Hold On to Hope

by Jean Fullerton

  Mickey shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled down the unpaved passage as if he was going to work. The moments ticked by and Kate had just started her second Hail Mary when her nephew reappeared.

  ‘She’s gone into the dosshouse next to the paint factory halfway down,’ he said. ‘There’s a gate and a small courtyard at the front and a garden at the back.’

  Patrick slapped his son on the back. ‘Good work. Now quick sharp to the nabber’s shop.’

  Mickey ran off towards Commercial Road Police Station.

  Jonathan looked up and down the alleyway then scanned the rooftops. ‘I’d put a pound to a penny that there’s a tunnel out in the cellar.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Patrick asked.

  ‘I’ve never been in a hideout or bolt-hole that hasn’t but we’re here to find them, not flush them out. We just have to make sure they stay put until the police arrive.’

  ‘But if they do make a run for it they’re likely to bolt out the back, so me and Nat will take the rear if you and Kate cover the front,’ Patrick said.

  Kate and Jonathan watched them go. He squeezed Kate’s hands. ‘We will get Joe back, Kate. I promise.’

  Kate mustered a half-smile. ‘I hope so.’

  Aggie stopped on the small third-floor landing to catch her breath for a second. Bugger this, she thought. She repositioned the basket in the crook of her arm and headed for the door at the end of the landing leading to the attic.

  When she arrived at the room she marched over to Joe and crouched in front of him.

  ‘Good morning, Joe,’ she said, sweetly. ‘And how are we this morning?’

  ‘All right,’ he mumbled, shrinking back.

  She raised her hand. He flinched and turned from the expected blow.

  ‘I’m all right, Miss Aggie,’ she crooned, smoothing her finger down his cheek.

  Her hand slid down and then closed around his throat. Joe’s eyes flew open and she smiled.

  Freddie rolled over and farted.

  ‘What . . . who?’ he muttered as he struggled on to one elbow.

  Aggie straightened up. ‘It’s fucking lucky I ain’t a troop of coppers or they’d be marching you down to the hurry-up wagon in cuffs by now.’

  Freddie slipped his hand through the opened buttons of his vest and scratched his chest. ‘Have you got something for me belly or have you just come to nag?’

  Aggie held out the basket and he snatched it from her. He rummaged around and pulled out a loaf of bread, a pie wrapped in newspaper and a quart stone bottle.

  ‘Is this it?’ he asked, incredulously.

  ‘What do you expect?’

  ‘Something better than this pigswill,’ he replied, tearing at a chunk of bread to throw at Joe. ‘There you are, boy, get your chops around that.’ Freddie sank his teeth into the pie.

  Aggie’s eyes narrowed. Bloody idiot, she thought, watching the grease drip on his shirt.

  She folded her arms. ‘What’s the plan?’

  Freddie looked up. ‘I’m still thinking on it.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get a move on because if you think I’m spending the rest of my life ferrying your grub up four flights of stairs each day, you’ve got another think coming.’

  He looked up. ‘I thought you said you’d do anything for me.’

  A sharp retort sprang to Aggie’s lips but she bit it back. She looked contrite. ‘And I would. Oh, Freddie, I’ve tried to keep things going but there’s no one to step into your shoes.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘They want their guv’nor back and so do I.’

  ‘Stop fretting. I said I’d come up with something.’ Freddie grinned. ‘After all, ain’t I the brains of the Black Eagle Gang?’

  Joe whimpered and her attention moved to him, causing her temper to erupt.

  ‘It’s a fucking pity you didn’t think things through when you took ’im with you.’

  ‘Don’t start, Aggie.’

  ‘Don’t start! I’ll give you “don’t start, Aggie”.’ She marched across the floor and dragged Joe to his feet. He tried to pull away but she tightened her grip, shook him and he stumbled.

  ‘It’s because of this poxy little brat that we’ve had the police crawling all over the Blue Coat Boy for the last four days. The men are sitting around drinking all day instead of earning their keep and the sluts can’t wander the streets for fear of being nicked. And all because of ’im.’ She smacked Joe across the side of head. ‘Your “little lad”, who’s a “chip off the old block”, leaving his fucking cap behind.’

  She slapped him again. Joe kicked her and snatched his arm back.

  ‘I hate you,’ he screamed, flailing his arms and booting her again.

  She hobbled after him. ‘You little bastard.’

  She lunged to catch him but he dodged out of her grasp.

  ‘You’re ugly and old and you stink like dog shit and when my ma finds you, she’ll smash you good and proper,’ he screamed at her.

  Aggie ran at him but he feigned left and dodged right. Aggie crashed into the wall.

  Freddie laughed. ‘My boy’s too quick for you, Aggie.’

  She put her hand on her hip, grimaced and then limped over to pick up her shawl. As she stooped Joe turned his head and she sprang at him. Her nails sank into his neck and fear flashed into his eyes. He yelped as she tightened her grip.

  ‘Not so brave now, are we?’ she said, thrusting her face in his.

  ‘Leave him be, Aggie!’

  ‘Fuck off.’ She dragged Joe across the floor to the window. ‘I’ve had a bellyful of your fucking “little lad”.’

  Freddie rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled towards them. ‘No.’

  Joe gagged as Aggie’s stench surrounded him. He tried to dig his feet in but they skidded over the dirty floorboards. His heart pounded as panic and fear twisted in his chest. He pulled together every ounce of strength to brace his feet against the brickwork. She punched him in the ribs.

  He crumpled.

  ‘Pa!’ he gasped as Aggie heaved him up and pitched him out of the window.

  Joe screamed as he tumbled over the wet tiles. The slates snagged his clothes and cut his cheeks and hands as he skidded over them. Colours and images sped through his mind so swiftly they barely registered. He grabbed wildly for anything that would stop him toppling towards the edge but his hands found nothing. Joe shut his eyes, expecting to fly into thin air but then he crashed into something.

  He blacked out momentarily and when he came to he found himself looking up at puffy white clouds scuttling across a very blue sky. In the distance a clock chimed. He swivelled his eyes and looked at the low wall running around the edge of the roof. With shaky hands he gripped the top and pulled himself to his knees. Pressing his face against the rough brickwork he peered over the edge and looked down to the cobbled courtyard below.

  He spotted his mother and headmaster running across the yard and could hardly believe it was true – he resisted a sudden urge to throw up. Cupping his hands around his mouth he leant over the edge. ‘Mammy!’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Joe’s cry ripped through every nerve in Kate’s body. ‘Joe!’ she screamed, shading her eyes to scan the dosshouse roof.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ Jonathan asked as he did the same.

  ‘No, but it came from up—’

  ‘Mammy!’

  ‘My God, Jonathan. He’s on the roof,’ she shouted.

  ‘I’ll fetch him down,’ he called over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the house.

  Kate yelled up. ‘Don’t move, Joe. We’re coming.’

  She gathered her skirts and with her heart bursting in her chest, she dashed after Jonathan. By the time she reached the hallway, he was already halfway up the stairs. Kate elbowed her way through the crowds and caught up with him on the third-floor landing.

  ‘Where are the stairs to the roof?’ she asked, looking at the landing.

  ‘I don’t know. They must be here somewhere.’ />
  They began trying the doors, all but one of which opened on to fetid scenes of unwashed bodies and rows of coffin-sized cots.

  They rattled the handle of the locked door but it wouldn’t budge.

  ‘Stand back,’ said Jonathan.

  She stepped aside and he threw his weight against the door. It crashed open to reveal a flight of narrow stairs. Jonathan rushed in with Kate at his heels.

  ‘Joe!’ Freddie yelled, running to the window.

  Relief flooded through him as he saw Joe clinging to the low buttress.

  ‘Don’t move, boy,’ he shouted, swaying from side to side, the effects of the early morning brandy still muddling his brain. ‘I’ll fetch you.’ He turned to Aggie.

  ‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ he shouted. ‘If the wall hadn’t been there, my boy would have gone over the bloody edge.’

  Aggie looked puzzled. ‘What wall?’

  He roared, lurched across the room and punched her in the face. There was a sickening crunch as his knuckles hammered her nose. She staggered back and put her hand on the wall to steady herself, then worked her jaw from side to side before touching her lip.

  ‘You great bastard. You’ve loosened my front tooth,’ she shrieked, and picked up the smashed bottom of an empty bottle. ‘Touch me again and I’ll gut you,’ she said, swiping the jagged glass back and forth between them.

  ‘You think you can face up to the top man, do you?’ he yelled, sidestepping to keep his balance.

  She gave a hard laugh. ‘Top man? Look at you. Top joke, more like. You ain’t got the brains to run a fucking whelk stall let alone the Black Eagle Gang. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be Ollie Mac’s boot rag. I’ve done with you,’ she said, edging towards the door. ‘The rozzers can hang you, for all I care.’

  He sprang forward and grabbed the bottle. It sliced across his left palm as he twisted it from her hand.

  ‘You double-crossing slut!’ He thrust the bottle into her throat and blood spurted out, cutting off her reply in an instant.

  Her eyes flew open in astonishment and her hands groped at the glass stuck in her windpipe. She gurgled, then blood spewed from her mouth, drenching the front of her as her lips moved wordlessly and her eyes rolled up. She sank to her knees and fell back.

  Freddie looked down at her and kicked her head. ‘Bitch.’

  The cut on his hand smarted so he ripped a strip off her petticoat to bind it around the wound.

  The door handle rattled and he looked up to see the door being forced open against the weight of Aggie’s body jammed against it.

  ‘Joe!’ screamed Kate’s voice through the gap.

  Freddie ran to the window. Putting his foot on the sill and gripping the edge, he heaved himself out. Police rattles rang out and swarms of policemen and spectators filled the courtyard below.

  Freddie pressed himself flat on to the slates and skidded down next to Joe.

  ‘What’s happening, Pa?’ he asked.

  Freddie leant into the pitch of the roof and stood up in the narrow gutter. ‘Don’t worry, son,’ he said, hauling Joe to his feet and setting him in front. ‘Me and you are going on a nice little journey far away, but first we have to get off this roof.’

  Kate added her weight to Jonathan’s in an effort to open the door.

  ‘It’s moving,’ he said, squaring his shoulders to give it an almighty shove.

  The gap widened by a few more inches and Jonathan squeezed through. Kate tumbled in behind him. They crossed to the window to see Freddie slipping and sliding over the wet tiles, dragging Joe behind him.

  ‘Joe!’ she screamed, as her son stumbled.

  He turned and she could see the fear in his eyes. ‘Mammy! Mammy!’ he sobbed.

  Freddie shoved Joe forward.

  ‘Don’t worry, me darling, we’re coming for you,’ Kate screamed, her voice carrying over the chimney tops.

  ‘He’s heading towards the far end of the roof,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘What good will that do?’ Kate asked, frantically. ‘They’re trapped.’

  Jonathan pulled her back from the window and jumped on to the sill.

  ‘Maybe there’s another way down. I’m going after him. Go down to the police, Kate.’ She hesitated. ‘Go, Kate!’

  Sweet Mary, protect him, she prayed. She touched his cheek then turned back into the room and saw Aggie.

  The trollop’s body was half hidden behind the door and her blood had flooded across the floorboards. Her neck was bent at an unnatural angle, revealing a large piece of brown glass protruding from a gash in her throat. Kate crossed herself again, lifted her skirts and stepped over Red Aggie’s lifeless body.

  Forcing his gaze not to drift over the edge of the roof to the hard ground fifty feet below, Jonathan edged his way along the guttering after Freddie.

  The narrow space between the low wall and the lead flashing was only just wide enough for him to place his feet toe to heel. This, coupled with his one-sided vision, meant he had to concentrate to maintain his balance. He was still more sure-footed than Freddie, though, who swayed dangerously but kept a tight hold on Joe.

  The sun was fully up now, bathing the cramped tenements and the city buildings beyond with a warm autumnal glow. Squinting into the sun, Jonathan leant into the pitch of the roof and hurried towards Freddie as fast as he dared. Just as he got to within a few feet, Freddie turned.

  ‘Keep back!’ he shouted.

  Jonathan stopped and looked around for any means of escape.

  Although the flashing around the roof was now wide enough for him to stand properly, the wall had gone. If Freddie slipped or fell, there was nothing to prevent him from tipping over the edge and taking his son with him.

  Joe craned his neck around and his terrified eyes fixed on Jonathan.

  ‘It’s all right, Joe,’ Jonathan said quietly, giving the boy a reassuring smile.

  Freddie’s right foot skidded a few inches. ‘What are you doing up here?’

  Jonathan stretched out his arms. ‘I just want to talk,’ he said, calmly.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About your son. I want you to let him go.’

  ‘My boy’s staying with me, aren’t you?’

  Joe nodded stiffly. ‘Y-Yes . . . P-Pa.’

  An oddly emotional expression stole over Freddie’s hardbitten face. ‘You’re a good son, Joe. No man ever had better. You wouldn’t turn your back on me like . . .’ Freddie sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘Ain’t he a chip off the old block?’ he asked Jonathan.

  ‘Joe is a son to be proud of, Ellis,’ Jonathan replied, edging forward and dislodging a tile, which hurtled to the ground. Sweat sprang out between his shoulder blades and his heart hammered painfully at the back of his breastbone.

  ‘That he is,’ Freddie replied, with a crack in his voice.

  ‘Then why don’t you let him go?’

  Freddie’s belligerent expression returned. ‘No!’ He swayed again and tightened his grip on Joe.

  Jonathan tried to gauge the distance between himself, Joe and the edge of the roof. If he were quick, he could snatch Joe safely but if his restricted vision caused him to misjudge the space, they’d all plunge to their deaths.

  Freddie lumbered to the edge and looked over at the factory ten feet away.

  Alarm shot through Jonathan. Surely, he’s not . . .

  ‘Don’t do it, Ellis,’ he yelled, as Freddie teetered dangerously on the guttering. ‘Think of Joe! He can’t jump that far. You’ll kill him.’

  Freddie laughed, grabbed Joe and hurled him into the air.

  Joe screamed and Jonathan lunged forward instinctively. His boots lost traction and he tried to walk up the slates to regain his footing but kept dislodging tiles instead. As he slid towards the edge, an image of Kate standing in the courtyard below flashed into his mind. He threw himself down on the tiles, praying it would halt his descent. Mercifully, it did.

  He heard Joe land with a thud on the paint facto
ry roof. He rolled a couple of times and then came to rest by one of the chimneys. Relief swept through Jonathan. At least if Freddie did pitch over the side he’d crash to the ground alone.

  ‘Hold on, Joe,’ Jonathan shouted, rising up and planting his feet as firmly as he could on the slanted roof.

  Joe pressed his face to the brickwork and wrapped his arms around the stack.

  ‘Can’t you see it’s over, Ellis?’ Jonathan bellowed.

  Freddie looked scornfully at Jonathan, took a couple of unsteady steps backwards and then ran to the edge. As he jumped, the tile under his right foot snapped and broke his stride.

  Flailing his arms and legs like a disjointed windmill, Freddie crashed into the side of the factory, half on and half off the roof. He hung there for a long moment then began to slide slowly down.

  ‘Help me, boy,’ he bellowed, kicking his legs frantically to push himself upwards.

  ‘Stay where you are, Joe,’ Jonathan shouted.

  Joe nodded, closed his eyes tightly and hugged the brickwork again.

  Jonathan stood up. Pushing all thoughts of the hard cobbles below from his mind he sprang onto the balls of his toes and ran across the tiles. He launched himself into the air and landed soundly next to Joe.

  Straightening up from his semi-crouched position, he looked at Freddie clinging to the guttering for dear life. He’d slipped further and now had only his elbows anchoring him above the edge.

  ‘Hurry up, you bugger. I’m slipping,’ he shouted, his eyes wild with fear.

  Jonathan flattened himself on the tiles.

  ‘Stay where you are, Ellis, and don’t move,’ he shouted, edging forward.

  Freddie unhooked his left arm and grasped at Jonathan, but he couldn’t keep hold.

  ‘No!’ Jonathan shouted.

  Freddie’s head disappeared. Jonathan lunged forward over the jagged edge and caught his right hand.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, pull me up,’ screamed Freddie, swinging wildly as he tried to grasp Jonathan with his free hand.

  As Jonathan gazed down at the man dangling beneath him, the image of Kate’s beaten face floated into his mind. It would be easy just to let him fall. With Freddie dead, there would be no need for him and Kate to be fugitives in Australia, have their children born as bastards, or live with the fear of discovery and disgrace.