Tanner Trilogy 02 - The Girl from Cotton Lane

by Harry Bowling

  George Galloway reached down into a drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of Scotch whisky and a glass. ‘I see they’ve started work on the gymnasium again,’ he said, pouring himself a large measure. ‘They’re puttin’ the roof on now.’

  Frank nodded and watched as his father downed the whisky. It’s a wonder the silly old fool hasn’t pickled his liver before now, he thought to himself. ‘It amazes me where all the money’s coming from,’ he remarked.

  ‘I ’eard that Farvver Murphy left a large sum in ’is will,’ George replied. ‘If it wasn’t fer ’im we might ’ave got that site. It would ’ave bin ideal. We could ’ave moved all the lorries there an’ brought a few ’orses back in this yard.’

  Frank sighed irritably. ‘That’s just going backwards,’ he argued. ‘What we should have been doing is going for the journey work.’

  ‘Goin’ backwards?’ George repeated, raising his voice. ‘Look at Will Tanner’s kid. She’s got more work wiv ’er ’orses than she can ’andle.’

  Frank gave his father a hard look. ‘I expect Will Tanner’s holding the reins,’ he replied. ‘It was a mistake to get rid of Tanner. I thought so at the time.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t ’ear you arguin’ very much ter keep ’im on,’ George told him. ‘Anyway, it’s water under the bridge now. Yer’d better get on ter some o’ the ovver transport firms an’ see if they’ve got any work they want us ter cover.’

  Frank set about the task with distaste. Any work gained in that way was sure to be the dregs, he thought as he picked up the phone. Maybe he should listen to Bella. She was always suggesting ways of persuading his father to hand over the business. He would have to be very careful if ever that day came, he told himself. Bella was a scheming bitch whose fascination with expensive clothes had already proved very costly. She had also started to rig out their daughter Caroline with elaborate dresses and at fifteen she looked more like a twenty year old, which worried Frank. Caroline was spoilt and getting to be more like her mother every day. Soon she would be introduced to Bella’s theatrical friends and quite possibly seduced by someone like that idiot Hubert who had made a thorough nuisance of himself before he was finally and firmly ejected from the family home.

  The phone calls proved to be a waste of time and Frank leaned back in his chair and studied the grimy ceiling. George had left the office and the only other person there was the young clerk who had his head bent over a large ledger. Frank found it all very depressing. At work he was constantly being blamed for the state of the business and at home he was constantly being reminded that he should be more assertive in the office. Bella had become a vixen since she had been replaced in the show by a younger and more vivacious woman, he thought disdainfully. She had not worked for some time now and was forever on the phone to her agent pleading for him to find her a role. The trouble was, he told himself, Bella would not come to terms with the fact that time had taken its toll on her as it had on everyone else. She lived with high hopes of landing a leading role in a musical and to that end engaged in endless partygoing, sometimes coming home in the early hours with her expectations raised. At least she had been coming home alone and always at a respectable hour since the days of Hubert the nancy boy, he reassured himself.

  Frank’s understanding of Bella’s behaviour was only partly accurate. Bella did come home alone and at a respectable hour, but what Frank did not know was that his wife was once again prostituting herself at the parties she went to in the hope of turning the head of some important impresario. On these occasions, however, Bella was careful not to give her husband any reason to suspect that she was not behaving in a dutiful manner. Her trysts were now taking place during the day, often in the cluttered office of a fat, balding man whom Bella felt could help in furthering her career.

  Myer Wilchevski belonged to a circus family which had come to England from the Ukraine at the time of the pogroms. He had been a middling to good juggler and clown, and after years of travelling throughout the country had changed his name to Bernard Payne and set up an agency for circus performers. He prospered, and before many years had passed he branched out into the wider field of theatrical promotions. Bella saw the potential in Bernard Payne and she turned a blind eye to his shortness, lack of hair and abundant girth in her desire to get back to the top in her field of entertainment.

  Myer, or Bernard as he was now called, had a wife called Delia, who also came from a circus family. Delia had a correspondingly wide girth, and a wide pair of shoulders too. She had bent iron bars and lifted anvils above her head during her circus career and had earned the name of the strongest woman alive. She was putty in the hands of Bernard, however, until she found a pair of silk stockings in his coat pocket one morning and then she almost tied the poker into a knot in her anguish. She caught the next train from Barking where they had a comfortable house and made her way through the cold streets of London to Bernard’s offices in Shaftesbury Avenue. It was her first visit to her husband’s place of work and as she climbed the long flight of stairs Delia vowed that if she found the owner of the stockings she would rip her legs off with her bare hands.

  ‘I’m sorry but Mr Payne has a full diary today. I’ll try and fit you in tomorrow,’ the pretty receptionist told her.

  ‘I’ll wait. Maybe he’ll have a cancellation this morning,’ Delia replied, giving the young woman a look which told her she should not attempt to argue.

  There were quite a lot of comings and goings but Delia had not been able to fit any of the visitors to the silk stockings and she sighed sadly as she leaned back in the uncomfortable armchair and scanned through a variety paper yet again. At first she had thought it might be the young receptionist who had left her stockings in Bernard’s possession but she soon ruled her out. The girl wore lisle stockings and her legs were the wrong size. The next major suspect came into the office near midday, rolling her hips and swinging her handbag, and Delia noticed that her legs were long and slender. There was something uncannily familiar about those legs, she thought, racking her brains to work out what it was, and when the woman came out of Bernard’s office looking decidedly unhappy Delia smiled to herself and hid her face behind the paper. Barney Preston was up to his tricks again, she chuckled. Barney had been a female impersonator for years.

  At ten minutes after midday a youngish woman walked into the waiting room and Delia’s stomach muscles contracted. She was wearing a strong perfume and it was the same smell that was on the stockings in Delia’s handbag. The woman was told to go straight into the inner office and then Bernard appeared, his face flushed, and told the receptionist to cancel the rest of his appointments for the day.

  ‘So this is what you do behind my back!’ Delia shouted, throwing down the paper and moving towards him.

  ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing here?’ Bernard spluttered, moving around the desk.

  ‘Where is that trollop?’ Delia roared. ‘Let me get at her!’

  As Bernard tried to calm his raging wife, all the while staying out of reach of her flailing arms, Bella Galloway slipped out from the inner office and attempted to reach the outer door. With a mighty shove Delia despatched Bernard across the room. He came to rest against a filing cabinet. Then the huge woman turned towards Bella who was at the door. As she made a grab for her she tripped over the magazine table and was left holding a handbag by its broken strap as Bella tore down the stairs making her getaway. Inside the handbag Delia found a name and address. She grinned evilly at her terrified husband. ‘There’ll be no more engagements today for Mr Payne,’ she growled to the receptionist, who had been peering from below desk-level at the goings-on. ‘Get your coat and hat. You’re taking me to lunch,’ she told Bernard.

  Two days later a parcel arrived at the Galloway house in Ilford. It was addressed to Mr Galloway and it contained one damaged handbag and an accompanying note which, amongst other things, said that Mrs Galloway was nothing more than a common tart who had been very fortunate to escape from the premises of Ber
nard Payne, Theatrical Agent, in one piece.

  Frank Galloway had already left for work when the parcel was delivered and Bella breathed a huge sigh of relief when she opened it as she had been expecting a visit from the mad woman herself at any time. Nevertheless she still felt the need to keep a lookout from her upstairs window that day, lest Bernard’s enraged wife should decide to make a personal call as well.

  As the icy weather continued into February work proceeded on the gymnasium in Wilson Street, and soon the roof was finished. Billy Sullivan stood in the cold air one morning and admired the grey slates which seemed to shine in the watery sun. Banging came from inside the red-brick building as workmen fitted doors and floorboards. Billy sighed deeply. This was the realisation of his dream, he marvelled, a dream he had nurtured alone for years until he talked that first time with Father Murphy. How proud and delighted the old man would be if he was standing here today, he thought sadly.

  ‘It’s a sight for sore eyes to be sure,’ a voice said to him.

  Billy turned to see Father Kerrigan standing beside him. ‘It sure is, Farvver,’ he replied, rolling his shoulders against the cold. ‘I was jus’ finkin’ ’ow proud Farvver Murphy would be if ’e could only see this buildin’ now.’

  ‘Oh, he can see it sure enough,’ Father Kerrigan answered with a smile. ‘In fact, I’m certain of it.’

  Billy nodded his head slowly and then looked up at the hardwood sign high up on the wall in front of them. ‘I want that taken down, Farvver,’ he said to the priest.

  ‘Why, Billy? It was your idea in the first place. What better name to call the gym than Sullivan’s?’

  Billy shook his head. ‘Look, Farvver. It was my idea fer sure, but Farvver Murphy made it ’appen. I want ’is name ter go up there. Wivout Farvver Murphy there’d still be weeds growin’ on that bit o’ land.’

  The priest smiled and put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. ‘All right, if that’s what you want I’ll talk to the committee,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think they’ll raise any objections, do you?’

  Billy Sullivan bade the priest goodbye and turned for home. The wind had got up and as he walked towards Page Street he plunged his frozen hands deeper into his tattered overcoat. Seeing the gymnasium had cheered him but the nagging worry still remained that all his money had been spent and there was little food in the house. The meagre dole money hardly went round and Annie was desperately in need of a warm coat. She was having a hard time carrying this baby, and as the end of her pregnancy drew near she was looking pale and drawn and her usual cheerful nature was noticeably absent. Both Patrick and Brendan had been ill with whooping cough and baby Connie had started sleeping badly at night. Maybe things will change when the weather gets a little warmer, Billy thought hopefully as he turned into Page Street.

  As he walked along the turning Florrie appeared at her front door. ‘I see yer comin’ down the street from me winder,’ she told him with a concerned look in her eyes. ‘Yer better get ’ome quickly. The baby’s comin’.’

  Billy broke into a run and slithered on the ice as he reached his front door and pulled on the latch string. The sound of a thin wail greeted him and as he hurried to the bedroom door his mother came out looking serious-faced.

  ‘Yer can’t go in yet, son. The doctor’s still wiv ’er,’ Sadie said, taking him by the arm.

  ‘Is she gonna be all right, Ma?’ Billy asked in a shocked voice. ‘The baby wasn’t due till next month.’

  ‘Annie’s gonna be all right, please Gawd, but it was a bad delivery. They ’ad ter turn the baby,’ she told him in a quiet voice.

  ‘Is the baby all right?’ Billy asked, finding his mouth dry with anxiety.

  ‘The baby’s fine. It’s anuvver gel,’ Sadie said smiling.

  Billy felt tears rising and he swallowed hard. ‘I wanna see Annie, Ma,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Soon, Billy, soon,’ Sadie said, leading him into the cold scullery. ‘I’ll make yer a nice cuppa.’

  ‘There’s no tea left, Ma,’ he told her, leaning against the copper.

  ‘I brought some round, and Florrie’s bin in wiv a slab o’ fruit cake. Maudie called too wiv a cup o’ sugar an’ Maisie left a nice apple pie. It takes times like these ter really appreciate yer neighbours,’ Sadie said quietly.

  Billy was sipping his tea when Doctor Kelly finally came out of the bedroom carrying his black bag. ‘I’ve given her something to make her sleep. She needs a lot of rest,’ he remarked in a stern tone.

  ‘Is she gonna be all right, doc?’ Billy asked.

  Doctor Kelly nodded. ‘It was a difficult birth and your wife is exhausted,’ he said. ‘She’ll be fine after she’s rested. I must stress that she’s not to get up too soon. You can get help with the children, I take it?’

  Sadie nodded. ‘I’ll be ’ere, doctor,’ she replied quickly. ‘That young lady’s gonna get all the rest she needs.’

  ‘Can I go in now?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Yes, but don’t be too long. I want her to sleep,’ the doctor told him.

  Billy eased open the bedroom door and stepped into the tiny room almost fearful of what he might find. When he saw Annie smiling through her pain his heart melted. She was holding the tiny bundle in the crook of her arm and Billy gently leaned over the bed and planted a soft kiss on her clammy forehead. ‘Yer look beautiful, Annie,’ he said softly, his eyes filling with tears.

  ‘You look pretty good yourself,’ Annie replied in little more than a whisper.

  Billy stared down at the screwed-up face of his new daughter and very gently eased back the coverlet. ‘She’s a Sullivan right enough,’ he said grinning.

  Annie closed her eyes and sighed deeply as Billy stroked her forehead. ‘Did yer see the gym?’ she mumbled.

  ‘Yeah, I saw it,’ he replied, running his knuckles very gently along her pale cheek. ‘Now get ter sleep. The doctor said yer gotta rest.’

  While Billy was with Annie Sadie answered a knock at the door and found Nellie Tanner standing on the doorstep, her face full of concern.

  ‘I ’eard it from Florrie,’ she said. ‘Are they both all right?’

  Sadie reassured her that everything was under control and invited her in. ‘There’s some tea in the pot. Would yer like a cuppa?’ she asked.

  The two women stood talking in the scullery. ‘I ain’t said anyfing ter Billy yet but it was touch an’ go,’ Sadie told Nellie in a low voice. ‘The cord was twisted. She nearly lost the baby an’ ’er own life too. It’s a good job it was Doctor Kelly who called round. ’E’s delivered more babies than ole Granny Johnson. I was in there wiv ’im an’ ’e ’ad a fight on ’is ’ands. I don’t know what damage ’as bin done but ’e said it could be dangerous fer ’er ter fink of ’avin’ any more kids.’

  Nellie shook her head sadly and reached into the carrier bag at her feet. ‘I’ve brought some fings Annie might make use of,’ she said. ‘There’s some bootees my Carrie bought at Abrahms, they’re white ones, an’ there’s some dolly mixtures fer the kids ter keep ’em quiet.’

  Sadie smiled gratefully as she accepted the small gifts and Nellie dived down into her bag once more. ‘I’ve got some tea an’ sugar in case yer’ve run out, an’ ’ere’s a bonnet my Rachel bought. Carrie sent this round too,’ she went on, fishing into her purse and taking out a pound note.

  Sadie gasped. ‘I can’t take that, Nell,’ she told her.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Nellie said firmly. ‘It seems ter me Billy’s gonna need money now there’s anuvver mouth ter feed. Go on, take it. Carrie wants yer to ’ave it. She can spare it.’

  Sadie’s eyes filled with tears and she hugged her friend. ‘I dunno what any of us would do wivout our neighbours,’ she said, her voice charged with emotion. ‘Maisie’s bin round wiv a few fings an’ Maudie as well. I won’t ferget the kindness o’ the people round ’ere.’

  Nellie slapped her arm playfully. ‘Ain’t it all right? Yer come round ter see people an’ they only give yer one cup o’ tea,’ she sa
id indignantly.

  Sadie reached for the teapot. ‘I’ll ’ave ter get my Daniel to ’ave a word wiv young Billy,’ she said in a serious voice. ‘That boy o’ mine ’as only got ter slip ’is braces orf an’ Annie gets pregnant. ’E’ll ’ave ter tie a knot in it from now on.’

  The two women chatted together for a while and when it was time to leave Nellie looked appealingly at her friend. ‘Can I just ’ave a peep?’ she asked.

  When she was making her way back to Salmon Lane Nellie dwelt on Sadie’s words. ‘Yer can see it’s a Sullivan,’ she had said. The years seemed to roll back and Nellie could see her son Charles as he stood in the doorway, looking handsome in his uniform. She remembered clinging to him and the terrible pain of parting as he hurried down the wooden stairs of Bacon Buildings to leave for India. It was the last time she had seen him, and she said a silent prayer that she would see her son once more before she died.