Rough Justice

by Gilda O'Neill

  ‘No, Martin, I don’t want you to waste your money on us. I mean, on them.’

  ‘How about a penny between them then?’

  ‘Thanks, that’s ever so kind. But my friend Sylvia’s treated them already, and they’ve had their cornets.’

  Martin winked. ‘But they don’t get treats that often, do they, Nell?’

  ‘No, no they don’t.’

  ‘Go on, let me. I really want to.’

  ‘OK. Thank you. But just a penny between them, all right?’

  Martin and Nell reached the top landing, and Nell held out her hands for the bags. Why did she worry so much? Everything was fine. It had to be.

  ‘I can’t tell you, Martin, what a relief it was to be able to treat Tommy and Dolly and then to go out and buy them some decent food. You know, not just enough for a bit of tea for them, but enough to fill them up. I’m used to having an empty belly, but they’re not, the poor little things. These past weeks have been so hard. But it might all be sorting itself out. That friend of mine, Sylvia, has lent me some money, and I’ve got a job to start next week when the children go back to school. It’s only in a laundry, but I’ve told them I can do office work, and I think they must be interested in me because like I was telling Sylvia they said that if they get any vacancies, they might let me do a test to see if I’m good enough for the office. That would be really good, because then I’d earn enough money to get a place to live for me and the kids, somewhere all to ourselves. I know I’m lucky having somewhere for them to live now, but I don’t like living here with, you know, them two.’

  Nell looked hurriedly away. She hadn’t thought – say they were still indoors and they saw her standing out here with Martin?

  ‘I’m ever so sorry, Martin, I don’t know what’s got into me, running off at the mouth like that, but I’ve—’

  ‘You mustn’t ever be sorry to me about anything, Nell. You remember what I said to you before. I still mean it. We can leave here whenever you like. We can leave here and go anywhere. Together. Me, you and the kids.’

  Nell swallowed hard and took the bags from him, her hands brushing against his, making her blush and feel the way she did when he had touched his finger to her lips. ‘I’ve got to get on now, Martin. Thanks for your help.’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Flanagan.’

  As one, Nell and Martin looked over to the stairwell. Halfway up from the landing below, moving closer by the moment, were two police officers, the ones who had come to tell Nell about finding Stephen’s body – the same ones who had come back to speak to her, and who had then turned up at the funeral yesterday. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

  ‘We’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind. And this gentleman, he might as well stay too.’ The taller officer flipped open his notebook. ‘Because I presume you’re Martin Lovell from number fifty-seven.’

  Half an hour later, Nell, still in the black mourning coat and hat that Sylvia had bought her, was sitting at the kitchen table across from Martin looking as if she’d been cast in stone. At least the twins hadn’t been in to witness what had happened.

  ‘Nell?’

  Martin reached across to her, but she pulled her hand away.

  ‘You heard what they were saying,’ she said, wondering just how much worse things could be. ‘They think Stephen was murdered, don’t they? What if they think it was me? They’ll take my children away. And what will the twins have to say if they find out they’ve been here again?’ She leapt to her feet. ‘You’ve got to leave, Martin. If they come home and find you sitting here like you own the place they’ll go mad.’

  ‘Who cares about what they think?’

  ‘I do. Me, I care. Martin, you have no idea the trouble I would be in.’ She could taste the fear in her mouth as she thought of George.

  ‘I’ve got plenty of ideas, Nell, but mine are good ones. And that one we were talking about – that’s the best one I’ve ever had.’ Slowly, Martin rose to his feet and walked round the table to stand next to her. ‘You, me and the kids, Nell, let’s go off somewhere to live together as a family. I meant every word of it when I said I’d sort this out for you, and I did. Please, Nell, marry me. I love you so much.’

  Nell shook her head. ‘What do you mean, you sorted it out?’

  ‘I sorted it out. For you. So you didn’t have to be scared of him ever again.’

  She backed away from him. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I was there, the night he died.’

  ‘You can’t mean you killed him?’

  ‘No, Nell, it was an accident. I only meant to frighten him. To give him a taste of his own medicine so he’d stop hurting you. We had a fight and we were struggling over this piece of wood, and I must have hit him harder than I thought. It could just as easily have been me who was found in the river. Think how things would have turned out then.’

  ‘But that wasn’t what happened, was it? It was him who died. And now they’ll catch up with you and hang you. You’ve got to get away, Martin, before they come back again.’

  Martin grasped her hand. ‘Nell, come with me.’

  ‘You’ve got to stop this, Martin. Listen to me. You have got to get away from here. You heard what those policemen were saying. How long have we known each other? Were we close friends? You know what they meant. And they mentioned Ada Tanner more than once. Who knows what rubbish she’s been telling them?’

  ‘I can’t leave without you, Nell.’

  ‘You have to. If you don’t then everything will just get worse – for both of us. They’ll hang you, Martin, can’t you see that?’

  ‘Nell, I love you.’

  ‘If you won’t do this for yourself, Martin, then do it for me.’

  Nell didn’t know why she did it, but she reached out, took him in her arms and kissed him – a long, heartbreaking kiss. Then she pushed him away from her.

  She started crying.

  She took her handkerchief from her pocket – a pretty, flower-embroidered linen square that Sylvia had given her – and was about to wipe her eyes, but then she changed her mind.

  Nell held out the handkerchief. ‘Goodbye, Martin; take this, something to remember me by. Now go. Do this for me.’

  ‘Nell—’

  ‘They’re onto you, Martin. I couldn’t bear it if they caught you. Please, do it for both of us.’

  Chapter 49

  Martin spent the next seven hours walking around aimlessly and then drinking in a pub on the Isle of Dogs well away from anyone who knew him, only leaving the warm fug of the pub to make a call from the telephone box on the corner. He waited until it was dark and then made his way back to Turnbury Buildings.

  He let himself into the flat with all the care of a cat burglar. He could hear his father’s rhythmic snoring coming from the main bedroom, and his mother’s soft moans as she dreamed the night away in what had once been the room that had belonged to his older sister before she had married and left home so her new husband could find work. It was the room his mother now chose to sleep in.

  It made Martin so sad to see his parents like this, and none of it their fault, but, for now, he was just grateful that they were asleep.

  He went into the kitchen and found a string-handled brown paper carrier bag printed with the legend Sarah and David Meckel purveyors of fine groceries that his mum had brought home from Sarah’s shop, and then went to his bedroom.

  He lifted the corner of the mattress and took out the sock that contained the money he had been saving so scrupulously. It was intended for his parents, something to give them when he eventually left home to set up in a place of his own and when he would no longer be in a position to help them quite so much. But it wasn’t going to be as straightforward as that – not now.

  He counted the money out into three piles – one for his parents, one for him, and one for Nell.

  Then he took half of his own pile and added half of that to Nell’s and half to his parents’. He took some clothes from his chest
of drawers and stuffed them into the carrier bag.

  Next he put his share of the money in the inside pocket of his jacket, and his parents’ share on the kitchen table wrapped in a note that he had written on one of the scraps of paper that his mother kept in the kitchen drawer – as she always said, ‘just in case’. The note read:

  Dear Mum and Dad,

  Please don’t worry about me. Things have started to get too much for me and I don’t want me and Dad to fall out. I’ve tried to be a good son and I’m sorry if I’ve let you down. I’ll write again as soon as I can, and will send money if possible.

  Your loving son

  Martin

  He then folded Nell’s money inside another piece of the scrap paper, making it into a little packet that almost resembled an envelope, and wrote on the front:

  To Nell. Private. From a well-wisher.

  He slipped out of the flat and onto the landing, and stood there for a long moment before finally putting the packet through Nell’s letter box, praying that she would be up before Stephen Flanagan’s twins.

  Stephen Flanagan.

  If the man hadn’t been dead, Martin would have happily killed him all over again – and got rid of George for good measure. He could honestly say that he didn’t have any regrets other than having to leave Nell and his family behind.

  With thoughts of Nell smiling shyly, of her sitting on the steps laughing with his mother, and of her beautiful, even though battered face as she had kissed him, Martin Lovell disappeared down the stairway and into his unknown future.

  Chapter 50

  Nell had again been awake most of the night, occasionally drifting off into terrifying, fitful nightmares – visions of George and Stephen looming over her and of Martin being dragged away from her as she screamed out his name.

  Martin.

  She looked at her children curled up fast asleep in the double bed that took up most of the front room – the bed that she now shared with them. Tomorrow they would be back to school and she would be at work. She was grateful that her shift didn’t start until after their day began, but she had to organise something for after school. She didn’t want them hanging around with no one keeping an eye on them. Still, she had all day to think about that. For now she had the twins to worry about, and that was more than enough.

  Nell stepped out into the passage. She looked towards the closed bedroom doors – Lily’s and what had once been her and Stephen’s room, but which had now been taken over by George – trying to decide which of them to wake first. Whichever one she chose, she couldn’t dither around for too long, it was already half past six and they had to get to Petticoat Lane to set up for the Sunday market. She knew they intended to go because when they’d eventually come home last night she’d heard them arguing and shouting drunkenly about missing a whole day’s takings when they hadn’t got up for the market after the wake.

  She was just glad the children had been asleep, she hated them to hear bad words and rowing – especially Tommy, who would pick up a bad word the very first time he heard it.

  Nell leaned against the wall in the passageway. George or Lily? If she woke Lily she’d get a mouthful, demanding to know why she was dragging her out of bed first, but at least George might control himself if his sister was there. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the thought of him doing that to her after the funeral. It must have been because he was so drunk. Mustn’t it?

  As Nell eased herself away from the wall, visions of George and his disgusting body were momentarily forgotten as her attention was caught by an odd-looking packet on the doormat. She picked it up and looked at the address, dreading that it was a demand for the rest of the money for the funeral. She had a few pounds left over from the money Sylvia had given her, but that wasn’t going to last long. The hospital had told her she had to work a week in hand, which as far as she could see meant that she worked the first week for nothing, as she’d been warned that when she left any damage she caused would be docked from that first week’s wages. They would be bound to find a reason to do this – that was how things went. For the likes of her, anyway.

  She frowned at the packet. It was actually a crudely fashioned envelope and all it said on the front was: To Nell. Private. From a well-wisher. There wasn’t even a stamp.

  She was about to open it, but changed her mind and slipped it into her apron pocket instead, feeling wary about making it into a secret, knowing how she had suffered for keeping secrets in the past. But something told her that it was the right thing to do.

  Distracted by the unexpected delivery, Nell rapped on Lily’s door without a second thought.

  With the hollering still ringing in her ears, she woke George and then hurried into the kitchen to get breakfast ready for the twins.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ said Nell, adding more slices of toast to the plate, and then topping up the twins’ teacups.

  She went over to the sink and started filling the washing-up bowl from the kettle. ‘I’ve got a job. I’m starting tomorrow.’

  Lily, her mouth stuffed full of food, spluttered all over the table. ‘You’ve got a job all right, you’re going to do the early mornings down the market. And we’re going to take turns doing the afternoons. We’ve got it all organised.’

  Nell stiffened. If they got her on the stalls, she knew they wouldn’t pay her. So how would she get the rest of the money for the funeral? If she stayed in debt to the Prices they might call the police. Say they sent her to jail? Who would care for the children?

  ‘You’re not listening,’ she said urgently, turning to face them. ‘I’ve already got a job. I was telling you because I was hoping you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Tommy and Dolly when they get in from school. They won’t be any trouble. Just about an hour it’ll be. I’ll hurry home as fast as I can, and I’ll get the tea ready before I leave in the morning. You won’t be put out, I promise.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said George, flicking toast crumbs from his big barrel chest. ‘Even if we let you get a job – which might not be such a bad idea,’ he said, looking pointedly at his sister. ‘Because then she could start paying her way around here for her and them two bastards of hers.’ He turned back to Nell. ‘But why would you think that we’d keep an eye on them?’

  Nell was starting to panic. She wasn’t happy about her children being alone with the twins – of course she wasn’t – but at least it would be a temporary solution until she came up with something better. They’d be playing down in the courtyard anyway, well away from Lily and George. She just wanted to be sure that they could get in and out of the flat if they needed to, and that there would be someone in there if there was a problem. She hadn’t expected – or wanted – the twins to actually mind the children, just to be there in the flat. In fact, if she had any other choice . . .

  ‘Because they’re your half-brother and sister,’ she said quietly, not really believing she could ever have any influence on them.

  ‘They are, are they?’ said Lily, raising her eyebrows at George. ‘Some people might not agree.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  George picked up another slice of toast. ‘Don’t play the innocent with us. We know all about you and him across the landing.’

  Nell set the kettle back on the stove. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You spoke to the police?’

  ‘Now we don’t know what you’re talking about,’ chuckled George.

  ‘They came here yesterday and asked me all sorts of questions.’

  ‘Did they?’ said Lily. ‘Well they must have their doubts about you then, mustn’t they? Wonder why that is? Any idea, George?’

  ‘No Lil, none at all. But it must be serious.’

  Nell ran out of the kitchen and locked herself away in the front room with her sleeping children until she heard the twins leave the flat.

  Even then she waited for the count of a hundred before she dared to leave the room. She made a dash for the front door and clicked the latch shut
, and then she went into her and Stephen’s old bedroom. She retrieved her brooch from its hiding place in the bedside cabinet, dropped it into her apron pocket with the mysterious envelope and then hurriedly made the bed, took her things out of the wardrobe and put George’s clothes away in it as quickly as possible. The less time she had to spend in that room the better, but she had to clear it up as George had apparently decided it was his now – regardless of him having a perfectly good room of his own.

  With the rest of her chores finished, the twins out, the children still sleeping and the front door firmly locked, Nell sat at the kitchen table and opened the packet.

  She blinked as if someone had suddenly turned on a bright light. Seven pounds and ten shillings. She counted it out onto the table and then counted it again under her breath. That was what she’d earn from working five whole weeks at the hospital laundry. Where had it come from? She looked at the envelope again. From a well-wisher. That would make a real dent in the money she owed Mr Price. But it didn’t seem right to spend it if she didn’t know who had given it to her.

  It might have come from Sylvia, but it wasn’t her writing; and she wouldn’t have done it like that anyway, and she’d already lent her that money yesterday. Nell gnawed on her thumbnail. Apart from the funeral money, that was another five pounds she owed already. How could she spend this as well? Her debts were getting out of hand.

  The only other person she could think of with any money who would be that kind to her was Martin, but no, it couldn’t be him.

  She’d done everything she could not to let him back into her head, but there he was again: Martin, the man she had kissed so passionately, the man who had killed Stephen Flanagan. There was so much going on in her head, she honestly didn’t know how much more she could stand.

  Nell went into Stephen’s bedroom and looked at the clock. Half past eight. Was it OK to go over to see Mary this early? What would she say if Martin was there?

  Worse, what would she say if Martin wasn’t there?