Lizzie Flowers and the Family Firm: The long-awaited third book in the gritty Lizzie Flowers East End saga series.

by Carol Rivers

  A nice stable business with prospects – if only he had a plan up his sleeve.

  But today was a beginning.

  Perhaps tomorrow would bring something along. Syd always liked to look on the bright side. Even though he was a Miller.

  Chapter 27

  In the early hours of 26th December, a light still burned above the greengrocery shop on the corner of Ebondale Street. Though Lizzie had tried to sleep after the party, she lay staring into the darkness.

  What was Danny doing now? She wondered whether he was asleep beside April, his arm around her under the covers, his head close to hers on the pillow? Was Tom happy? Had all three enjoyed the company of friends on Christmas Day? Or had it been a quiet, intimate few hours, sharing a meal together?

  'And why,' Lizzie asked herself out loud, 'haven't I accepted until now, that me and Danny are over?'

  The thought was like a physical pain under her ribs. Every Christmas since Danny and Tom returned from Australia in 1931, they had shared time together. But yesterday, Danny hadn't walked into Lil's, his blue eyes searching for Lizzie across the room. There was no Tom to brighten up Polly's face.

  Lizzie shivered, even though the bedcovers kept her warm. How could she have been so blind? Even Flo had tried to warn her. She swallowed down the tears. Danny had found someone else. It was a bitter shock. Her refusal to divorce Frank and her determination to remain in the East End had brought this about.

  Lizzie dressed quickly and made a brew in the kitchen, listening without interest to the bubble of the kettle.

  Eventually she threw away the cold tea. She stood watching from the window as dawn broke.

  Softly she made her way past Polly's room and downstairs. All was silent in the storeroom where Murphy's men would return to from their families after Christmas. Examining the boxes of vegetables, sacks of potatoes, carrots and vegetables, all to be sold at half price on Thursday when the shop reopened, she scuffed away a tear.

  Fleeting pictures came to mind of her past. Her brothers and sisters as children; resentful Vinnie, easy-going Bert, precocious Babs, loyal Flo. Sadness crept over her at the memory of her loving mother Kate, who, at only thirty-nine, had been taken too early. And Tom Allen, her disabled father, ending his own life in the Thames soon after.

  She glanced out onto the slumbering street and gave a deep sigh. Her gaze fell on Bert who had just emerged from the airey. He stretched his muscular arms and puffed furiously on his roll-up. After throwing the dog-end into the gutter, she saw him look up to the sky and breathe in the crisp dockland air.

  His routine never changed. And today would be no different. Though the shop was closed for Boxing Day and they would be driving to Bill and Gertie's for dinner, he would expect a hearty breakfast.

  Lizzie smiled at the thought; a brother she could count on through thick and thin. The uncle to Polly who was always there when she needed him. He was their rock.

  She hurried upstairs and lifted the big frying pan from its hook above the stove. The eggs were sizzling in the fat as Bert plodded into the kitchen. A big smile appeared on his face when he saw his breakfast cooking.

  Chapter 28

  It was Boxing Day and a pale sun shone through the layers of thick cloud as the Wolseley drew up to the kerb in Gap End. Lizzie, wearing a new, deep blue suit, a dainty blue hat and matching gloves, climbed out and stood with Bert and Polly in front of a shabby, smoke-blackened building, one of many crowding the back streets of Poplar. Home to her father-in-law Bill Flowers and his partner, Gertie Spooner, the front door of the three-storey terraced home opened slowly. A very tiny figure, no more than five foot tall, peered out. As usual, Gertie wore her regulation darned woolly jumper and trousers with a thick brown hairnet draped over her straggly grey hair.

  'Well then, who have we got here?' she croaked.

  'Happy Christmas, Grandma!' Polly exclaimed, throwing herself into Gertie's arms.

  'Well, I never did, how you've grown!'

  'I'm almost bigger than you!'

  'None of your cheek now, I can still throw a punch,' Gertie chuckled, hugging the little girl who looked on her as family, even though they were not blood-related.

  'Do you like my new dress, Grandma? Father Christmas brought it.' Polly was already out of her coat before she sprang over the doorstep.

  'He's got good taste, that bloke.' Gertie took Polly's coat and hung it on the hall stand behind the door.

  'Where's Granda?'

  'In the front room. He's been waiting to see you.'

  Polly dashed off while Lizzie and Bert joined Gertie in the freezing cold passage.

  'Dinner's nearly ready.' Gertie peered out into the street. 'Ain't Tom with you today?'

  'Hasn't Danny called?' Lizzie asked in surprise.

  'Not since October,' Gertie complained. 'He drove us up to see his new gaff at Euston. We was stuck twiddling our thumbs in that smart office of his all day. You youngsters are all so bloody busy, there ain't no time to talk.'

  Lizzie looked at Bert who merely shrugged. Quickly he slapped his cap on the hall stand and hurried away.

  'Right, what's up, then?' Gertie demanded, narrowing her small, beady eyes. 'You and Danny fell out?'

  'Hasn't he told you?'

  'We ain't seen him, ducks.'

  Lizzie took off her hat and gloves. 'I'll explain after dinner.'

  'Please yerself.' Gertie made off to the kitchen.

  Lizzie gave a deep sigh. So Danny had left it to her to be the bearer of bad news! Gertie would not let her off the hook. She would want to know all the details. Trying to put her irritation aside, Lizzie followed Polly into the front room. 'Happy Christmas, Bill,' she said, smiling at the grey-haired man who reclined in an armchair by the fire. Polly was perched on his knee and Bert was sitting on the button-backed couch.

  'Happy Christmas, ducks. Come here and plant a kiss on me cheek.'

  Lizzie walked into his open arms, grateful to still have him in her life. He was a dear friend as well as her father-in-law. They had travelled a rough road together all through her nightmare of a marriage to Frank, his eldest son. Bill and Gertie had never married, but Gertie had helped Bill raise both his sons, as if they were her own.

  'Granda, can we play dominoes?' Polly jumped to her feet.

  'All in good time, youngster. I want to have a natter first.'

  'Grown-ups always talk!' Polly pulled a face.

  'That's what old blokes do,' Bill teased with a wry grin. 'Just like you will one day.'

  'No, I won't!' Polly protested. 'Old people get grumpy and argue all the time. I'm never getting old – ever!'

  'Polly, that's not very nice,' Lizzie reproved as Bill's jaw fell open in surprise.

  'Don't care!' Polly sniffed and tossed her auburn curls. She ran from the room.

  'What's got into her?' Bill asked in a puzzled voice.

  Lizzie sat down beside Bert. 'Perhaps it's the excitement of Christmas, she don't seem her usual self. I thought she might cheer up after being at Lil's yesterday. But she was very quiet when we got home and went straight to bed.'

  'Kids - who'd have 'em!' Bert tried to joke.

  'Don't worry, I've got a thick skin,' Bill chuckled. 'I must look a hundred years old to a young kid. But there was a day not so long ago I could lift a sack of spuds to me shoulders. Don't suppose I'll ever see those days again.'

  'Reckon you're still in with a chance, Bill,' Bert said easily. 'Why, on Saturdays you do as much work as me.'

  'Wish that was true, son,' Bill said with a sigh. 'Just look at the size of you. Built like a bloody gorilla. Now, did you all have a good Christmas at Langley Street?'

  The conversation took a happier turn as Lizzie told Bill about the party yesterday. Lil's Christmas knees-up was a regular event each year and Bill enjoyed hearing the gossip.

  They were all still talking when Polly returned. 'Grandma says you're to come immediately. Dinner is on the table.'

  'Then we won't waste another moment gas
sing,' said Bill ruefully, easing himself up from his chair. 'Lead the way, McDuff.'

  With that, they all trouped along to the kitchen where Gertie had made an enormous meal. The table was set with the best china plates and Bill carved the sizzling roast chicken. Bert served the plump pork sausages and crinkly bacon, Polly and Lizzie, the veg. There were carrots cooked in butter, sweet green peas and crisp brown potatoes basted in fat.

  It was not long before their plates were empty and the Christmas pudding appeared swamped in brandy.

  'Who wants custard?' Gertie asked and everyone nodded.

  The rich yellow dessert slipped down the sides of the pudding. Bert was the only one who had seconds.

  'May I be excused?' asked Polly as the adults sat back to talk.

  'Course gel,' Bill nodded. 'Go and amuse yourself while our dinner goes down.'

  Polly scowled. 'There's nothing to do without Tom.'

  'Polly!' Lizzie exclaimed. 'What's wrong with you?'

  'I'm the only kid, that's what! I'm fed up with being on my own. It's been a rotten Christmas,' she declared and the tears burst forth.

  'Now then, ducks,' Gertie said kindly getting up from the table to console her. 'Dry them tears. Christmas only comes once a year. You're supposed to be happy.'

  Polly blinked her wet eyes. 'I know. But it's not like other Christmases.'

  Gertie kissed the top of her head. 'No, it ain't, that's true. But we'll make the very best of it, won't we? Now why don't we play Happy Families? I'll throw in a half-crown as the prize. How does that sound?'

  Polly smiled. 'A bit better.'

  'You know where the cards are kept. Go and deal them out. I'll be along in a minute.'

  With shoulders slumped, Polly walked slowly away.

  Gertie turned her accusing eyes on Lizzie. 'So, what's it all about?' She asked again. 'Where's Tom and Danny?'

  'Danny should have told you,' Lizzie tried to explain.

  'Told us what?'

  'We aren't together any more.'

  'Another bloody row I suppose,' said Gertie impatiently. 'What's it over this time?'

  Lizzie tried to steady her voice. 'The truth is, Gertie, Danny is with someone else.'

  'Never!' exclaimed Bill, his eyes widening.

  'Who is she?' Gertie demanded.

  Lizzie took a deep breath. 'Her name is April Williams.'

  'His landlady?' Gertie scoffed.

  'She was - is, I suppose. But it's more than that now, Gertie.'

  'Are you certain?' asked Bill with a bewildered frown.

  But before Lizzie could answer, Gertie interrupted. 'I blame you, Lizzie,' she said accusingly. 'No wander Danny's gone off. He wouldn't have if you weren't so bloody wrapped up in that pub of yours.'

  Lizzie felt the sting of tears. 'That's unfair of you, Gertie.'

  'It's true, ain't it? Danny never wanted you to take the pub on.'

  'He wasn't in favour, no. But I had my reasons.'

  'I'd like to hear 'em!'

  'Stop it, Gertie!' Bill yelled suddenly. 'This ain't an inquisition. We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves, not wailing at each other like a bunch of alley cats. What's happened to a bit of goodwill to all men? It's Boxing Day after all.'

  Silence fell but Gertie's accusing gaze still lingered on Lizzie. Then, giving them all a scowl, she left the room.

  'Don't take no notice,' Bill apologized. 'You know what she's like. Feels left out when she don't see her boys, like she ain't needed no more. Gertie will calm down in a minute.'

  Lizzie tried to smile, but Gertie's words had stung. For there was a grain of truth in them. Danny, like Murphy, had been against taking on the pub. But she hadn't listened. Perhaps if she had made a different choice, Danny would still be with her.

  Chapter 29

  CHAPTER TWENY-NINE

  'That's it Pol, sit on the pouffe,' Gertie was saying as Lizzie walked in the front room. The coal fire was blazing and the drapes were drawn aside behind the old button-backed settee, shedding a dim light across the weathered leather. Gertie was sitting in one of the fireside chairs and Lizzie took the other.

  'Are you playing with us too, Auntie Lizzie?' Polly asked.

  'Yes, monkey. Deal me in.'

  Polly expertly counted another hand and everyone studied their cards.

  'Look who I've got!' Polly exclaimed. 'Mr Bones the Butcher, Mrs Pots the Painter's Wife and Mr Block the Barber!'

  'You're supposed to keep them to yourself,' Gertie scolded gently. 'But we'll forget what we heard. Now Pol, you start first.'

  Lizzie managed to avoid the frosty looks that Gertie threw and soon they were debating who was going to win Gertie's shiny half-crown. By the time the clock on the mantel struck three, Polly had claimed the prize.

  They were debating what to play next, when a knock came at the front door. Polly jumped up excitedly. 'That might be Uncle Danny with Tom!' She ran to see who it was.

  'Will his woman be with him?' Gertie asked Lizzie. 'What's she like?'

  'April's been good to Tom.'

  'Well, ducks, I may have been a bit hard on yer today,' Gertie acknowledged, 'but Danny won't get off lightly.'

  Lizzie smiled. 'Bill's right, though. It's Christmas.'

  'I don't appreciate being put on the spot. He could have come round to put us in the picture.'

  Lizzie listened to the voices in the passage. Was it Danny with Tom and April? Her heart began to beat very fast. How should she react? Would there be more ructions to spoil the holiday?

  'Happy Christmas one and all!' Frank came striding into the room, his arms full of packages.

  Lizzie stared at him in surprise. 'Frank, it's you!'

  'Who else?' His grin went from ear to ear as he bent to kiss Gertie and planted one on Lizzie's cheek. 'Have I missed the grub?'

  'Yes, but there's plenty saved,' Gertie assured him. 'What have you got there?'

  'Just a few surprises. Here, I'll put them on the table.'

  'Is one for me, Uncle Frank?' Polly asked excitedly.

  'You bet!' Frank swung her up into his arms. 'That's a nice dress. Do you reckon I should wear a pink tie?'

  Polly burst into giggles. 'Course not. Pink is only for girls.'

  Chuckling, Frank looked at Lizzie. 'Don't worry about the pub. I've left Murphy's men on watch and told Whippet to run over for me if there's a need. Shouldn't be though, as the pub ain't open. And I couldn't just sit there twiddling me thumbs. It's Christmas after all.'

  Lizzie wouldn't normally be pleased to see Frank, but on this occasion she was relieved it was him.

  'Where's Dad?' Frank asked as he put Polly back on her feet.

  'In the yard with Bert,' Gertie told him.

  'I'll go along and say hello.'

  'You do that, son and get your father to pour you a drink.'

  'I'm on the wagon, Mum, remember?'

  'Good boy. You make me proud.'

  Frank gave Lizzie a half-hearted smile. 'Don't your Auntie Lizzie look nice?' he said to Polly. 'Good job I washed and shaved me beard off this morning. It was so long I was tripping over it.'

  'Uncle Frank, stop teasing!' Polly cried. 'Can I open me present now?'

  'Yes, it's got your name on. But be careful it don't bite. I took all its teeth out before I came, but it's got a nasty suck.'

  Laughing, Polly ran to the parcels. She undid the brown paper and pulled out a long, coiled skipping rope with bright red wooden handles. 'Oh, Uncle Frank, just what I wanted. Can I come out to the backyard to skip?'

  Frank looked at Lizzie. 'Can she have a fag an' all?'

  Polly fell about laughing. Grabbing Frank's hand, pulled him into the passage.

  Gertie looked at Lizzie. 'Pol thinks a lot of Frank. It's a bleeding shame she don't know he's her father.'

  'I'm waiting for the right time to tell her.'

  'Well, don't wait too long. It could all go tits up if you dither. And you've got to give Frank some credit. He's turned over a new leaf. And that was what
you asked of him. A man can be forgiven his sins if he tries as hard as Frank has.' Before Lizzie could respond, she added, 'Now, let's go and put some food on the table.'

  Lizzie followed Gertie to the kitchen She was thinking about what Gertie had said. It was true Frank was trying to reform, but it was Polly's happiness that counted. She needed to know that Frank could be trusted, and had a father to rely on through the years ahead.

  So far, Frank had shown his better side. Was this genuine Lizzie wondered? His voices could be blamed for the bad he had once done, but what if they returned? Time alone would tell.

  'You could do a lot worse than Frank,' Gertie said mildly, as they brought plates of cold cuts and pickles out from the larder. 'He thinks a lot of you, you know.'

  'Frank is family, Gertie,' Lizzie replied as she looked through the window to the backyard. Polly was skipping with her new rope and Frank, Bert and Bill were watching. Lizzie's heart warmed at the sight, for Polly was happier than she had been all through Christmas.

  'He's your old man, love.'

  'I know that. But we can't live together.'

  'Why, if Danny ain't in the picture?'

  'Gertie, you know the answer to that, we just ain't right for each other,' Lizzie replied firmly. 'But if it makes you feel better, the reason I took on the pub, was to give Frank a chance at making something of himself. Polly is his daughter and he needs to her earn her respect as well as her love.'

  Gertie put down the plate of egg and cress sandwiches. 'You took the Mill Wall on for Frank?'

  'Why wouldn't I? Polly means the world to me.'

  'So must Frank if you done that for him.'

  Lizzie gave Gertie a rueful smile. 'We get along alright now. I'm hoping it stays that way.'

  'Well, good luck to you both. Sorry I had a go at you about the pub.'

  'You were right in a way,' Lizzie admitted. 'The Mill Wall isn't easy to run and we do have some problems.'

  'I know,' Gertie admitted shortly. 'That bloody foreigner!'