The Locksmith

by Linda Calvey

  ‘Listen! I’ve told you I’m not prepared to pay that amount of tax. I don’t care what you have to do, I won’t pay it. All right then, fiddle the books, it’s no skin off my nose, but get that bill down. Just change the invoice – say the consignment was teddy bears not Chanel, that’ll slice off a fair whack. I’m telling you to just do your job.’ And with that, the phone was slammed down. Ruby crept away. She could hardly believe what she’d heard. The Murphys might be a straight family, but Ruby knew enough crooked folk to know exactly what was going on. The respectable, honest trade she was so proud of was nothing but a sham.

  Ruby’s mind was whirring. She thought about the wife she’d envied, the daughter she’d hoped to emulate. She’d worked hard, done everything right. Just like her father had, just like Cathy had. And what did she have to show for it? They’d let her go without a care of what it meant for her or her family. They pretended to be straight, they dressed up in their fancy clothes, went to fancy restaurants and pretended to run a legitimate business. But they were all a bunch of crooks. The only difference between them and the folk Ruby grew up with was that in the East End people were honest about who they were.

  Ruby gathered her knock-off Gucci, wrapped her coat tightly around her shoulders and headed home. She didn’t know what they were going to do, but she and Bobby would figure it out together.

  She told Bobby what she’d overheard. But in reality, what she knew didn’t really change anything. She didn’t have any evidence, and what did she have to gain by saying anything? No one would believe a poor East End girl over a successful businessman. And in the end, she’d still be unemployed, struggling to put food on the table.

  The house was quiet and the only sound was the low murmur of the radio in the corner. The doctor had been to administer Mum’s medication and give her something to help her sleep, as the pain seemed to be getting stronger every day. Ruby had looked in on her before coming downstairs, opening the door gently, seeing her mother so frail and thin in her bed. It was a relief to see her face relaxed in sleep, but she still got a shock every time she realised Cathy was sleeping in her bed alone now. Too much had changed too quickly.

  Little George had gone down for the night. He was such a good baby. He rarely woke up overnight, though he was only a month old, and he took his bottle like a little hungry animal, gulping it down, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Ruby was now his mummy substitute.

  ‘Bobby?’ Ruby said softly.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about none of it. I don’t know what to do, Rube. I don’t know how we’re goin’ to put money in the electric meter this week, let alone with you not workin’.’ Bobby didn’t look up. He peered down at one of the master keys he was polishing. Ruby decided to go on. She knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but they needed to confront reality. There was little cash in the family pot and the gas bill was due, let alone the continual supply of nappies and formula milk she now needed for the baby, and the fact that their mother had terminal cancer. They needed to keep talking because their problems weren’t going away by themselves.

  ‘I don’t mind lookin’ after little George. I understand that’s what I must do for our family, but I just don’t know how we’ll feed our brother, it’s as bad as that. Mum only has weeks or even days left. And there’s the next problem. It’s awful to speak about it, but we’re goin’ to ’ave to work out how the hell we’ll pay for the burial. Please speak to me, Bobby . . .’ she pleaded. Ruby had to make her older brother understand that some things, however terrible, had to be faced sooner rather than later.

  ‘I don’t want to think of Mum dyin’. Can’t we change the subject? I’ve ’ad a long day.’

  Ruby swept her gaze over him, noting the sadness on his face. His features, once full, seemed drawn now. He had visibly lost weight, and worse, he’d lost the spring that had been in his step since childhood. Bobby was the kind of man who got on with life. He wasn’t a complicated person. He loved his home comforts, his Friday night beers with his pals and a full roast dinner on Sundays. He’d always been the cheerful one of the two of them, the simple soul with a deep love for his family and little ambition in life. Ruby saw in that moment just how much the death of their dad, and now this new emotional blow, had taken its toll on her beloved brother. She was also discovering that she was a completely different character; strong-willed, able to face reality, someone who was more comfortable in the driving seat than being a mere passenger of life. She knew that she would have to be the one who found a way to get through these days, even though the grief and shock were raw with her still.

  ‘No, Bobby. It’s time. We ’ave to talk about it. Mum’ll probably ’ave to go into a hospice if the pain gets any worse. We ’ave to think about what we’re goin’ to do when she’s . . . she’s gone . . .’

  Ruby put her hand upon her brother’s, making him stop his cleaning. He raised his eyes to hers. They were pools of anguish.

  ‘Oh, darlin’,’ she said, tears rushing to her eyes now. ‘I’ll make us some tea, that’ll ’elp, I promise.’ She got up quickly and turned her back to make a cup of tea, placing the kettle on the hob and waiting for the first fizz of the water as it started to heat. She didn’t want Bobby to see the agony on her face too. He was suffering enough. She had to be brave for the both of them.

  The humiliation of her dad’s pauper’s funeral was still with her and she hated to think her mum might have the nine o’clock trot as well.

  Somewhere in Ruby’s heart were the dreams she’d barely acknowledged herself. For a brief moment, she’d really thought that if she worked hard she could change her life, leave the East End and find a new way, surrounded by exciting, sophisticated people. But her visions for the future lay in tatters. Now, she had a dying mother and a new baby to bring up. She’d been thrown into motherhood without even the thrill of meeting someone and falling in love. She was chained to her kitchen sink in Canning Town as surely as if she’d married one of the local wide boys and given up her dreams of a better life that way. Ruby could hardly bear to think about what she’d lost. It hadn’t been her choice, and beneath it all she felt sore, like there was a fresh bruise on her heart. But if Bobby couldn’t face the hard choices, she would.

  She waited until the water boiled, making the kettle tremble, and she slowly poured out a drink for them both. She dipped the tea bags into the cups, added the milk, and sugar for Bobby, all the time her mind shooting this way and that. There had to be a way to make this right; to pay for Mum’s funeral and to keep them all safe. Please God there had to be a way. Just then there was a knock at the front door.

  ‘Expectin’ someone?’ Ruby glanced back at her brother who shook his head in response. ‘See who it is, won’t ya?’

  Bobby got up from the table, his movements slow like an old man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ruby heard muffled voices, then the door to the kitchen opened and in walked Freddie Harris.

  ‘Evenin’, Ruby Green Eyes,’ he said, all cocky and fidgety as usual.

  Ruby sighed. ‘Stop callin’ me that, Freddie. What d’you want this time?’ She felt like disappearing to her room, but something, some instinct, stopped her.

  Freddie ignored her question, turning back to Bobby who had reappeared behind him. ‘Sorry to hear your news. Terrible tragedy, terrible,’ he said, almost convincingly.

  ‘Which news, Freddie? The death of our dad, or our mum bein’ terminally ill?’ Ruby replied waspishly. Even her mouth tasted sour as she spoke to him, such was her revulsion for the visitor. It wasn’t so much that Freddie was harmful; she wasn’t scared of him, or any of the local lads, at all. It was more what he stood for. He thought he was the bee’s knees because he nicked stuff, or acted as a getaway driver for some of the local blaggers. He really thought he was someone, and he irritated Ruby beyond belief. Freddie always had money to throw about in the pubs, yet when it came to paying anyone back he was suddenly skint. There was nothing to like about him, but more
pressingly, what was he doing in their kitchen at 8 p.m. on a Tuesday?

  ‘We don’t ’ave no money. I’m sure you ’eard Dad had a pauper’s funeral,’ Ruby added bleakly.

  Freddie had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘I did ’ear somethin’ like that . . . I’m sorry for your troubles,’ he said, finding his trainers fascinating as he looked down and shifted on the spot.

  ‘We don’t even know how we’re goin’ to pay for an undertaker when Mum passes.’ Ruby felt a sob rise in her throat, but she was damn sure she wouldn’t let Freddie see her moment of weakness. Never Freddie.

  ‘Well, that’s where I might be able to ’elp ya.’

  Ruby turned away from him, hating the sight of him more with every second he stood in their clean but sparse kitchen. She would’ve stayed like that, staring at the wall, but his words settled somewhere inside her whirring brain. She’d asked God how they could pay for what they needed right now. She just couldn’t believe He’d sent Freddie Harris. She almost shrugged, but instead, she turned back to him, her eyes wide to give Freddie the full force of their dazzling emerald beauty.

  ‘What d’ya mean, Freddie? Why are ya ’ere if ya don’t want money?’ Her voice was oozing liquid honey now, and she saw the effect on Freddie straightaway, while her brother looked at her like she was having a seizure. Freddie gulped. He couldn’t turn his gaze away from her. He seemed to have temporarily lost his tongue, so she took advantage of his indisposition and continued, ‘We appreciate your condolences but is there somethin’ else you wanted?’

  Freddie cleared his throat. Meanwhile Bobby was looking back and forth between his strange new sister and the mate he’d known since primary school, wearing a look of sheer bewilderment.

  ‘All right, Ruby.’ It was the first time he’d ever said ‘Ruby’ rather than ‘Ruby Green Eyes’. She seemed to have knocked him off-balance, and that’s exactly what she’d wanted. She needed the upper hand when dealing with a weasel like him.

  ‘Go on . . .’ She prompted, smiling again, parting her red lips slightly to reveal her small white teeth. She pulled her hand through her thick shining hair, letting it fall down one side of her face.

  Freddie looked like a man possessed. He was stuttering now, but finally, business overruled his lust and he managed to tell them precisely why he was there, his eyes darting now between Ruby and Bobby as he explained.

  ‘All right, I’ll come clean. There’s a job—’ At which point Bobby snorted and sat down at the table, clearly uninterested. This was how they all used to react as soon as Freddie, or any of his mates, broached the subject of crooked work, but this time was different. This time it felt like everything was at stake: their mum, their family, their lives. Ruby could feel her pulse quicken. A tiny thread of excitement started to coil inside her. Perhaps there was a way to get themselves out of this mess. They couldn’t go on with so little money. They had to find a way to earn it.

  ‘Everyone round ’ere knows you’re tight, you ain’t got no money and, beggin’ yer pardon, Ruby, you can’t afford to bury your mother,’ Freddie’s voice was unusually gentle. Bobby could hold his feelings in no longer. He made a gulping sound then burst into sobs, his large shoulders heaving as he wept loudly, grief overwhelming him.

  Ruby looked at Bobby, then back at Freddie who now looked like he wanted to bolt from that room. She wasn’t finished with him yet, though.

  ‘Go on,’ was all she said as her brother wept openly. Freddie jiggled some coins in his pocket. ‘You need the money, you’ve got no one lookin’ after ya and we need Bob . . . We need him to do this one job. He don’t ’ave to do nuthin’ else, just one job, and it’s ready money. It’ll ’elp pay for yer mum, at least.’

  Freddie looked down at the wooden floor now as if he was in trouble and about to get a bollocking. Ruby stared at Freddie, her mind suddenly clearing. She had never thought the words would come out of her mouth, but they did. ‘Suppose we said we’d ’elp you and yer mates by doin’ this job, what’s in it for us?’

  Bobby stopped crying, wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked up at his sister. ‘What are you on about, Rube? We don’t do no crooked work. We don’t earn crooked money. Don’t you remember what Dad said, what Grandad Jim said?’

  ‘A straight pound is worth three crooked,’ chorused Ruby. ‘Yeah I remember, but where did that get us, eh, Bobby? A life of worry and the nine o’clock trot for our dad, that’s where.’

  Bobby looked appalled. ‘Where are ya goin’ with this, Rube, ’ave you lost yer mind?’

  Ruby shook her head. She knew Bobby would need an explanation, but this wasn’t the time to give it. She looked back at Freddie, who was looking at her now with curiosity. Even though he’d come around, he’d expected to be turned away. That much was clear to her now. He had just been trying his luck. Well, tonight, his luck had finally come in.

  Ruby kept her flashing eyes on Freddie, who seemed mesmerised by her. He’d seen a new Ruby Green Eyes, a sharper Ruby, a woman prepared to do anything to help her family. He stepped closer to Ruby, making her stand up straighter, meeting his gaze which was full-on now, designed to intimidate. She brushed back her long hair and smiled slowly. They were almost nose-to-nose.

  ‘You’re right, Freddie, we do need the money, so, tell me, what are ya terms?’ Ruby could hardly believe she was saying all this, it went against everything she’d ever been taught, everything her parents believed in. Yet, something in this moment, a new sense of power, was just as intoxicating to her as it had been to Freddie, though for very different reasons. Ruby saw instantly that a family facing desperate times had to resort to desperate measures.

  A wail from upstairs interrupted the moment. George had woken up for his last bottle of the night. Ruby knew she had to go, but could she trust Bobby to finish this business with Freddie?

  ‘You’d better go and see to the nipper,’ sneered Freddie now, stepping back. Ruby realised she’d lost her advantage.

  ‘Bobby will sort out the money while I’m gone, won’t ya, brother?’ Ruby stared at Bobby and silently he nodded, though he looked mutinous. Ruby grabbed a bottle she’d prepared earlier and which she’d been warming in a bowl of hot water, and stalked upstairs, shooting the weasel a look of pure menace as she went.

  As she climbed the stairs, she heard Freddie’s low chuckle, knowing that they’d crossed the line that should never be crossed, and she’d done it willingly.

  ‘How much did ya shake on, then?’ Ruby asked her brother the next evening when he’d returned from work. He looked tired and she guessed that, like her, he hadn’t slept a wink that night. ‘I hope ya didn’t let Freddie mug you off for a few quid and a couple of beers?’

  ‘Nah, we agreed a thousand nicker. Not bad for a night’s work but I still don’t like it, Rube. It goes against everythin’,’ Bobby said, looking anguished.

  ‘I know, I know,’ soothed Ruby. She could see the dilemma written on Bobby’s face. This move to crooked work was upsetting him, but as she kept saying to him, what else could they do? ‘And are ya sure you got a fair price? Perhaps we could’ve agreed a percentage of the takin’s and not just a flat fee?’

  Bobby scowled. ‘Listen, Rube. You told me to sort the money – and I did. So, leave it. I got us a good deal, don’t push it. Freddie let slip that Charlie Beaumont’s been eyein’ up the same job, so we know it’s kosher. I feel bad enough for doin’ it, just trust me on this, eh?’

  ‘We’re doin’ the right thing,’ said Ruby hastily. She didn’t want Bobby backing out now. ‘It’s for Mum, it’s for George. Just don’t forget that. Sometimes you ’ave to do bad to do good.’

  Bobby shrugged but his face didn’t change. He didn’t like it, that much was obvious, but he was a loyal son and brother and he would do it for their mother.

  ‘I need to know, though, Rube: are we plannin’ on doin’ more jobs or is this a one-off?’

  Ruby looked over at him. Her face was in the shadow cast by the overhead light
in the kitchen. She didn’t reply, not knowing how to.

  Bobby wouldn’t let it drop. ‘Is this just for the thousand pound, to make sure we can pay the bills and give Mum a proper send-off?’

  ‘I think so, Bobby,’ she replied, noticing she naturally led their conversations. It was strange for it to be the other way around. She wasn’t sure, though, if this was a one-off. Their financial problems wouldn’t end with the funeral, she saw that. They would still be there, lying under everything they did, under every conversation, every word or action. Who knew where this would lead? Who knew what would happen?

  ‘Let’s just get this done properly, and without you gettin’ caught. That’s all that’s important, Bobby, then we can talk again,’ she finished, unsure who she was convincing, her brother or herself.

  CHAPTER 13

  Ruby pushed the old-fashioned black pram down the grimy street flanking the docks. Huge warehouses loomed over her along with large cranes and chimneys spewing out thick smoke. The dock sludge swayed in oily motion, the water filled with the detritus of industry, a sheen of rainbow-coloured petrol lying over its murky grey depths. Ruby cast a strange figure, walking through the haze. The Isle of Dogs was a place of extreme contrasts, bankers mingling with dock workers, large tower blocks in various stages of development climbing into the sky amid the historic wreckage of London’s dockland past.

  In the past ten years, the island had become a thriving industrial hub under Margaret Thatcher, with brand new skyscrapers springing up, the gleaming tower blocks of corporate offices and luxury apartments now half empty as recession bit at the redevelopment of this ancient tongue of land jutting into the mighty Thames river.

  Ruby glided through a mix of office workers and men clad in fluorescent jackets and hard hats, pushing baby George. She was all but invisible to everyone except a handful of young male bankers who whistled as she walked past.