The Fight for Lizzie Flowers Page 6

  ‘And you’re staying put,’ Danny replied, forcing humour into his voice.

  A quick chuckle came from the old man’s throat. Danny saw how tightly his father’s pale skin moulded to his cheekbones. There was a razor cut on his chin that had bled and congealed under his grey whiskers. Danny wanted to clean it away and offer to shave him. Instead he enquired, ‘Did the two kids behave themselves?’

  Bill’s smile stretched over his crooked teeth. ‘You have a fine boy in Tom. He was here, not a minute ago, with Pol. They’ll make young blood for the shop, but perhaps not in my time.’

  Danny knew the business was everything to Bill, which was why, after his retirement, Bill had given the shop to Lizzie. They were like father and daughter, had suffered Frank’s abuse, and taken comfort over the years from each other. They also both had the coster’s touch for making money.

  Danny reached for his father’s hand. He squeezed the lean fingers gently, fearful of cracking them. ‘Dad, you are going to get well and strong. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve had a good life, Daniel.’

  ‘And you’ll have more.’

  ‘A man has always got hope.’

  When had this happened? Danny asked himself. This man who had seemed blessed with eternal life, the father who had encouraged him to leave for the other side of the world and seek his fortune, the coster who even at sixty years of age had hauled potato sacks on his back as if he were only twenty.

  Bill drew his hand away roughly. ‘I don’t like this business of staying home. And it ain’t my home, it’s Gertie’s.’

  ‘It’s as good as. You’ve always said you’d move in with her.’

  ‘Yes, but not yet.’

  Danny laughed. ‘When, then?’

  ‘I don’t intend seizing up like a rusting old bike.’

  Danny shook his head wearily. ‘But you always said you wanted to enjoy your time with Gertie.’

  Bill nodded. ‘Yes, but on me two feet.’

  ‘You make a lousy patient.’

  Bill laughed. ‘Don’t I?’ He chuckled and Danny rejoiced at the familiar sound.

  ‘Listen, do you reckon we should get away after Christmas? A holiday. You and Gertie, me and Lizzie and the kids. A week at Margate or Southend. In one of them nice boarding houses, where you can look over the sea to the piers and beyond. Like you showed me and Frank when we was kids.’

  Bill smiled. ‘And your brother was the reprobate he always was.’

  Danny smiled too, and in his father’s eyes he could see only love and affection. He knew in that moment that what Bert had once said was true. Bill was a father first and foremost and always would be.

  ‘After Christmas, we’ll take that holiday,’ Bill agreed.

  ‘Speaking of Christmas, me and Lizzie will come over. Cook the dinner. You and Gertie can put your feet up. Take it easy like the doc said.’

  Bill waved this away. He looked into Danny’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get hitched, lad.’

  Danny nodded. ‘So am I.’

  Bill gave a throaty cough. ‘I saw your brother.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘I suppose Gertie told you.’

  Danny gave a soft sigh and looked down. ‘I’m sorry I made that mistake. I thought it was Frank they’d found in the river.’

  ‘None of us is perfect.’

  Danny found his chest tightening. Hiding the emotion that swirled inside him, he nodded.

  ‘You and Lizzie. You’ll be wed one day.’

  Danny held himself tightly in check and watched his father’s eyes slowly close. No more was said as Bill’s head fell peacefully back against the pillow.

  From the back seat of the van, Lizzie watched Danny step out onto the darkened pavement of Terrace Street. Tom joined him, shivering in the cold night air. The shadows were long in the reflection of the gas lamps outside the rows of cramped, sooty houses, one of them Danny’s lodgings. Danny had moved there in the summer, into the care of a kindly landlady, a young widow who was happy to look after Tom when the need arose. Lizzie was warmed by the sight of the parted curtains. The light shed a seasonal cheer onto the cobbled road. The glass was strung with home-made decorations and a candle or two burned inside, reflecting a welcome.

  ‘Why can’t Tom come home with us?’ Polly asked as she leaned out of the van window. ‘You could too, Uncle Danny, if you want.’

  Danny smiled, leaning forward to ruffle her hair. ‘This is our gaff, sweetheart, and I reckon we all need a good kip.’

  ‘You could have a good kip at our place.’

  Lizzie took Polly’s shoulders. ‘Danny and Tom will be over on Christmas Day and we’ll all go up to Granda’s.’

  Danny signalled to Bert. ‘Thanks for the lift, mate. We’ll walk over to Lil’s tomorrow for the car.’ He bent low and looked at Lizzie. ‘Make sure you lock up tonight. I know Bert’s kipping in the storeroom. But it’ll ease my mind if I know you’ve taken care.’

  Lizzie didn’t want to leave Danny and Tom. But what other choice did they have? They were not man and wife, they were friends, and in the months since Frank had supposedly died they had become lovers. Now she wanted to hold Danny close, have his arms tightly around her. She wanted to feel his body against hers, strong and reassuring. She wanted him to make love to her and to sleep with him the whole night through as they had planned for their wedding night. To wake up in the morning and turn over on the pillow to see one another. If their plans had worked out, they would all have been together as a family. They would have spent the day in celebration with the kids, a visit up West, taking Pol and Tom to Oxford Street to see the Christmas decorations.

  Danny had planned a meal at a corner house. He would have driven them to the Embankment and a supper of hot roasted chestnuts. Finally the kids would have fallen fast asleep in their rooms and Danny would have shared her big double bed, their arms, at last, locked around one another, legitimately. But Frank walking into the registry office yesterday morning had put an end to their dreams.

  Bert revved the engine. ‘See you on Sunday, Danny.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, Uncle Danny, Happy Christmas, Tom.’ Polly waved.

  Lizzie looked into Danny’s eyes as the van moved off. His tall figure and Tom’s smaller one disappeared into the gloom. Polly yawned, slipping down on the old leather of the seat, and Lizzie drew the child into her arms. ‘Do you think me mum will come to visit at Christmas, Auntie Lizzie?’

  ‘I don’t know, love.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I wish I knew.’

  Polly stuck her thumb in her mouth. ‘She might bring me a present. She could put it under the tree in the shop.’

  ‘Father Christmas will bring you a present.’

  ‘How many?’ Polly looked up at Lizzie, her blue eyes dancing under her fringe of auburn hair.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

  ‘Tell me about the Christmas when Uncle Danny drove you and all the Allens to Granda’s for a party.’

  Lizzie smiled as Polly’s head fell against her shoulder. ‘You’ve heard the story dozens of times.’

  ‘Tell it again, Auntie Lizzie.’

  ‘Well, it was Christmas afternoon as I’ve told you, a long time before you were born. Uncle Danny arrived at Langley Street where the Allen family lived and where Auntie Flo and Uncle Syd now live.’

  ‘I’ve got a lot of uncles and aunties, ain’t I?’

  Lizzie laughed. ‘Yes, the Allens are a big family. Now, it was the end of 1920 and Uncle Danny was about to leave England to seek his fortune in Australia. But before he left, your Granda gave a big party at Ebondale Street, where he lived in the airey below our shop. All the market traders turned up and some of Granda’s friends and neighbours—’

  ‘And you all had a knees-up.’

  Lizzie laughed again. ‘You know this story as well as I do.’

  ‘You taught me the words to the song you sang.’

  ‘Do you rememb
er them?’

  ‘Yes, but you sing it better than me.’

  Lizzie stroked Polly’s hair. ‘“If those lips could only speak, if those eyes could only see,”’ Lizzie sang softly and Polly’s little voice joined in. As they sang together, the memory of happier times warmed her. The years before Danny had sailed out of her life and the Allens were all still living at Langley Street.

  ‘Was my mum beautiful, Auntie Lizzie?’ Polly asked when they’d finished singing.

  ‘Yes, very. As beautiful as you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind if she took me to the park again,’ Polly mumbled sleepily, ‘but she’d have to promise to bring me home. I don’t want to go back to that funny house and sit with them ladies in their drawers again.’

  Lizzie wrapped her arms tighter around Polly. This was a memory, thank God, that was growing vague in Polly’s mind. A drunken escapade, down to Babs and Vinnie, an event that Lizzie hoped would dull with time. Polly’s stay at the brothel had been brief, but alarming. The hazardous ride afterwards in Vinnie’s car had only been brought to an end by Danny’s quick thinking. Lizzie felt her skin grow clammy as she remembered how close Polly had come to disaster.

  She listened to the sound of Polly’s soft snore lost in the rattling of the vehicle. What did the future hold for this child? How was she to protect her?

  Chapter Eleven

  Three months later

  Danny surveyed his kingdom: the garage and the forecourt that backed onto Morley’s Wharf. Beyond this, the eyesore of a derelict factory, occupied by a group of river men. Danny liked to see the ragged children playing on the mudflats. He often threw them a tanner as they scampered over the dock walls. Sometimes, after he shut shop, there would be an accordion playing or a mouth organ and he and Tom would join the community at their fire. They’d take bread and cheese and pickled onions with them. And in return, enjoy a mugful of hot broth, stewed in a pot over the brazier. Tom enjoyed the freedom of being away from his lessons and playing on the wharf with the rag-tag children. Very soon friendships had been forged. The poignant strains of the music would rise up under the deep blue sky and Danny would think of his youth as he gazed into the hot embers of the brazier. His life as a barrow boy had not been so different to this. The law had moved him on more times than he’d had hot dinners. He’d been jeered at and ridiculed for his lowly trade. He’d had Bill pushing him one way and the coppers the other. But he’d always kept his dream safe in his heart of one day making good.

  And now that day had come. It had taken every penny of his capital to buy this pitch and make it his own. But he’d seen the potential and knew this land had been marked out for him. Business was booming. He’d won a contract with the Port of London Authority and was making a name for himself.

  He breathed in deeply, savouring the sights and smells of his turf. His patch. He’d spent ten years of his life in the dark of the mines, waiting for this. Not that he’d ever guessed he was destined to own a scrubby patch of waterside land back in England!

  Now on this late March morning, he couldn’t help thinking back to the events of Christmas last year. His brother returning to life. Their father’s sudden illness. And the distance that had grown between him and Lizzie since.

  And the law was still breathing down his neck. Bobbies passing his way and taking ganders at his vehicles. But what could Bray prove that wasn’t true? Nevertheless, the taste in his mouth was bitter.

  Danny’s eyes roamed over the scene before him. His ears caught the harmonies of the river; the hoots of the boats and barges and the grind and rattle of the cranes and factories. He felt like a king here. It was only when he remembered his separation from Lizzie and Pol that his spirits sank.

  ‘Looks like a bonza day, mate.’ Cal Bronga approached, having parked his vehicle beside the garage. Cal grinned, showing his even white teeth. ‘And the ockers told me it always rained on the other side of the world.’

  ‘The East End is the best of British, Cal. Anyone who denies it is a fool,’ Danny agreed. He gestured to the towering vehicle he had just parked on the forecourt. ‘Let me introduce you to London Transport’s S-type double-decker. Open top, bit of a wreck. She needs new tyres and a full service.’

  ‘We taking the whole fleet?’

  Danny laughed. ‘We’d be set up for life if we did. No, this old girl is out of action for the general public. We’re to fit her up before they use her to mend the trolleybus overhead wires. Her bosses may even turn her into a canteen.’

  ‘Why choose us?’ Cal asked with a frown.

  ‘I gave the omnibus company a quote. We came out the cheapest. And we have the facilities.’

  ‘First bus I’ve worked on. I hope we know what we’re doing.’ Cal gave a low chuckle. ‘Cos I don’t know one end of her from the other.’

  Danny clapped his friend on the back. ‘We’ll soon find out. And hopefully, she’ll be the first of many. Come on, we’ll get changed into our togs and sort her out.’

  Cal looked at Danny as they walked across the gravel to the doors of the workshop. ‘You heard from your old man?’

  Danny’s face clouded. ‘In the pink since Frank’s been visiting.’

  Danny regretted the dismay in his voice, but it was hard to disguise. They walked into the interior of the warehouse and towards the wooden staircase that led up to the office. Danny jumped two stairs at a time, hoping Cal wouldn’t press the subject. He knew Cal’s interest in Bill was genuine. But after Christmas things had headed rapidly downhill. The long-lost son had returned, reformed in every way.

  Danny reached up for the key to the office, balanced on the ledge above the door, and let them in. He peeled off his donkey jacket and shirt. He knew Cal was staring at him curiously, so he turned, heaving a sigh of resignation. ‘I reckon Gertie bungs Frank a few quid. She says he’s got rooms in Poplar.’

  ‘Ain’t that asking for trouble?’ Cal remarked.

  Danny grunted his agreement. ‘As long as Frank stays out of my way, I’m happy.’

  Cal put the kettle on to boil and placed two chipped enamel mugs side by side on the shelf. ‘You should move in with your girl.’

  ‘I would, if it was down to me.’

  Cal placed two steaming mugs of tea on the desk between the overflowing piles of paper. ‘You seen that copper’s motor again?’

  Danny nodded. ‘Once or twice.’

  ‘He couldn’t make the frame stick as much as he tried.’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s done enough damage,’ Danny pointed out. ‘Me and Lizzie ain’t been the same since. It’s like he put the mockers on us. Saying we was out to get Frank and planned it all.’

  ‘Give her time, mate.’

  ‘Yeah, but how much?’

  ‘What’s your dad’s take on all this?’

  Danny gave a low sigh as he shook his head. ‘He’s rewriting history. Convinced Frank’s a changed man. In Lizzie’s eyes it makes me look as though it’s me in the wrong.’

  ‘She knows better than to believe that.’

  Danny shrugged. ‘Does she? I don’t know any more.’

  ‘Man, you’re letting this get to you.’

  Danny looked up under his pleated blond eyebrows. ‘You might be right. But I can’t get Lizzie to talk to me. Not about things that matter. When I ask her what she wants to do, she says we’ll wait. See how things work out. Well, I know how they’ll work out if we don’t do something to change the situation. Lizzie and Pol will live over the shop. Me and Tom will stay at Terrace Street. I asked her to come away with us next month so we could spend some time together. But she says she can’t afford to leave the business.’ He shook his head in puzzlement.

  ‘She’s not had hassle from Frank, has she?’

  ‘Not that I know of Danny took a heavy breath. ‘Anyway. Enough of my troubles. Let’s get down to business. Move the motors around downstairs.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘We’ve still got the bills to pay.’

  Cal reached for the vehicle keys that were hanging
on the row of nails driven into the office wall. Running back down the wooden stairs, Danny heard his friend start up the first vehicle parked over the inspection pit.

  Danny took a deep breath, searched in his pocket for his cigarettes and remembered he hadn’t stopped to buy any. Going to the small cupboard on the wall, he pulled out his tobacco tin and papers. As he rolled himself a smoke his thoughts went to Lizzie again. Then his dad and inevitably to Frank. They chased round in his head until they collided in one big cloud of anxiety. He didn’t believe a leopard could change its spots. No more than an evil man could become a saint overnight. Judas had proved that point and he had been Jesus’s best mate. But his dad believed the story Frank had concocted about a stint in an asylum. The miracle cause of his redemption. The old man now insisted that, given time, Frank would turn into the son he had always believed Frank could be. But in Danny’s book, it was some rare form of electrocution that could cause a man to repent and change his lifelong characteristics.

  He placed a thin roll-up between his lips, lit up and closed his eyes as he inhaled. Frank had always been lazy, dishonest and two-faced. But Danny had accepted this as a kid. He’d tried to steer Frank away from the trouble he courted. Why in heaven’s name then, Danny thought for the hundredth time, had he believed Frank would do the right thing by Lizzie while he was in Australia? Madness, that’s what it was. Or perhaps – and more honestly – he had deliberately turned a blind eye to Frank’s potential for mischief.

  Just then, Danny heard a shout from downstairs.

  He moved quickly to the interior window. Below, Cal had driven the two motors parked over the pit to the rear of the garage. The timber boards covering the cellar had been lifted away. A dull light gleamed.

  ‘What’s up?’ Danny yelled as he left the office to lean over the balustrade of the wooden stairs.

  Cal emerged slowly from the cellar. ‘Our tools have gone walkabout. Someone’s cleaned us out!’

  Danny’s jaw fell open as he stood in the musty-smelling cellar they used as a workshop. It was empty. From the smallest of items fitted to the shelves lining the surface of the bench to the floor. His lathes, drills, braces and vices were gone. His entire booty from Aussie. His hard-earned investment. His wherewithal to perform his work. Every tool, freshly coated with oil and grease, had disappeared. Down to the last screw. To the last tack. Even the engine hoist, its chains and couplings.