Gaslight in Page Street (15 page)

When Sammy and his friend Darbo reached the upper level they saw the yard man raking over the bedding at the end stall.

‘Oxford, we wanna word wiv yer,’ Sammy growled, his face contorted with anger.

‘Yer’ll ’ave ter wait. Can’t yer see I’m busy?’ Jack called out.

The two carmen walked along the stable and Darbo put his foot on the end of the rake as Sammy walked up to Jack and took him roughly by the collar of his shirt.

‘What’s goin’ on? Leave me alone,’ Jack croaked.

Sammy forced the yard man against the wall, his large fists pressed up under Jack’s chin. ‘Leave yer alone? Why yer dirty ole bastard! Why d’yer bring ’er in the yard? What yer bin doin’ ter that little gel? Darbo saw yer bring ’er in.’

Jack felt he was going to choke and he gulped for breath. ‘I didn’t do nuffink. She wanted ter come in. I didn’t make ’er,’ he gasped.

‘Well, I’m gonna show yer what we do ter the likes o’ you,’ Sammy spat out, releasing his hands from the unfortunate’s throat and giving him a heavy back-handed slap across the face.

Jack slid down the wall, blood starting from his nose and lips. ‘I ain’t done nuffink. Leave me alone,’ he whined.

Sammy stood over the bloody figure with his legs astride and he turned to Darbo. ‘Go down ter the shed an’ get the ’orse-shears. ’Urry up.’

Darbo was beginning to feel anxious. ‘What yer gonna do, Sammy?’ he asked.

‘When I’ve finished wiv ’im, ’e won’t be able ter molest anyone any more. Now go an’ get them shears.’

Darbo hurried down the ramp to the yard, wondering whether Sammy would really go as far as mutilating the man. As he returned from the shed holding a sharp pair of shears he saw the bulky figure of George Galloway in the office doorway. The man made no attempt to stop him and Darbo noticed the broad grin on his face as he turned to hurry back up the ramp.

‘What’s he got those clippers for?’ Geoffrey asked his father anxiously.

‘It looks like Jack Oxford’s gonna get a short ’aircut, if I’m not mistaken,’ the elder Galloway remarked.

‘Go and stop ’em,’ Geoffrey pleaded. ‘They’ll kill the man.’

George chuckled and leaned back against the doorjamb. ‘They won’t kill ’im. They’ve got more sense. They jus’ wanna put the fear o’ Christ inter the bloke.’

When Darbo walked back into the stable, he saw Sammy bending over the huddled figure of Oxford. The yard man’s face was streaked with blood and his eyes were wide with fear. ‘No, don’t! Please don’t ’urt me! I didn’t do nuffink. Honest ter Gawd I never,’ he wailed.

Sammy’s face was contorted with rage and there was a white smear of foam on his lips. ‘Grab ’im,’ he snarled, taking Jack’s arm and pulling him to his feet. ‘Lean ’im up against the stall.’

Darbo did as he was told and Sammy nodded over to a length of rope that was hanging from a wall ring. ‘Bring me that,’ he growled.

Jack closed his eyes and prayed hard as he felt the rope slip over his head and tighten around his neck. He winced with pain as his arms were yanked backwards and pulled down behind the board and he felt the rope tighten over his wrists. He tried to kick out at his tormentors with his feet but Sammy had slipped the end of the rope around his ankles and pulled the knot tight. Jack groaned in anguish. He was trussed up like a chicken and they were going to mutilate him for nothing. Why didn’t they believe him? He had done no harm to the child. ‘She only wanted a kitten,’ he cried out, tears beginning to run down his ashen face.

Sammy did not hear, consumed with blind hatred and disgust. He could still hear them all calling him a monster for chastising his own daughter. They had all shunned him and called him evil when he took the whip to her, but she had deserved it and needed to be punished. The weals on her body had healed in time and she had learned her lesson. He was right to do what he had to do; he was no monster. Not like this perverted wreck, who had molested an innocent child.

‘The shears. Give us the shears,’ he snarled at Darbo as he quickly unbuckled his victim’s belt and yanked down his trousers.

Darbo was holding the sharp animal-shears limply in his hands. He took a step backwards. He had never seen Sammy like this. The man’s mad, he thought. He’s really going to do it. ‘No, Sammy!’ he shouted. ‘Yer’ve scared the life out of ’im. That’s enough.’

The maniacal carman stepped forward and grabbed the shears from Darbo’s grasp. ‘’E won’t trouble no ovver little gel in future,’ he said in a voice that made Darbo shudder.

‘Don’t, Sammy. Leave ’im alone.’

Sammy’s wild eyes fixed on Darbo who was backing away towards the ramp. ‘I told yer I’m gonna fix ’im, Darbo. I don’t need yer anymore. I can manage wivout yer. ’Oppit!’

Down in the yard the rest of the carmen were standing together in a bewildered group. They had been ordered to stay out of the upper stable by George Galloway. As they stood beside the tired horses, talking in low voices, they saw young Geoffrey come out of the office. He looked agitated, saying something to his father then pulling away from his restraining arm and hurrying across the yard towards Will Tanner’s approaching figure. The men saw the two speak together for a few moments and then the yard foreman broke away and ran towards the stable. At that moment Darbo came running down the ramp, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. ‘Quick, Will!’ he screamed. ‘Sammy’s gorn roun’ the twist. ’E’s gonna cut ’im up!’

Before William could move, a loud piercing scream carried down into the yard.

‘Oh my Gawd! ’E’s done it!’ Darbo cried.

William pushed the horrified carman to one side and ran up the ramp. As he dashed into the stable he blinked to accustom his eyes to the dim light, then saw the tethered Jack Oxford with his head sunk forward on his chest. Sammy was standing in front of him, his face twisted in an evil grin. ‘Stay away, Tanner,’ he called out.

William took a deep breath and slowly advanced on him. ‘Leave ’im,’ he said quietly. ‘Step away from ’im.’

Sammy leered and hunched his shoulders as he turned and looked down on his victim. William strode across to Sammy’s side and what he saw made his blood go cold. Jack Oxford was bloodied and sprawled out in the straw and Sammy was about to close the blades together. With a gasp William grabbed at Sammy’s wrists and held them apart with all his strength. He knew that if he let go now, Jack would be instantly mutilated. Sammy was growling, white flecks of saliva showing on his lips as he struggled to close the blades. William gritted his teeth as he fought to hold the man’s wrists apart. The yard foreman could feel his strength fading.

With a last mighty effort, he pulled his shoulders back and sucked in air as he took up the pressure. Sammy was gasping too. He leaned forward over the shears to exert more pressure. Suddenly William threw his head upwards and sideways and caught Sammy on the bridge of his nose. The man staggered back, losing his hold on the clippers. William stepped forward a pace and swayed from the hips as he threw a looping punch that hit Sammy on the side of his head. With a grunt he dropped down on his knees and glanced up at his opponent, his eyes glassy. The yard foreman was about to aim a kick when Sammy fell forward, his face buried in the straw bedding of the stall.

Carrie had left the factory with her mind full of Mary’s tales about the campaigning women and their long marches through the streets of London. She had heard about the smartly dressed females who had been taken away by the police and sentenced to imprisonment for inciting riots and causing a public disorder, and she felt a little apprehensive. The recent incident at the council depot was still fresh in her mind and she bit on her lip as she turned into Page Street. If that policeman spotted her again he might arrest her for giving a false name. Mary had said there was nothing to worry about but Carrie did not feel so confident.

As she walked down the street Carrie saw Iris Jones sitting on her front doorstep, peering into a cardboard box.

‘Wanna see my little kitten, Carrie?’ the girl said with a grin.

Carrie looked into the box and saw two bright eyes peering out from what looked like a bundle of fluff. ‘Oh, isn’t she luvverly?’ she said, taking the kitten from the box and gently stroking it. ‘Where did yer get it?’

‘That nice man in yer dad’s yard give it me,’ Iris said, taking the kitten from Carrie and putting it back into the box. ‘’E let me pick it fer meself. There was lots there. Must ’ave bin twenty or firty but I liked this one best of all. I’m callin’ it Sparky. Do kittens ’ave ter get christened, Carrie?’

The Tanner girl laughed aloud. ‘No, I don’t fink so,’ she said as she walked on.

As she neared her house, Carrie saw her mother standing by the yard gates. Men were milling around and she saw her father and Sharkey holding on to Jack Oxford as they walked him towards the office.

‘What’s ’appened ter Mr Oxford?’ she asked as she reached her mother.

Nellie had heard the full story from Darbo who had been at pains to tell anyone, including her, that he had done his best to prevent the yard man from getting harmed and it was only his timely warning that had saved the poor man from a terrible fate. Nellie shook her head. ‘They said Jack Oxford’s bin messin’ aroun’ wiv a young gel, Carrie, an’ one o’ the men set about ’im,’ she said, slipping her hands beneath her apron. ‘I don’t believe it. Jack Oxford wouldn’t ’arm a fly.’

Carrie folded her arms across her chest. ‘Who did they say the little gel was, Mum?’ she asked.

‘I dunno. Nobody seems ter know. Apparently Jack Oxford’s s’posed ter ’ave took a little gel in the stable. One of the men see ’er come out later wiv Mr Oxford, an’ ’e waved to ’er at the gate.’

‘Well, she wasn’t ’armed then, Mum,’ Carrie remarked.

‘We don’t know fer sure yet,’ Nellie said quietly. ‘The men fink ’e interfered wiv ’er. You know what I mean.’

‘Iris Jones went in the yard terday, Mum,’ Carrie said suddenly.

‘What! ’Ow d’yer know?’ Nellie exclaimed.

‘She told me just a minute ago. Showed me the little kitten that Jack Oxford gave ’er.’

Nellie beckoned to Soapy who hurried over. ‘Tell my bloke I wanna see ’im, soon as yer can. Tell ’im it’s important,’ she said in a firm voice.

The early evening street was quiet, but behind the closed gates of Galloway’s yard a heated discussion was taking place. George Galloway leaned back in his chair as he listened to his yard foreman. Things had not turned out the way he expected and he felt very relieved that he had not been a party to murder. Duffing up the idiot yard man and then terrifying him with the threat of mutilation was one thing, George thought, but actually attempting to carry out the act was another thing entirely. He felt grateful to William for his timely intervention but he was now becoming irritable at the turn the discussion was taking. Geoffrey seemed to be in agreement with Tanner’s argument, and remained quiet when the foreman demanded that Sammy Jackson and Darbo be sacked.

When William finished talking George stayed silent for a few moments, fingers toying with the gold medallion on his silver watch chain, then he looked at his foreman. ‘I can’t sack ’em, Will,’ he said quietly. ‘I was party ter what ’appened, although I didn’t fink for a minute Jackson was gonna go that far. What I’m sayin’ is, it’s Oxford who’ll ’ave ter go. There’s no ovver way.’

Geoffrey looked quickly at William before catching his father’s eye. ‘But the man’s done nothing wrong,’ he said incredulously. ‘You heard what Will just said. Those two carmen didn’t give Oxford a chance to explain. They beat him up, then subjected him to a terrifying ordeal, and now you want to sack the poor so and so!’

George gave his son a hard look and sighed testily. Taking on Jack Oxford had been a mistake in the first place. It had been Martha’s idea. She had felt sorry for the man and suggested he could be found a sweeping-up job in the yard. George never could say no to Martha, although he had told her at the time the man was going to cause him trouble. Jack Oxford had almost lost him a contract a few years ago, and now he had caused a big upset in the yard. Sweepers and odd-job men were two a penny, George reasoned, but good reliable carmen were harder to find.

George clasped his hands over his large middle and switched his gaze to William. ‘Put yerself in my place, Will,’ he began. ‘On one side I’ve got two carmen who can ’andle a pair of ’orses an’ who both know the ’op trade, an’ on the ovver side I’ve got a stupid odd-job man who ’as ter be supervised even when ’e’s sweepin’ the yard up. So what do I do? Sack the carmen an’ maybe lose the contract wiv the brewery, or give Oxford the elbow? You tell me.’

Geoffrey was about to cut in but Will caught his eye. ‘Yer missin’ the point, George,’ he said forcibly. ‘In the first place it’s a question of what’s right an’ what’s wrong. As I said before, the Jones kid told my Nellie that Oxford didn’t even go near ’er. The girl’s muvver confirmed that she knew about ’er kid comin’ in ter get the kitten, so that rules out the idea that Jack Oxford enticed ’er inter the yard. Yer’ve already said that Jackson an’ Darbo took too much on ’emselves, an’ now yer sayin’ yer gonna sack Oxford an’ keep the ovver two on, jus’ because of yer brewery contract. I don’t fink yer too worried about the contract. Yer know yerself there’s plenty o’ carmen on the dole who can ’andle ’ops an’ drive a team. No, George, yer see Jack Oxford as a pain in the arse an’ yer want ’im out yer way. It don’t seem ter concern yer that the man’s worked ’ere fer the past fifteen years.’