The Cockney Angel

by Dilly Court

  ‘I dunno, Renie. I don’t think Billy has much time for me either. He’d probably say I deserve all I’ll get.’

  ‘Pa’s not like that. You must stay here until he gets home, and then we’ll tell him everything and see what he has to say.’

  A glimmer of hope flickered in Arthur’s eyes but then he shook his head. ‘I can’t stay here. If Wally didn’t have me followed then Kent almost certainly did. I’m a wanted man.’

  ‘Wanted or not, you’ll be safe here for tonight at least. I’m certain that Wally Sykes has bigger fish to fry than you, and Inspector Kent was probably bluffing. He was trying to scare you into doing his dirty work. He even tried to make me act as go-between.’

  Arthur’s eyes widened. ‘No! Surely not?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he did. But I told him where to go. I ain’t playing his game. If he wants to make superintendent he’ll do it without my help – or yours. Now cheer up, cully. There’s a pie upstairs that needs eating before it grows legs and walks out of the shop. We’ll sit and wait for my pa to come home.’

  She led the way upstairs and made Arthur sit on her parents’ bed while she rekindled the fire and hung the kettle on a hook over the flames. She cut the pie into three portions, and, saving one piece for her father, she gave a slice to Arthur with instructions to eat while she made the tea. Despite his obvious distress, he wolfed his share and washed it down with two cups of sweet tea. Irene tried to eat but the food stuck in her throat, and she gave what was left of her portion to Arthur, insisting that it would be criminal to waste good vittles. She sipped her tea, keeping an eye on the clock. The minutes passed and then the hours without a sign of Billy, and by two o’clock in the morning Arthur had slumped down on the bed and his even breathing indicated that he was asleep. Irene was too agitated to rest, and the fire had long since burned away to a pile of grey ash. The coal scuttle was empty and it was bitterly cold in the room. Rising to her feet, she went to the window and knelt on the small wooden chest where their clothes were stored with sprigs of dried lavender. She peered out through the bare branches of the tree in the hope of seeing Pa’s familiar figure striding homeward, but there was still no sign of him.

  By three o’clock she was getting desperate. The mere fact that he was out so late suggested that his luck was fickle to say the least. She was chilled to the bone and a sudden cramp in her leg made her stand up to rub her aching calf muscles. It was then that a germ of an idea came into her head. Forgetting her pain, she opened the chest and riffled through the neatly folded garments. At the bottom she found Jim’s old nankeen breeches, a calico shirt and a corduroy waistcoat; clothes that had been outgrown even before he left home, but which Ma had stubbornly held on to, even though they would fetch a few coppers in the dolly shop.

  An idea came into her head that shocked her with its audacity, but Irene was never one to refuse a challenge. Keeping an eye on Arthur in case he should awaken suddenly, she took off her own clothes and dressed in the male attire. It felt strange to see her legs in trousers and Jim’s old boots were a couple of sizes too large for her feet, but she shrugged on the coarse shirt and finally the waistcoat, which she hoped would disguise her feminine curves. Lastly, she crammed her hair into an old cloth cap, and a quick glance in the mirror was enough to satisfy her that in a poor light she could pass for a boy.

  It was a daring plan, born out of desperation, but as she left the shop Irene was filled with nervous excitement. She strode along the pavements with a swagger in her step. So this was how it felt to be a boy. She gave a start as a feral cat sprang out from an alleyway in hot pursuit of a large rat, and somewhere in the darkness of a doorway someone moaned. Irene did not stop to investigate; she quickened her pace, putting her head down as she passed a couple of drunks who staggered along arm in arm as if in some bizarre three-legged race. If they noticed her they gave no sign of it, and Irene couldn’t help smiling to herself. If she had been dressed in her normal clothes no doubt at least one of them would have propositioned her. Free for the first time from the constraints of stays and long skirts she felt that she was invincible.

  When she reached Blue Boar Court, she took a quick look round, and satisfied that there was no sign of a bobby on the beat, she raised her hand and knocked three times on the door in rapid succession. She repeated the action, more slowly this time, allowing a heartbeat in between raps, just as she had seen her father do on so many occasions in the past. The door opened and she recognised the grizzled face of Jed Blacker, commonly known as Blackie, the ancient doorman who had protected the Sykes brothers since they were boys.

  He held up a lantern, peering at her shortsightedly. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Billy Angel’s boy, Jim. I must speak to my old man,’ Irene said, lowering her tone to what she hoped sounded like a pubescent boy’s voice.

  Blackie stared at her, frowning. ‘You run away to sea, you young devil. I remember it well.’

  She had not expected him to remember that far back, but she must act out her part. She struck a pose, tucking her thumbs into her belt. ‘I’ve come back.’

  ‘And not a day older or an inch taller it seems.’

  ‘Have you ever been to sea, mister?’

  ‘No, of course I ain’t.’

  ‘Then you don’t know what a hard life it is,’ Irene said gruffly. ‘Fed on dry biscuits with weevils in, and salt pork what makes you spew your guts up, it’s no wonder I never growed very big. Now, are you going to let me see me dad, or not?’

  ‘I suppose it won’t hurt, but you mind your manners in here, boy. You’ll keep out of Wally and Vic’s way if you know what’s good for you.’

  ‘Ta, mister.’ Irene hurried past him and made her way down the long, gloomy passage. That was a narrow escape, she thought, smothering a sigh of relief. It was just lucky that old Blackie was a bit slow on the uptake, or he might have worked out that Jim would be a man of twenty-four by now. She had never been inside the building and she had no idea where the gaming room was situated. She paused, straining her ears for the sound of voices. All was quiet on the ground floor, but as she ascended a rickety flight of stairs she saw a splinter of light beneath the door directly ahead of her. Taking a deep breath, she opened it slowly and was greeted by a wave of sound as she slipped unnoticed into the gaming room.

  It was dimly lit and fogged with tobacco smoke. The pungent odour of strong spirits and male sweat assailed her nostrils. The click of billiard balls drew her attention to the tables at the far side of the room, where men in their shirtsleeves concentrated their full attention on the game in hand. At first she could not see any sign of her father, and she was beginning to think that she had missed him when she spotted Wally who was acting as banker at a game of baccarat. Seated next to him with his back to her was Pa. She made her way between the groups of men, who barely raised an eyebrow at the sight of a young boy in their midst. She was nervous now and her palms were damp with sweat as she went to stand behind her father. She prayed silently that he would not overreact, and she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Pa, it’s Jim. Can I have a word?’

  Billy seemed to freeze for a moment and then he raised his head, turning very slowly to stare at her. ‘Jim?’

  Wally gave her a cursory glance. ‘Tell the boy to go home where he belongs, Billy.’

  ‘Jim?’ Billy struggled to his feet, taking Irene by the shoulders and giving her a shake that rattled her teeth in her head. ‘What are you doing here, boy?’

  ‘I got a message for you from Ma.’

  ‘What are you playing at?’ Billy hissed in her ear.

  ‘Call for Blackie and have him thrown out,’ Wally said, chewing on the end of a fat cigar and squinting malevolently at Irene through a column of smoke.

  ‘Please, Pa,’ Irene whispered. ‘It’s urgent.’

  For a moment she thought that Pa was going to send her away with a flea in her ear, but then he seemed to think better of it and he scooped the pile of coins from the table in front of him i
nto his hat. ‘Family problems, Wally. I’ll have to go now, but I’ll be back.’

  Wally took the cigar from his mouth and his eyes were like chips of granite. ‘It ain’t gentlemanly to leave with half the bank, Billy. See that you do return.’

  ‘You know me,’ Billy replied cheerily. ‘I never could keep away from a good game.’ He seized Irene by the collar and dragged her out of the gaming room and down the stairs.

  Blackie was slumped in a chair by the door with a pint of ale in his hand. He looked up with an edentulous grin. ‘So your boy’s come home then, Billy?’

  ‘Looks that way, don’t it?’ Billy opened the door and thrust Irene out into the dark court. ‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ Grabbing her by the arm, he led her along the alley and out into Friday Street.

  ‘Let go of me, Pa. You’re hurting me.’

  Billy pushed her away from him so that she staggered against the window of a taxidermist’s shop where stuffed animals stared at her glassy-eyed. She righted herself and moved away from the grisly sight. Who on earth would want to buy a stuffed stoat or a red fox with sharp pointed teeth? But then maybe someone like Wally Sykes might want a ferocious, but deceased, animal to adorn his home.

  ‘Don’t stand there daydreaming,’ Billy said angrily. ‘We’re going home and I want an explanation for this wild behaviour. What will your poor mother say when I tell her I found you dressed in your brother’s old clothes? D’you want to break her heart?’

  Irene faced him with her temper rising to match his. ‘No, Pa. It’s you who’ve done that over and over again.’

  Billy strode off with a snort and she had to run to keep up with him. He stopped at the shop door and fumbled in his pocket. ‘Damnation, where is that bloody key?’

  ‘No matter. I’ve got mine.’ Irene stepped forward and unlocked the door. She stood aside as he stormed past her. She saw that he was about to go upstairs, and she called out to him. ‘No, Pa. Please wait. I can explain.’ It would be a disaster if he discovered Arthur sleeping in his bed before she had had a chance to tell him everything.

  With one foot on the bottom step, Billy hesitated, turning to glare at her. ‘This had better be good, and you can start by telling me what you’re doing running round London in the middle of the night pretending to be that person we don’t mention in this house.’

  Irene was quick to hear the note of pain in his voice. ‘Oh, Pa, when are you going to forgive Jim for running away to sea? It weren’t all his fault.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about him. It’s you who’ve done wrong and I want an explanation.’

  Slowly, picking her words with care, Irene explained why she had braved the Sykes brothers’ gaming house. She told him about Kent and his hold over Arthur and the reason why she had insisted that he did not return to his own home that night. Billy listened with his head on one side, but Irene could tell that he was still furious. When she came to a stammering halt, he thumped his hand on the banister rail. ‘That boy should have gone home and faced up to his punishment. Let’s see what Clara has to say about all this.’ He made as if to ascend the stairs, but Irene caught him by the coat tails.

  ‘She’s not here, Pa.’

  ‘What?’ Billy’s thick eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose and his lips were white with anger. ‘Where is she? Where’s my Clara?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? I told you this morning that Emmie’s in the family way and Ma has gone to stay with her in Love Lane. Just for a while, you understand.’

  ‘I’d forgotten,’ Billy said slowly. ‘That’s what the drink does for a fellow. But I want her back, d’you hear me, Renie?’

  ‘Ma isn’t at all well. Her rheumatics are getting worse and she needs good food and a warm house, or she’ll end up crippled. Can’t you see that it’s best for her?’

  ‘Best for her? What about me? I need my wife to be here when I come home. She’s my heart and soul, and I can’t manage without her.’

  ‘You’re a selfish, selfish man, Pa,’ Irene cried angrily. ‘You never think of no one but yourself. Well, I’ll tell you this for nothing. I’m glad that Ma ain’t here to see the mess we’re in, especially as you won’t be the one to get us out of it.’

  ‘I ain’t staying to listen to this. I won’t be spoken to like that by my own flesh and blood. You’ve put on your brother’s clothes and now you’re acting like him. You’re a serpent’s tooth, Irene, an ungrateful child.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Irene protested, close to tears. ‘At least give me back the money you took from the till.’

  ‘I need to keep my stake intact, but I’ll bring back a hundred times that amount,’ Billy said, brushing past her to open the street door. ‘It’s a pity you have so little faith in me. I’m going back to where I’m known and respected.’

  ‘Respected?’ Irene shouted to his disappearing back. ‘The Sykes brothers are bad men and the police will catch them, and you too if you ain’t careful. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Pa. And don’t think I’ll come visiting when they lock you up in Newgate.’

  She ran to lock the door behind him and found that her legs were trembling so much that she could hardly stand. Tears burned her eyes but she brushed them away with an impatient hand. Really, men were more trouble than they were worth. First Arthur got himself into bother and now it was Pa who was giving her serious cause for concern. Kent, it seemed, was determined to smash the Sykes gang with or without Arthur’s help, and if Pa was not careful he would go to jail with them. Vic and Wally were evil men. It was well known that they demanded protection money from small businesses in their territory, and that they were ruthless with anyone who defied or upset them in any way. Many a shopkeeper or owner of a sweatshop had been put out of business by the Sykes brothers, and some had paid with their lives for attempting to stand up against them. Pa might think life was all a game of chance, but Irene knew differently. She was frightened for him, and for Arthur who had clumsily stumbled into the dirty business of gang law.

  She made her way slowly upstairs. Despite the sound of raised voices, Arthur was still sleeping peacefully. As if he had not a care in the world, Irene thought wryly. The first faint cawing sounds coming from the plane tree alerted her to the fact that it was almost daybreak, and soon the city would be coming back to life. There was no point in going to bed, and anyway she was too agitated to sleep. She changed into her own clothes and set about cleaning out the grate ready to light the fire, but then she remembered that there was neither coal nor kindling. Pa had not replaced the money that he had taken from the till and he had stormed off with his winnings in his pocket. She had not even the price of a loaf of bread for their breakfast. Scrambling to her feet, she went over to the bed and shook Arthur by the shoulders. ‘Wake up, Artie.’

  He opened his eyes. ‘Renie?’ He sat up, scratching his head as he gazed around the room with a puzzled expression on his face. ‘What am I doing here?’

  ‘Never mind that now. Have you got any money on you?’

  He blinked owlishly and fumbled in his pocket, producing a handful of small change. ‘That’s all I’ve got. I lost nearly everything at the tables.’

  She selected a few coins, just enough to buy some fuel and a loaf of bread. ‘Artie, you’ve got to stop gambling or you’ll end up like Pa.’

  ‘I want to, but now I’ve got Kent breathing down my neck. If I don’t give him information about the Sykes gang, he’ll send me up before the beak and that would be the end of my career as a silversmith. My dad would never forgive me.’

  ‘He might surprise you, Artie.’

  ‘You don’t know him as I do. As far as I can see the only thing I can do is to leave London as soon as possible.’

  ‘But where would you go?’

  ‘My Aunt Maude lives in Havering. It’s a village in Essex, not too far from Romford. I was taken to see her when I was a boy, although she and Father don’t really get on. I suppose I could go there until all this blows over.’

&n
bsp; ‘I don’t think that would solve anything, Artie. Go and see your dad. Tell him the truth and say you’re sorry. I know he’s a grumpy old codger, but you’re his only son. He won’t want to see you get into trouble with the police.’

  ‘I dunno about that.’

  ‘At least he won’t break your legs or have you beaten up so that your own mother wouldn’t recognise you.’

  Arthur paled visibly, and he shivered. ‘I know what the Sykes brothers do to squealers, and it ain’t pretty. That’s why I must get right away from here.’

  She took his hand and held it. ‘Artie, think for a moment. If you run away Kent can’t protect you, and if Vic or Wally gets to know why you’ve gone, they’ll take it out on the next best person. How would you feel if they ruined your dad, or worse?’

  ‘I wish to God that I’d never set eyes on the pair of them. If I hadn’t gone with Billy that first time …’

  ‘I know. My pa has a lot to answer for, but Kent has his eye on him too. If Vic and Wally go down they’ll take Pa with them. We haven’t any choice now but to cooperate with the cops. Much as I hate the man, I don’t see any way out other than to help Kent put a stop to the Sykes gang for good.’

  ‘You’re certain you want to do this, Renie? You’re just a girl. You don’t have to get involved.’

  She twisted her lips into a smile. ‘I’ll show you what a girl can do. I can be brave when my family is threatened, whether it’s by the Sykes brothers or a ruthless cop.’

  ‘You make me ashamed of myself,’ Arthur said, staring down at their entwined fingers. ‘I’ll stay, and what’s more I’ll go home right away and confess everything.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, but if I was you I’d give your dad a chance to get up and have his breakfast first. You stay here while I go to the bakery. You’ll do better on a full stomach and so will I.’