When at that moment the young woman’s burly boss arrived on the scene, Len swiftly made himself scarce. ‘Ready, are you, Harry?’ he asked. Rushing out of the back door, he left Harry to follow behind. ‘You got your comeuppance there, all right,’ Harry chuckled to himself.
But he had not forgotten how Len was shamefully abusing his trusted position of authority.
The next stop was Moff Avenue – a long meandering street of sturdy Victorian houses. ‘We’ve got some good customers down here,’ Len told him. ‘Most of ’em pay on the dot, though occasionally, some do try it on.’
Pausing at number 3, he rat-tatted on the door. ‘You’ll need to watch out for the skivers,’ he advised with a sideways nod of the head. ‘They’ll give you any excuse that comes to mind. You have to ignore all that. They’re trying it on, that’s all. Just trying it on.’ A fleeting surge of anger blushed across his face.
‘Go away, mister!’ A little girl’s face peered down from the bedroom window. ‘Me mam’s not ’ome yet. You’ll have to come back next week.’
Len called back, ‘You tell your mam to get down here,’ he instructed. ‘I want a word with her … now, if you please.’
‘She can’t come down. She’s in bed poorly.’
Impatient, Len snapped, ‘You tell her that I’m staying right here until she comes down.’
A moment later the front door was inched open. ‘What the devil’s going on? What’s all the yelling about?’ Dressed in a cream-coloured dressing gown and wearing yesterday’s make-up, the woman looked to be in her thirties. She was tall and shapely with tousled hair and long painted fingernails. ‘Oh, it’s you!’ She shook her head. ‘I might have known.’ She glanced at Harry. ‘Who’s your good-looking friend?’
Len frowned. ‘Never mind about that, Maureen. It’s me you should be worried about.’
Clutching her dressing gown together, she held it tightly closed. ‘It’s no good you asking for money because there isn’t any. My Jim was out on the booze again last night.’ She gave him an appealing look. ‘You know what it’s like, Len. He gets his wages of a Friday and come Saturday night, there’s nothing left. I’ve begged and pleaded with him, but he never changes; he never will.’
Len stood his ground. ‘Your domestic troubles are not my problem.’
‘I know that. But I can’t give you what I ain’t got. You’ll just have to come back next week. I’ll see what I can do for you then.’
When she prepared to close the door, Len wedged it open with his foot. ‘Not so fast, my beauty.’
The woman took a step backwards. ‘Don’t start on me,’ she retaliated. ‘I’ve got my girl off school. She’s not been well.’
Len apologised. ‘Oh, I’m sorry about that, Maureen. I didn’t realise. But if I’m to sort out your arrears, I’ll need to come in for a few minutes. Is that all right? I promise, it won’t take long.’
‘I’m not sure about that …’ She hesitated, then sensing his eyes on her, she drew the gown tighter about her. ‘Give me a minute then.’ With that she disappeared inside, leaving the door open for him.
Addressing Harry, Len explained, ‘She’s one of our worst customers. This is the third time in a month that she’s missed a payment. If I don’t sort it this week, Jacobs will go through the roof.’
Harry had seen the look of apprehension on the woman’s face. ‘How will you sort it?’ he asked. ‘You can’t get blood out of a stone.’
‘Trust me, I’m sure we’ll thrash out an arrangement that will suit all round. Just take the ledger, Harry. Look – there’s a sweet old lady lives across the street – number 14, name of Ada Benson. She’s a regular payer, you’ll get no trouble from her.’
He handed Harry the ledger. ‘Go and introduce yourself – oh, and don’t forget to sign her tally-book. She’s very fussy about that.’
Somewhat bemused, Harry took the ledger and made his way across the street, discreetly glancing back as he knocked on Ada Benson’s door. He saw Len go inside number 3, and he watched the door close behind him. He had a bad feeling about it, though he didn’t really know why.
‘Hello, young man!’ The cheery voice interrupted his thoughts, ‘Have you come to see me?’ Old and shrivelled, Ada Benson was still a pretty woman, with her soft curly grey hair, fine features and large green eyes.
‘Yes, Mrs Benson, I’m Harry. I’m new.’ Harry held out his hand in greeting. ‘I’m here with Len.’
The little woman’s face crumpled into a smile, ‘Oh, I see.’ She grabbed his outstretched hand. ‘You’re from Jacobs’ Emporium, aren’t you?’
‘That’s right.’ Harry liked her straight off. ‘I’m learning the rounds.’
Stepping back, she invited him to ‘Come in, come in. I’ve baked a cake … I always bake a cake for when Len comes to call. Oh, and I’ve got my book ready and everything.’
Tugging at him, she drew Harry inside. ‘Oh, now I’ve forgotten your name.’ She screwed up her face in concentration. ‘Oh yes, it’s Harry, isn’t it, yes. Come in, Harry. Please come in!’
When Harry glanced back, she asked quietly, ‘Is Len over there … in Maureen’s house?’
Harry nodded. ‘Yes.’
She rolled her eyes knowingly. ‘Ah well, I shouldn’t worry. He’ll be a while yet.’
Taking Harry along the narrow passageway to the kitchen, the little woman chuckled, ‘Naughty boy Len!’ She clapped her hands as though smacking a child. ‘I’ll have you know, there was a time when I was so pretty the men could never resist me either.’
As they entered the kitchen, the wonderful aroma of fresh-baked bread filled Harry’s nostrils. It put him in mind of Irish Kathleen.
When he was a youngster in Fisher’s Hill he spent many a happy time in Kathleen’s delightful house. The smell of fresh bread never failed to entice him in. Those precious memories were as warm and welcome as the hug she gave him, and the chunky slice of brown bread smothered in melting butter and thick home-made strawberry jam.
He was so grateful that she had taken him and young Tom into that same delightful house, and showed them the same, warm welcome.
For the next half-hour, Harry was fed with cherry cake and cups of piping hot tea, and in between he was entertained by stories of Ada’s colourful youth, and the young men she had met and lost along the way.
‘There was never really anyone serious until I met my Cyril,’ she confided. ‘He and I were married for forty-two years and I talk to him every single day.’
Her large eyes swam with tears. ‘When you’re young, you think you’re invincible. You never think you might grow old … oh no! That’s for your grandma and grandad, but you’ll never be old, or wrinkly, or ache when you walk. No, you’re young, you’ll always be young. You’ll run and dance and never have to worry about bending down and hurting your back. Because you’ll be forever you – young and beautiful.’
She tapped her bony little chest. ‘In here, we stay young and beautiful for ever and ever.’ She gave a little chuckle. ‘Oh dear. We were so foolish, to think the years could never change us.’
One solitary teardrop trickled from her eye. ‘My Cyril said that whenever he looked at me, he could only ever see a pretty young girl.’ A mystical smile uplifted her face. ‘I love him so very much, Harry. Oh, and I do miss him so.’
That glimpse of Ada’s sadness heightened Harry’s own crippling loss, and for one fleeting moment, the two of them sat quietly, Ada looking lost in the big old armchair and Harry on the tiny sofa; their thoughts drifting back over the years.
A short time later, Harry was being led back down the passageway. ‘Right, well, thank you so much, Ada.’ Harry was tempted to plant a little kiss on that sweet face, but a sense of protocol stopped him from doing so. ‘I’ve really enjoyed our first meeting,’ he told her warmly. ‘I’ve signed your tally-book, I’ve eaten your amazing cherry cake, and I’ve drunk your tea. And now I’d best get on with the rounds.’
‘You’re a lovely young man,
’ Ada told him at the door. ‘My Cyril would have liked you.’
When her tears threatened, Harry thought, To hell with protocoal, and he bent down to kiss her tenderly on the cheek. ‘And I’m sure I would have liked him too,’ he assured her.
Taken aback when she wrapped her tiny hands about his face, he looked into those bright old eyes and like her husband Cyril, he could see the beauty and grace of a young girl. ‘Shall I tell you something, Ada?’ he asked softly.
She nodded. ‘Please do, yes.’
‘I know exactly what your Cyril meant, when he said he looked at you and could see only the young girl you once were.’
Her face lit up. ‘Oh! Do you really?’
‘I do, yes – and I know something else too.’
Her smile was like a bright summer’s day. ‘What do you know?’
‘I know you will never be old … never!’
‘Oh!’ Like a child she clapped her hands together and he laughed out loud, and soon the two of them were chuckling together like old friends. ‘Tell Len I’m glad it was you who came to see me,’ she said, and Harry promised he would do just that.
When Ada closed the door, Harry began to walk back across the street. As he did so, he saw Len come sidling out of Maureen Rook’s house, red in the face and discreetly straightening his jacket.
It was blatantly obvious to Harry that he had not gone into the house to help Maureen ‘sort out her debts’ as he had claimed. Instead, he believed the chirpy little Amy to be right; that Len had collected payment of another kind.
‘Ah!’ Len greeted Harry in his usual bombastic manner. ‘Seen Ada, have you?’ There was no mention of Maureen. ‘I bet she gave you a chunk of cake and plied you with tea, until you felt it coming out your ears?’ He patted Harry on the back.
Harry gave no answer, and Len didn’t even notice. He was too busy preening himself.
As they resumed their rounds, Harry glanced back at Maureen’s house, and there in the window was the little girl who had first called down to them. With her small hands flattened against the pane she watched them go down the street. Harry smiled at her, but she did not smile back. Instead, she kept watching them. Watching Len particularly.
Harry gave a little wave, but the girl turned away.
As he went with Len to Jackson Street, Harry thought of the child, and the way she had turned away, as though in distress.
Concerned, he promised himself that from now on, he would watch Len’s every move. But he must be careful not to jump to conclusions. With something as delicate as this, he would need to get his facts right.
If, as he suspected, Len really was taking sex in payment for a signature on the tally-book, then he would first raise the matter with Len himself. If that didn’t put a stop to it, he would have to speak with Mr Jacobs. If not to salve his own conscience, he would do it for those women who were genuinely unable to pay; and desperate enough to buckle under Len’s powers of persuasion.
One thing was certain. Even without the hard evidence that Len was behaving shamefully, Harry’s initial respect for the man who had taken him under his wing, had all too quickly evaporated.
Jackson Street was the last call on their round. ‘We’ve only got three families along here,’ Len explained. ‘Most of the people who live in this street are in business themselves.’
‘Nice area though.’ Harry was impressed by the large Victorian houses, though one or two of them appeared to be in need of repair. ‘Pity some of these fine houses have been allowed to fall into ruin though.’
Len agreed. ‘I’m surprised the other residents aren’t up in arms about it.’ He tutted. ‘Unless, of course, they’re the culprits who snapped them up in the first place. Landlords get their rent money come what may, so why spend money when you don’t have to, eh?’
‘What can be done then?’ Harry asked. ‘Surely somebody has to be held accountable, if they fall into rack and ruin?’
‘Not really.’ Len then gave a glimpse into his own environment. ‘It’s a bit like where I live on the other side of the river. There was a time when my address was one of the best in the area, then the investors moved in. They bought every house that came up for sale. They extended, made one house into four flats, then they rented them out and sat back to watch their money grow. Over time, the places got run down but the council turned a blind eye, and why not, eh? As long as they keep getting their rates and they’re not asked to foot the bill for repairs, why should they give a monkey’s?’
Harry was deep in conversation with a Mrs Taylor, who was paying ten shillings a week off a new chest of drawers when an almighty row broke out from a house nearby.
The man’s voice was raised to screaming pitch. ‘IF I EVER FIND OUT YOU’VE CHEATED ON ME, I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL DO FOR YOU!’
A woman could be heard pleading with him not to be silly, saying that she didn’t want to fall out with him. But still he ranted on, spitting rage and out of control.
‘That’ll be the couple at number 16,’ Mrs Taylor remarked with a groan. ‘Honestly! It’s a wonder them two haven’t killed each other before now. He’s mad as a hatter, completely possessive, and when he gets drunk – which is often – he lays into her real bad.’
‘So why doesn’t somebody do something about it?’ Harry was angry.
‘Don’t think we haven’t tried. One or two people in the street have taken him to task. But when it comes right down to it, there isn’t a lot you can do, is there? You should never interfere in domestic rows – well, at least, that’s what the police say – and they’ve been out here often enough, I can tell you.’
Harry couldn’t help but wonder. ‘So, if he’s as bad as that, why doesn’t she just up and leave him?’
The woman shrugged her shoulders. ‘Who knows? Bad as he is, maybe she really loves him. Or maybe she wants to leave and she hasn’t anywhere to go. Or she hasn’t got any friends or family, because he’s chased them all away?’
‘Well, it sounds like a bad situation and no mistake.’ From a discreet distance, Len had been listening to the conversation. As for the spiralling argument, he didn’t care one way or the other. ‘Maybe they deserve each other, eh?’
‘Maybe.’ Mrs Taylor glanced towards the house where the row was still raging. ‘Truth is, it’s gone on for so long now, she’s got almost as bad as him, with the yelling and the drink and everything. Oh, it’s such a shame. When they first moved into the street, she was such a sweet, quiet little thing; so pretty. These days the sadness in her face is pitiful to see. I do feel sorry for her though. I mean, day or night she can’t even walk down the street without him chasing after her, bullying and yelling at her. Sometimes he gets her by the scruff of the neck and marches her back to the house.’ She sighed. ‘If you ask me, that young woman’s life, well … it’s like a kind of torture.’
Harry thought about the time in his life when he had done things he could never have envisaged; terrible things – working in hell-holes, fighting anyone who was up for it, and drinking himself into oblivion. After he’d come out of the Army, he’d become a drifter for a time; gone into a dark place. He had cared for nothing and no one, especially himself. That was the awful truth.
And so he knew all about pain, and that crippling sense of despair that could pull you down to the gutter.
He looked up at the woman. ‘It sounds to me as if she’s got an uphill climb, if she’s to get away from a situation like that.’
‘You’re absolutely right. Trouble is, it might already be too late.’ Shaking her head, she collected her tally-book from Harry. ‘One of these days it’ll go too far and then there’ll be murder, you’ll see.’ With that she thanked them and closed the door.
As the two men walked down the street and on towards the car park, they could still hear the full-blown row escalating behind them. ‘Gawd above! What a barney, eh?’ Len laughed. ‘That’ll please the nobs round here, I’ll be bound.’ He slowed his step, so as to hear the row all the better.
The man’s voice was wild with rage. ‘Don’t lie to me, you little slut! If you weren’t giving him the come-on, why would he make a bee-line for you like that?’
‘I never encouraged him!’ the woman sobbed. ‘I’ve told you, I was just there, and he came over to me. I didn’t know who he was. I told him to go away and leave me alone. YOU HEARD ME TELL HIM THAT!’
‘YOU’RE A DAMNED LIAR! You encouraged him. I’ve told you before, I’ll lay you out, rather than let any man take you from me.’
There was a sharp sound, like the crack of flesh on flesh, then the woman was sobbing loudly, pleading with him. ‘I wouldn’t cheat on you. I’ve NEVER cheated on you. No! Get away from me!’
Some kind of struggle followed. ‘NO! Leave me alone! You’re crazy with drink … you’re frightening me! You never believe what I say! WHY WILL YOU NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I SAY?’
There was a span of silence, which alarmed Harry.
‘I think we should check it out,’ he told Len. ‘He sounds like an out-and-out bully! What if he’s hurt her?’ It was the silence that worried him the most. ‘Oh, look, to hell with it, I’m going up there.’
Len was still trying to hold him back when the man started grovelling. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I do believe you, really I do.’
‘You should believe me.’ The woman was calm enough now. ‘You know I would never cheat on you.’ She laughed, a painful, hollow sound. ‘I wouldn’t dare!’
He laughed with her. ‘You rascal! Come here to me.’ There was another short span of silence and then, ‘Get your glad rags on, pet. I’m taking you out on the town.’
There followed a short burst of teasing and laughter, before the window was slammed shut.
‘See? I told you.’ Len wagged a finger at Harry. ‘Never be too quick to interfere in somebody else’s argument, unless you want to end up being the villain between ’em.’
Harry nodded. ‘You’re right. That’s one useful lesson I’ve learned today,’ he said light-heartedly.
In fact, it was the second. The first had to do with Len, and unlike the row in the flat above, that particular issue was not yet resolved.
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