubious dealing and his buying was not always from legitimate sources. Benny Robinson was content to take his weekly wage and shut his eyes to anything shady, aware that what he didn’t know couldn’t harm him. Joe had met up with Benny again on one of his rare trips to his old haunts and offered him a job, which Benny was glad to accept. Moving to South London was no hardship for the elderly man. He made friends easily and after his wife died there seemed little to keep him tied to his home area.

  Benny had made friends with the local tobacconist and when he walked into the shop at four-thirty-five on Monday he was immediately drawn into conversation. At four-forty-five Benny walked out of the shop and saw smoke coming from Joe’s warehouse. It was curling out around the edges of the large double doors and for a moment or two Benny stopped and stared, then with a shout of alarm he ran across the road as fast as he could and pulled on the hanging padlock flap. As the doors swung outwards a cloud of black, evil-smelling smoke gushed out and Benny could see a fire raging in the far corner. What frightened him most was the still figure of William Tanner lying prone beside the office wall, blood already beginning to turn dark on his battered face. Benny knew he had to get William out of the smoke before he did anything else. He bent down, grabbed the inert figure’s wrists in his large hands, and pulled.

  Carrie had finished cleaning the tables and was busy sweeping the floor when there was a loud knocking on the side door of the dining rooms. Fred was in the kitchen tidying up and putting the freshly washed pots and pans in their proper places. He went to see who was there.

  ‘It’s Carrie’s farvver. ’E’s bin in an accident.’

  Carrie’s heart was pumping furiously as she dashed through the kitchen to the front door. She found Maisie Dougall standing in the doorway, a serious look on her ruddy face.

  ‘What’s ’appened ter me dad?’ she cried out in alarm.

  ‘There’s nuffink ter worry about,’ Maisie reassured her. ‘’E was in a fire an’ they’ve took ’im ter Guy’s ’Ospital as a precaution. ’E’ll be all right, luv.’

  Carrie reached for her coat, her heart still pounding in her chest and a tightening sensation in her throat causing her to gulp. ‘Where’s me mum?’ she asked quickly.

  ‘She’s at the ’ospital wiv ’im, Carrie,’ Maisie told her. ‘Yer muvver asked me ter come round an’ tell yer. Yer dad’s in Drake muvver asked me ter come round an‘ tell yer. Yer dad’s in Drake Ward.’

  Carrie looked anxiously at her husband. ‘Yer’ll ’ave ter give Rachel ’er tea, Fred,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll ’ave ter go right away.’

  ‘Go wiv ’er, Fred,’ Maisie urged him. ‘Don’t worry about the baby. I’ll take care of ’er till yer get back.’

  Carrie hurried through the evening street and Fred struggled to keep up with her. He had insisted on going with her but Carrie was beginning to wish he had stayed in the shop. As they made their way along the Jamaica Road to the tram stop he tried to reassure her but Carrie’s mind was racing. ‘I ’ope ’e’s not burned bad,’ she muttered anxiously.

  Fred squeezed her arm. ‘Yer dad can’t be too badly ’urt, luv,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Maisie said it’s only a precaution.’

  They sat together on the rattling tram, Fred holding her hand and Carrie biting her bottom lip in frustration as the tram stopped at the Tower Bridge Hotel for the conductor to alter the points. ‘I do wish ’e’d ’urry up,’ she groaned aloud.

  Finally the tram got underway and as it started to pull up at the end of the track by the foot of Duke Street Hill Carrie was already out of her seat and waiting on the platform at the rear of the vehicle, with Fred at her side gripping her arm for fear that she would fall off before it actually stopped. They hurried through the long arch, dodging between the workers who were making their way to London Bridge Station, and then quickly crossed St Thomas’s Street and hurried through the high, wide gates of Guy
’s Hospital.

  William was propped up against pillows as Carrie and Fred walked up to his bed. He grinned self-consciously at them. His face was discoloured and swollen about the eyes and a plaster was spread across his forehead. Nellie was sitting at the bedside. She nodded to Fred as Carrie leaned over and kissed her father gently on his cheek.

  ‘What ’appened, Dad?’ she asked.

  ‘There were some callers,’ he replied, a wry smile playing about his lips.

  Carrie looked down at him, suddenly aware of how frail and haggard he looked. ‘Callers?’ she repeated, a puzzled look on her face.

  ‘Some men beat yer farvver up an’ then they set the ware’ouse alight,’ Nellie said, her voice full of emotion.

  ‘Who were they, Dad?’ Carrie asked with anger rising in her voice. ‘D’yer know ’em?’

  ‘I’ve never laid eyes on ’em before,’ he replied, ‘but I’ll never ferget the bloke who laid me out. ’E looked like an Italian but ’e didn’t speak like they do. ’E jus’ walked up ter me calm as yer like an’ ses, “Tell Mr Maitland ’is ole friends ’ave paid ’im a visit.” Then ’e ses ter me, “Jus’ so’s yer don’t ferget,” then ’e put me lights out.’