When the door banged none too quietly, Kate smiled ruefully. ‘And the best of luck if you’re expecting any help from that quarter!’ she whispered. Turning her head slightly, she looked over to the bed where Sally now lay, still dressed but lying down, her face turned to the wall. Knowing her sister was merely feigning sleep, Kate gave a sigh. So, she was on her own. But hadn’t she been since her mum had left? Oh, Alex might well bring in the big wage packet, but it was she who had kept the family together. It was she who had sorted out all the niggling details necessary for running a home. Even in her lowest moments, she had always been there for her dad and the children.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a tall figure standing on the pavement beneath the window, and for a brief heartstopping moment of joy she thought John had come back. Then she saw the figure more clearly and stepped back hastily, a shudder running through her at the realisation that Alex had been watching her. Wrapping her arms tightly around her, she flopped down on the bed. She should never have gone for him like that, especially with that empty threat to expose his thieving activities. Then her back straightened defiantly. Why the hell should she feel guilty? He was the one that had started flinging threats around, whereas all she’d done was to give him a taste of his own medicine. Remembering the look on his face, Kate stared down, her expression thoughtful. Back there in the dining-room she had tried her best to hate him, but it wasn’t so simple. Love in any shape or form was never easy to relinquish, the more so when it stemmed from a close blood-tie.
With a muffled groan, she swung her legs up on to the bed. What was she going to do? She couldn’t carry on living with this kind of tension; none of them could. The only way the family could ever get back to some sense of normality would be if she were to agree to stop seeing her friends; and that was something she would never do. If she capitulated now, she might just as well throw herself into the Thames for all the life she could look forward to.
There had to be a way out. There always was if you looked hard enough. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she realised she was silently reiterating one of Bridie’s many home-spun philosophies. As the woman’s wrinkled face came to her mind, she realised something else, too. She had grown to love the old woman, and Dermot… and, most of all, she had grown to love John. But did he feel the same way? Her mouth suddenly dry, she tried to imagine her life without the comforting presence of John Kelly and his grandparents. Yet she knew instinctively that if something happened to prevent her from seeing them, although the ensuing pain would be hard to bear, she would in time forget them. But the ties that bound her to Alex would always hold her fast. Whatever he did and however hard she fought against it, she couldn’t stop loving him. With a long despairing groan, she turned her face into the pillow.
Chapter Ten
‘D’ye think I should have told her about what happened to Terry Dickson, Gran? I mean, I know I can’t prove anything, but I’d bet every penny I have that Browning had something to do with it.’ John was sitting by the banked-down fire with Spud’s head resting contentedly in his lap, watching the bustling figure of his grandmother as she prepared for bed.
‘Here, get that down you,’ Bridie said briskly, thrusting a steaming mug of cocoa at him before sitting down in the opposite armchair. She was already dressed for bed in a long white nightgown, with her black shawl wrapped round her shoulders for extra warmth, her brushed hair falling in iron-grey strands over her heavy breasts. ‘Look, lad, there’s a lot of folk who had it in for Terry Dickson. He was a foul-mouthed bully who liked nothing better than throwing his weight around. It was only a matter of time before someone gave him a taste of his own medicine. Though, whoever was responsible must have been as vicious as he was, ’cos from what I’ve heard round the streets, he’ll never come out of that place again, except in a box.’
Terry Dickson, the man who had led the assault on Kate, had been found by two patrolling policemen in a back street in Whitechapel. His injuries had been so appalling that now, almost five weeks after the brutal attack, he still hadn’t regained consciousness.
‘It was Browning, Gran, I’d stake me life on it. Like you say, there’s plenty who’d like to have given Dickson a good hiding, but none that would risk swinging for him.’ John stared down thoughtfully at the mug in his hands. ‘I’m afraid for her, Gran. You didn’t see the way he looked at her, and don’t tell me I was imagining it, ’cos I wasn’t. An’ you know something else?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with Kate’s mum disappearing like she did. Maybe she realised what was going on in his sick mind. It’d be more than enough reason for him to get shot of her. You said yourself she didn’t sound the type of woman who would run out on her children without a word.’
Bridie gave a nod of agreement. ‘Look, lad, I’ll grant you this fellow seems a bad lot, but God above, you’re making him out to be a murderer!’
She fell silent, trying to bring to mind everything she knew of the man in question, which wasn’t much. Kate had always been strangely reluctant to speak of her elder brother. It had always struck Bridie as unusual that a man such as Alex Browning, with his education and background, should be working in the docks. But as she very well knew, folk were what they were, and no amount of educating could alter a person’s character. Oh, it could create a fine veneer, like a good lick of paint could cover up a cracked wall, but that’s all it was, a covering; it couldn’t change the person inside. Look at that couple she’d cleaned for before leaving Ireland. They’d scrimped and saved to send their only son to the university in Dublin, almost bankrupting themselves so that he could have a decent education. And what had happened? The lad had left the university with certificates and fancy letters after his name, then after a few weeks at home had gone off and bought a run-down pig farm in the back of beyond, leaving his parents heartbroken and near ruin. It was true what they said, she mused: you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, no matter how hard you tried. But the other business…?
‘Are you sure, lad?’ she asked, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb her husband who was already in bed. ‘I mean about the fellow looking on Kate as… Well, you know what I mean.’
‘I’m sure, Gran. I’ve never been surer of anything in me life.’
Bridie shook her head, her faded blue eyes now mirroring John’s anxiety. ‘Aye, well, maybe you’re right. It wouldn’t be the first time a brother’s had unnatural feelings towards his own flesh an’ blood… Fathers too for that matter. It’s not something that folk talk about openly, but it goes on right enough…’ An involuntary shiver ran through her at the images brought to mind, then, leaning forward, she asked. ‘How do you feel about Kate, lad? What I mean is, do you really care about the lass, or is she just another one of your passing fancies? ’Cos let’s be honest, you’ve had more than your fair share of women, an’…’
‘God almighty, Gran, give me some credit!’ John ground out between clenched teeth. ‘Of course I care about Kate. D’ye think I’d be this worried if I didn’t?’
‘Aye, you would, lad, ’cos you’ve a soft heart in spite of your reputation as a hard man, especially where a pretty face is concerned. But that’s not answering me question, is it?’
Under his grandmother’s disconcerting gaze John lowered his eyes, a tightness coming to his chest. ‘All right. Yes, I care, I care a lot. In fact you could say that I—I love her. There, does that satisfy you? I love her. I love Kate, an’ if I had my way I’d marry her tomorrow, if she’d have me.’
‘Have you told her how you feel?’
John shook his head, his obvious embarrassment bringing forth an impatient tut of annoyance from Bridie. ‘Well, I’d suggest you do tell her, an’ quick, before some other young laddo sets his sights on her.
Mind, if what you say is true, he’d have to be a brave man to take on that brother of hers. An’ speaking of the man himself, have you thought about what his reaction would be if you an’ Kate got togethe
r, I mean official-like?’
The muscles in John’s face tightened. ‘He doesn’t scare me, an’ he knows it after this evening’s ruckus. It’s Kate I’m frightened for, an’ the rest of them. I know I’ve said it before, but that fellow’s not right in the head. He’d think nothing of taking it out on the young ’uns if Kate agreed to marry me.’
Bridie eyed her grandson shrewdly. ‘But she’d never leave them behind, not with her mother gone. Have you thought of that possibility, lad? ’Cos, to my mind, if you take on Kate, you’ll be taking on the lot of them. An’ not only the children, but the father too, because he depends on Kate at least as much as the children do. It’s a lot for a young man to take on. So, if I were you, lad, I’d think very carefully before committing meself. You know, there’s no one I’d rather see you married to than Kate. She’s a grand lass, an’ I love her as if she were one of me own, but, like I said, you’d be taking on her entire family as well; and that includes the brother.
‘Speaking of which, there’s something else I have to say about that particular subject. I’m sure you’ll never convince Kate of what he’s like. Folk tend to have a blind spot where family’s concerned, an’ I know that from experience. You won’t remember me brother, your uncle Shamus… No, of course you wouldn’t, you were only a babe when he last came over to visit. Well, he was always in trouble with the polis back in Ireland, but according to him he was always innocent, always the scapegoat.’ Her lips twitched in amusement at the memories. ‘Even when he was bringing home a weekly wage, an’ him with no job to his name since the day he left school, even then me mam would take whatever tale he spun at face value, an’ meself an’ all. ’Cos you see, lad, he was me brother, an’ I loved him for all his faults, God rest his soul. Now, since this business with Kate’s brother, I’ve been asking meself what I would have done if Shamus had ever done something bad… I mean really bad, though the thieving was bad enough. Well, lad, I’d have to say that I’d probably still have tried to protect him. You can’t understand what I mean, not ever having any brothers or sisters yourself, but when you’ve been brought up with another child, somebody that’s always been there from the moment you could walk and talk, then it doesn’t matter how many times you fight and fall out with each other, the bond is never really broken. It’s not something you can explain, it has to be experienced. But I’ll tell you this much. That kind of love is the strongest to break, whatever the reason; like I said, I know. There’s always the exception to the rule, o’ course, as Cain an’ Abel testify, but in the main families tend to stick together. An’ it’s no use your pointing out like you normally do that he’s only her half-brother,’ she said quickly as John opened his mouth to speak, ‘It doesn’t make a ha’porth of difference as far as Kate’s concerned.
Well, now I’ve said me piece I’m off to bed. You think long an’ hard on what I’ve said, ’cos what you’re proposing is for life, an’ life is never easy at the best of times.’
Long after Bridie had left the room, John sat staring at the empty grate absently stroking the dog. Everything his gran had said was true. Look at what had happened tonight when he’d tried to talk to Kate about her brother. She’d turned on him like a protective bear defending her young. His gran had also been right about Kate’s loyalty towards the rest of her family. She would never leave them… always assuming she agreed to marry him. His stomach twisted painfully at the thought that she might reject him. But what if she felt the same way? Was he man enough to take them all on? He was fond enough of the children, but he’d never even met the father, who was another one of the so-called educated class. He gave a low grunt of mirth. Education, huh! If Alex Browning was anything to go by, then you could keep your education and fancy boarding schools. And where had his learning got him after all? Working down in the docks among men who could just about write their names and add up a few simple sums. But wasn’t that the attraction for a man like Browning? To be able to lord it over his fellow workers, a position that was even stronger since he’d become foreman. Yet John guessed his adversary had his sights set even higher. Within a few years, if not sooner, Browning would probably have risen to a position as dock official, giving him even greater power to intimidate and humiliate the men under him. Oh, what the hell was he doing thinking about Browning when it was Kate he should be concerned with. Yet weren’t the two of them inexplicably tied together? Irritated at the relentless thoughts buzzing in his head, he rubbed his face wearily.
Getting to his feet, he turned down the gas-lamp on the mantelpiece and made for his bed with the dog following faithfully at his heels. But sleep didn’t come easily. When it did, his dreams were filled with a sense of foreboding. He was walking down a dark alley, constantly looking over his shoulder as if expecting an attack from behind, all the while feeling the presence of the man who had become his sworn enemy. He spent the night tossing and turning but when he awoke at dawn he was clear about what he was going to do.
Chapter Eleven
While John tossed restlessly in his bed, the object of his tormented dreams was striding down Blackbane Street in Whitechapel, consumed by a raging fury. Pausing to catch his breath, Alex leaned against a nearby lamp-post, his eyes hard as he thought back to the humiliating experience he had just undergone.
For years he had been a regular at Nellie Hawkes’ whorehouse, spending more than the going rate for ‘special services’. Now, just because that new, stupid little whore hadn’t enjoyed his games, he had been forcibly thrown out into the street by two of Nellie’s minders. His scowl deepened as he recalled the inexperienced girl’s face when he’d tried to tie her to the bedpost. She’d been nervous but reasonably pliable, until she’d seen the knotted whip he always carried on these occasions. God, how she’d screamed when the first lash had seared her naked limbs, and within minutes the two gorillas had come crashing into the room, summoned by the screeching of the little slut. What the hell was she doing in a place like that if she wasn’t willing to participate in her clients’ wishes? That’s what she was being paid for; none of the others had ever objected, not when they’d seen the money he was offering.
Now he was barred, with the threat of the police being called if he ever showed his face there again. It was no idle threat, either. There were many high-ranking police officers who frequented the place, men who couldn’t be intimidated by threats of exposure, who could make his life a misery, and Alex had no intention of laying himself open to police scrutiny. He had too much to hide.
Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he examined the contents under the harsh lighting of the lamp, cursing at the solitary banknote left after his abortive evening. The bitches had taken his money quickly enough, hadn’t they, God damn them to hell! He hated them, hated them all. There was only one woman who was worth his love, and she was slowly but surely distancing herself from him. But he would draw her back. Kate loved him as much as he did her; it was just a matter of time before she realised it. If he had his way, he would assemble everyone who stood in his way and throw a few sticks of dynamite among them. But life wasn’t that simple. The image of John Kelly sprang up and with it came the memory of how the man had stood his ground, flinging Alex’s threats back in his face with a contempt and open disregard that had been unnerving for someone used to dealing with men who were easily cowed.
For the moment, though, he had more pressing things to occupy his mind. He had to get hold of more money, but that at least was no problem. For months he had been lifting small quantities of imported drugs from the warehouse and selling them on to backstreet doctors and the numerous dealers who frequented the shadier East End public houses where no questions were asked. It was a risky undertaking, as the crates of drugs were heavily guarded and opened only in the presence of no fewer than two dock officials. After the contents had been checked against the accompanying docket, the lid would be firmly nailed down again and the crate dispatched to one of the many hospitals in and around London.
It was part of his jo
b to accompany the officials, and simple enough to ensure that some of the nails were loosened sufficiently for him to extract a small packet of the white powder and replace it with one filled with flour. If the switch were discovered, there was no way the finger of suspicion could be pointed at him. The theft could have been engineered by any number of men, ranging from the cargo’s port of loading to the crew of the London-bound freighter. The thought of the suffering his actions would inevitably cause to the unfortunate devil receiving the contents of the substituted packet instead of the pain-relieving drug never entered Alex’s mind; and if it had, it wouldn’t have worried him in the slightest.
So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that it was with considerable surprise that Alex found himself only minutes away from his home. As he turned into his street, he heard the unmistakable sound of a young girl’s suppressed laughter and was about to walk on when something familiar about the laugh made him pause. Peering into a darkened doorway, he saw a couple locked together in a deep embrace, and when he called out, ‘Alice, is that you?’ they sprang apart with alacrity.
‘Alex?’ Alice stepped warily out of the shadows, pulling behind her a frightened-looking man who seemed ready to take to his heels at the sight of the tall, forbidding figure. ‘It… It’s not what you think, Alex,’ Alice started nervously, looking over her shoulder to the young man for support. Finding none forthcoming, she shot a withering glance at the figure who seemed reluctant to come out of the shadows, and turned back to face her brother. Regaining her aplomb, she shook her long brown hair carelessly back from her face and said tartly, ‘I was just saying goodnight to Fred. He’s a friend of mine,’ she explained. ‘Goodnight, Fred. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
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