‘Yer said yer didn’t fink that business at the Crown ’ad anyfing ter do wiv what ’appened, Joe. Don’t yer fink Galloway could’ve cottoned on some’ow?’ William asked. ‘Don’t ferget ’e was pretty much involved wiv those tournaments.’
‘’E wasn’t involved in what ’appened ter my bruvver though,’ Joe replied. ‘That much I do know. No, I fink it’s somefing else. I’ve jus’ got ter be careful, an’ you too, Will. Don’t go openin’ those doors unless yer know who it is, an’ I shouldn’t say anyfing ter the police yet. Let me make a few more enquiries first. By the way, I’m gettin’ a young man in ter take Benny’s place. ’E’s a bit slow upstairs, but there’s nobody gonna take liberties wiv ’im, Will. Wait till yer see ’im. ’E’s startin’ termorrer. Yer’ll get on wiv ’im jus’ fine. Oh, an’ before I ferget it, there’s four dozen boxes comin’ in later terday by Carter Paterson. Mind ’ow yer treat ’em, they’re breakables,’ he said grinning.
When Carrie opened the front door to Annie McCafferty on a bright Monday morning she was shocked to see the sad look on the young woman’s face. She was saddened too when Annie told her that she was going over to Ireland within the next two weeks and would not be back for some time. Carrie was upset at the news but she could understand and sympathise with Annie’s decision. The sisters at St Mary’s Convent had finally been able to trace her mother through the sisterhood in the south of Ireland. She was very ill and had been asking the nuns to pray for her that she might see the daughter she had abandoned when the child was only days old. Annie was reduced to tears as she explained to Carrie why she had to make the trip.
‘I’ve always wondered about her, Carrie,’ she sobbed. ‘What hardships must she have suffered to force her to do what she did? I want to see her before she dies, Carrie. I want to let her know that I always thought about her and always loved her, even though she was only a vision in my mind.’
Carrie hugged her and cried with her. ‘You’ll find yer won’t be disappointed, Annie,’ she told her. ‘She’ll be jus’ like yer expect ’er ter be. Be’ind that mask o’ pain an’ sufferin’ she’ll still look beautiful, yer’ll see.’
Annie hugged Rachel tightly and then took her leave, vowing to come back to Bermondsey as soon as she was able.
Carrie embraced her. ‘Always remember, Annie, yer future’s ’ere, ’ere in these little backstreets,’ she told her. ‘We love yer an’ want yer ter come back. I’m sure there’s a chance fer yer ter find real ’appiness ’ere in Bermondsey.’
Carrie watched her walk away along the windy riverside lane and thought about the conversation she had had with Billy Sullivan only a few days before.
It was in the back room where the young ex-boxer usually met Danny Tanner for a chat during the day. Billy had been expressing his fears about the policeman at the frightening identification parade in Rotherhithe police station and Danny had a few words of advice.
‘Yer best bet is ter stay clear of ’im. Keep yer nose clean an’ don’t give the copper any chance ter nail yer, Billy,’ he told him. ‘If yer do meet up wiv ’im don’t let ’im goad yer inter doin’ anyfing yer’ll regret. If yer put one on ’im ’e’ll get yer. They’ll give yer an ’idin’ when they get yer down the nick an’ then when yer come up in front o’ the beak yer’ll go down. They don’t take kindly ter people who set about coppers. Jus’ stay calm an’ don’t ferget what I said. Do yerself a favour an’ try ter get a job. It don’t matter what it is, even if yer ’ave ter sweep the streets fer a while. It’ll keep yer out o’ trouble at least.’
Carrie had heard the last snatch of conversation as she came into the room through the open doorway. ‘It’s about time yer found somefing else ter do instead o’ sittin’ around ’ere all day,’ she said laughing.
Danny leaned back in his chair. ‘Billy was tellin’ me about that new bobby on this beat. ’E’s got it in fer ’im,’ he said.
‘Why’s that, Billy?’ Carrie asked.
‘This copper used ter be on the Rovver’ithe beat an’ ’e reckons ’e’s seen me wiv that Tunnel Mob,’ Billy explained. ‘’E tried ter tie me in wiv that ware’ouse job they done. When the line-up didn’t go ’is way ’e got ter threatenin’ me. ’E reckons ’e’s gonna ’ave me one way or anuvver.’
‘Yer know what yer should do. Yer should get yerself a job first,’ Carrie told him.
‘That’s what yer bruvver jus’ told me,’ Billy groaned.
‘Well, ’e’s right,’ the young woman said firmly. ‘An’ yer know what else yer should do, yer should get yerself a young lady. Once yer walkin’ out steady the copper’ll prob’ly leave yer alone.’
Billy laughed. ‘Yer sound jus’ like my ole lady. She keeps on ter me about gettin’ meself a young lady friend. What about you?’ he joked with her, turning to wink at Danny.
‘I’m spoken for,’ Carrie laughed. ‘Seriously though, yer should fink about it. It’s time a nice-lookin’ feller like you was settlin’ down wiv a wife an’ family.’
‘Who’d ’ave me?’ Billy asked light-heartedly. ‘I ain’t got a job an’ I ain’t got much chance o’ gettin one wiv this,’ he said, pointing to his chest.
‘I know a young lady who would very much like ter walk out wiv yer,’ she said slyly.
‘Oh, an’ who’s that then?’ Billy asked, raising his eyes.
‘Annie McCafferty, that’s who,’ Carrie told him.
‘Annie? She ’ardly said a word when I met ’er in the park,’ Billy replied incredulously.
‘That’s ’cos she’s very shy,’ Carrie explained. ‘Annie’s a real nice young woman, an’ she’s very struck on you. I know ’cos she told me.’
Billy’s face had brightened. ‘Well, next time I see Annie I’ll ask ’er if she’d care ter step out wiv me,’ he said boldly.
Well, it will be some time before Billy gets his chance now, Carrie thought sadly as she watched Annie disappear out of sight around the sweep of the narrow turning.
As 1921 drew to a close the weather became bitterly cold. International trade slumped; after the first week in December few freighters steamed into the docks that served London, and on the Bermondsey quaysides berths were empty and the large cranes stood idle. On the streets groups of rivermen waited for a call-on each morning and the majority walked home disappointed. Some hung around the windy streets, hoping for some casual work which never came, and some drifted into the Bradley dining rooms to warm their bellies with mugs of hot sweet tea, knowing that it would be a bleak Christmas for them and their families. Carrie and Fred put up coloured paper chains in their steam-stained cafe and on numerous occasions gave mugs of tea to their regulars who could now no longer find the pennies to pay for them. In the back room Don Jacobs and his union men sought ways of easing the hardship for their members and a special hardship fund was set up from the dwindling money reserves in their branch coffers.
On a cold December night in Bacon Street, the turning around the corner from Page Street, Elsie Wishart sat in front of the dressing-table mirror in the bedroom of flat number 32 and carefully put her greying hair into a bun. When she was satisfied that her hair was all in place she took out her imitation pearl earrings and a matching necklace and put the earrings on. She did up the buttons of her white cotton blouse to the neck and slipped the pearl necklace over the high collar. Carefully she buttoned up the frilly cuffs of her blouse and tucked the waist down into her black satin skirt. She wore no make-up, apart from a trace of powder on her cheeks and a touch of blacking on her eyelashes, which gave her a transparent, doll-like look. She stood up and adjusted the waist of her ankle-length skirt and then walked over to the bed and sat down. For a moment or two she looked at the small, gilt-framed picture on the chair beside her bed, and then with a smile she bent down and retrieved her black patent button-up boots. Lastly, after donning her loosely fitting grey hat which had large, shiny black buttons down one side, she put on her grey coat with its fox-fur collar and surveyed herself in the mirror. Satisfied that all
was well, Elsie Wishart picked up her black clutch bag and tucked it under her arm as she let herself out of the flat.
The gas jets flickered on the creaking stairs of Bacon Buildings and cast their frightening shadows on the crumbling plaster walls, but Elsie paid the shifting shapes no attention. Her mind was on other things as she walked purposefully down to the quiet street below. It was cold, with an east wind blowing and flurries of snowflakes dancing in the light of the iron gas lamp. The snow had settled, and an unspoiled carpet of white covered the cobbles and the stone doorsteps of the houses opposite.
Elsie Wishart ran her hand under the fur collar of her grey coat and held her bag tightly against her side as she turned left and walked towards Cotton Lane. The river was running high and the gas lamps on the north shore were plainly visible in the crisp, clear night air, their reflections shining on the cold water. Laden barges bumped and ground together, their thick mooring ropes creaking and straining, and a short distance upriver the looming Tower Bridge stood out plainly against the darkness. Elsie turned into Cotton Lane, walked the short few paces to the steps and stood looking down at the lapping, muddy water. A muffled, urgent voice called out and was answered by a louder, nearer voice. The sound of a rope slapping the water and another shout as the rope was taken up neither disturbed nor interrupted Elsie Wishart. With a deep sigh she walked into the river and let the cold, muddy waters close over her.
Carrie Bradley had settled her young daughter for the night and then sat down by the bright coke fire. Fred was sleeping in his favourite chair facing her and his steady, even snoring was the only sound in the quiet room. Outside the cobbled lane was deserted and Carrie thought about her young brother Danny and his workmates, who would soon be finishing as the tide turned. She stared into the fire. The last month’s takings were better than expected, even with the dock trade so poor, and there was reason to feel confident for the future. Other eating-houses in the area were feeling the pinch and some had ceased to operate, she had been told. The accountant had been pleased with her bookkeeping and the figures she had presented him with, and her guarded opinion that the dining rooms could expand further had been received with more enthusiasm than she could have expected. Carrie had already put her ideas to Fred but he had looked shocked.
‘But the place is a ruin,’ he had almost shouted at her. ‘It’ll take more money than we’ve got. No, it’s out o’ the question. I won’t even fink about it.’
Carrie sat back in her comfortable chair watching the tiny spurts of gas flickering briefly among the red hot coke, and she thought about visiting the bank. Fred would be mad at her and he would no doubt rant and rave for a time, but then his natural soft nature and easy way would overcome his anger, and he would at least listen, she told herself. She was sure her idea made sense. The derelict property next door was available and with much work it could be incorporated as an extension of the dining rooms. There would be more space for a bigger, more efficient kitchen, and with some good, sensible planning the seating could be almost doubled.
The heat of the fire and her tiredness caused Carrie’s head to droop and her fair hair fell over one eye as she slipped into a doze.
The loud knocking on the front door woke the Bradleys and Fred was first out of the chair, still trying to gather his senses. ‘Bloody ’ell!’ he cursed. ‘It’s nearly twelve o’clock.’
The knocking became louder and Carrie turned to Fred, fear in her eyes as she saw him take up the heavy iron poker from the hearth. ‘Careful, Fred. They’re prob’ly drunken seamen. Don’t open the door,’ she urged him.
Fred hurried down the stairs with Carrie following him, her hand held up to her mouth in fear. Suddenly she heard her name being called. ‘Oh my Gawd! It’s Danny!’ she shouted.
Fred quickly slid the bolts and as he opened the door Danny fell into his arms. Carrie screamed out and rushed to help.
‘Get ’er inside! Quick!’ Danny gasped as he slumped down, his clothes sopping wet and his dripping hair hanging down over his forehead.
Fred pulled Danny towards the back room and as he moved away from the open front door Carrie saw the buttoned-up boots sticking up on the doorstep. She looked out and saw the still figure of Elsie Wishart prostrate in the snow, her hair lying bedraggled over her face and her arms outstretched as though for an embrace.
All morning on Christmas Eve the women of the riverside backstreets trudged through the snow to the market and came home with laden shopping baskets, weighing more heavily than normal with the Christmas extras of nuts, oranges, tangerines and dates. Nellie Tanner had started out late after Carrie’s unexpected early morning call, and when she arrived back home and finished unpacking her shopping she made herself a cup of tea and sat warming her feet before the fire. Most of her friends in Page Street would have finished their shopping by now, she thought, and Florrie would be sitting with Maisie and Aggie at the Sullivan house drinking tea as they always did on a normal Saturday afternoon. When she had finished her cup Nellie slipped on her coat, made sure that the fire was raked and then let herself out of her flat.
Just as she had anticipated the women were gathered in Sadie Sullivan’s cosy front room already sipping tea when Nellie arrived. All the less important gossip of the day was forgotten as she began to tell them about her daughter’s unexpected visit early that morning.
‘My Carrie come in all excited an’ she started ter tell me about this woman who tried ter drown ’erself right opposite the cafe last night,’ she said with wide eyes. ‘Carrie an’ Fred were dozin’ in front o’ the fire when they ’eard this loud knockin’ on their door. Near midnight it was. Carrie didn’t want Fred ter open it ’cos she reckoned it could ’ave bin one o’ those merchant seamen wiv a skinful, but then she ’eard Danny’s voice. When they opened the door there ’e was soaked ter the skin an’ just about all in. ’E’d pulled this woman out o’ the drink an’ she was layin’ at ’is feet. Carrie told me she thought the woman was dead at first.’
‘She would ’ave bin if she’d ’ave bin in that water fer more than a few minutes,’ Florrie remarked.
‘It was a godsend that my Danny was tyin’ up that barge,’ Nellie told her eager audience. ‘’E was moorin’ it right by the Cotton Lane steps an’ suddenly ’e saw this well-dressed lady walk straight down inter the water. It turns out it was Elsie Wishart.’
‘Who?’ Sadie asked.
‘Wishart, Elsie Wishart,’ Nellie repeated, holding a teacup on her lap. ‘She lives in Bacon Buildin’s in the next block ter me. Mind yer I’ve never spoken ter the woman, but I’ve seen ’er walkin’ up the street a couple o’ times. Yer might ’ave seen ’er walkin’ about. She’s very smart an’ she looks like she’s got a few bob. I remember wonderin’ ’ow somebody like ’er come ter live in Bacon Buildin’s. Anyway, Danny told Carrie that ’e was right at the front o’ the barge and saw ’er walk down the steps an’ go under. Well, wivout finkin’ Danny jumped over the side inter the water an’ ’eld on to ’er coat. It was the barge rope what saved ’er. Danny told Carrie that if she’d ’ave gone in anywhere else she’d ’ave gone down in the mud an’ that would ’ave been that. As it ’appened she got caught up by the rope an’ Danny managed ter pull ’er ter the steps. By the time ’e’d dragged ’er ter my Carrie’s place ’e was all in. The woman was unconscious. It must ’ave bin the shock o’ goin’ in that freezin’ water.’
‘What made ’er do it fer Gawdsake?’ Maisie asked.
‘I’m comin’ ter that,’ Nellie said quickly. ‘Anyway they got their wet clothes off an’ Fred ’ad some brandy in the cupboard. They warmed ’em by the fire an’ all the time the woman was moanin’ an’ groanin’. She came round all right though. Carrie got ’er ter bed an’ ’er an’ Fred slept in the armchairs by the fire all night. They wrapped Danny up in blankets an’ ’e slept by the fire wiv’ ’em. When ’e got up this mornin’ ’e was right as ninepence. ’E’s a tough lad is my Danny,’ Nellie said proudly.
‘’E’s a
brave lad if yer ask me,’ Sadie remarked. ‘Especially the way the currents are. Yer can quite easily get sucked under those barges.’
‘I knew somebody who got sucked under a barge once. Used ter live in Poplar she did,’ Maisie said.
‘Let ’er get on wiv the story, Mais,’ Florrie said quickly.
Nellie was enjoying being the centre of attention that Saturday afternoon in Sadie’s parlour and she primly tapped the bun on the back of her head with her hand as she went on. ‘This mornin’ Carrie managed to ’ave a chat with Elsie Wishart an’ it turns out that the reason she tried ter kill ’erself was over that bastard Frank Galloway.’
Four pairs of eyes stared at Nellie, and Florrie forgot the pinch of snuff that was lying on the back of her hand.
‘Frank Galloway?’ they echoed.
Nellie nodded her head slowly for effect. ‘My Carrie was livid when she was tellin’ me about it. Apparently this Elsie Wishart used ter live in Tyburn Square, right opposite where George Galloway lives. ’Er ’usband was a solicitor an’ they’ve got one grown-up daughter. Well, so Carrie was tellin’ me, she used ter bump into Frank Galloway a lot when ’e was back an’ forwards ter the square seein’ the ole man, an’ they got talkin’. From what Carrie could gavver, this solicitor feller who Elsie was married to was a bit older than ’er an’ a quiet sort o’ bloke. Elsie liked a good time so yer can guess what ’appened. She was taken by Frank Galloway’s flash ways an’ started seein’ ’im. They used ter go out tergevver in the evenin’s ter places, shows an’ the like.’
Tanner Trilogy 02 - The Girl from Cotton Lane Page 14