by Anna King
Banging the iron down, Rebecca folded a sheet, and placed the next one on the ironing board. Her brother was gutless, always had been and always would be. He hadn’t an ounce of gumption in him, and though Rebecca loved him as a brother, she despised him as a man. If it were up to her, she would leave this house and find a job and somewhere to live for herself and Amy, but Amy was happy here. She had her job in a small café just ten minutes’ walk away, where she worked different shifts, often, like today, finishing early if she worked her lunch break, and she was happy in her work. Amy was a creature of habit, as their mother had been. She hated change of any kind, and the one time Rebecca had suggested moving out and finding a place of their own, Amy had cried tears of bewilderment, asking a torrent of questions between each sob, until Rebecca had finally had to drop the idea. Of course, that had been a few years ago and, if Rebecca was truthful, she herself didn’t like change much either. She just got so fed up sometimes.
‘Auntie Maude wants to know why she can smell stew cooking on a Friday night, and it had better not be because Phil isn’t bringing home fish and chips, ’cos she’s been looking forward to a nice bit of haddock all day.’ Amy came laughing into the room, her cheeks flushed as she gave a good imitation of her cousin’s voice.
Putting the last of the washing to one side, Rebecca glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already getting on for six o’clock, and smiled wanly. ‘It’s just a precaution, you know… Just in case…’
Amy’s smile wavered as the implication of her sister’s words sank in, remembering last week when Phil had come home late, all shame-faced apologies as to why he hadn’t brought their supper home with him as he had promised. It hadn’t been the first time he had let them down on their Friday treat, but he had promised her faithfully this morning, as they had set off for work together, that he wouldn’t let it happen again, and this she tried to convey to her elder sister as she began to set the table, chattering all the while. ‘Well, we’ll have to have it reheated for tomorrow, Becky, ’cos Phil’ll be bringing home the supper tonight, just like he normally does and—’
‘Like he normally does if his horse wins, you mean, Amy.’ The words were out before Rebecca could stop them, and when she saw the look of distress fill the blue eyes set in the lovely heart-shaped face, and the way Amy’s long shiny blonde hair shook in denial before lowering her head, Rebecca felt a stab of shame tear through her body. Oh, she shouldn’t have said that, it had been uncalled for. Amy knew only too well her brother’s addiction to betting, yet still she never gave up her faith in him, no matter how many promises he broke.
But then, Amy had a nice nature. Unlike you, you miserable old cow! Rebecca reprimanded herself harshly. Briskly now, she helped Amy set the table, and was putting the large plate of bread and butter in the middle when the front door opened, the sound bringing a rush of apprehension to both girls’ stomachs. Then they breathed freely as Phil bounced into the room, bringing with him the unmistakable aroma of freshly cooked fish and chips.
‘Come on, girls, look lively. I’ve had to queue for nearly half an hour for this lot. We all thought old Fred had gone down the Thames to catch them himself, he was that long.’ Taking a mug of piping hot tea from a grinning Amy, he took a deep gulp, then sniffed the air suspiciously, his smile swiftly replaced by a grimace of displeasure. ‘I see the old stew was on standby. You don’t have much faith in me, do you, Becks?’
Busily laying Maude’s tray, Rebecca kept her face averted from her brother’s accusing glance, warning herself to keep the peace for Amy’s sake. She said lightly, ‘Of course I do, Phil. As much faith as you have in your four-legged friends.’ She smiled disarmingly at her brother. ‘Now, I’d better get this upstairs before Maude starts yelling for her…’
The tension eased as they all grinned and said together, ‘Nice bit of ’addock.’
With the united laughter ringing around the house, peace was once again restored. And when, after a pleasant evening of playing cards and chatting amiably, Rebecca retired for the night, her last drowsy thought was that if only every night could be like this one, then life would be more bearable.
*
Downstairs, Phil Bradford sat sprawled in front of the dying fire, his blunt, attractive features set in lines of deep contemplation as he thought back over the events of the day. By Christ! That had been a close shave and no mistake. If that last nag hadn’t romped home… A deep shudder coursed through his large-set frame. It didn’t bear thinking about. Leaning forward, he ran his fingers through his thick, black hair in agitation, his dark brown eyes wide with undisguised relief that, once again, he had been lucky. But his luck couldn’t hold out forever. Prodding at a glowing ember with the poker, his thoughts whirled round his head. As it was, he had been able to pay off what he owed at the bookies, and still had a few quid left over. Oh, and he mustn’t forget about the poxy fish and chips, must he? Dear me, no. Not with Saint Rebecca waiting for him to come home empty handed, with her never-ending pot of blasted lamb stew simmering away in the background to remind him exactly what she expected of him. Well! He had spiked her guns tonight, hadn’t he?
The satisfied smirk slipped from his face as he thought of his sister, his conscience digging at him sharply. He wasn’t being fair, and he knew it. It was little enough that his sisters asked of him, and he knew, deep down, that without Rebecca’s strength he would be lost – they all would. Throwing back the last of his drink, Phil stood up, then leant his arm on the mantelpiece and stared at his reflection in the oval mirror. His face seemed to leap and dance back at him as the last of the embers burnt down, and then the room plunged into total darkness. Shivering, Phil lit a candle and made his way to his room, promising himself that tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow he would be more sensible and only have a small bet. Just the one. And even as his mind formed the thoughts, he knew that the only person he was lying to was himself.
Chapter Two
Saturday morning down any market in the East End was always busy, and Roman Road in Bow was no exception. Hemmed in on all sides, Rebecca and Amy strolled aimlessly among the stalls, stopping to look now and then when something on a particular stall caught their eye. The weekend shopping hung in wire bags by the girls’ sides. That chore out of the way, they were now enjoying what Rebecca termed ‘window shopping’.
‘Here, look, Becky. What about this?’ Amy had dropped her bags and stopped by a clothes stall, her mittened hands holding up a red woollen skirt. Shifting the heavy bags she also held, Rebecca stopped to look at the skirt warily. It had definitely seen better days, but Amy, bless her, never had had much dress sense.
‘I don’t think so, love,’ she warned hesitantly, but Amy had already been pounced upon by the eager stall holder.
‘Lovely bit of stuff, that, darlin’. Look a treat on yer, that would… ’Ere, ’ow abaht this ter go with it?’ To Rebecca’s horror, the grinning man delved into the mass of assorted clothing and pulled out a gaudy pink and gold lace blouse. Holding it up against the smiling Amy, he declared loudly. ‘Well, will yer look at that. Goes wiv that skirt like they was made fer each other.’ Giving Amy a sly nudge, he winked, ‘Have all the boys chasing yer down the streets in those, yer will.’
‘All the dogs, more likely – or worse still, the law,’ Rebecca muttered beneath her breath. Out loud she said brightly, ‘I don’t think so, thanks all the same. Come on, Amy.’ But Amy refused to budge.
‘How much are they?’ she asked, her eyes lovingly roaming over the hideous garments.
Sensing a potential buyer, the stall holder stepped back, scratched his head as if thinking, then declared, ‘Aw, go on, then. Two bob fer the both of them, an’ a bleedin’ bargain yer gettin’, an’ all.’
Rebecca groaned inwardly. Up until Amy had started work, she had been able to select her sister’s clothes, but now that Amy was earning, she had the right to spend her money as she saw fit. Now she waited with baited breath as Amy hesitated, pulling the garments th
is way then that, until she said, ‘I’m not that keen on the blouse, but I’ll have the skirt. How much will that be?’
Reluctantly giving up on the sale of the blouse, the stall holder said gruffly, ‘Give us a tanner, an’ it’s yours.’
Amy delved into her purse happily, her eyes straying back to the garish red skirt, then she frowned. ‘Excuse me, but there’s a hole in it. Look, just there.’ She pointed to a tiny hole near the hem of the skirt.
The trader gaped at her in disbelief, then with a roar he snatched back the skirt, crying, ‘Yer ’aving a laugh, ain’t yer? What d’yer expect fer a tanner, somefink straight from ’Arrod’s. Go on, piss orf, yer cheeky cow, wasting me time like that.’
Genuinely mystified by the trader’s reaction, Amy began to argue, ‘But I didn’t mean any harm, only it isn’t much good if it’s got a hole in it, is it…’
Stifling a laugh, Rebecca pulled the protesting Amy away from the glowering trader. ‘Come away, Amy. You’re making a show of yourself.’ Still chuckling, Rebecca dragged her sister along the packed market road, uttering apologies as they inadvertently shoved other shoppers aside.
Her arms aching, Rebecca stopped for a moment to lay her shopping bags on the pavement, her eyes looking out for the tram. Now that the morning’s expedition was out of the way, she wanted to get home. Beside her, Amy was also looking tired and fed up, her mind still on the red skirt that had been denied her.
Seeing the woeful expression on her sister’s face, Rebecca smiled fondly, ‘Come on, love. Let’s get this lot home. Maybe you can get something else next week.’
Amy smiled and shrugged her shoulders wistfully. ‘I know, Becky. But I did like that skirt, and I could have mended the hole. If it’s still there next Saturday, I’ll get it.’ Cheered by the thought, Amy perked up, her face breaking into a wide smile.
It was as they were passing a three-storey house on the corner by the tram stop that a shabbily dressed man pushed himself from the doorway, directly into the girls’ path. Startled, they both stopped dead in their tracks.
‘’Ello, girls. Need any ’elp wiv yer bags?’ The man was grinning, his eyes raking over both girls, eyes that held a look of malevolence. Automatically, Rebecca stepped in front of Amy; the protective gesture was not lost on the dishevelled man. Baring blackened teeth, he grinned mockingly. ‘It’s all right, girls. I ain’t gonna ’urt yer. I just wanna see what yer’ve got in them bags. I’m sure two nice girls like you could spare some grub fer a hungry man.’
Her heart beating faster, Rebecca stared back at the man, her face betraying no sign of any fear. Behind her Amy whispered fearfully, ‘Becky…’, the tremor in her young sister’s voice giving Rebecca added strength.
Drawing her shoulders back, Rebecca looked at the menacing figure barring their path and said evenly, ‘Get out of our way before I call for help. There are plenty of constables nearby, so do as I ask before you get yourself into trouble.’ She stared hard at the man, her mind praying for a policeman to appear. They were usually in abundance on a Saturday morning, on the look-out for pickpockets, but, of course, when you wanted one they were nowhere to be seen. As if reading her mind, the man moved closer, his foul breath wafting in Rebecca’s face.
‘Now, that ain’t nice, darlin’. Besides, I can’t see any coppers, can you? An’ if there was any, me mates would soon let me know.’ His eyes shifted over Rebecca’s head. Instinctively she looked over her shoulder, her heart leaping in fright as two more men appeared from a nearby alley. Following her stare, Amy gave a startled shriek of fright as the men moved forward, blocking any chance of escape. Dropping her bags, she grabbed hold of Rebecca’s arm, her blue eyes filled with terror.
‘Becky… Becky, give them the shopping, please… I’m frightened.’
Rebecca too was becoming increasingly alarmed. It seemed as if the busy street had suddenly emptied, leaving them at the mercy of these dangerous-looking men. The sensible thing to do would be to hand over their bags, but her inbred strength of character baulked at the thought of giving in to these thugs. However, she had Amy to think of. Her fear forgotten, she threw the bags at the man’s feet, her body seething with rage at being bested. ‘Here, you miserable little creature. Take them, and I hope the food chokes you and your friends.’
The contempt in Rebecca’s voice brought a look of fury to the man’s filthy face. Gathering the spittle in his mouth he spat at Rebecca’s feet. ‘Yer shouldn’t ’ave said that, girlie. I don’t like being spoken ter like a piece of dirt. Just fer that, I’ll take yer purses as well… An’ maybe ’ave a bit of fun wiv the pair of yer.’
Rebecca’s face blanched as the full realisation of the man’s words struck home. Before she could utter another word, the man called to his friends, ‘Quick, lads. Get ’em down the alley.’ Like lightning, the other two men sprang forward and grabbed Amy around the waist, one of the men planting a filthy hand over the terrified girl’s mouth before she could scream. Stung into life, Rebecca tried to go to Amy’s rescue, but a vicious lock on her arm prevented her from moving. Then the man’s breath was against her cheek, the smell making her gag.
‘Turn yer nose up at me, would yer, yer stuck up bitch. Well yer won’t be so high an’ mighty once I’ve finished wiv yer.’
Almost fainting with fright, Rebecca tried to gather her wits about her. Her eyes darted up and down the street. This couldn’t be happening, not in broad daylight. Where was everyone? But the three men had planned their attack well. It wasn’t the first time they had accosted women coming from the market, and although to both girls the episode seemed to have been going on for hours, in fact it had been only a few minutes since they had been waylaid.
Struggling wildly, Rebecca opened her mouth to scream, a scream that was never uttered as a hard fist slammed into the side of her face. For a few seconds, her head seemed to explode from the brutal blow, then her mind cleared. Sick with fear and pain, she twisted in the man’s grasp and with her free hand raked the side of his face with her nails. Caught by surprise, the man uttered a string of vile oaths and staggered back. Acting from sheer preservation, and fear for Amy, Rebecca picked up one of the heavy bags and, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she swung it wildly at the man’s head, but the man was too quick for her. Ducking out of the way, the heavy bag missed its target, the force of the weight knocking Rebecca off balance. With a sickening thud she fell face down on the cobbled ground, the bag of groceries spilling out and scattering over the pavement. Barely conscious, she felt herself being dragged roughly along the hard cobbles. Then, as if from a great distance, she heard a man’s voice shouting. The cruel arms that had encircled her fell away and dimly she heard the sounds of a scuffle, then more shouting and cursing as she closed her eyes and prayed. Suddenly the street was alive with people and when a strong arm came around her shoulders she flinched, her hands coming up to fight off the man who was holding her.
‘It’s all right. It’s all right, you’re safe now, you’re safe.’
Ceasing her struggles, she looked up warily. Staring down at her were a pair of deep brown eyes filled with concern.
‘Look, don’t move for a minute. Get your breath back first.’
Disoriented, Rebecca nodded. Then, as if being snapped out of a bad dream, she cried out, ‘My sister. Where’s my sister? Is she all right?’
The strong arm helped her shakily to her feet and a calm, deep voice said soothingly, ‘She’s fine, don’t worry, she’s being taken care of, look.’
Still trembling, Rebecca turned to where the man was pointing and saw Amy sitting on the ground, wrapped in a blanket and being fussed over by two middle-aged women.
The relief at seeing Amy safe and well, and knowing their nightmare ordeal was over brought a feeling of faintness over Rebecca’s bruised body. If it hadn’t been for the support of the stranger’s arms, she would have slid back onto the dirty ground. Running her tongue over her dry lips, she winced, then gingerly touched her mouth where t
he would-be thief had dealt her the savage blow that had nearly robbed her of her senses. A large white handkerchief was put into her hands. Shyly she glanced back at the man by her side and tried to smile, then winced again at the effort.
‘Thank you, sir. You’re very kind. I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t come along when you did… I…’ To her horror and shame she began to cry, and was immediately surrounded by a small group of women, all of them fussing and tutting over the dreadful episode that had just taken place.
‘They oughta be strung up by the balls, the bastards.’
‘Nah, that’s too good fer the likes of that riff-raff,’ shouted another. ‘Cut their balls off, I say. They wouldn’t be able to hurt any other woman then, would they?’
Still unable to take in what had happened, Rebecca looked around her, a sob intermixed with a smothered laugh escaping her bruised lips as she saw the three men who had attacked her and Amy now surrounded by another group of women armed with wooden rolling pins and heavy pans, the said objects raining down blows on the men as they cursed while trying to escape the wrath of the East End women, not known for their gentleness at the best of times.
‘Here, take my arm. I live in that building.’ The well-dressed man pointed with his walking cane to the building where Rebecca and Amy had been accosted. ‘Please, let me take you to my housekeeper. She’s very good in a crisis, and I’m sure you and your sister could do with a strong cup of tea and a rest after what you’ve been through.’
Her mind clearing, Rebecca shook her head, ignoring the flash of pain that darted across her temples. Now that the awful ordeal was over she just wanted to get her and Amy safely home.
Through trembling lips she answered softly, ‘Thank you once again, sir, for all your help, but I’d rather get my sister home. She’s only fifteen and she’s had a terrible shock.’