Tuppence to Tooley Street

by Harry Bowling

  Alice pinched her bottom lip. ‘’E’ll ’ave ter give ’imself up, Vi. Yer’ll ’ave ter tell ’im.’

  Violet laughed mirthlessly. ‘I can’t, Alice. ’E’s gorn. ’E pissed orf on Sunday night after ’e’d finished knockin’ me all over the ’ouse.’

  ‘Where’s ’e gorn to, Vi?’

  ‘’E’s got a bruvver in Liverpool. ’E might ’ave gone there.’E told me ’e was gettin’ out o’ London.’

  Alice gripped her friend’s arm. ‘But yer can’t leave it, Vi,’ she said. ‘That poor lad’ll swing fer somefink ’e never done. Go ter the police, tell ’em. Yer don’t ’ave ter say anyfink about yer ole man bein’ in Liverpool. It’s their job ter catch ’im. Yer’ll only be gettin’ poor Johnny Ross out o’ trouble.’

  Violet Thompson frowned. ‘Ain’t there somefink about a wife not bein’ able ter give evidence against ’er ’usband?’

  ‘I’ve ’eard it said, Vi, but yer gotta go ter the police. Tell ’em everyfing. It’s up ter them ter get the evidence tergevver. At least yer’ll be able ter sleep at night.’

  Violet stood up suddenly. ‘Do me one more favour, Alice,’ she said with an imploring look. ‘Come wiv me.’

  In mid–August the battle of Britain was raging over the English Channel and Southern England. Every day the blue sky was slashed with vapour trails as planes dived and soared in deadly combat. Stricken machines fell into the sea around the coast and dived into the rolling green countryside. Each day the newspapers carried the tally of planes downed as though they were reporting county cricket scores. The battle for survival had begun, and everyone knew that if the battle was lost the invasion would be a certainty. As the news improved a heady feeling of hope prevailed. People were relieved that at last the months of uncertainty and anxiety were over. In dockland as in other parts of the country folk crowded around wireless sets listening to the news broadcasts, and German losses brought forth cheers. Corner shops stuck up posters with the latest scores in large lettering; pubs filled with merry–makers every evening, and patriotic songs rang out. It was a time of great excitement, and everyone’s spirits were lifted.

  In the middle of August, Danny Sutton boarded a train to Maidstone. He had mixed feelings as he watched the houses and factories give way to green fields from his carriage window, his sense of unease mingling with high excitement at the prospect of being with Alison. She had filled his thoughts constantly since her letter to him, and for all his misgivings Danny knew he had to make the journey. He had not been able to force her from his mind. There were times when he thought of Kathy and looked forward to her return, but the picture of Alison stayed with him and tortured his emotions; the strong physical urge to make love with her again sent his pulse racing.

  The train pulled into Maidstone Station and Danny joined the Saturday lunchtime passengers as they walked from the platform. Alison was there at the barrier, and he was thrilled by her radiance. He held her closely and kissed her, tasting her warm lips. Together they walked from the station and out into the sunshine. They found a restaurant and chatted happily over their meal about day to day things, and Alison told him about her new post at the hospital. And the tension between them had gone. They had been lovers, and they had the night to know each other once more.

  In the early afternoon they strolled in the park and found shade beneath a leafy tree. The grass felt cool and the whisper of a breeze fanned their hot faces. Alison lay propped on one elbow and looked down at Danny as he lay on his back and chewed on a blade of grass.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Tell me, Danny, that night we spent together. Has it stayed with you?’

  Danny turned onto his side and looked into Alison’s dark, brooding eyes. ‘If yer mean do I still fink about that night, the answer’s yes. I fink about it twenty times a day. Night times I lay finkin’ about yer an’ I wish I could turn over an’ feel yer there beside me.’

  ‘I feel lonely at night too, Danny. There have been nights when I’ve wanted you so badly. I imagine you’re on your way to me, you’re my secret lover and I’m waiting for you. Can we be secret lovers, Danny?’

  Danny reached up and pulled her down to him. Their lips met and he felt her teeth close on his bottom lip.

  As the sun dipped over the horizon and the evening sky took on a pinkish hue the lovers strolled hand in hand through the town, idling away the time until dusk. They found a pub with a garden and sat sipping their drinks at a log table. Blossoms overhung the stone courtyard and a grotesque vine scaled the ancient walls. The song of a bird split the silence, and up above grey–blue clouds rolled across a dark velvet sky and revealed diamonds of light. Time seemed to have stopped still for Danny and the war was a world away, the promise in Alison’s eyes tantalising him. But deep down he felt misgivings stirring his conscience.

  ‘You’re shivering, Danny.’

  Alison’s words of concern jolted him back to reality. ‘I was jus’ dreamin’,’ he replied, taking her hand in his. ‘This is like anuvver world. Who’d fink there was a war on?’

  ‘This is magical,’ Alison said, looking up at the night sky. ‘Just you and me, and nothing else. We’re lovers. Lovers who meet on nights like this and who carry the memory with us till we meet again. That’s the magic for me, Danny. It doesn’t spoil and get ordinary. I don’t want it to be just ordinary. I want it to be magic always.’

  Danny looked at her with sad eyes. ‘Trouble is, it’s an ordinary world, Alison. It’s a real world. Yer can’t live in fairyland. Fairyland is fer kids.’

  Alison looked up again at the twinkling stars. ‘That’s fairyland out there,’ she said.

  Danny grinned. ‘Them stars are a million miles away. It’s a long way ter fairyland.’

  They left the pub and walked slowly through a maze of little streets. Alison had her arm in his and he could feel her soft breast against him. She steered him down a narrow lane and stopped at a low–fronted house.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘I share this place with three other nurses. We’ve all got our own rooms.’

  Alison found her key and turned it in the lock. Inside the air smelt of lavender, and in the hall a rosewood chest and a grandfather clock stood against the white walls. Alison opened a door to their left and held Danny’s hand as they entered. She closed the door behind them and switched on the light.

  The room was cosy, with patchwork rugs covering the wooden floor, a large settee occupying the centre of the room and wicker chairs arranged around the sides. Close to the settee was a small coffee table scattered with magazines, and pictures of country scenes in ebony frames were hung around the walls. At the far end there was a doorway through to another room, and Danny caught a glimpse of a bed. Alison took off her coat and waited while Danny did the same. She hung up their coats behind the door and came to him slowly. ‘Well, how do you like my little den?’

  ‘It’s real nice,’ Danny said, looking around.

  She was standing close to him and he pulled her nearer. Her arms went around his neck and they kissed long and urgently, and when they parted Danny lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Alison rested her head on his shoulder and she could feel the muscles moving beneath his shirt. Her breath came quickly as he laid her gently down on the bed and fumbled with the buttons of her dress. He kissed her soft neck and smooth shoulders and caressed her hard nipples and silky thighs. Alison’s quick breathing became faster and, moaning with pleasure, she pulled him to her. When the first light of dawn shone into the room Alison awoke and curled her sleepy body closer to Danny’s. Her hands awoke him with gentle caresses, and a delicious giving of pleasure united their sleepy bodies and brought them to a dreamy climax. When they stirred once more it was late morning.

  The day was warm, and after a leisurely breakfast they strolled through the town and visited the pub where they had spent the last evening. In the afternoon the lovers went into the park again and walk
ed through the scented flower gardens and along shaded pathways. They rested in the sweet–smelling grass of a lush green field, Danny thinking of their imminent parting, while Alison made fun of his serious expression.

  ‘Why so sad?’ she asked.

  ‘Goodbyes do that ter me,’ Danny said, stroking her smooth arm.

  ‘You shouldn’t be sad, Danny. We can see each other again soon. If there were no goodbyes there’d be no hellos, would there?’

  ‘We could get married,’ Danny said suddenly.

  Alison’s face became serious and she picked at the grass. ‘Don’t let’s spoil it all, Danny. We’ve got happiness, you and I. Marriage is not for me. I need you, I don’t need a marriage.’

  ‘I do, Alison, I need a marriage. I want ter wake up wiv yer every mornin’, and not jus’ now an’ then, when yer can get time orf. I want yer, an’ I want kids, an’ a place fer us ter live in.’

  Alison’s eyes clouded and she looked away. ‘There’s no magic in a home and children, Danny. Not for me. I’m sorry if it hurts you when I say that. You may think I’m strange, but it’s how I feel. I can’t alter, any more than you can. You remember the last time we were together? I told you then that I needed an understanding. We can be lovers, there’s nothing wrong in that. We can be happy, I know we can, Danny. We don’t need a marriage to seal our love for each other. There’s just no magic in a marriage for me. Can’t you understand that?’

  Danny looked at her, and knew that nothing he could say would make her change her mind. If he wanted her, it must be like this; fleeting and unsure.

  The sun was slipping down as they walked slowly to the hospital gates. Alison looked at her watch and gave Danny a brief smile. ‘We’d better say goodbye here, Danny. I’ve got to be on duty at seven.’

  He pulled her to him and they kissed. She clung to him. ‘Write to me soon, Danny. Maybe we can meet again soon. We can be happy this way, I know we can.’

  Danny released his clasp and stood back from her, silent.

  Alison touched his arm and walked away up the long gravel path to the entrance of the hospital. At the front steps she waved to him and then disappeared from his sight, and he walked wearily back to the station. It was cooler now and dark clouds were beginning to close out the sky. ‘There’ll be no fairyland up there ternight,’ he said aloud.

  Epilogue

  August passed by and cool September breezes heralded the autumn. In the little backstreets of dockland life went on. A chastened and wiser Johnny Ross was welcomed back into The Globe. When he left the police station after signing for his belongings, he felt the dark shadow of the noose lifting from around his neck. On that Friday night when he had looked down on the battered face of Jack Mason he had been mistaken in thinking the villain was dead. Al Vincetti had merely rendered him unconscious with his parting blow, and if Johnny had delayed leaving Cora’s for another few minutes he would have seen the grotesque murder.

  Charlie Thompson had visited a few riverside pubs and was staggering along the turning that led out opposite The Ferryman. Even in his drunken state he decided that he would give that particular pub a miss as he knew that Jack Mason and his cronies used The Ferryman. The longstanding feud between the two had never been resolved, and Charlie Thompson’s hatred for the villain was never more intense than when he was drunk. The docker crossed the street unsteadily and staggered up the kerb. He had left the pub behind him and was feeling his way along when he suddenly tripped over something hard and landed on all fours on the pavement. His eyes rolled and he saw the unconscious figure of Jack Mason lying only inches away from him. Looking down into the battered face he blinked in disbelief. Slowly he staggered to his feet and fought to keep his footing, then he snarled and kicked out hard with his heavy boots. Three times his boot thumped into Jack Mason’s skull, then the docker lost his footing and fell into the gutter. He got up and stumbled awkwardly from the turning unseen. The ladies from the sewing circle had left the street corner only minutes before.

  Soon after Johnny Ross was released from custody, Tony Arpino left his hideout in Clerkenwell and made his way apprehensively to his parents’ shop in Bermondsey Lane. He had heard that the police had started looking for Charlie Thompson in connection with the murder of Mason after Violet Thompson made a statement at Dockhead police station. Tony was worried in case anything should emerge about how he and his pals had been involved in the Mason affair. The few words in the daily papers seemed to suggest that whoever killed Mason had done so in a very brutal fashion, but there was nothing he read that led him to believe he and his friends were likely to be implicated. The Bermondsey Lane shopkeepers were visibly relieved by the disappearance of the protection mob, relations between the Arpinos and the rest of the shopowners began to improve, and Lou and Sofia were welcoming a few of their old customers back to their store.

  Tony was cheered by the letter that was waiting for him when he got home. It was from Melissa. She wrote that her family had been interned on the Isle of Man, conditions there were not too bad, and everyone seemed to be settling down in the camp. Melissa said in her letter that she loved him and missed him terribly, and Tony smiled. For the first time in what seemed to be ages, his future looked rosy.

  The Globe carried on with business as usual. Customers moaned over the quality of the beer but continued to drink there. Biff Bowden was drunk for a whole week when his dog won the coveted Blue Cross Stakes, and Shady Lady was then retired on her favourite diet of Guinness and arrowroot. At least once every week Bonky Williams sidled over to Biff and bought him a drink. Then he would look closely at Biff with an earnest glint in his one good eye and ask him, ‘’Ow’s yer dog, Biff ? She puppin’ yet?’

  Bonky’s obsession with Shady Lady’s sex life puzzled Biff. ‘I reckon it’s those bleedin’ magazines ’e’s readin’,’ he remarked to Eddie, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of shock.

  The landlord of The Globe was reticent. ‘I fink our friend Bonky’s turnin’ over a new leaf. D’yer know, ’e ain’t took ’is eye out fer ages.’ Eddie ran a ‘sweet’ pub as he called it, and he was hoping it was going to stay that way.

  Down along the Tower Bridge Road the sounds of the mission organ rang out every Sunday morning. ‘Dear old Mister Craddock’, the elderly ladies would say to each other at every meeting, gazing at the frail figure bent over the organ keys with fervour. Mr Craddock the organist had given up his part–time job of letter writing–things were getting hot at the tribunal hearings, and his continued presence there seemed to be drawing suspicious glances from the court usher. But he had found another channel for his patriotic endeavours: when the weather was nice he wandered over to Speaker’s Corner and heckled the pacifists. ‘We had enough of you lot in the last war,’ he would shout out to the orator.

  ‘Go on, Pop, tell the bloody traitor about the trenches and the mustard gas,’ others would call out.

  Mr Craddock ignored the remarks of the audience and walked away. He could still see those soldiers in 1914, marching like heroes away to war.

  Ben Morrison had received his call–up papers and he was soon to be drafted into the Royal Army Medical Corps. Lucy’s pregnancy was confirmed, and she and Ben were married rather hurriedly at a registry office. Lucy told her family that she had not wanted to wait, and being married would give Ben some extra responsibility and would help him to cope with army life that much better. Alice and her children exchanged knowing winks as she mentioned to her Frank that she had a feeling they would soon become grandparents. Frank, in his usual argumentative way, rejected the idea as nonsense. ‘Lucy won’t start a family yet, Muvver,’ he said, ‘she’s got more sense.’

  ‘All right, Mister Know–All, we’ll jus’ ’ave ter wait an’ see, won’t we?’ Alice said with a ghost of a grin on her lined face.

  Danny’s eldest sister Maggie and her husband Joe were very much relieved when a letter arrived from a farmer and his wife saying that their two children were enjoying their stay in the Cotsw
olds. The kids had taken to life on the farm and were both enrolled at the village school. There was a short letter enclosed from the children, saying how much they liked their new home, and Maggie and Joe were also given an invitation to go and meet the farmer and his wife and to stay for a long weekend when they could manage it. Maggie was enthusiastic about the trip, but Joe had reservations.

  ‘It’ll be nice ter see the kids, but the farm might be miles from anywhere,’ Joe said. ‘I bet there ain’t a pub in the village.’

  ‘Course there will be,’ Maggie countered. ‘I bet the locals won’t be as bad as that scatty crowd you get wiv in The Globe every Saturday night.’

  Joe was doubtful, although he had to admit to himself that the beer could not be any worse than the rubbish Eddie had been serving lately.

  Connie Sutton was looking forward to the end of September with excitement. Jimmy was now back home in England and would be given leave soon. Connie had been to see the parish priest and their wedding was planned for the first week in October. Jimmy had been transferred to the Home Fleet and Connie was hoping to find a flat in Portsmouth as soon as the wedding was over.

  ‘That’ll be the girls all married off,’ Alice remarked to Frank. ‘That only leaves that wayward son of ours. I wish ’e’d get ’imself a nice girl.’

  Frank Sutton grinned. ‘Danny’s got more sense. ’E ain’t in too much of an’ ’urry. I mean, there’s all that naggin’ and moanin’. A man’s better off lovin’ ’em an’ leavin’ ’em.’

  Alice gave her husband an icy stare. ‘Yer ain’t done so bad. You know where yer arse ’angs.’

  ‘On the bleedin’ floor, what wiv all these weddin’s in the family,’ Frank quipped.

  The Thompsons had moved away from Clink Lane. Violet and Kathy had gone to live in Rotherhithe. The little backwater off Tooley Street held too many bad memories, and being in Rotherhithe suited them. They were not too far away from their friends, and from their front door they could still smell the river and hear familiar sounds carrying into the quiet street. Kathy returned to her old job. On her first day back she had by chance bumped into Connie Sutton, who told her that Danny had stopped working for Tony Allen and was now going into the greengrocery business with his pal Johnny Ross. The mention of Danny’s name had sent a familiar dull ache running around inside her, and Kathy knew that there would always be a special place for him in her heart. She had remembered him saying that he would be around, and that he wasn’t going anywhere, but she realised he had only said that in an effort to cheer her up. A lot of water had gone under the bridge and she figured it wasn’t realistic to imagine that she and Danny could get together once more. It was time now to pick up the pieces and start again. Maybe one day she would be able to meet Danny in the street without feeling ashamed and confused.