‘Turner was a bit of a friend o’ your’n, weren’t he, Cissie?’ Lena looked knowingly at Sammy. ‘There’s talk going around that he come down Linman Street to see yer. In the early hours of this morning, as a matter of fact. It surely can’t be true, can it? I mean, that ain’t a very nice thing to go saying about a young widow woman, now is it? People might say she’s putting it about to earn herself a few quid, to buy all them nice things what everyone says she has to have, while there’s others having to go without even a loaf o’ stale bread and a screw o’ tea. No, it really ain’t a nice thing to say.’
‘No, Lena, it ain’t nice. And d’yer know what, that’s why I ain’t surprised that it’s the likes of you what’s been saying it. And that’s why I’m gonna smack yer stupid, bigmouthed, ugly boat for yer, to teach yer some manners.’ Cissie stepped towards Lena, slowly pushing her coat sleeves above her elbows.
Lena backed away. ‘Don’t you threaten me!’
‘All right, Cis,’ Sammy said, lifting the flap in the counter. ‘There’s no need to upset yerself. You go outside in the fresh air for a smoke, eh, and calm down. And I’ll be out as soon as I’ve finished serving these…’ He paused. ‘Ladies.’
‘Yeah, good idea, Sam,’ Cissie said, sticking her chin in the air and glaring down her nose at Lena. ‘I could do with some fresh air, cos I don’t like the stink that these three have fetched in with ’em. And,’ she added with loud emphasis, ‘what I’ve gotta discuss with yer is private anyway. So while the kids are at me mum and dad’s it’ll be a good opportunity, won’t it? I’ll have a walk up towards the Cut and I’ll see yer there, by the bridge.’
As Cissie walked towards the door to leave the shop, she left her three flabbergasted neighbours momentarily dumbstruck by her revelations. But as Cissie stepped out on to the pavement, Lena had obviously made at least a partial recovery, because she heard her gasp incredulously, ‘Private talks with you, Sammy Clarke? And she reckons she’s left her kids at her mum and dad’s?’
* * *
Cissie leant against the bridge and took her cigarettes from her pocket; her hand was trembling. She couldn’t get the thought out of her mind about how poor Eileen must have suffered. Eileen, a woman who had been used and abused most of her short and brutal life. She sighed loudly. Poor Eileen. It certainly made her own problems seem insignificant by comparison.
‘Want a light for that?’ It was Sammy.
Cissie looked down at the unlit cigarette still dangling from her fingers and nodded. ‘Please.’
Sammy dug into his apron. ‘I’ve left the three witches back in Linman Street brewing up all sorts o’ lies about yer. Yer’ve really got ’em going, yer know, about yer mum and dad.’
‘Mind if we talk about that later?’ she asked, turning away from him and staring down at the oily grey-brown water. ‘There’s something else I wanna say.’
‘Look, Cis, I wasn’t trying to pump yer about yer mum and dad or nothing. You know me.’
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. At pink-faced, kind Sammy Clarke. ‘Yeah, Sam, I know you, and I know what a good, decent man you are.’
Sammy felt his face burn scarlet. ‘I still ain’t lit yer fag,’ he muttered, fumbling with clumsy embarrassment with the lighter he’d produced from the pocket of the apron that, he had only just realised to his even greater shame, he was still wearing.
‘Here, let me,’ she said, reaching out and taking it from him.
‘You might as well keep it,’ he said softly, as he watched her study the familiar gold casing.
She looked up at him. ‘Aw, Sam, it’s my one, ain’t it? You give me that money for it, then yer never sold it.’ Sammy shrugged self-deprecatingly, whilst wishing desperately that it was dark and that Cissie couldn’t see the now deep shade of beetroot his face had gone: ‘I wanted to keep it for yer.’
‘I dunno what to say.’
He dropped his chin and stared down at his shiny brown boots. ‘How about this thing yer said yer wanted to talk about?’ he asked quietly.
Cissie took a long drag on her cigarette. ‘Lena wasn’t making things up for once, yer know, Sam. Turner did come to see me early this morning. I’m surprised yer never heard all the row. He was pissed as a sack and shouting the odds like a madman.’
‘I was getting me fruit and veg down the wholesalers’ in Stratford. But I’d have been over like a shot if I’d been there, Cis. I wouldn’t have let him bother yer.’
‘I know, Sam,’ said Cissie gratefully, knowing that Sammy would have come to help her, but glad he hadn’t. Turner would have squashed the likes of Sammy like a fly. ‘He come to make me an offer. Offered to set me up in business. Gimme a flat. Everything. You name it and it was mine. I reckon I could’ve just about named me price.’ Sammy looked away. ‘Now it’s me what don’t know what to say,’ he breathed.
‘I said no to him, Sam.’ She weighed the gold lighter in her hand, staring at it through half-closed eyes. ‘And I’m glad he’s dead. D’you know that? He thought he could own me, see. Just like he owned Davy.’ She hesitated. ‘Yer do know what Davy was involved in, don’t yer, Sam?’
‘There was talk, but there always is. And you know me, Cis, I don’t take no notice o’ things like that.’
‘Did everyone know?’
‘A lot thought they did. There was all sorts of rumours. You know what they’re like.’
‘No wonder so many of ’em had it in for me round here; why they reckoned I was a selfish, stuck-up mare.’ Cissie frowned thoughtfully, threw her cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her heel. ‘I wonder how many of ’em was in debt to him. How many couldn’t put grub on the table cos their old man had lost all their money trying to win a few bob to stretch out his dole?’ She raked her fingers through her hair, dragging it off her face. ‘And it weren’t just the gambling yer know. From what I can gather, from the sort of people he was involved with, and from what happened to him, Davy was tangled up in all sorts.’
‘I know, Cis,’ he said softly.
She handed the lighter back to Sammy. ‘You have it, Sam, please. I don’t want it no more.’
‘No, Cis. Nor do I.’
Sammy leant all his weight on to his back foot, extended his arm behind him and then, with every ounce of effort he could summon, he threw the lighter in a high arc up into the sky.
The pair of them stood on the bridge, side by side, watching it as it fell – plop! – into the Limehouse Cut.
Chapter 24
April 1934
Cissie, puffing from the exertion of bending over, cocked her head on one side and narrowed her eyes, assessing the display the flowers made in the two enamel buckets either side of the door.
‘They’ll never sell,’ a woman’s voice barked.
‘Yes they will, Myrtle,’ Cissie replied. She didn’t need to turn round to see who was speaking. ‘Cos I reckon early daffs like these are like little bits o’ sunshine after all the dark winter days we’ve had.’
‘What at that bloody price?’
‘People always have a few coppers for something beautiful.’
Myrtle snorted derisively. ‘D’yer reckon?’
‘Yes, Myrtle, I really do.’
‘Them greens fresh, are they?’
‘Sammy got ’em fresh from Stratford yesterday morning.’
‘Well, they wanna be,’ she grumbled, ‘or they’ll be off for Arthur’s Sunday dinner tomorrow. And he gets in a right old mood if his veg ain’t just right.’
‘D’you want some then?’
‘Gimme about half a pound – I can’t afford no more at your prices – and make sure yer finger ain’t on them scales when yer weighing ’em up and all.’
Cissie threw a handful of greens on to the scales that were set on a little table in the middle of the vegetable boxes outside the shopfront, and started changing the little metal weights on the other side until they balanced.
‘So yer working here full-time now then?’ Myrtle snapped
as she peered suspiciously at the scales.
‘That’s right, Myrt,’ said Cissie, stuffing the leafy greens into Myrtle’s string bag. ‘They’ve weighed a bit over, but, go on, I’ll just charge yer the three ha’pence. Now, what else can I get yer?’
‘Nothing thanks,’ she said spitefully, handing over two ha’pennies and two farthings. ‘Like I said, I can’t afford these prices. I should have gone down Chris Street, but I had to come over here for this ceremony thing what Sammy’s been going on about. I must be the first to show up, eh?’
‘Ceremony?’ asked Cissie, slipping the money into her money apron. ‘What’s that yer going on about now?’
‘Aw, ain’t he mentioned it to yer?’ Myrtle asked with a delighted sneer. ‘Well, he can’t think much of yer as a worker if he ain’t even told yer about the ceremony, now can he?’
‘I honestly ain’t got a clue what yer talking about, Myrtle, but I think yer must have got it wrong, whatever it is.’
‘We’ll see,’ Myrtle said, hoiking the string bag up her arm. ‘So, is it true what they’re saying about yer mum and dad then?’ she went on.
‘What would that be then, Myrtle?’ Cissie asked wearily.
‘That they’re moving into your place?’
‘Blimey, your ear’oles must be flapping night and day.’
‘There’s no need to be so bloody rude.’ Myrtle sniffed haughtily and poked dubiously at a display of onions. ‘So, are they moving into number seven or what? I mean, I have every right to know who me neighbours’re gonna be, yer know.’
‘Yer right, Myrtle. Yer do. And they are. Satisfied?’
‘Ain’t gonna be much room in there then, is there? Cos Lil already has to sleep down in the front parlour, don’t she?’
‘All right, love?’ a woman’s voice asked from behind them.
‘Hello, Mum, Dad,’ said Cissie, turning round with a relieved smile. Not only was she pleased to see her parents, but it was a chance to escape any more of Myrtle’s awkward questions.
Cissie kissed them both on the cheek. ‘This is a nice surprise, I wasn’t expecting yers till this afternoon.’
‘Sammy asked us over,’ said Frank.
‘That’ll be for the ceremony, I suppose,’ said Ethel as she and Lena parked themselves next to Myrtle.
‘That’s right, Ett,’ said Ellen pleasantly. ‘Now, where’s them grandchildren o’ mine, Cissie, cos I can’t wait to give ’em a great big cuddle.’
‘What’s all this about, Dad?’ Cissie whispered behind her hand, as they followed her mum into the shop. ‘What ceremony?’
‘Don’t ask me, darling,’ Frank whispered back with a happy shrug. ‘You know what I’m like. I’m just here cos yer mum said I had to be.’
Cissie squeezed his arm. ‘She’s a lucky woman having a man like you, Dad.’
‘I think so,’ he said with a wink, ‘but don’t tell her I said so, will yer?’
‘Where’s Lil?’ Ellen asked, looking round the empty shop. ‘I thought she’d be here.’
‘She reckons she’s having one of her turns,’ Cissie said with a roll of her eyes, ‘and, knowing her, she won’t be up till at least dinner-time.’
‘Took it bad, did she?’ Ellen asked with a sigh.
‘No worse than she takes anything, Mum. You know her. Look, why don’t you go through the back to the kids. They’re in the storeroom with Sammy and Ernie. Been in there all morning they have. Up to some mischief or other. I don’t like to think the state they’ll be in, the pair of ’em.’
‘They get on well with Sammy, don’t they, babe?’
‘They certainly do, Dad.’ Cissie cocked her head on one side and looked at her dad, her kind, decent, gentle dad who had only ever done what he thought was best. ‘He reminds me a lot of you, yer know.’
‘That’s a very nice thing to hear, Cissie. Thank you.’ Ellen took hold of the handle to the door that led through to the back rooms, but it was snatched from her grasp as it was opened inwards from the other side.
‘You made me jump, Sam!’ Ellen grinned at Sammy standing there framed in the doorway. ‘How are yer, love?’
‘Covered in paint,’ he said, grinning back at her. ‘Don’t let me get none on yer frock.’
Ellen backed away, making room for him and Ernie to step through into the shop. Between them they were carrying what looked like a short plank of wood covered with sacking.
Cissie frowned. What was all this about?
Joyce and Matty came trotting through behind the two men, with the sort of easy smiles on their faces that Cissie was so pleased to have come to expect. The moment the children spied their grandparents, the pair of them launched themselves across the shop with whoops of pleasure.
‘Guess what, Nan?’ yelped Matty. ‘Guess what we’ve been doing?’
Ellen scooped him up into her arms. ‘Remember what Nanny told yer?’
Matty nodded. ‘It’s a surprise?’
‘That’s right. Good boy.’
‘You sure you don’t know what’s going on, Dad?’
Frank smiled and shook his head unconvincingly. ‘I never know nothing, me.’
‘Come on, everyone,’ Sammy said, with a gesture of his head towards the doorway. ‘Out we go.’
Outside, Cissie could hardly believe her eyes. Where had all these people come from? Practically everyone from the street was standing there, and they all had expectant looks on their faces, as though something special was about to happen. There were even a couple of Elsie Collier’s gentlemen, as well as quite a few women, plus their noisy broods of children, from the surrounding neighbourhoods, whom Cissie knew from their visits to the shop, although she couldn’t have put a name to most of them.
‘What’s going on, Sam?’ she asked with a frown.
‘Yer’ll see,’ he said happily, and with that he clapped his hands loudly. ‘If I could just have yer attention ladies and gentlemen.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ sneered Lena Dunn, ‘who the hell does he think he is, the bleed’n Lord Mayor o’ London?’
‘Thank you, Lena,’ Sammy said patiently. ‘I won’t be keeping yer for very long.’
‘Bloody good job and all, the Sabberton’ll be open soon,’ Ethel’s husband muttered darkly.
‘Yer might be offered a little drop o’ something in here in a minute, Dick,’ Sammy encouraged him, ‘if yer can just bear with me.’
‘Well,’ beamed Dick, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘That’s a different matter, son. You carry on.’
‘Thanks. Now I’ve invited you all here this morning,’ Sammy began, ‘and a very nice morning it is too—’
‘Get on with it!’ a voice growled from the crowd.
‘To unveil me new sign. The sign that Ernie,’ he said turning to Ernie Mills, ‘is gonna help me screw above the door later on.’
‘What, had to sell the shop, have yer?’ Ethel sniped. ‘I knew it’d come to this. It’s all that credit what he’s been giving to the likes of her, that Cissie Flowers,’ she added knowingly, pulling in her chin and jerking her head sideways. ‘She could work here till doomsday and she still wouldn’t be able to pay off that slate of her’n.’
‘Actually Ethel, I’m glad to say that I ain’t had to sell the shop, but things are gonna be a little bit different round here. And that’s why I invited all of yers here today to see the new sign.’
With that, Sammy pulled the sacking covering from the board that he and Ernie had carried out on to the pavement, with a dramatic flourish.
It read ‘Cissie and Samuel Clarke’.
The unity with which the onlookers gasped made it sound as though they had all been practising.
‘Yesterday afternoon, Cissie did me the honour of becoming my wife.’
There was new gasping, more ragged this time, and a flurry of whispers.
‘You and her?’ Lena asked incredulously. ‘Married?’
‘It’s a bit of a surprise to me and all, to tell yer the truth, Lena,’ S
ammy said, smiling shyly across at Cissie, who was clasping her mum’s arm as though she would never let her go again. ‘I never thought I’d be lucky enough to be this happy.’
Increasingly loud whispers and mutters passed around the now astonished neighbours.
Sammy held up his hand to silence them. ‘There’s a lot of other things about to change that yer might as well all know about and all.’
‘I’ll bet there is,’ a wag shouted from the back of the crowd.
Sammy ignored him. ‘Gladys’ll be helping Cissie in the shop,’ he went on, his smile growing broader by the minute. ‘Cos Cissie’s running it from now on. And she’s a clever girl, so don’t worry, yer’ll all be well looked after.’
‘She’s a clever girl all right,’ hissed Ethel into Lena’s ear. ‘Got the bleed’n shop off him, ain’t she? He must be barmy.’
‘And me and Ernie are gonna be busy and all,’ Sammy went on, all the jibes and heckles unable to dent his happiness. ‘We’re setting up a new fruit and veg stall down Chris Street. We’ve got the pitch all sorted, so, if yer down the market and yer want the right gear at the best prices, yer know who to come to, don’t yer? Clarke and Mills, Quality Greengrocers.’
Mouths dropped open like trapdoors. Now Sammy really had taken leave of his senses this time. Everyone knew what a useless lump Ernie Mills was, the man hadn’t worked for years. He didn’t want to work. It was a well-known fact.
‘That shut yer up, didn’t it?’ Gladys beamed at Ethel.
‘Now,’ Sammy concluded, ‘if yer’d all like to come inside and join us in a toast, I’ve got a few bottles out the back that might just need opening. Including some lemonade for all you little chavvies!’
The Godwin kids beat everyone to the door, leaving Sammy and Ernie waiting for their turn to go through and start pouring the drinks.
‘Maybe yer’ll change that sign again one day,’ Ernie said, punching Sammy matily in the shoulder, ‘to Clarke and Family. If you and Cissie have a nipper of yer own, like.’
‘I’ve got all the family I need already,’ Sammy replied, smiling proudly over his shoulder at Cissie and her children. ‘Come on, Ern, let’s get inside before them Godwins pinch the lot.’
The Flower Girl Page 31