Her words stunned him. It felt as though icy fingers had suddenly gripped his insides. Feelings of anger and pity rose up in Danny’s breast as he stared in despair at the slim girl in front of him.
‘Yer mean yer ole man gave yer a pastin’, wiv you ’avin’ a baby an’ all?’
Kathy gave him a weak smile. ‘Yer know ’ow my farver gets when ’e’s ’ad a drink. ’E gave me ten minutes ter pack an’ get out. I went roun’ ter Jack’s place, I ’ad to. Anyway, Jack’s bin wantin’ me ter move in wiv ’im fer a while now.’
Danny shook his head sadly. ‘Why didn’t yer come roun’ ter see me? I’d ’ave ’elped yer, you know I would.’
Kathy blinked back her tears. She looked into his worried eyes and felt a strong urge to collapse into his arms, but she breathed out deeply and pulled her hand away from his. ‘Be sensible, Danny,’ she said. ‘I’m ’avin’ ’is baby, I’m sleepin’ wiv’im. ’Ow could I possibly come runnin’ round ter your place an’ say, “take me in, I’ve bin chucked out ’cos I’m pregnant”? It’s not your baby.’
‘I wish it was, I wish you’d ’ave told me before. I wouldn’t’ave took advantage.’
Kathy smiled at him. ‘Don’t be silly, you didn’t take advantage. I wanted it as much as you. Yer know that, don’t yer?’
Danny’s mouth twitched. ‘Kathy, come with me, the baby don’t make no difference. Leave ’im. ’E’ll be no good ter yer.’
‘Don’t, Danny. Please.’
He gazed round the stadium in dismay. Kathy saw a hollowness in his eyes and she said anxiously, ‘You’d better go now, luv. Please. They’ll be back soon. I’ll see yer in the bar later.’
The third race was about to begin. Danny walked back morosely to his friend and they stood waiting for the off. Tony sensed that there was something wrong with his pal but he refrained from asking questions. The bell sounded and five dogs bounded from the traps, but one dog had not moved.
‘I told yer she’d be pissed, didn’t I?’ Danny shouted.
Tony grabbed his pal’s arm. ‘It ain’t Shady! Look, she’s in the lead!’
Shady was dashing round the track, to the roar of the punters. The rest of the field was left far behind as Shady Lady increased her lead. On the final straight she was ten lengths clear, and she romped home to the cheers of the surprised spectators. The bookmakers, who had expected a run on the money if the hot favourite had won, were openly smiling.
‘Bloody ’ell! It done it! It bloody well done it! She won!’ Tony shouted.
Danny looked at him. ‘You didn’t back it, did yer?’
Tony Arpino was beaming. ‘Yep, I ’ad a dollar on the nose! Jus’ fer luck.’
The numbers tumbled about on the totaliser and when they settled the crowd gasped. The forecast was over ten pounds. Tony Arpino rubbed his hands together with glee. He had backed Shady Lady at one hundred to six.
The bar at the rear of the stadium was packed. Danny stood facing Tony Allen in one corner and Jack Mason was with Kathy some way off, talking to Johnny Ross, who had just walked in. Danny was listening to the bookie.
‘I’ve ’ad a word wiv Bernie Marsh,’ Tony Allen said. ‘’E told me yer was ter be trusted. That’s good enough fer me. ’E told me yer run a good book fer ’im. Yer see, I’ve got a few little earners goin’. Play yer cards right an’ I might be able ter put a few bob your way. Fer a start yer can take the bets on me Clink Lane pitch.’
Danny nodded. ‘Is it the usual set up?’
‘Yeah, the rozzers won’t worry yer. I pay their guv’nor orf each week. When they’ve gotta make a pinch they let me know an’ I get somebody ter do the honours. It works the same as it did wiv Bernie. We put a couple o’ bets in the geezer’s pocket an’ ’e makes sure ’e gets caught. We pay the fine an’ everybody’s ’appy, includin’ the coppers.’
Danny had already made up his mind. He gave Kathy a furtive glance and then looked at Tony Allen. ‘When do I start?’
‘Next Monday. I’ll put one o’ the lads wiv yer fer a few days, until the punters get ter know yer. You’ll be all right, I’ll do the business at the Labour Exchange, I know the geezer there. ’E’ll give us yer green card fer me ter sign. For all intents an’ purposes, yer workin’ as a bookkeeper’s clerk. That okay?’
Danny nodded. ‘Fanks, Tony. I know the game, yer can count on me ter do the business.’
Tony Allen smiled and downed his Scotch. ‘You’ll be all right. Be straight wiv me an’ I’ll look after you.’ He reached into his pocket and drew out a thick wad of money. He handed Danny a five pound note. ‘’Ere. Take this on account an’ enjoy yerself. Yer can pay me back when yer flush.’
Danny tried to refuse but the bookie pushed the white note into his hand. ‘You’ll find out I look after my boys if they’re straight. Go on, take it.’
Early that evening Frank Sutton came home to number 26 Dawson Street and walked through the front door without stumbling over the coconut mat that was spread out along the length of the passage. He went out into the scullery and gave Alice a peck on the cheek before rolling up his sleeves and scrubbing his hands with a stiff brush. ‘Is Danny out?’ he asked, taking a towel from the back of the door.
Alice nodded. ‘’E wasn’t in five minutes. Gone on some business, so ’e said.’
‘I thought I caught sight of ’im goin’ under the arch as I come in,’ her husband said. ‘What’s fer tea, Alice?’
‘Boiled bacon an’ pease puddin’. I know it’s yer favourite. Now get in there an’ get yer feet under the table. I wanna get cleared up early ternight, I’m goin’ round ter see Maggie. The kids ’ave gone down wiv the measles.’
Lucy and Connie were both sitting in the small parlour when their father walked in. Lucy was reading and Connie was sitting on an upright chair, one knee drawn up under her chin.
‘Bloody ’ell, what’s that yer usin’?’ Frank exclaimed, pulling a face.
Connie grinned. ‘It’s nail varnish, Dad, I’m makin’ meself pretty.’
Lucy looked up quickly and put her head down again into her book. Frank sat himself at the table and picked up a knife and fork. Connie gave him a cheeky smile. ‘You’re ’ome early, Dad.’
Her father fixed her with a telling look as Alice put his tea in front of him and he began to eat in a deliberately sober manner. Connie winked at her mother who grinned back and walked out of the parlour with her head in the air. Frank ate his tea in silence and when he had scraped the last morsel from his plate he leant back in his chair and sighed contentedly. Lucy had gone to help her mother with the dishes and Connie sat with both feet outstretched and her arms behind her head. Frank hooked his thumbs through his braces and burped loudly.
‘’Ow’s yer young man, Con? You ’eard from ’im yet?’
‘Give ’im a chance, Dad. ’E only went back on Monday night. ’E’s prob’ly gone straight ter sea. ’E won’t ’ave much time ter write any letters.’
Frank nodded. ‘Don’t s’pose ’e will, girl. What boat is ’e on?’
Connie raised her hands in mock horror. ‘Yer musn’t call’em boats, Dad, they’re ships. Jimmy’s on a destroyer. ’E’s bin on convoy duties.’
‘’E’s doin’ a good job, Connie. It can’t be very nice out there on the water. Mind you, though,’ Frank went on, ‘we’ve always relied on people like your young man. It’s in our blood, the sea. We’re an island. Wivout ships we’re done for, an’ wivout a navy we’d be a plum pickin’ fer every little dictator that fancied’avin’ a go at us.’
Connie looked at her father with a saucy grin. ‘Look at Sir Francis Drake. ’E sorted ’em out, didn’t ’e?’
Frank felt he was wasting his time trying to talk seriously to his daughter this evening. ‘Don’t sit there mockin’ yer ole dad, go an’ get us a cuppa.’
The clock struck ten. Connie had gone up to her room, and Alice had just returned from visiting Maggie’s children. She was sitting in the easy chair listening to the wireless. Frank shifted his p
osition yet again and stretched. ‘What’s our lad up to then, Muvver?’ he asked suddenly.
Alice folded her arms as she usually did when she had something to say. ‘I dunno, Frank, but that Johnny Ross was round ’ere on Monday. ’E was eager ter see our Danny. I don’t trust ’im, an’ ’e’s in wiv a bad lot. I ’ope Danny don’t get too much involved wiv that crowd.’
Frank looked into the empty hearth. ‘Yer can’t wipe ’is nose now, Muvver. After all, ’e’s over twenty–one. ’E’s gotta make ’is own decisions.’
‘I know that, Frank, but yer can’t ’elp worryin’, can yer?’
‘No yer can’t,’ Frank said, straightening up in his chair. ‘An’ yer can’t ’elp gettin’ firsty, neivver. ’Ow’s about me an’ you poppin’ up The Globe fer a quiet drink?’
Alice tried not to look too eager. ‘Oh, all right then,’ she said. ‘’Ang on, I’ll get me coat.’
Chapter Eleven
Early on Saturday morning the postman delivered two letters to number 26. Danny was still fast asleep, but Connie was up and about. She took the letters out into the scullery and raised her eyebrows when she spotted a Dover postmark on the letter addressed to Danny. The other letter was for Lucy, but she had already left for work. Connie’s sister was employed as a secretary to the manager of a manufacturing tailors who had their offices in Tower Bridge Road. Since the outbreak of war her firm had been working on a government contract to supply uniforms to the armed forces, and now everyone was working regular overtime.
Connie took Danny’s letter up to his room with a cup of tea and shook him gently. Danny mumbled something unintelligible and pulled the clothes over his head. Connie shook him again without success and left the letter with his tea on the chair beside his bed. Alice had gone to the market and had left Connie the washing to peg out in the backyard. Outside the sun was shining and children’s voices sounded in the street. Presently she heard the cry of the rag-and-bone man as he pushed his squeaking barrow into the turning. She went in and picked up the rag bag lying at the foot of the stairs and went to the front door to await Old Jerry.
For as long as anyone could remember, Old Jerry had trundled his rickety barrow around the backstreets of dockland. Where he came from or where he lived was a mystery. He was bowed and weatherbeaten, with a beer-stained moustache and bushy eyebrows. His faded blue eyes glared out from under a greasy trilby and he wore a tattered grey raincoat without buttons that was tied around his middle with string. It was filthy and he wore it in all weathers, and underneath he carried a money pouch, a spring balance that was rusting and did not work, and a roll of money secured with an elastic band. The most striking feature of Jerry’s appearance was his brown boots. They were always clean and polished, which led some people to believe that he was an old soldier.
The barrow that Old Jerry pushed around the back-streets looked as worn out as its owner. The wheels squeaked and the shafts looked ready to fall off. It was piled high with rags, bits of old iron and an assortment of empty glass jars. How he managed to get a living from such rubbish was a puzzle to the local folk, but they were aware that Old Jerry was never short of cash. He struck a hard bargain and the locals learned not to haggle. He swore that his spring balance was correct to the ounce, and if it was ever doubted the bag of rags would most likely be deposited on the pavement and Old Jerry would be off, mumbling under his breath. Connie knew this as she walked up to his barrow and handed Old Jerry the rags her mother had sorted out the previous night. He fished out the spring balance and hooked up the bag, he squinted at the reading then tossed the bundle on his barrow before counting out three pennies and one sixpence.
Later that morning Danny took a leisurely stroll up to The Globe. A small boy cracked a whip against a spinning top and chased it happily, another couple of lads were setting up their firewood pitch, and women carried laden shopping baskets into the turning. Danny contentedy mulled over the letter he had received from Alison. It had really cheered him up after hearing Kathy’s news at the races to know that Alison had been granted some leave and she was intending to come up to London next Sunday morning and stay over until Monday, when she would catch the night train to Cardiff to see her folks. And he smiled to himself as he walked into the pub.
The Globe was busy as usual with its regular clientele of dockers, stevedores and shoppers who called in for a ‘livener’. Eddie was chatting to Biff and when he saw Danny he came over.
‘Jack Mason’s in the saloon. ’E was askin’ if yer come in’ere on Sat’day mornin’s. I fink ’e wants a word wiv yer.’
Danny ordered a pint of ale and Eddie nodded to the connecting door. ‘If yer wanna go frew I’ll ’and yer beer round.’
‘Fanks, Eddie,’ Danny said. ‘I’d better see what ’e wants.’
Jack Mason was talking to a couple of burly men and when he saw Danny walk into the bar he came over to the counter. ‘So yer joined the firm then?’ he said with a slight smirk on his bloated face.
Danny nodded. ‘Me pal Johnny Ross spoke fer me. I used ter be Bernie Marsh’s runner.’
‘Yeah, so Tony Allen tells me,’ Mason said, beckoning the barmaid over.
Danny sipped his drink while the bookie ordered another Scotch. He noticed how the man’s deep-set eyes seemed to dart around nervously. He was a snappy dresser, Danny noticed. His suit looked expensive and was immaculately cut; his crisp white shirt made his swarthy complexion seem even darker, and his black patent shoes looked like they were from a West End shop. Danny watched as Mason took a swig from his glass and his eyes were drawn to the small, crescent-shaped scar in the corner of his mouth.
Mason laid a fist on the counter and leaned towards the young cockney. ‘You’re a mate o’ Rossy then, are yer?’
‘I’ve known ’im since we were kids. We went ter school tergevver,’ Danny replied.
The villain’s eyes seemed to bore into him and Danny felt uneasy. ‘Trouble wiv yer pal is, ’e can’t keep ’is mouth shut. I’eard ’e was in ’ere the uvver night chuckin’ ’is money about. Yer wanna tell ’im ter watch it. It don’t do ter let people know yer business. Yer never know, the law might be in ’ere.’
Danny felt his dislike for the man growing as he listened. Jack Mason stared into his face. ‘Jus’ ter put yer in the picture,’ he said, ‘I’m what yer might call Tony Allen’s right ’and. It’s my business ter look after ’is interests. There’s bin a few geezers in the past that’s tried ter come it and I’ve ’ad ter sit on ’em, if yer get me meanin’. I ’ope you ain’t got no fancy ideas?’
‘Yer don’t ’ave ter try an’ put the fear in me. I’m pleased Tony Allen gave me the job, I’m not out ter take liberties,’ Danny said.
Mason grinned crookedly. ‘No offence, son, jus’ tellin’ yer, that’s all.’
Danny finished his drink and Jack Mason pointed to his glass. ‘Wanna top up?’
‘No fanks, I’ve gotta meet somebody,’ Danny lied.
Mason put his elbow on the counter and looked at Danny, a menacing expression on his face. ‘Kathy tells me yer know ’er.’
Danny felt his stomach tighten, he was afraid of what Kathy might have said. ‘Everybody knows everyone else round’ere,’ he said dismissively. ‘Kathy, Johnny Ross an’ me was all in the same class at school. As I was sayin’, we all grew up tergevver.’
Jack Mason continued to fix Danny with an intimidating stare. ‘Me an’ Kathy are goin’ around tergevver. Jus’ so’s yer’d know.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Danny replied, returning the stare.
Jack Mason suddenly relaxed. He picked up his empty glass and looked in the direction of the barmaid.
Danny felt it was time he got away from him. ‘Well, I’m orf. I’ll see yer around,’ he said, walking from the saloon bar and out into the warm sunshine.
Danny walked along Tooley Street; as usual on Saturday afternoons the area was almost deserted, the wharves were locked and only a few locals ambled by. In the sudden quiet Danny had time to think.
He would have to be careful of Jack Mason, there had been a distinct warning in his tone when he mentioned Kathy. Maybe someone had seen him leave the party about the same time as Kathy and told Mason, but it seemed unlikely. It was more probable that Jack Mason was suspicious of him for another reason. It was obvious the man did not like Johnny Ross, and it was Johnny who put in a good word for Danny to the bookie.
As he turned into Dawson Street he saw Johnny Ross coming along towards him. Johnny was limping noticeably and he wore a large grin. ‘’Ello, Danny, goin’ ’ome already? I was comin’ up The Globe fer a chat wiv yer. What’s the matter?’
Danny scowled. ‘I jus’ got lumbered wiv Jack Mason. After five minutes in ’is company I was glad ter get out inter the fresh air.’
‘I told yer about ’im didn’t I?’ Johnny said with a confirming nod.
Danny pulled on his pal’s arm. ‘By the way, Mason told me ter give yer a bit of advice.’
‘Oh yeah, about what?’ Johnny asked, looking serious.
‘’E reckons yer should be more careful about flashin’ yer money in The Globe.’
‘Well somebody must ’ave told ’im, ’cos ’e wasn’t in the pub,’ Johnny said indignantly. ‘An’ I bet I know who it was. I bet it was that barmaid of Eddie’s. Mason took ’er out a few times. She’s still sweet on ’im, I can tell.’
Danny shrugged his shoulders. ‘It don’t matter who it was. Johnny boy. Be careful, or they’ll stop yer little earners.’
Johnny Ross grinned. ‘Don’t worry, Danny. I’ve got a nice little touch comin’ up. I’ll tell yer about it later. Take it easy. I’ll see yer soon.’
Danny stood beside his front door and watched his pal hobble up the turning. It looks like I’ve gotta look after both of us, he thought as he pulled on the door string.
The bows of the destroyer rose and dipped into the heavy swell, and up on the bridge Ordinary Seaman James Ellis wiped the salt spray from his face and stamped his numbed feet on the wet steel deck. His eyes were begining to play tricks with him and he blinked hard. ‘Christ! Where’s that dopey git wiv me cocoa,’ he mumbled aloud as more spray lashed his raw face. Lofty Boulter was struggling for’ard and Jimmy could see him leaning into the wind, his hand protecting the steaming hot cocoa.
Tuppence to Tooley Street Page 12