“You can explain why you turn me off mid-week. Not even wait for a man in my place.”
“Leave me alone —” Owen was starting to shout. “I can’t sit talking. I’m busy. Take your money, man, and leave me alone.”
Dido was breathing deeply. He had been a man at peace for a long time but he felt an old, dangerous self stirring in him. “I won’t go till you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I can’t keep you on, that’s all.” Dido shoved the table, pinning him in his chair, shouting, “Tell me!”
Owen was panting now with fright. He raised his voice and shouted, “Vaisey! Colston! Come here, quick!”
“Tell me!” Dido shouted, his fists up and clenched. “I’ll kill you!”
He glanced round as the two cowmen came in from the yard. Owen panted, “Wait here, both of you.” To Dido. “Go on, get out. Quickly.”
Dido stood paralysed, glaring in anger and entreaty.
Owen said, “They told me you were violent.”
A pause; then Dido, in a thick, stunned voice, “Who did?”
“It’s none of my business, man. The police were here. Not half an hour. I’ve got my clients to think of. I’ve nothing against you, man.”
“Who told you?”
“The inspector.”
“Ah,” Dido said. “Him.”
“I can’t have the police coming round about my men? Not with a previous conviction. Can I now? Be fair.”
“Five quid fine. More than twelve month ago. You don’t call that a conviction.”
Owen shook his head in despair. He said to the two cowmen, “I’m giving him a week’s money. I can’t do better than that, can I?” To Dido, “Go home, Peach. You don’t want more trouble with the police. Do you now?”
Dido said, “I’ve got one apron in the wash.”
“You can send it. I’ve paid back your deposit. I’m sorry, Mr Peach. Very sorry.”
“What did I tell you?” Merry said to Weldon in the train home. “Housebreaking. That’s his next lay. Oldest dodge in the world. Get a nice little job that takes you round the houses, size up a few gaffs, then break in one after the other. Do ’em all in one night and you’re off.” He chuckled. “Trotting round behind a milk float, innocent as a babe. You see he went outside the borough. Wanted to shake us off, I don’t doubt. Well, he’d have to get up early to do that. The cheek of the fellow. Why, someone else might have nicked him. We can’t have that, can we? Not with our little pigeon.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Dido walked straight down Rabbit Marsh with the step of a man who had a purpose. He went past his own front door and continued until he turned into Blakers’ shop.
He went into the shop with his first words ready; and was taken aback to find it empty except for Blakers’ ten-year-old boy who sat on the counter, legs swinging. The boy looked at Dido and said, “’Lo, Mr Peach.”
“Where’s your dad?”
The boy called, “Dad!”
Through the curtain of coarse lace that covered the panes of the kitchen door Dido saw Blakers get up. His wife sat at the table, a shrivelled little woman of the same stamp as Mrs Peach. Blakers opened the door and said, “Ah! Return of the prodigal.”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Fire away,” Blakers said. “Stranger lately.”
Dido said, “Go to your mother, Roley. I want to talk to your Dad.”
The boy dropped from the counter but as he went to the door Blakers put a hand on his shoulder. “You can stay ’ere, son. Learn the business, eh?” He spoke to Dido. “Bin ’elpin’ me in the shop all the school ’olidays, ’e ’as. Likes to do a bit in the shop. Don’t you, Roley?”
“I don’t want ’im ’ere.”
“You don’t? Do you pay the rent?”
Dido said, “I don’t want trouble.” Anger had sped his steps all the way from the dairy; against Owen; against Merry who had caused him to lose his job; and against all Rabbit Marsh which had brought him to his plight. Anger made him want to drive a fist into Blakers’ fat, complacent face; but he restrained himself. He had only a few pounds, of which some would go on housekeeping. Keogh would be out in four weeks at the most. Dido had no means of knowing. His dismissal had taken him by surprise. He had not yet found a new home. It would have to be a decent place or Grace just would not move. He needed money quickly. From the half-a-dozen shops that had paid in the past he could get three, perhaps four pounds in a week. Blakers was foremost among the shopkeepers. He must be made to pay up.
“I fancy that means you do.” Blakers took his hand from his son’s shoulder. “Go in the kitchen, Roland.”
“What’s ’e gonna do, dad?”
“’E thinks I’m ’idin’ be’ind a kid. ’E reckons I’m afraid of ’im. Go to your mother.”
The boy said, “You leave my dad alone.”
“Good boy,” Blakers said. “Your dad can look arter ’isself, though. Leave the door open. Don’t mind ’im watchin’, Dido, do yer? Educational. Maria, we got a visitor. Stay where you are. Do as I tell yer, woman. You can see from where you are. Well, Dido?”
Dido moved closer and spoke low. “I don’t want trouble. You know the arrangement.”
“Arrangement? It’s a long time since we ’ad an arrangement.”
“All right, let’s ’ave it.”
“Dido, you’re a funny feller. I don’t see yer face two month or more. All of a sudden you walk in and ‘let’s ’ave it.’ Where you bin?”
“Never you mind. Just let’s ’ave it.”
“Don’t be unsociable. You ’aven’t bin in the nick. I’d ’a known about that. Where you bin this two month?”
“Look,” Dido said. “Don’t rely on them two to stop me. If you want trouble you can ’ave it. Outside in the street.”
“Where everyone can see? ’Ave sense, Dido. My name’s Blakers, not Joe ’Unt. What I wanna know is, what for?”
“What for what?”
“No trouble from the Murchisons since Keogh went away. Can’t say you bin lookin’ arter us, can you? You didn’t come for yer money, fair enough I thought. Dido’s actin’ like a gentleman. All of a sudden you turn up, talk about trouble. ’Ere, Maria, you ’ear ’im?’
His wife started to get up. “Ought ter be ashamed of ’isself.”
“Sit down, Maria,” Blakers said. “I told you once. Now look, Dido, you don’t give me the wind up. You talk too much to be a real ’ard nut. If you was a real ’ard nut you’d ’ave ’ad me on the floor be now kickin’ me cobblers in. Missus an’ kid wouldn’ ’a worried you. You’d ’a clocked them too if they come the acid.”
“You’ve ’ad it too easy,” Dido said. “A sovereign. Quick. Before I ask for two.”
“Well, then —” Blakers’ jowls sagged in a mild grin. “Suppose I say, ’it me. Go on, then, ’it me.”
Dido’s right fist clenched like a brick but he did not raise it. Blakers turned to his wife.
“’E’d like to be a ’ard nut,” he said. “But ’e can’t do it. Brought up in a good ’ome. I’m not surprised.”
Mrs Blakers quavered, “It’s not right, ’im comin’ in like that. Call the police you ought.”
“Do keep quiet, Maria,” Blakers said. “Don’t make me keep telling you. Look ’ere, Dido, I’m interested. There’s the cash drawer. Go on, be’ind the counter. Take. Go on, take yer sov’reign. Take more while yer at it. One thing they always said about Dido Peach, ’e never thieved. Be worth a sovereign to see you thieve.”
Dido seized him by the shirtfront and muttered, “Right!”
“All right, Dido,” Blakers said. “Only jokin’. Known you long enough for a little joke, ain’ I? You’ll get your sov’reign. I don’t want me face bashed in.”
Mrs Blakers was in the kitchen doorway, dragging her son by the hand. “Don’t you give ’im,” she shrilled. “It’s a isgrace. I’ll fetch a copper. I’ll go myself, I will.”
“You’ll get the back of my ’
and,” Blakers shouted. To Dido, “Don’ understand, do they? Maria, you seen ’im grab me by the neck. You seen ’im offer violence, didn’t yer? ’E meant it. You seen it. I’m no mug to ask for a bashin’. ’Ere, ’ere’s your sov’reign, Dido. All right?”
Dido said, “All right.”
He picked the coin up from the counter, put it in his pocket and went out.
“It’s a disgrace,” Mrs Blakers said. “’Er walkin’ about with ’er Bible like a bleedin’ duchess, an’ ’er boy robbin’ us blind. Tell the p’lice and be done with it.”
“Look, Maria,” her husband said pityingly, “Leave the brains to the men. I’ll tell the p’lice when it suits me. I got somethin’ to tell ’em now, ’aven’ I? Demandin’ money with menaces. You seen it. ’E’s never threatened before. This time ’e dished ’isself. Used threats in front o’ witnesses. Remember that, Maria. You’re a witness if it comes to it. An’ you, too, Roley. You’re not too young you can’t stand in the box.”
“All the same,” Mrs Blakers said. “I’m goin’ ter tell ’is mother. Give ’er a piece of what for I will. Do me good to let that ’oly mary know what I think of ’er. Come on, Roley.”
As she lugged the boy towards the street, Blakers said, “Young Stan ain’t the only brains in this family. Yer ol’ man knows what ’e’s doin’. I can shop Mr Peach any time I please.”
Perhaps it was because he felt more angry than ever and somehow defeated in his encounter with Blakers that he walked down to “The Railway”. He went in and ordered a whisky. Sam Meek, as he served him, said, “Not your usual, Dido.”
Dido drank it in silence and ordered another; and several more. Each tot of liquor burned in him like a concentration of his anger; and his anger grew; but his mind remained clear and he was quite steady when he stood up.
A few other men in the bar had kept their distance and Meek, talking to them with his elbow on the counter, had come from time to time to serve Dido in silence. When he saw Dido about to leave he said something to the other drinkers as if inviting their attention, then came along the counter to Dido. “Off already?”
Dido nodded, and took in with a glance the men all looking his way.
“’Ave to keep your eyes open, now on,” Meek said.
“Why?”
“Aven’t you ’eard?” He turned a quick, barely-detectable grin from the men to Dido. “Keogh’s comin’ out Tuesday. Full remission. ’Is missus is ailin’ again.”
He came into the house. No-one was in the kitchen. He called, “Ma — Grace — Mother.” There was silence. He went upstairs.
Grace was sitting up in bed. One of her books rested on the counterpane in front of her. She gave him a bright smile and said, “You’re home early.”
“You’re early to bed. Where’s mother?”
“The doctor said. She’s downstairs.”
“Never seen her.”
“I heard her. Only a minute ago. Proper carry-on in the shop there was. Some woman was in there screeching and screaming like an old cat.”
Dido looked at her closely. “What was she screamin’ about?”
“How do I know? Can’t hear from my bed, can I? In the shop it sounded. My word, she was carrying on.” Dido started for the door and she said, “Don’t run away, Didy. The doctor was here. I want to tell you.”
He closed the door and went downstairs. The anger was still in his chest, a dark pain which seemed to stretch and tear increasingly as the consequences of the day’s disaster — the abrupt end of his hopes and the return of his peril — became more and more plain. He went into the kitchen and opened the door to the shop. There was no gaslight in the shop and in the faint daylight glimmer that seeped through the shutters his mother sat on a stool, wiping her eyes. He said, “I called. Why didn’t you answer?”
She sniffed in her handkerchief and rubbed round her eyes again. He said, “What you sittin’ in the dark for like this?” She looked at him, bitter eyes in a pinched face. He said, “She upset you?”
She spoke low. “You promised me.” He did not answer. She said, “You gave me a promise.” He stood glumly in the doorway. She said, “You’ve given up your job I see. Home this early.”
He said wearily, “Leave us alone, mother.”
Mrs Peach said, “She shouted at me. Dreadful language. And a child with her.”
He said, “Mother, I got to move. Keogh’s comin’ back.”
He turned his back on her and started towards the staircase. She rose and followed. She walked upstairs at his heels. “Why aren’t you at your job any more?”
Without turning round. “Because I got the sack, that’s why.”
She walked like his shadow. “You said you wouldn’t take any more money. You promised.”
He stopped on the landing. “Will you stop whining after me? Didn’t you ’ear what I told you? Don’t you think about me at all?”
He started up the next flight. She said, “It’s against all I taught you. Taking money. There’s no excuse.”
“Isn’t there? You want worse trouble?”
“You’ve been drinking. I smelled your breath in the shop. You never came in drunk before.”
He stopped again and turned to laugh at her. “Drunk!”
“Bullying people. Threatening. Fighting. Having that woman in the shop telling me all about it!”
He said with desperation, “I must ’ave money. Do you know what could ’appen to me if I don’t clear out?”
“More fighting,” she said bitterly. “You should never have started it.”
“I started it?”
“I told you not to. Drinking, fighting, every day you’re more like him.”
“Him?”
So far she had roused him to no more than exasperation but the next words were a blow in his face. “Your father.”
He could not speak for a moment. Then, incredulously,
“My father?”
“All these years I feared it would come out.”
“All these years? After all I done?”
“I was always frightened.”
“For you. Everything I done was for you.”
“I’ve been shamed. That’s what you’ve done.”
“Don’t you care about anything? Don’t you want me to make a new start? Free of all this?”
“It’s wrong what you’ve done. No good comes from evil.”
“Keogh —”
“Those that take to the sword.”
“Don’t give me the bloomin’ Bible, mother. I’ve lived by it since I can remember. Like a bloody parson, for your sake. I kep’ the boys straight —”
“You drove Chas away.”
“What?”
“You drove Chas to the devil with your bullying. To the army, it’s as bad.”
“Well,” he said. “This beats the band.”
From the next landing came Grace’s voice, “Didy! Didy! What are you talking about down there?”
He went up to the bedroom. His mother followed and closed the door behind her. Grace said, “What were you on about? Hammer and tongs it sounded.” He said, “Grace — how’d you like to move?”
“Oh,” she said gaily. “That’s a silly question. Is that what you were on about?”
“We’re goin’ to move.”
“Well of course we are one day.”
“No. Now.”
Her laughter was innocent. “I think you’ve gone potty. Has it escaped your notice I’m three weeks from my time?”
“No. I can arrange things.”
“Didy, if you hadn’t run out before I was trying to tell you. The doctor was here this morning.”
“I’ll find a room. Something to get on with —”
“You mean you haven’t even found a place? Didy, why do you think I’m in bed in my nightie at three in the afternoon? It’s my blood pressure. The doctor made me go straight to bed and he says there I must stay till baby is born.”
He absorbed this for a moment. “That’ll be th
ree weeks!”
“Oh, and a couple of weeks after. I can’t get up and do the valeta, you know, the minute after the stork’s been.”
He cried, “We can’t wait.”
“Why ever not? I’ve lived here this long. I can live here a bit longer. Do you think I shall want to move house with a newborn babe? There’ll be plenty of time after Christmas. I don’t know, all this time you wouldn’t listen, all of a sudden you go mad. It’s just like you. And you haven’t even found a place. Didy, you are daft!”
He stood there in despair. “Never mind the doctor. I’ll look after you. Carry you downstairs. Put you in a cab.”
She said jovially, “Oh no you won’t! Let me tell you, when you find a place I shall have to inspect it first, and then we shall decorate before we move in. We’re not going to rush anything. Meanwhile I’ve got swollen legs and I’m not getting on my feet for anyone.”
“You will if I tell you.”
“I won’t,” she cried, as merrily as in a children’s game. “You won’t get me out of this bed in a hurry.”
He cried, “You stupid—” He checked himself, his fist clenched and uplifted in a gesture of frustration and distress.
His mother’s thin voice from behind went through him like a fretsaw blade. “Raise your hand to her! Your father hit me when I was carrying you.”
He looked at his fist in astonishment. Then he turned and shouted, “Get bloody out!”
She stared in a moment of utter shock at the first angry words he had ever spoken to her. She went out. He turned to attempt explanations but Grace only giggled. “Oh it’s about time you told her.” She laughed aloud. “Her face! It was better than a plate of okey-pokey.” She held out her hand. He came close and let her take his hand. She said, “Why were you in such a hurry to move?”
He could not answer. The truth was more than he dared. She said, “You are potty, going mad over it all of a sudden like that. Was she getting on your nerves?” He stood with his hand imprisoned. She said, “I could hear her on the stairs. She’s a dear but I’ll tell you now she does get on my nerves sometimes.” He nodded. She said, “Mind you, I wouldn’t be without her for a mint of money when baby comes. It was silly all that about moving, but you’re a dear. Six months’ time we shall be out of here, don’t you worry.”
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