Ruby sat herself down at the table. This wasn’t going to be a quick visit after all; she could feel it in her bones. ‘Whatever are you talking about?’
‘Well, I’d popped out to look for our Sadie. She’d gone and picked up the wrong liver salts and I’d sent her back to change them. That girl would lose her head if it weren’t screwed on. Only the other day . . .’
Ruby knew that if she didn’t cut into what Vera was saying, they’d be there all day. ‘What did you see, Vera?’
‘Oh yes, well, I got down as far as the Co-op and spotted her talking to one of those darkies at the bottom of Crayford Road. She hadn’t seen me as she was busy pointing something out to him, going by the way she was waving her hand, so I ducked up the alleyway and made my way back to Britannia Bridge and came down our road the long way.’
‘And?’
‘Well, that’s it really.’
‘You went a good quarter mile out of your way rather than speak to your granddaughter? What’s wrong with you, woman?’ Ruby was starting to lose her temper.
Vera squirmed in her seat. ‘She might have seen me, and I didn’t want to be seen talking to the . . .’ She looked at Ruby’s angry expression. ‘I didn’t want to be seen talking with him. What would people think?’
‘People would see you were talking to someone in the street. Why would they think anything else?’
‘Because he’s different from us!’
‘Who’s different from us?’ Bob asked as he came in through the back door from the garden, followed by their dog, Nellie.
‘A gentleman Vera saw chatting to her Sadie,’ Ruby said quickly, before Vera could comment.
‘What’s wrong with this gentleman?’ Bob asked, knowing only too well Vera would soon fill him in with all the details. ‘Let me wash my hands and I’ll stick the kettle on,’ he added, giving Ruby a sly wink.
‘You don’t know he’s a gentleman,’ Vera huffed. ‘How can he be, when he’s not like us?’
‘What’s he got – two heads or something?’ Bob called out.
‘Worse – he’s a darkie,’ Vera snarled, sensing Bob was about to take the mickey out of her. ‘And he was chatting to our Sadie, and people will talk. She’s already got a reputation.’
Bob joined them at the table, still wiping his hand on a towel. ‘Now look here, Vera. Your Sadie is one of the nicest girls you can meet, and she loves that kiddie. She works hard and she will do anything for anyone. Why should one mistake in her life mean she’s about to jump on some poor chap and get pregnant again?’
‘Well, I never,’ Vera squirmed. ‘There’s no need to talk like that. Men should keep such thoughts to themselves. I’ll not have that tea if you don’t mind, Ruby,’ she said, rushing out of the house the way she’d come in.
Ruby hurried after her and checked the front door had closed. ‘There was no need to be so blunt,’ she said, trying not to laugh. ‘She does get her knickers in a twist at times. I wonder who Sadie was chatting to?’
Bob snorted with laughter. ‘Blimey, woman, you’re getting as bad as Vera. Next you’ll be saying we’ll all be murdered in our beds by a stranger visiting the town – and you can stop looking at me like that. It doesn’t matter what colour a man’s skin is, there’s good and bad in all. Now, shall I make that tea or will you?’
Freda fired up Bessie and headed down Crayford Road towards the centre of town. Considering what had gone on in the workshop, she felt remarkably calm and relaxed. Maureen had arrived just before Freda left, and she knew that although he’d not share his alarming news with his mum, at least Alan would have company for a while as they shared the sandwiches she’d brought along for his lunch. Freda considered taking the motorbike for a longer spin, enjoying the wind in her hair and the thrill of the open road; but mindful of the task ahead, and her own plans, she followed the row of terraced two-up, two-down houses to the junction of Avenue Road before heading up the High Street until she could see the expanse of open ground that bordered the Thames.
The river had been like a magnet to Freda ever since she’d arrived in this small Kentish town. She was fascinated with the people who earned a living on the river and also the large ships, many painted battleship grey, that were anchored there. On a clear day, she could see the Rainham marshes and the small figures going about their day-to-day lives. Trips on the Thames down to the seaside towns on the Kent coast were always a treat, especially when the trip was on the Kentish Queen paddle steamer owned by friends of the Caselton family.
Soon she was travelling through a much seedier side of town. West Street was full of river-related businesses, pubs and old houses that had seen better days. She soon spotted the address she’d memorized from the piece of paper Alan had shown her. She parked Bessie close to the property and called to a group of scruffy children who were playing in the street, ‘Here, would you like to earn yourself thruppence?’
The older child looked at her suspiciously. ‘Who wouldn’t? But what d’yer expect us ter do fer yer?’
‘If you keep an eye on my bike while I go in there, I’ll give you the money when I come out. Deal? If I come out and find you’ve messed with it I’ll tell my friend, Sergeant Mike Jackson. I take it you know him?’
‘We all know Sergeant Mike. Is he really yer friend?’ he replied, giving her a respectful look. The local bobby was well known and admired by the law-abiding people of the town, and also those who moved outside the law.
‘He’s a very good friend, and he’s my neighbour,’ she said, holding the coin out so they could see. ‘Keep an eye on my motorbike and this is yours when I come out.’
‘All right, missus,’ the lad said, stepping closer to the bike and folding his arms across his chest. ‘Nuffink’ll ’appen while I’m ’ere.’
Freda nodded her thanks, and entering the building she found a small room with a high counter. Beyond it stood a weasel-faced woman holding a telephone to her ear. She made her goodbyes and gave Freda a hard stare without speaking a word.
Freda pulled herself up to her full height and did her utmost to speak the way she’d heard her boss, Betty Billington, address people whom she did not favour. ‘I would like to speak with Mr Frank Unthank, please,’ she said, wondering too late if her plan to visit the moneylender and beg for time to pay Alan’s debt had been rather foolish.
‘Mr Frank Unthank Junior is away on business. You will have to leave a message,’ the woman said without smiling.
‘It is the senior Mr Unthank I prefer to deal with, if you don’t mind. I can wait,’ she added as she saw the woman check a large round clock on the wall behind her.
The woman nodded her head, still wearing a stern look. ‘Take a seat,’ she said before disappearing through a door and reappearing a minute later. ‘You will have to wait. He’s busy.’
‘I can only wait five minutes, so if he wants the money I have, he will have to hurry,’ Freda glared back. She knew she’d have to hold her nerve if she were to get results.
The woman disappeared through the same door, closing it behind her. Freda sat with her insides churning until the door opened again and the stern woman popped her head through the opening. ‘You can come through.’
Walking behind the counter and entering the room, she was faced with an elderly man sitting behind an oak desk. The two rough-looking men she’d seen earlier in Alan’s workshop stood close behind him.
‘’Ere, boss, that’s the one I was telling you about. Her that walked in while we was paying a visit ter Gilbert’s place.’
Freda felt her heart start to thump fast in her chest. She had to stay calm. As long as she could escape out of the door behind her, she would be safe. That’s when she realized the stern-faced woman had slipped behind her and was guarding the door. Without turning, she said in as harsh a voice as she could muster, ‘I want to talk to Mr Unthank on my own. Surely you don’t think a mere slip of a girl could cause trouble?’
Frank Unthank nodded his head, and Freda felt a cool draught as
the door was opened and the woman left. Freda stepped aside to make room for the two large men to follow her. Unthank nodded to a chair set opposite his desk. She took it thankfully as her legs were beginning to turn to jelly, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him see how frightened she was. ‘Thank you for seeing me . . .’ she began before he raised his hand to stop her.
‘You mentioned money,’ he said in a low, gravelly voice. ‘I take it you’re here to settle the foolish man’s debt?’
‘Alan’s no fool,’ she spat back at him. ‘He was unlucky and you took advantage of him. We can pay you what he borrowed and a little on top, but not the extortionate sum you’ve added that your thugs were demanding this afternoon. Why, that’s daylight robbery. You should be ashamed of yourself. A man of your age should know better.’ She bit her lip and felt worried. Perhaps she had gone a little too far. Now what would he do? She waited, watching his face for a sign of anger.
Frank Unthank stared at the young woman in front of him, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘I like you. Not many women would come in here and give me a piece of their mind. I take it you and this Gilbert are fond of each other, and he sent you here to negotiate with me? He’s not much of a man to send a woman to do his work for him. I assume you don’t have the money, and are here to pay me in . . . in kind?’ He gave a thin smile, his tongue running along his lips.
Freda shivered. This was not going the way she had expected. Alan would be livid that she’d put herself in danger. Apart from the kids outside, no one knew she was here. If she didn’t reappear before long they’d most likely take off with Bessie. God, whatever should she do? Reaching into the duffel bag, she pulled out the envelope full of cash that was supposed to pay for the motorbike parts. ‘Here – you can have this, and I’ll get the rest of it to you by next week. That is, I will pay you ten per cent on top of what you lent Alan Gilbert. We don’t have any more money, so you can take it or leave it and I’ll go to the police,’ she said, not feeling at all brave as she placed the envelope onto the desk.
Unthank took the envelope and pulled out the notes, counting them carefully before stuffing them into a drawer and turning the key. ‘It’s a start, but I want more. Much more. And before you answer, remember this, young woman: I call the tunes around here. Not some chit of a girl. Not even one as pretty as you . . .’
3
‘What’s going on in your mind?’ Ruby asked as she observed her husband. ‘You’ve not turned the page of your newspaper in over ten minutes. I didn’t know you was that interested in the engagement of Princess Elizabeth?’
Bob looked up and blinked. ‘What?’
‘I was asking what’s on your mind. Do you have something to tell me?’ she asked as she pulled one of his woollen socks over her darning mushroom and poked a large hole with her finger. ‘I do wish you’d cut your toenails more often. There’s more darns than original wool in this sock.’
‘You can read me like a book, Ruby Jackson.’
‘If I could, I’d know what you’ve been brooding over. Why not tell me?’
Bob put down his newspaper and took a deep breath. He had no idea how Ruby was going to take his suggestion. ‘I’m thinking we should have another dog,’ he said quickly, before he could change his mind.
Ruby frowned. ‘What’s wrong with the one we have? Nellie’s no more than two years old and I’m fond of her, what with her being our Nelson’s daughter.’ Nelson was Ruby’s much-missed old pal, who’d been constantly by her side during the war. Her heart ached just thinking of him.
‘No, I meant get a second dog,’ Bob said, trying not to make eye contact with Ruby. He was sure she could read his mind and would know he hadn’t quite explained why he wanted another dog. ‘You can’t deny they are good company.’
‘I’ll give you that – but with our family and young Nellie here, it’s not as if we are lonely, is it?’ she frowned.
Bob shrugged his shoulders and went back to his newspaper. ‘Have it your own way,’ he said chickening out of saying what he really meant.
‘You’re not wriggling out of it that easily, Bob Jackson. I know you of old and for you to come up with a comment like that, I just know you’re up to something – so spit it out.’
‘I met a chap down the pub the other day. He reckoned there’s money to be made if we had a decent greyhound. I’ve got the time to train it and still look after the allotment,’ Bob added wistfully as he finally looked at Ruby’s face. He didn’t like what he saw. ‘The chap said he could get me one at a good price.’
Ruby laid down her darning mushroom after stabbing the needle into the toe of Bob’s sock, making him wince as he waited for her reply.
‘No one has ever said I’m an unreasonable woman, Bob, and I’d not stop you having a dog if you really wanted one. However . . .’
She was interrupted by a loud bang on the front door followed by Bob’s son, Mike, letting himself in with the key that was always attached to the inside of the letterbox. Ruby’s expression softened and she gave him a smile. ‘Hello, Mike, we don’t usually see you at this time of the day. There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ Using the edge of the table, she pulled herself to her feet and winced before walking slowly to the kitchen. ‘There’s some tea in the pot. I bet you won’t say no to one?’
‘Do I ever?’ Mike laughed as he put his policeman’s helmet on the table and sat down. ‘You look a little on the stiff side, Ruby. I hope you’re all right?’
‘Don’t you worry yourself about me. It’s just me old bones taking a bit longer to get going these days,’ she called back to him. ‘Would you like a slice of fruit cake? You might be lucky and get a few sultanas in it. I’ll be glad when life is back to normal and we don’t have rationing and going without. What are those politicians calling it again, Bob?’
Bob gave his son a grin before answering. ‘It’s called austerity, love.’
‘Bloody austerity.’ Ruby snorted. ‘I bet those up in Westminster don’t go without and have to make do and mend. The whole lot of them are crooks. I just hope our George gives ’em a shake up now he’s in politics.’
‘Being a local councillor is not quite the same, love,’ Bob said, licking his lips as Ruby put a plate on the table containing two slices of her home-made cake. ‘However, he will do a good and honest job here in Erith. Not having some yourself, love?’
‘I’m not hungry. There’s a suet pudding on the go for tea that’ll more than fill me up. I was going to send some over the road to you as well, Mike, if you don’t mind? I know your Gwyneth’s been working today, and Myfi never says no to her nan’s cooking.’
‘Don’t leave yourself short,’ Mike said, biting into the cake. He was more than pleased with how Ruby welcomed everyone into the fold, what with him being her stepson and Myfi being his adopted daughter. No one was made to feel different at number thirteen.
‘I made far too much, and I know you’d do the same if the boot was on the other foot,’ Ruby replied, returning with his cup of tea. ‘I lick my lips every time I think of that batter pudding we had at your place the other week.’
Mike gave them both a smile. ‘Save your suet pudding for tomorrow and I’ll join you for lunch, as Gwyneth will be working. I hope I didn’t interrupt you by popping in like this?’
‘Not at all,’ Ruby said before Bob could open his mouth. ‘Your dad was wondering about getting another dog, and I was about to tell him why it’s not a good idea at the moment. You’re a sensible man, Mike, perhaps you’ll be able to help.’
Mike grimaced. He had to tread carefully, as he didn’t want to come between his dad and Ruby. ‘I don’t know a lot about dogs, I’m afraid. We give ours a few scraps and between the three of us we take it out for a walk. What else is there to know?’
‘A lot, as it’s to be a greyhound,’ Ruby said, raising her eyebrows at Bob. ‘I’m wondering if your dad wants to race it at the stadium over in Crayford . . .’
Bob raised both his hands in surrender. ‘I was
about to get to that. I don’t believe it would cost a lot, as I was thinking of us having a syndicate amongst the family, and we could all share the winnings. Fred Trevillion has been doing a blinder with his dog, Trev’s Perfection. You never know – there could be another champion dog in Erith.’
Ruby looked expectantly at Mike, who swallowed a mouthful of hot tea and cleared his throat. ‘The little I know about such things comes from the lads down the station. There’s a dark side to the racing game, and only last year an undercover investigation led to someone going down for doping. You need to buy a dog from a reputable breeder who will guide you through what to do and how to feed it. They have to be fighting fit to win races, which means giving them the best food.’ He looked between his dad and Ruby, hoping he hadn’t alienated either of them. ‘Who is the breeder? I take it you’ve chosen and spoken to one?’
Ruby burst out laughing before wincing and rubbing her lower back. ‘Don’t make me laugh, as it hurts,’ she grinned.
Bob was downcast. ‘It was a bloke down the Prince of Wales. He did seem knowledgeable, though.’
Mike felt a flicker of sympathy for his dad. ‘Look, I reckon it’s a good idea. If we form a syndicate with family and friends, it could be fun for all of us if we don’t take it too seriously.’
Ruby shook her head, looking stern. ‘I don’t want to be involved in anything that has a shady side to it. We had that pig club during the war and that was tricky enough, what with the government inspectors and all. What if our dog was to be doped and it died? Rather than be fun we’d have all the kiddies upset – and I’d be none too happy either. What about breeding rabbits or budgies instead?’
Wedding Bells for Woolworths Page 4